Murder at Sunrise Lake

“Say it, Stella, then there’s no taking it back.” He brushed his lips over hers and looked down at her again, those dark eyes alive with that same intense emotion she wasn’t certain she’d ever get used to seeing, the one that turned her inside out.

“Absolutely, I want you here with me in my bedroom.”

“And …” he prompted, his hand fisting in her hair, tilting her head back, his eyes darkening even more.

She smiled at him. “I’m yours. You’re mine. We’re together. Living in the same house. In a relationship, however you want to put it. Just kiss me and get on with it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Get on with it?”

“I’ve been kind of waiting a long time.”

“You gave no sign after the one time. And that took forever before you gave me the green light. I don’t want to let that amount of time pass again.”

“I didn’t want to ruin our relationship.”

“You wouldn’t have let me close to you if we’d had sex,” he corrected. “I wouldn’t have gotten my foot in the door.”

That was true. So true. He knew her so well. But then she couldn’t think because he was kissing her senseless in that way he had. It didn’t take her long to realize why his body was always so hot. He burned up the night with that same restless energy he used to prowl around the resort, only turning his considerable skills on her body until she was gasping for air, too tired to move, sated and sprawling over the top of him like a blanket, only to have him wake her two hours later to start all over again.

NIGHT FOUR WAS different in that now Stella had Sam to talk to her when she went a little crazy trying to prepare for her nightmare. She went to bed thinking about it. Planning for it. She visualized it ahead of time. She was so anxious that she was sick before she went to bed.

Sam was his usual calm self, talking matter-of-factly to her. “It doesn’t matter if it works or not, Stella. Do what you’ve always done. Pay attention to every detail and record it. That’s what you do. When you wake up, write it down and sketch it. You’ll show it to Raine. She couldn’t come yesterday, she was out of town, but she’ll be here tomorrow and she’ll meet with you to look at the sketches. If the two of you can’t figure it out, then you show it to the woman you said was a peak bagger. Tell her you’re painting, just like you said. If you and Raine know where it is, we’ll get there.”

It was so comforting, just to have him there. She didn’t want to miss a detail because she was trying to change something in her nightmare, but she really thought it was such a good idea to try to widen the lens, so she lay there for a long time, thinking about how to just turn the knob gently to the right as she tried to fall asleep.

She stared at the ceiling, terrified of a repeat of the night before. That had been such a disaster. Well, until after. But that was because Sam had saved the day. She could hear the ticking of a clock. Did Sam breathe? Was he alive? He wasn’t snoring. Did she snore? Bailey did. She turned on her side. Stared at that wall. Started to turn toward Sam’s side.

His arm came across her belly, preventing a full roll, keeping her on her back. “Woman.” There was a warning in his voice.

“Man, you took my side of the bed.” She made it an accusation, as if it was his fault she couldn’t sleep.

He moved fast, stripping her of the covers that had been keeping her warm when he’d insisted she sleep without clothes. No one slept without clothes— except maybe him. He was bossy in bed, she’d discovered, but there were benefits, and she’d reaped them all.

“You sleep in the middle of the bed, Stella. You don’t have a side. I sleep by the door to protect you. That’s the way it is.”

Before she could think to protest, he yanked her thighs apart, wedged his wide shoulders between them and then his mouth was there and she was in another galaxy. Sam didn’t believe in doing anything by halves. Much later, she was exhausted, sated and unable to move, not even to pull up the covers. Sam was the one with the warm washcloth and towel. He wrapped himself around her, tucking her so close to his hot body she didn’t think they really needed the layers of covers he pulled over them.

“Go to sleep now, sweetheart,” he murmured, and kissed her temple.

The heat of Sam’s body, the natural sounds of the night, the drone of the insects and the lapping of the waves against the shore lulled her to sleep.