Page 12 of The Bloodfeather Promise
I rise from my chair, making sure my towel is straight on the sand so I can lie on my stomach and catch some sun on my back. As I do, my attention is naturally drawn to Lullaby Tides. Wondering how old the owner is, where is he from. What does his wife do? How many kids do they have? Where are they? Are he and the ice-cold designer sleeping together?
He’s probably not really a vampire.
Propping open my well-worn copy ofWuthering Heights,I stare past the pages toward the house. Like Heathcliff’s castle, it sits high on its bluff in the distance, regarding us mortals down below as if in pity. Three stories of grandeur, with an open terrace taking up the entire lower level, and each floor above graced with balconies spanning the house’s width.
White sheers surround the columns on the terrace like those in perfume and high-end jewelry ads. You know the ones where a beautiful woman in a slinky red gown stalks through, the fabric billowing around her in slow motion as a man in a black tuxedo tucks her up against him and lands a scorching kiss. Although, truthfully, it’s more likely the tragic Lady Catherine from my favorite novel would haunt the classically designed terrace, her dress flowing white, billowing around her slender form while she searches for her beloved Heathcliff.
Yes. I’m a romantic. I daydream.
I’m also practical.
How hard is it? Keeping those white drapes so clean?
There’s movement up there on the terrace. A man now leans against one of the thick pillars, the silky, billowing fabric snapping around his form.
I can’t make out his features from here. The house is too far away and he’s standing in the shadows, just a black smudge against the gold and white. The glare of the sun erases any details, but he’s tall and leanly built. And I don’t know how I know, but I know he’s watching us. Crazy as it seems, I feel his gaze, even from this distance, tracing my body until I feel I should pull my lacy coverup on over my bikini.
“What’s his name?”
“Huh?” Devon mumbles.
She’s almost asleep, and Noah’s head is tipped against the chair back, face to the sun, eyes closed, beer bottle dangling in his hand.
“The owner. What’s his name?”
“Not sure. The designer’s name is Hillary, Holly… something with an H. She’s with that company from Atlanta doing most of the houses around here lately. Spent four hundred dollars of the guy’s money on a freakin’ sequin pillow. What guy gives a damn about accent pillows? Unless he’s batting for his own team? His car is badass, though. One of those new Lexus sports models, all black, shiny as hell. What I saw of him… holy hotness. Emerson Jane Banner, I swear to God, if you don’t make a welcome gift basket and hand deliver it ASAP, you’re flat-out crazy.”
“You know, my mother calls me by my full name. Usually because she’s pissed at me.”
“The Strats call you by your full name all the time,” Devon counters with a sleepy grin.
“Because they think using only a person’s initials to address them is crass.” I sigh, stretching my neck. The angle is beginning to make the muscles ache. Besides, I think the man on the terrace is gone now. Maybe he went inside. Or decided to take a dip in the huge, resort style pool. “Much more civilized when you call someone by their full name, Devon Ann Reagan.”
“Sounds like you were checking him out pretty good.” Noah opens his eyes with this statement directed toward Devon, and the tone of his voice carries a hint of jealousy. “What if the guy doesn’t read? Or can’t read?”
“Don’t get all grumbly just because I think another man is good-looking,” Devon replies, giving him a sassy wink. “He can use them for doorstops. Or, I don’t know, return them for a refund and take our girl out for drinks instead. Can’t just let her sit forever with her nose in a book while the world passes by.”
“What’s wrong reading books?” I demand indignantly, closing mine and carefully placing it back in my beach bag.
“Nothing. But it sure won’t get you laid.” Devon shoots Noah a look which makes the blazing sun beating down on us seem like an icicle. “Hey, Noah, come lay next to me. I’ve got a secret I need to tell you about our date tonight.”
I keep my mouth shut while Noah chuckles, pops open a fresh beer, and promptly gets down on all fours in the sand, snuggling up beside his girl.
Because I adore them both, the faint envy pinching me is squelched immediately.
