Deep Waters (11 page)

“Are you kidding?” Charity made a face. “I'm sure Leighton is thoroughly embarrassed by the situation, but he can't force her to leave. She does own half-interest in this campground, after all. He's trying to ignore her.”

“And the second Mrs. Pitt? What's her response?”

“I don't really know Jennifer very well. No one does. She's from California.”

Elias grinned briefly. “That explains a lot.”

“From what I've seen, she's keeping her cool about the whole thing,” Charity said. “I guess she figures all she has to do is wait it out until the fifteenth. But it can't be easy for her, either.”

“Nothing like having the first Mrs. Pitt running a cult on the edge of town while the second Mrs. Pitt tries to establish herself as the new wife of one of the most influential men in the area.”

“True.”

“Were you here at the time of the divorce?”

Charity shook her head. “The scandal broke shortly before I arrived. But I know most of the juicy details, thanks to Radiance.”

“What's Radiance got to do with any of this?”

Charity chuckled. “She does the second Mrs. Pitt's nails. She's actually grateful to her because Jennifer
did a lot to help make fancy acrylic nails fashionable here in town. Until Jennifer showed up with her long, perfect, California red nails, everyone else just used nail clippers.”

“How scandalous was the divorce?”

Charity regarded him with speculation. “You know, you don't look like the type to be interested in sordid gossip.”

“I collect information,” Elias said softly. “Sort of a hobby.”

“Hmm, well, according to Radiance, the whole thing blew up one day early last summer when Gwendolyn showed the old Rossiter place to some clients. They all walked into the cottage, which is located in a very isolated location near the point, and found Jennifer and Leighton in bed together.”

“Not a pretty picture.”

“No. Radiance told me that Leighton and Jennifer had been using the Rossiter place for their rendezvous for several weeks before they were discovered.”

“Rough way for Gwen to learn that her husband was cheating on her,” Elias said.

“Yes. You can imagine how the gossip flared up again when Gwen and her Voyagers arrived in town last month.”

Elias looked down at the beach and watched as Gwendolyn held forth on the exciting events that would take place on the fifteenth. “Something tells me that the fuel that runs Gwendolyn Pitt's engine comes from something more than old-fashioned power and greed.”

Charity was suddenly acutely aware of the swift fall of night. The shadows were lengthening around the looming motor homes and campers. “What else besides power and money could motivate her to go to all this effort?”

Elias shifted his enigmatic gaze from the scene on the beach to Charity's face. “You have to ask me that after what I just told you about my plans for Garrick Keyworth?”

“Vengeance? But that doesn't make any sense. How could all this”—Charity spread her free arm out to indicate the Voyagers and their campground—“be about vengeance?”

“I don't know. I'm only saying that there are other motives in the world besides power and money.”

The cove breeze shifted. It tugged at Charity's shirtsleeves. She pushed a tendril of hair out of her eyes. “Maybe we'll get the answers on the morning after the spaceships fail to show.”

“Maybe.” Elias's enigmatic gaze rested on her face.

“There's one thing I'm certain of,” Charity continued.

“What's that?”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Gwen Pitt's motives might be obscure, but her sleazy right-hand man, Rick Swinton, is very obvious. He's in this for the money. I'd stake Whispers on it.”

“I haven't run into Swinton yet.”

“You haven't missed anything.” Charity shuddered. “A real creep.”

Elias eyed her. “That sounds personal.”

“It is. He made a pass at me shortly after the Voyagers got here. The cove is not exactly a mecca for singles, but I wasn't desperate enough to go out with him. When I declined his invitation, he told me I'd be sorry.”

Elias grew still. “He threatened you?”

“Not exactly. Just said I'd regret turning him down.” Charity smiled. “Believe me, I didn't.”

“I'll keep an eye out for him.” Elias's hand tightened
on hers. “In the meantime, I've got another very important question.”

The dark velvet of his voice sent more little chills of excitement down her spine. “What's that?”

“I've been wondering,” he said very softly, “how your mouth tastes.”

She stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I've been thinking about it for the past ten days.” He pulled her gently, inexorably, closer.

She met his eyes, saw the controlled desire in him, and was nearly overwhelmed by the sense of inevitability that descended on her. She knew then that she had been waiting for this ever since he had knocked on her door earlier that evening.

Again she stiffened, instinctively searching for the smallest sign of the heightened anxiety that presaged a panic episode. But all she felt was the rush of sensual anticipation.

Elias was definitely the right size.

He kept one foot on the lowest rung of the fence railing as he drew her forward. A delicious shock went through her when she found herself standing in the intimate space created between his thighs.

The background murmur of the light cove surf and Gwendolyn Pitt's exhortations to her followers faded into the distance. Charity dimly realized that her senses simply could not focus on all the normal stimuli that surrounded her. They were fully engaged with the feel of Elias's hard, lean body against hers. She could feel the heat of him. It drew her with the power of a magic spell.

She reminded herself that just because Elias had confided in her didn't mean that she could trust him. She couldn't even be certain that he had told her the truth. He was a subtle, clever man. Moreover, there was no doubt but that he was a little weird.

Davis's warnings echoed in her brain.
Watch your step with Winters. Rumor has it he's not just a player, he's a winner. Every time.

But Elias's touch did not trigger any warnings from her nervous system. On the contrary, the closer she got, the closer she wanted to be.

When he lowered his head to take her mouth, she learned in one shattering second that everything she had suspected was true. Kissing Elias was definitely a different experience. Hot, sexy, and incredibly satisfying.

A spectacular flower that had been dormant within her all of her life suddenly blossomed. Elias's muscled thigh tightened against her hip, trapping her between his legs. She put her arms around his neck and parted her lips.

Elias groaned. A shudder went through him.

Charity was enthralled by the sensations that poured through her. Elias's kiss was darker and more mysterious than the fall of night. It was full of arcane secrets and layers of unfathomable meanings. It would take a lifetime to explore this kiss. Joy and excitement soared within her as she sank into the unplumbed depths.

“Damn.” Elias tore his mouth from hers with an abrupt, wrenching movement of his head. He sucked in a deep breath.

Charity gazed up at him, astonished. His eyes glittered in the shadows. His expression was grim. His breathing was harsh and ragged, as if he had just run a marathon.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “This is happening too fast. I didn't intend it to be like this. Not so soon. Didn't want to rush you.”

“It's okay, really.” She touched the side of his cheek and felt his jaw clench in response. An invigorating
sense of her own feminine power rose within her. “I don't mind in the least.”

Elias looked bemused, almost dazed. He stared down at her for a long time and then, with another smothered groan, he covered her mouth once more.

He did what Charity would have sworn was impossible: He deepened the kiss. His arms tightened around her in an urgent move that settled her hips more snugly against his fierce erection. He slid one hand to her ribs and moved it slowly upward until his thumb rested just beneath the weight of one breast.

It was Charity's turn to shudder.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard the chanting resume down on the beach, but she paid no attention. The only thing that mattered in that moment was Elias. His palm moved again, closing over her breast. She could feel the heat of his hand through the fabric
of
her shirt.

The first muffled shouts barely registered on her awareness. She tuned them out without realizing it until Elias suddenly broke off the drugging kiss.

“What the hell?” He raised his head, listening.

Charity blinked, trying to clear her mind. She felt the sexual tension in Elias transmute into another, equally primitive kind of readiness.

Disoriented, she started to step back.

Another cry sounded.

This time Charity heard it clearly. A woman's voice, half angry, half fearful. “Get your hands off me. I'll tell her. I swear, I will!”

“It came from back there,” Elias said. “On the far side of the rest rooms, I think.”

He released Charity and spun around in a single, lithe movement. He moved off with an easy, ground-eating stride that took him between a row of aging campers.

Charity saw that he was heading toward a maroon and white motor home parked toward the rear of the campground.

“Let me go, damn you! I'll tell Gwendolyn.”

Charity broke into a run and flew after Elias.

By the time she caught up with him, he was vaulting up the steps of the maroon and white motor home. She watched as he yanked open the metal door and exploded through it into the interior.

She heard a startled scream from inside the big vehicle. It was followed by an angry, masculine shout.

“What the hell are you doing?” a man squawked. “Take your goddamned hands off me or I'll have you arrested.”

Charity came to an abrupt halt as a figure stumbled wildly through the open door of the motor home. She recognized Rick Swinton immediately.

He wasn't nearly as handsome as usual, she reflected with a sense of satisfaction. In fact, he looked quite silly standing there, flailing about on the top step.

Rick missed his footing and fell. He landed on the ground with an audible grunt.

Elias appeared in the doorway. He was as serene and unruffled as the eye of a hurricane.

Charity surveyed him anxiously. “Are you all right?”

Elias glanced at her as if surprised by the question. “Yes. This jerk was manhandling a woman inside.”

“Shit.” Rick spit dirt out of his mouth and heaved himself to a sitting position. He shoved curling brown hair out of his eyes and glowered furiously at Elias. “I'm going to have you arrested, you bastard. You hear me, you sonofabitch? I'm gonna sue you for this.”

“Going to be a little tough to file a lawsuit and get
a judgment before the spaceships arrive on Monday.” Elias came slowly down the steps. “But you're welcome to try.”

A young, attractive woman came to stand in the doorway. She clutched the lapels of her Voyager robe.

“Arlene.” Charity stared, astonished. “Good grief. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm okay.” In the dim glow of a weak campground light Arlene appeared flushed and angry. Her sandy brown hair had come free of her headband and stood out in wild disarray around her shoulders. She glared at Rick as she straightened the folds of her long hooded, white robe. “Don't you touch me again, Rick Swinton. Do you hear me? Not ever again.”

“Did he hurt you?” Charity hurried toward the motor home steps.

“He's a nasty little liar, but he didn't hurt me.” Arlene blinked. “What are you doing here, Charity?”

“Elias and I were just out for an evening stroll, and we heard you shouting.”

Rick heaved himself to his feet and brushed the seat of his black designer chinos. His Voyager blue silk shirt, which he wore open down to the navel, was also covered with dust. The multitude of gold chains that he wore around his neck glinted in the dim light. He gave Charity a sullen glare. “Should have minded your own damn business. Not everyone has your problem with sex. Some of us are normal.”

Elias glanced at Charity as he went down the steps. “You two know each other?”

“Meet Rick Swinton,” Charity said. “Gwen Pitt's assistant.”

Elias surveyed Rick with cold disdain. “Let's skip the handshake, Swinton, I might be tempted to break your arm.”

Rick narrowed his eyes. “You'll be sorry, whoever you are.”

“The name is Winters. Elias Winters. Be sure you spell it right when you file your complaint.”

“S.O.B.”

“This is Arlene Fenton,” Charity put her arm lightly around Arlene's shoulders. “She's Newlin's friend.”

Elias nodded.

“Oh, my God, Newlin.” Arlene's chin came up sharply. Her eyes grew very round. “Charity, promise me you won't tell him about this. It'll only upset him something fierce. You know it will. He's already having a real bad time with the idea of me going off on the ships.”

“What, exactly, happened here?” Charity asked.

“Rick told me he had some special information about what's going to happen when the ships come,” Arlene whispered. “He told me that I had been chosen as one of the vanguard who would make initial contact. He said he was going to teach me the secret code we'll use to communicate with the aliens.”

“Bullshit.” Rick gave her a fulminating look. “She came on to me, same as every other bitch under the age of sixty in this burg. When I took her up on the offer, she suddenly turned all righteous. Little cock tease, that's all she is. Just like you, Ms. Tightass Truitt. You're both the kind that gets a man worked up and then yells rape when he tries to get a sample of what they're offering.”