Harbour Falls (A Harbour Falls Mystery #1)(46)

Adam was opening the passenger door for me and shot me a curious sideways glance. I quickly amended, “Oh stop. I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”

I got into the car, and once Adam was seated, he said, “Why don’t we stay at my place. You can sleep in my bedroom.” I raised my eyebrows, and he threw my words back at me mockingly, “Oh stop, Maddy.”

Happy to be laughing so soon after what had happened, I smacked his leg playfully. “Smartass,” I muttered.

Adam started the car and said, “Seriously, you can have my room. I’ll sleep in one of the guestrooms.”

I would’ve been content with a guestroom but didn’t protest. Besides, I was too preoccupied wondering how one casually brought up the subject of blackmail.

We neared my cottage, and Adam asked if I wanted to stop. I didn’t have anything to sleep in, no toothbrush, nothing really, so I said yes. Adam waited in the car, and I ran inside and threw some essentials into an overnight bag. I rushed back out to the car, and we started up to Adam’s place.

I thought about asking my big question but decided to wait until we were settled in at his house to broach the tricky blackmail subject. I could wait a while longer, but tonight was definitely going to be the night. I had to find out exactly what Chelsea had been holding over him.



When we entered the spacious foyer at Adam’s place, the first thing I heard was Trina’s voice lilting from down a long hallway to the right. She sounded like she was on the phone with someone. Adam explained that she was in his study and probably talking to Walker. I hastily whispered that I’d rather not have to recount the café incident for the second time in less than an hour. He nodded understandingly, and we hurried up the long, curving staircase, where he led me down another hallway to his bedroom suite.

The large, high-ceilinged bedroom resonated with the same masculine style as the living room. But while the living room had boasted gleaming hardwood floors and Persian rugs, this room was blanketed in plush carpeting that was as white as freshly fallen snow.

Stepping over the threshold, my feet sunk into the heavenly pile. To my right there was a massive, black marble fireplace, complete with a cozy sitting area. The entire far wall was made up of ceiling-to-floor windows with long, slate-gray curtains that were drawn for the night. A bed, much larger than a king-sized, spanned half the distance down the wall across from the fireplace. It was covered in luxurious-looking black and gray bedding and far too many pillows to count. The only bright colors in the room were contained in the abstract art on the walls.

“Um, is there a bathroom?” I asked, suddenly anxious to get out of clothes that reeked of whiskey.

“Over there.” Adam pointed to a door just beyond the fireplace.

I hoisted my overnight bag up higher on my shoulder and went into the bathroom. Flipping the light switch on, I closed the door and dropped my bag to the floor.

Wow, now this is a bathroom, I thought as I strolled around the spacious room. A huge walk-in shower, hexagon-shaped and sporting multiples nozzles, took up one side of the room. And in a recessed area, under a set of small, frosted windows; a glossy, black porcelain tub—equipped with whirlpool jets, no less—sat sunken into the floor. Wow, Adam sure liked his amenities.



There was an array of shampoos and body washes along the ledge at the back of the tub. I had to smile to myself because, surely, Trina had put those items there. I just could not picture Adam mulling over scented body washes nor shampoos that promised “thick, luxurious” hair.

Turning away from the tub, I faced a wall of mirrors. I unbuttoned my ruined shirt and let it fall to the floor. Turning my back to the mirror, I craned my neck to see the damage J.T. had wrought. A row of yellowing, bluish-black bruises marred my lower back. Ouch! Although, as bad as it looked, there didn’t appear to be any major swelling, and the aching had mostly subsided. Sighing, I finished undressing. After washing up some and brushing my teeth, I put on the hot pink cami and black silk shorts I’d brought from home.

Tentatively I stepped back into the bedroom. Adam was standing by the bed, and he looked like he had freshened up as well. In fact, he looked amazing. He wore a pair of navy pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips and absolutely nothing else. Oh my.

No doubt sensing my ogling, Adam looked up, blue eyes alight. “Maddy.” An ebony lock of hair fell across his forehead, and he raked it back into place. “I brought up some ice” —he held up a bag that was loosely wrapped in a dark hand towel— “for your back.”

My feet seemed to be stuck in place, and my thoughts were muddled. Yeah, Adam—half-naked and unwittingly oozing sex appeal—had that effect.

“Maddy?” he questioned, concern streaking across his features. “Is something wrong?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, getting a grip and making my way across the room. “I was just lost in thought.”

I took a seat on the edge of the bed, next to where Adam stood. It was then that I noticed abrasions on the knuckles of his right hand. Marks he’d received from defending me.



Adam adjusted the hand towel around the ice pack and sat down next to me. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to my back. I nodded, and Adam lifted the back hem of my cami, just high enough to apply the ice.

Wincing, more from the cold than the pain, I said, “I saw your hand, Adam. You should get some ice for that too.”