Led into Temptation. Cara Summers

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      “Never.”

      It was relief she was feeling, not disappointment. He wasn’t Father Bouchard. How could he be? The voice was wrong. No accent. And what were the chances of Father Bouchard ending up at Belle Island? And why in the world would she want him to? She hadn’t thought of the young priest in ages. But he’d slipped into her mind frequently during the past year—ever since she and her sisters had opened up Hattie Haworth’s fantasy box.

      Naomi could still picture the words on the parchment paper she’d pulled out: Your secret fantasy has always been to make love with a priest. Now you will experience all those forbidden pleasures.

      Firmly, Naomi ignored the guilty thrill that moved through her again and pushed that memory aside. She had bigger problems to solve. Straightening her shoulders, she said, “Sorry. You reminded me of someone.”

      “No problem.”

      But the feeling of familiarity lingered even as she turned and followed the last of the passengers off the ferry. Once on the pier, she couldn’t prevent herself from glancing back. For a moment, their gazes locked and held. It wasn’t merely familiarity she felt this time. There was also a tug deep inside of her. For an instant, she wanted to go back and talk to the stranger again.

      “Hey, sugar! Over here.”

      Naomi snapped her head in the direction of the sound and spotted Avery Cooper, Jillian’s college roommate and the man they’d hired to run Haworth House. With his megawatt smile, he was a sight for sore eyes. She’d had a pretty smileless two weeks.

      Tall and broad-shouldered with skin the color of milk chocolate, Avery was his usual impeccably dressed self in a pale gray shirt and black slacks. Gold glinted in the chain around his neck and the hoop on his left ear.

      Blinking back a fresh sting of tears, Naomi broke into a run. The moment she reached him, he grabbed her off her feet and swung her around in a huge hug. “This one’s from me.”

      Naomi blinked faster as he set her on her feet and then pulled her close again.

      “This one’s from your sisters.” When he drew back the second time, he studied her more closely. “Love the Jackie O sunglasses and the scarf.”

      “I used them to sneak out the back door of my apartment.” She raised her tote. “I didn’t even pack a suitcase. Good thing Jillian insists that we keep some clothes at the hotel. I was so afraid someone would notice and follow me. Not that I don’t have a perfect right to leave town. The FBI never told me that I had to stay in Boston. Besides, I just came here to Belle Island. I didn’t try to leave the country or anything.” She frowned. “I shouldn’t feel so guilty about this.”

      “It’s your good-girl syndrome taking over.” Avery glanced over her shoulder. “Did anyone follow you?”

      “I don’t think so. For the first time in two weeks, I don’t have that prickly feeling at the back of my neck.”

      “Good.” Throwing an arm around her, Avery led her off the dock and along the boardwalk lining the beach area. “Reese and Jillian are bummed that they can’t be here.”

      Truth told, Naomi was a bit relieved about that. After the hubbub of the past two weeks, she was looking forward to some alone time. Jillian was in Europe on a buying trip, and Reese was on a book tour for a cookbook she’d just authored.

      “My job is to provide all the TLC they can’t shower on you in person. And we’re going to start with a late lunch.”

      “I’m not—”

      “Hungry. I know. I know.” His tone of voice all sympathy, Avery nevertheless propelled her into a small café on the pier that offered patio seating. “Humor me. Once we get to the hotel, I figure you’ll lay low in the tower, and I’ll be working.”

      He pulled a chair out for her at a table that offered a view of the water. At the far end of the island, on a jut of land, she could just see the tower of Haworth House. The tightness inside of her eased.

      Avery sat down across from her. “I figure you lost your appetite just about two weeks ago when the BFJ gave you your walking papers.”

      “BFJ?”

      “Big Fat Jerk. When I was getting over Lowell Bidderman, I didn’t eat much of anything for nearly a month.” He flexed his right arm. “Lost some good muscle tone.”

      Naomi narrowed her eyes. As far as she knew, Avery had been in a relationship with his current partner, Matt Trudell, since his college days. “Lowell Bidderman?”

      “Junior high. I must have been fourteen. Lowell was my first love, and the reason I discovered I was gay at an early age. But I was afraid to say anything, even to Lowell. In junior high I felt I had to at least pass as a heterosexual. Do you remember your first crush?”

      She did, and for a second, Naomi felt heat rise in her face again.

      “You’re blushing,” Avery said. “That good, huh?”

      She waved a hand. “It was a crush. All fantasy and no substance.”

      “The best kind.” Avery grinned. “Tell me.”

      She’d never told anyone.

      “Confession is good for the soul,” Avery urged.

      “It’s silly. Not even Reese and Jillian know. But when I was fourteen, I had this super crush on a young priest who’d been assigned to our boarding school.”

      “Really?” Avery’s eyes lit up. “Shades of The Thorn-birds. The young innocent girl, the handsome caring priest, forbidden love … all set against the rugged landscape of Australia. Adored the novel. And Richard Chamberlain in the movie—be still my heart.”

      Naomi nodded, relaxing a bit when she saw that he wasn’t shocked. “Exactly. I’d bought the book and smuggled it into the dorm. I read it by flashlight under the covers. I loved it.”

      “Forbidden treats are always so much more delicious. Tell me more about this priest.”

      Naomi spread her hands. “Father Bouchard was assigned to the school. He was young, probably in his early twenties. He was so kind, and he was such a good listener. I could talk to him about anything. I fell hopelessly in love. I used to write about him in my diary every day, and then I would dream about him every night.”

      And a year ago after she’d opened up that parchment in Hattie Haworth’s boudoir and the message had been indelibly printed on her mind, she’d unearthed those diaries and reread every one.

      “Details. Give me the details. Did you ever actually do it with the priest—in your dreams?”

      Heat burned her cheeks again. She’d fantasized about doing a lot of things—not just in her dreams, but in her diaries, too. “What do you think? I’d read The Thornbirds.”

      “Atta girl. Did you ever tell him what you were feeling?”

      Her eyes widened in shock. “No. Of course not. It was all fantasy. Pure fantasy.”

      “Just СКАЧАТЬ