Homeport

best?”

    “I’m fond of both, but I suppose I’m usually drawn to the sea.”
    “Restless spirits are drawn to restless spirits.”
    She frowned at that, brooding after him as he moved out of the room. No one, she thought, would term her a restless spirit. Least of all herself.
    Dr. Miranda Jones was stable as granite, she thought. And often, too often, just as boring.
    With a vague shrug she followed him into the pilot room.
    “Amazing place.” He was already ignoring her order and touching what he chose.
    The equipment was efficiently modern and hummed along as the great lights circled overhead. The room was round, as it should have been, with a narrow ledge circling outside. The iron rails were rusted, but he found them charming. When he stepped out, the wind slapped at him like an insulted woman and made him laugh.
    “Fabulous. Damned if I wouldn’t have brought my women here too. Romantic, sexy, and just a little scary. You ought to fix it up,” he said, glancing back at her. “It’d make a terrific studio.”
    “I don’t need a studio.”
    “You would if you worked on your art, the way you should be.”
    “I’m not an artist.”
    He smiled, stepped back inside and closed out the wind. “I happen to be a very important art broker, and I say you are. Cold?”
    “A little.” She was hugging herself inside the jacket. “It’s very damp in here.”
    “You’re going to have rot if you don’t deal with that. That would be a crime. I’m also an expert on crime.” He put his hands on her arms, rubbing to warm her with friction. “The sea sounds different from in here. Mysterious, almost threatening.”
    “During a good nor’easter, it would sound a lot more threatening. The light still functions to guide ships and keep them from coming too close to the shallows and the rocks. Even with it, there were a number of wrecks off the coast last century.”
    “The ghosts of shipwrecked sailors, rattling bones, haunting the shore.”
    “Hardly.”
    “I can hear them.” He slipped his arms around her. “Moaning for mercy.”
    “You hear the wind,” she corrected, but he’d managed to draw a shudder out of her. “Seen enough?”
    “Not nearly.” He lowered his mouth to nibble on hers. “But I intend to.”
    She tried to wiggle free. “Boldari, if you think you can seduce me inside a damp and dusty lighthouse, you’re delusional.”
    “Is that a dare?” He nipped around to the side of her neck.
    “No, it’s a fact.” But the muscles in her thighs were already going lax. He had the most inventive tongue. “There’s a perfectly good bedroom in the house, several in fact. They’re warm, convenient, and have excellent mattresses.”
    “We’ll have to try them out, later. Have I mentioned what a delightful body you have, Dr. Jones?” His hands were already busy exploring it. Those quick and clever fingers flipped open the hook of her slacks, drew the zipper down before she could do more than gasp out a protest.
    “Ryan, this isn’t the place for—”
    “It was good enough for Grandpa,” he reminded her, then slowly slipped his fingers inside her. She was already hot, already wet, and he kept his eyes on hers, watching them go blind and dark and desperate. “Just let go. I want to feel you come, right here. I want to watch what I do to you. Take you over.”
    Her body gave her no choice. It hummed like a well-oiled machine toward one purpose, one goal. The long, deep thrill slid through her, a sudden tangling of circuits, a sparking of nerve ends, then a long liquid wave of pleasure that swamped the system.
    Her head fell back on a moan, and he moved in to ravage the exposed column of her throat. “Still cold?” he murmured.
    “No, God, no.” Her skin was on fire, her blood pumping like a hot river beneath it. Gripping his shoulders for balance, she rocked against his busy hand.
    Now, when his mouth came back to hers, she answered the demand with one of her own. Time and place were nothing against the hard and driving need.
    Her slacks pooled at her feet, the jacket slipped from her shoulders. Pliant as softened wax, she molded against him as he braced her on the counter where equipment whirred efficiently to send the light circling the sea.
    “Lift your arms, Miranda.”
    She obeyed, her breath snagging on every inhale as he slowly slipped her sweater up. He watched nervy pleasure flicker over her face as he used his thumbs to trace her nipples through the thin fabric of