Read Online Tides of Love (Seaswept Seduction Series) by Tracy Sumner - Free Book Online Page A

loosened his fist, dabbed the fleck of blood where the nail had pieced his palm. Not much of a shed, more of an enlarged privy. He'd spent many hours in that dusty old shack, watching Caleb work his magic on piece after piece of wood, threading sail for Noah's favorite model, the American block sloop. The old shed stood less than a mile from here. He frowned and shoved the notion of returning from his mind.
    Caleb had likely smashed that shed to bits—along with his block sloop.
    "Your name's Noah?"
    "Yes, that's right," he said, and tugged the other glove free, a trace of unease mounting at her predatory look.
    "The Spring Tide Festival is in two weeks." She flashed a crook-toothed smile, the first imperfection he had witnessed. "I didn't know if anyone told you about it. Or if you've decided who you might be squiring."
    Squiring?
    Meredith followed the statement with a bounce and a giggle. He almost reached out, fearing she would topple down the staircase. "The committee decorates a stretch of beach on Devil. A big tent, lots of pretty ribbons and white clematis, daisies and carnations if they bloom early. Old-time oil lanterns. Sailboat races during the day. Music and dancing at night. It's wonderful." She twisted her hands together and released a dreamy sigh.
    Oh, yes, he remembered running after Caleb and Elle, struggling to divert some catastrophe. Pocketing the nail, he offered a tight smile. "I have a lot of work—"
    "Work?"
    "The fisheries laboratory. Out on the point."
    "Oh." She slumped.
    Across the way, the door to Elle'sschool opened, and a young woman stepped outside. No sign of Elle. Shrugging a bead of sweat down his neck, Noah barely harnessed a sigh of relief.
    Meredith cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered, "I have to go. Miss Ellie is a stickler for punctuation."
    Noah laughed; he couldn't help it. "I'm sure she is."
    "Bye, Noah. Maybe I'll see you later." Lifting her skirt, she danced down the stairs, a wad of peach cloth clamped in each fist. "Maybe even at the festival."
    He followed her progress through the overgrown grass, all the while marveling at the peculiarity, the sheer fickleness, of women. With the toe of his boot, he located the nail Elle had snagged her skirt on yesterday. Lifting the hammer, he pounded it in deep.
    Elle settled her shoulder against the doorjamb below and took advantage of her luck. Dove gray clouds crowded the sky, dimming the flood of sunlight streaming over Noah. He shifted, knee flexing as he put his weight on it, and clamped a nail between his teeth. As he skimmed his fingers along the step above him, the muscles in his shoulders bunched beneath pressed blue cotton. She smiled; he looked dressed for church, not repairs. Swiping his wrist across his brow, he tilted his head enough for her to study his shaded profile, to determine the changes ten years had brought.
    An air of masculinity, to be sure. Grooves chalked a mouth she would call virile and beautiful. Faint lines spreading from eyes the color of wood smoke. Gaze moving lower, she noted firm ridges of muscle in his arms and his thighs.
    Looking away, she drew a breath of humid air and leaned in to see Meredith diligently working on her assignment. A pretty girl, a tad young, but not too young. Elle had seen Noah laughing with her. If he asked her to the Spring Tide Festival, Elle would have to watch him hold the girl against his chest and—
    You must get that boy out of your mind, Marielle-Claire.
    Her father's warning pounded through her, in time with Noah's hammer blows. She recognized the danger here. For her, Noah would always be a swift route to heartache. Corroborating the hazard, he shifted and the play of movement stretched his trousers over his firm buttocks.
    "What are you doing?" she shouted, moving across the yard and climbing the coach house staircase with the grace and speed of a madwoman.
    He shouldered a bead of sweat from his cheek and spit a nail into his gloved palm.