The Charmer

“I won’t make any sudden moves,” he said.

She shrugged and walked out of the room, her heavy boots leaving puddles of water on the floor. Alex slipped out of his coat and tossed it over a nearby chair, then kicked off his shoes. When the two dogs approached, he held his breath. They sniffed at his feet, then each picked up a shoe and retreated back to the sofa with their prizes.

“Give those back,” he pleaded. “No, don’t do that. You can’t eat those.” Alex heard footsteps behind him and he spun around, coming face-to-face with a woman of peculiar beauty. He glanced around the room. “Hello,” he said.

He slowly took in the details of her face. She wore dark makeup on her eyes and her shoulder-length hair was cut in a jagged way, with streaks of purple in the bangs. Was this the woman who had rescued him? He’d imagined the face that went with the voice, speculated about the body, but this wasn’t at all what he’d expected.

“They eat shoes,” she said, grabbing the loafers and handing them back to him.

Only when he heard her voice was Alex certain. This was the woman who had rescued him. But the instant attraction he felt was rather disconcerting. She was the exact opposite of women he usually pursued. He liked blondes, tall and willowy, surgically enhanced and trainer-toned. This girl was petite, with an almost boyish figure, and a quirky sense of fashion.

“Put them in the closet,” she said, pointing to a spot near one door. “They don’t know how to operate a doorknob…yet. They’re still working on tearing strangers limb from limb.”

Alex smiled, but she didn’t return the gesture. She continued to regard him with a cool yet slightly wary stare. After he’d dropped his shoes in the closet, he surveyed his surroundings. “Nice place. Do you live here alone?”

“No,” she said. “There are the dogs. And two cats. And I have two horses down in the barn.”

“A regular Noah’s Ark,” he teased. She gave him an odd look and he decided be more direct. “So, you’re not married?”

“Are you?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. Crossing the room, he held out his hand. “I’m Alex Stamos.” He waited, growing impatient with the long silence between them. “Now, you’re supposed to tell me your name.”

“Tenley,” she said, refusing his gesture.

“Is that your first or last name? Or both. Like Ten Lee?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t had dinner yet. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat, Tenley,” Alex said. Odd girl with an odd name. Yet, he found her fascinating. She didn’t seem to be interested in impressing him. In truth, she didn’t seem the least bit fazed by his charm.

Strange, Alex thought to himself. Women usually found him utterly mesmerizing from the get-go. He slipped out of his jacket and draped it over a nearby chair. His pants were damp and his socks soaked through.

“You should probably call for a tow. Or your car is going to get covered by the drifts. The phone is over there.”

“I’ll call the auto club.” He paused. “I don’t have the phone number. It’s on my BlackBerry, which is in the snowbank.”

“I’ll call Jesse. He has the garage in town.” She walked over to the phone and dialed. Alex watched her from across the room, studying her features. She really was quite pretty in an unconventional way. Alex drew a slow breath. She had a really nice mouth, her lips full and lush.

When she turned to face him, he blinked, startled out of a brief fantasy about the body beneath the layers of winter clothes. “He won’t be able to get to you for a while,” she said. “Maybe not until the morning.”

“Did you tell him that wasn’t acceptable?”

This caused a tiny smile to twitch at the corners of her mouth—the first he’d managed. “No. He’s busy. There are more important people than you stuck in the snow. You’re safe and out of the storm. Your car can wait. Now, if it’s acceptable to you, I’ll make us something to eat.”

Alex cursed beneath his breath. He hadn’t gotten off to a very good start with Tenley. And hell, spending the evening in her company, sharing an intimate dinner, was far more intriguing that sitting alone in his room at the local bed-and-breakfast. “Can I give you a hand?” he asked, following her to the kitchen.

HE SAT ON A STOOL at the kitchen island, his elbows resting on the granite counter top, his gaze following her every move. The tension between them was palpable, the attraction crackling like an electric current.

What had ever possessed her to bring this man in from the storm? She thought she was doing a good deed. He probably would have survived just fine on his own. She could have come home, called the sheriff and let law enforcement ride to the rescue. But now it looked like she’d be stuck with him for the rest of the night.

Tenley was accustomed to a solitary existence, just her, the dogs, the cats, the horses and those occasional demons that haunted her dreams. Having a stranger in the house upset the delicate balance—especially a stranger she found so disturbingly attractive.

In truth, she wasn’t sure how to handle company. Since the accident almost ten years before, she’d made a habit of isolating herself, always maintaining a safe distance from anything that resembled a relationship. It was just easier. Losing her brother had sapped every last bit of emotion out of her soul that she didn’t have the energy or the willpower to engage in polite conversation. And that was what people expected in social situations.

“Stop staring at me.” Tenley carefully chopped the carrot, focusing on the task and trying to ignore Alex’s intent gaze. She felt her face grow warm and she fought the urge to run outside into the storm to cool off.

There was work to do in the barn; the horses had to be fed. She didn’t have to stay. But for the first time in a very long time, Tenley found herself…interested. She wasn’t sure what it was, but his curious stare had her heart beating a bit quicker and her nerves on edge. From the moment he’d offered his hand in introduction, she’d felt it.

Maybe it was just an overreaction to simple loneliness. She had been particularly moody this winter, almost restless. In years past, she’d been happy to hide out, to take long walks in the woods, to spend time with her animals, indulging in an occasional short-lived affair. But this winter had been different. There had been no men and the solitude had begun to wear on her.

She handed him a carrot to munch on, using the opportunity to study him more closely. Alex Stamos. For some reason, the name sounded familiar to her, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. He was here on business. Maybe he was one of those real estate developers from Illinois, interested in building yet another resort on the peninsula. She’d probably seen his name in the local paper.

And she didn’t understand this sudden attraction. Tenley was usually drawn to men who were a little rougher around the edges, a bit more dangerous. She usually chose tourists who were certain to leave at some point, but she had indulged with a number of willing single men from some of the nearby towns. Her grandfather called them “discardable,” and Tenley had to agree with his assessment.

Tenley looked down at her vegetables. There weren’t many women who’d kick Alex Stamos out of their bed.

Tenley glanced up again, to find him still staring. She drew a deep breath and met his gaze, refusing to flinch. For a long time, neither one of them blinked.

“I like this game,” he said. “My sister and I used to play it when we were kids. I always won.”

“It makes me uncomfortable,” Tenley said. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it wasn’t polite to stare?”

He shrugged and looked away. “Yeah, but I didn’t think that applied in this case. I mean, it’s not like you have a big wart on the end of your nose or you’ve got two heads. I’m staring because I think you’re pretty. What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m not pretty,” she muttered. She grabbed an onion and tossed it at him, then shoved the cutting board and knife across the counter. “Here, cut that up.”

She didn’t invite this attraction. In fact, over the past year, she’d done her level best to avoid men. The last man she’d invited into her bed hadn’t been just a one-night stand. She’d actually found herself wanting more, searching for something that she couldn’t put a name to.

She knew the risks. Physical attraction led to sex which led to more sex which led to affection which ultimately led to love. Only love didn’t last. It was there one day and gone the next. She’d loved her brother, more than anyone else in the world. And when he’d been taken from her, she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover. She wasn’t about to go through that again.

“I’m wondering why you wear all that makeup. I mean, you don’t need it. I think you’d look prettier without it.”

“Maybe I don’t want to look pretty,” Tenley murmured.

Alex chuckled at her reply. “Why wouldn’t you want to look pretty? Especially if you are?”

The question made Tenley uneasy. She didn’t tolerate curious men, men who wanted to get inside her head before they got into her bed. What business was it of his why she did what she did? He was a complete stranger and didn’t know anything about her life. Why bother to act as if he cared?

She turned and tossed the chopped carrots into the cast-iron pot on the stove. Maybe the town’s speculation about her would come true. She’d slowly devolve into an eccentric old spinster, living alone in the woods with only her animals to talk to.

“Do you like peppers?” she asked, turning to open the refrigerator.

“Do you ever answer a direct question?”

“Red or green? I prefer red.”

“You don’t answer questions,” Alex said. “Red.”

Tenley gave him a smile. “Me, too. They’re sweeter.” She handed him the pepper, then grabbed a towel from the ring beneath the sink. Bending over the basin, she quickly washed the makeup off her face, wiping away the dark liner and lipstick with dish soap.

When she opened her eyes again, she found an odd expression on his face. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, his gaze slowly taking in her features. “You just look. different.” He paused. “Beautiful.”

She swallowed hard, trying to keep herself from smiling. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re beautiful, too.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back. This was what came from spending so much time alone, talking to herself. She expressed her thoughts out loud without even realizing it.

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “Thanks.”

“I’m not just saying that. You are. Objectively, you’re very attractive.” Oh, God, now she was just digging a deeper hole. “I just noticed, that’s all. I’m not trying to. you know.”

“I don’t know,” he said. He picked up the pepper and walked around the island to the sink, then rinsed it off. “But you could try to explain it to me.”

There was no going back now. “The way you’re looking at me. I just get the feeling that you’re…flirting.”

He turned and leaned back against the edge of the counter. “I am. Is there something wrong with that?”

“It’s not going to work. I—I’m not interested in…that.”

“What?”

“Sex,” she said.

He frowned, then shook his head. “Is that what you think I’m doing? I was just having some fun. Talking. I didn’t mean to—”

“I didn’t want you to think that I was—”

“Oh, I didn’t. I guess, I’m just used to—”

“I understand and I don’t mean to—”

“I do understand,” he said softly. He took a step toward her and she held her breath.

This was crazy. She wanted him to kiss her. With any other man, she would have already been halfway to the bedroom. But Alex was different. All these strange feelings stirred inside of her. She longed for his touch, yet she knew how dangerous it would be. Need mixed with fear and she wasn’t sure what to do.

But then Alex took the decision out of her hands. He smoothed his hand over her cheek and bent closer. An instant later, his lips met hers and Tenley felt a tremor race through her body. He lingered over her mouth, taking his time, waiting for her to surrender.

With a soft sigh, Tenley opened beneath the gentle assault. A delicious rush of warmth washed through her body. Lately, she hadn’t felt much like a woman. It was amazing what one kiss could do to change all that.

She pushed up on her toes, eager to lose herself in the taste of him. It didn’t matter that they’d just met. It didn’t matter that she knew nothing about him. He made her feel all warm and tingly inside. That was all she cared about.

He drew back slightly, his breath warm against her mouth. “Maybe we should get back to dinner,” he suggested.

With a satisfied smile, Tenley stepped out of his embrace. They did have the entire night. With the blizzard raging outside, there was no way he’d be able to get into town. “There’s white wine and beer in the fridge and red wine in the cabinet above. Pick what you want.”

“What are you making?” He stood over her shoulder and peered into the cast-iron pot steaming on the stove. “It smells good.”

“Camp supper,” she said. “It’s just whatever’s at hand, tossed into a pot. There’s hamburger, potatoes, peppers, carrots and onions. I think I’ll add some corn.”

It wasn’t gourmet. Cooking had never been one of her talents. In truth, Tenley wasn’t really sure what she was good at. Right about the time she was ready to find out, her life had been turned upside down. Her grandfather was an artist and so was her father. And her mother was a poet, so creativity did run in her veins.

But like everything else in her world, she’d been too afraid to invest any passion in her future for fear that it might slip through her fingers. So she chose to help her grandfather further his career by running his art gallery. At least she knew she was good at that, even though it was more of a job than a passion.

Alex retrieved a bottle of red wine from the cabinet and set it on the counter. She handed him a corkscrew and he deftly dispatched the cork and poured two glasses of Merlot. “This is a nice place,” he said.

“It belonged to my grandparents. My great-grandfather built it for them as a wedding gift. After my grandmother died, my grandfather moved into town, and I moved here.”

“What do you do?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Tenley said, deflecting his question. “What brings you to Door County in the middle of a blizzard? It must be something very important.”

“Business,” he replied. “I’m here to see an artist. T. J. Marshall. Do you know him?”

Tenley’s breath caught in her throat and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. This man had come to see her grandfather? How was that possible? She was in charge of her grandfather’s appointments and she didn’t remember making one for—Oh, God. That was where she knew his name. He’d left a string of messages on her grandfather’s voice mail. Something about publishing a novel. Her grandfather already worked with a publisher and he didn’t write novels, so she’d ignored the messages. “I do. Everyone knows him. What do you want with him?”

“He sent us a graphic novel. I want to publish it.”

Tenley frowned. Her grandfather painted landscapes. He didn’t even know what a graphic novel was. She, however, did know. In fact, she’d made one for Josh Barton, the neighbor boy, as a Christmas gift, a thankyou for caring for her animals. “Do you have it with you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice indifferent.

“I do.”

“Could I see it?”

“Sure. Do you like graphic novels?”

“I’ve read a few,” she replied.

“This one is incredible. Very dark. The guy who wrote this has got some real demons haunting him. Or he’s got a great imagination. It’s about a girl named Cyd who can bring people back from the dead.”

Alex walked across the room to fetch his briefcase. Tenley grabbed her glass of wine and took three quick gulps. If this was her work, how had it possibly gotten into Alex’s hands? Perhaps Josh had decided to start a career as an artist’s agent at age fourteen?

Alex returned with a file folder, holding it out to her. “The story is loaded with conflict and it’s really edgy. It’s hard to find graphic novels that combine great art with a solid story. And this has both.”

Tenley opened the folder and immediately recognized the cover of Josh’s Christmas gift. She sighed softly as she flipped through the photocopy. What had he done? He’d raved about the story, but she’d never expected him to send a copy to a publisher. It had been a private little gift between the two of them, that was all. Josh had shared his love of the genre with her and she’d made him a story of his very own. She’d never intended it for public consumption.

Tenley had always had a love-hate affair with her artistic abilities. Though establishing her own career in art might make sense to the casual observer, Tenley fought against it. She and her brother had always talked about striking out on their own, leaving Door County and finding work in a big city. She’d wanted to be an actress and Tommy had been interested in architecture.

But after the boating accident, Tenley had given up on dreams. Her parents had been devastated and their grief led to a divorce. There was a fight over where Tenley would live and in the end, they let her stay in Door County with her grandparents while they escaped to opposite coasts.

They still encouraged her to paint or sculpt or do anything worthy with her art. But putting herself out there, for everyone to see, made her feel more vulnerable than she already did. There were too many ways to get hurt, and so many expectations that could never be met. And now, the one time in years that she’d put pen to paper had brought this man to her door. What were the odds?

“This is interesting,” she murmured. “But I think someone is messing with you. T. J. Marshall paints landscapes. This isn’t his work.”

“You know his work?”

“Yes. Everyone does. He has a gallery in town. You must be looking for another T. J. Marshall.”

“How many are there in Sawyer Bay?” he asked.

Two, Tenley thought to herself. Thomas James and Tenley Jacinda. “Only one,” she lied.

“And you know him. So you can introduce me. Tell me about him. How old is he? What’s his background? Has he done commercial illustration in the past?”

What was she supposed to say? That Tenley Jacinda Marshall was the T. J. Marshall he was looking for? That she was twenty-six years old, had never formally studied art or design, and had spent her entire life in Door County? And that she’d never intended anyone, outside of Josh Barton, to see her story?

“I know this will sell. It’s exactly what the market is looking for,” Alex continued. “A female protagonist, a story filled with moral dilemmas and great pictures.”

Was he really interested in paying her for the story? It would be nice to have some extra cash. Horse feed and vet care didn’t come cheap. And though her grandfather paid her well, she never felt as if she did enough to earn her salary. Still, with money came responsibility. She liked her life exactly the way it was—uncomplicated.

“I think I’ll make a salad,” she said.

He reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her escape. “Promise you’ll introduce me,” Alex pleaded, catching her chin with his finger and turning her gaze to his. “This is important.”

“All right,” Tenley said. “I will. But not tonight.”

He laughed. “No, not tonight.” He bent close and dropped a quick kiss on her lips, then frowned. “Are you ever going to tell me anything about yourself?”

“I don’t lead a very exciting life,” Tenley murmured, as he smoothed his finger along her jaw. A shiver skittered down her spine. His touch was so addictive. She barely knew him, yet she craved physical contact. He’d come here to see her, but somehow she knew that revealing her identity would be a mistake—at least for the next twelve hours.

“You rescued me from disaster,” he said. “I could have frozen out there.”

“Someone would have come along sooner or later,” she said.

They continued preparations for dinner in relative silence. But the thoughts racing through Tenley’s mind were anything but quiet. In the past, it had always been so simple to take what she wanted from a man. Physical pleasure was just a natural need, or so she told herself. And though she chose carefully when it came to the men who shared her bed, she’d never hesitated when she found a suitable sexual partner.

This was different. There was an attraction here she’d never felt before, a connection that went beyond the surface. He was incredibly handsome, with his dark hair and eyes, and a body that promised to be close to

perfection once he removed his clothes. He was quite intelligent and witty. And he seemed perfectly capable of seducing her on his own.

It might be nice to be the seduced rather than the seducer, Tenley thought. But would he move fast enough? They only had this one night. Sometime tomorrow, he’d find out she was the artist also known as T. J. Marshall. And then everything would change.

“Would you like some more wine?” Alex asked.

Tenley nodded. “Sure.” The bottle was already halfempty. Where would they be when it was gone?

THEY HAD DINNER in front of the fire. The sexual tension between them wasn’t lost on Alex. By all accounts, the setting was impossibly romantic—a blazing fire, a snowstorm outside and the entire night ahead of them. With any other woman, he could have turned on the charm and had her within an hour. But there was something about Tenley that made him bide his time. She wasn’t just any woman and she seemed to see right through him.

In the twelve years he’d been actively pursing women, Alex had honed his techniques. He’d found that most women were turned off by a man who wanted jump into bed after just a few hours together. Though he usually felt the urge, he’d learned to control his desires. He never slept with a woman on the first date. Or the second. But by the third, there were no rules left to follow.

Now he was finding it difficult putting thoughts of seduction out of his head. He wasn’t sure he was reading the signs correctly. Though he found Tenley incredibly sexy, he wasn’t sure they were moving in that direction. One moment she seemed interested and the next, she acted as though she couldn’t care less.

Though the conversation between them was easy, it wasn’t terribly informative. He’d learned that Tenley had lived in Door County her entire life and that the cabin had belonged to her grandparents. Her father was an artist and her mother, a poet. Though she didn’t say for certain, he gleaned from her comments that they were divorced. When he asked where they lived, she’d quickly changed the subject.

She kept the conversation firmly focused on him, asking about his business, about his life in Chicago, about his childhood. She seemed particularly interested in the market for graphic novels and his interest in publishing them.

“My grandfather started the company in 1962,” Alex explained. “He used to do technical manuals, then started a line of how-to books, right about the time everyone was getting into home improvement. He retired and my father expanded our list to include other how-to titles. How to Groom a Poodle, How to Make a Soufflé, How to Play the Ukulele. Real page-turners.”

“And then you came along with an idea for graphic novels.”

“I’ve read comic books since I was a kid. But they’re not just comic books anymore. They’re an incredible mix of graphic art and story. They’ve turned some of the best ones into movies, so they’re starting to move into mainstream culture.”

“And this book by T. J. Marshall? Why do you like it?”

“It’s…tragic. There’s this heroine who, after a brush with death, discovers she can bring people back to life. But she’s forced to choose between those she can save and those not worthy. The power only works for a short time before it’s gone again. And there’s this governmental agency that’s after her. They want to use her powers for evil.”