He rolled her onto her back and shifted the angle of his body so he could thrust even harder into her. She felt herself spiraling up, caught in the sensations of his body pumping into hers. And then his mouth found hers again, and he was kissing her like he could never sate his appetite. His fingers found her aching nipple, and his other hand slid between their heaving bodies and pressed against her clit.
All erogenous zones on fire, she gripped her knees against him and came in a roaring climax that shook her to her hair roots, so she was only barely aware when, short seconds later, Joe erupted inside her. He let out a long, deep groan before collapsing onto her. He lay there panting for a moment then rolled off her, wrapping his arms around her so that she lay half on top of him.
"Yeah, perfect," he said as he planted a clumsy kiss on her hair.
Nina didn't say anything as she curled closer to him. Yes, sex with Joe was perfect. It was just everything else that was not so perfect.
Chapter Seven
As Nina approached Joe's office, she couldn't stop her imagination from running wild. Had Joe summoned her there just so he could kiss her, even though it was Friday at noon and the inn was bustling with preparations for the busy weekend? But her anticipation died as soon as she stepped inside and saw Joe sitting behind the desk squinting at his laptop.
His smile of greeting was warm, but he waved her to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Clearly he hadn't called her in for a make-out session. Too bad.
"Your pay." He slid a check with an attached paystub across the desk toward her.
"Oh." It felt wrong to accept money from Joe. He worked so hard for it, while she had millions of dollars doing nothing in her bank account. But, she reminded herself, she had come here to prove to herself that she could survive without her trust fund or her name. She was entitled to her wages.
She inspected the figures on the paycheck and frowned. "You forgot to deduct the breakages."
He shrugged. "Everyone breaks a few things when they first start."
"But you don't sleep with every new employee."
"What's your point?"
"My point is I don't want any special treatment. For whatever reason."
They stared at each other for a beat before Joe sighed. "Fine." He took the paycheck from her.
"And don't forget the forty dollars you loaned me."
He wrote out a new check and handed it to her. "Happy now?"
"Yup." She smiled at the meager figure on the check.
Joe grinned back at her, and as always, his smile infected her with happiness. But the moment was broken as a sharp gust of wind blew in from the open window. Joe got up and walked to the window, his expression suddenly somber.
Outside, storm clouds were rolling in, black with thunderous intent, and in just a few seconds the room had noticeably darkened.
"Damn, I was hoping we'd miss this storm." Joe scanned the leaden sky. "But it looks like we're going to get hammered."
He'd barely spoken before a fork of lightning lit up the sky, and they both flinched. Thunder was quick to follow, rumbling ominously; the storm was closing in fast on Hartley.
"Shit. I have to go." Joe turned to Nina, his brow creased with concern. "This storm might tear my place apart."
"Your place? But your house seems solid enough."
"Not my house, my … " He blinked at her as if he'd only just realized what he was saying. "My other investment property. It's run-down, and I don't know how it'll hold up against this storm." He grabbed the jacket slung over his desk chair, and strode toward the door.
His concerned expression made her worried on his behalf. "Wait for me." Nina hurried after him. "I can help you."
Joe hesitated in midstride. "You?"
"Yes, me. I've finished my morning chores. Just give me a second to get a sweater or something and I'll go with you."
He scratched his chin, but then another flash of lightning appeared to make up his mind. He nodded. "Make it quick."
Nina dashed next door to her room, where she tucked away her paycheck and grabbed the gray hoodie she'd bought from the thrift store. Joe was waiting for her in the reception lobby. He tossed a yellow rain slicker at her and jerked his head in the direction of the door.
"Let's go."
The air was thick and heavy as they drove out of Hartley in Joe's truck. Dark clouds curdled overhead, but the rain held off for the moment. The road seemed familiar. They were heading toward the cliffs where Joe had brought her earlier that week-had it only been on Monday? But then he took a different turn down a narrow, rutted lane.
Five minutes later they pulled up outside a rambling old house surrounded by several acres of weed-infested land. Despite its neglected air, the house was still grand and gracious. Its stone walls were weathered to the color of honey, and in the dilapidated grounds were traces of a once manicured lawn. The best feature of the property was its location, situated on a rise overlooking the ocean, with stands of red oaks surrounding it. Oaks that were buffeted by the rising winds.
As they hurried to the house, gusts of wind heralded the arrival of the storm, and a few seconds later the clouds dumped rain in giant bucketfuls. The interior of the house was cavernous and gloomy. Nina had a brief impression of soaring ceilings, arched windows, and carved timber. And over that, peeling paint, moldy walls, and rotting decay.
Joe had brought some folded-up tarpaulins with him. He started for the once magnificent staircase. "Follow me."
The rat-a-tat of the rain grew louder as they dashed upward, and the stairs became narrower as they ascended to the third floor, where the attics crouched just beneath the roof. A door banged in the rising wind. Joe stepped into the closest attic and swore under his breath.
"Look at that."
The window to the attic had blown out, leaving a gaping hole through which rain poured inside. The roof had sprung several leaks, some of them drips, others almost rivers. The wind howled and flurried about the house, rattling every nail, shaking every timber.
Joe made a quick survey of the other two attics, Nina close behind him. Both of them had also sprung copious leaks.
"Let's fix that blown-out window first," Joe said, throwing down his pile of tarpaulins.
Nina helped as best she could, following his instructions and trying to ignore the rain slapping at her. She'd never experienced anything like this before, and soon she was soaked and freezing, despite the rain slicker. But she didn't allow herself to complain. How could she when Joe was working even harder than she was?
Together they fastened a tarpaulin over the broken window, which required Joe to hang out dangerously from the ledge. They rigged up other tarpaulins beneath the worst of the leaks so that the water was diverted outside the house. Smaller leaks were dealt with using the pails and cans that had obviously been put to the same use before.
The violent storm passed as quickly as it came, leaving behind a sodden, dripping house. They trudged downstairs to the first floor, where a few more windows were broken and water pooled in several places.
"What made you buy this place?" Nina asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.
Joe swiped a hand across his damp brow as he glanced around the reception room they stood in. "I've always admired this house. As soon as it came up for sale, I had to buy it. It's a wreck now, but it's got great potential. I want to turn it into a high-end boutique B&B. Hartley's becoming more popular, and an upmarket B&B will fill a gap."
"It's definitely got loads of character."
Something about the house reminded her of the faded mansion she'd grown up in. Her mom had adored grand old houses, and her dad had indulged her. Nina had fond memories of sliding down banisters and running through half-finished rooms. Then her mom had died, and when her dad had remarried, her stepmom had turned her childhood home into a mini Palace of Versailles.
Nina flicked a piece of peeling wallpaper. "But you'll need a lot of money to turn this into a B&B."
"Tell me something I don't know."
The odd note in his voice made her frown as a memory triggered. What had Vince said about Joe's bank problems?
"Are you having trouble getting a loan?" she asked before she could stop herself.
His eyes sharpened on her. "Who told you that?"
"Uh, no one. Just a guess."
Uneasiness rolled in her stomach. Money. Always rearing its ugly head. Joe wasn't like her jerk of an ex, though, was he? He wouldn't ask her for money. But what if he found out how wealthy she was? Would that make a difference?
Joe riffled his fingers through his hair as he gazed out a missing window at the storm-churned sea. "Well, it's true," he said reluctantly. "But that's not the half of it."
"There's more?"
"Yup. Someone's trying to make me sell this place."