Naughty Temptations

Chapter One

Chapter One

Mary Sullivan stared at the bathroom faucet that had just come off in her hand. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered. “I wonder if lemon laws apply to beach house rentals? This place is falling apart.” So far her efforts at quiet contemplation time had been thwarted by broken door hinges, a non-functioning stove, and a coffeemaker that insisted on blowing the breaker each time she plugged it in. Now a broken faucet.

“This place is cursed,” she told the rental agent who answered her call. “Every day something else breaks!”

The agent was apologetic and promised to let the owner know about the issues as well as sending someone out to fix the faucet right away.

She’d just hung up when a soft, female voice came from an empty corner of the room. “It isn’t really.”

“What the hell? Who’s there?” She looked around but didn’t see anyone else in the room. No one else should be there since she’d rented the place for herself alone.

“It’s just me.”

Was that a bit of fog in the far corner of the room? Weird, but the voice seemed to be coming from that direction.

“Is this a joke? Or a prank?” She had no idea who could be messing with her, though. Only her mother knew she was here, and wacky as Mom might be, this wasn’t her style.

“Not a joke,” the disembodied voice answered. “And the place isn’t really cursed. There’s a reason for all the problems. I just can’t tell you what it is yet.”

Danged if the fog didn’t appear to be moving a bit, swirling gently.

“Not all that helpful,” Mary said.

“It is, though. You’ll see.”

“Not if it means sticking around here.”

“Please, don’t go. It’s all right. Truly.”

Mary sucked in a breath. “On top of everything else, now I’ve either got a ghost, a prank, or a figment of my imagination haunting me. Why would I want to stay?”

“If I promise that nothing more will go wrong, will you stay?”

“How can you promise that?”

“I can. Give it a few more hours at least. Please just wait a little while longer, and then I’ll explain everything.”

“This is crazy. I’m crazy.”

“No, you’re not. A few more hours. You’ll be glad you did. Really.”

Mary decided she might be losing her mind. But what else did she have to lose at this point? And while the house might be driving her nuts, the beach and the ocean were soothing her rattled nerves. She didn’t really want to leave.

“Six o’clock this evening. I’ll stay until then. But if anything else breaks in the meantime, I’m gone. Got it?”

“Yes.” The word was faint, barely a breath, fading out just as a knock sounded on the door.

A heavyset man in dark blue coveralls, carrying a tool box, stood outside. He identified himself as a plumber sent by the real estate company. She checked his credentials despite the name above the pocket and the truck parked in the drive.

When she looked up at the corner while leading the man to the sink, the fog had disappeared.

The plumber spent an hour and a half working in the bathroom. Clatters, bangs, and occasional screeches of metal on metal attested to his efforts. Another knock sounded on the door just as the plumber came out of the bathroom and said, “All done.”

Mary nodded at him and went to answer the door again. The man standing outside this time was tall, lean, casually dressed in shorts, polo shirt, and deck shoes, and quite good looking in a somewhat austere and solemn way. Windblown dark hair bore a few streaks of gray. Lines radiated from the outer corners of dark eyes. He tried for a smile but the effort produced mixed results, an expression that strained to be pleasant but couldn’t quite hide an underlying sadness or burden. “I’m Tom Woodson, the owner of the place. I understand you’ve been having some problems.”

“Mary Sullivan. I’m amazed so many things have broken while I’ve been here since the house looks to be in such good shape.” Before she could say any more, the plumber came up behind her as he headed out and said, “Hey, Tom. Come to check my work?”

“Mike.” The newcomer reached out to shake hands. “Nope. Have had several here recently. Thought I’d better take a look myself.”

“Plumbing’s in good shape anyway.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything else with you taking care of it,” Tom agreed. “Thanks for coming over so quickly.”

“No problem. House looks good to me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

The plumber departed and the newcomer turned to her. “So, what’s going on with the house?”

“I have no idea, but since I got here three days ago, I’ve had four things break on me.”

“That’s odd. We’ve always taken really good care of the place. I was here two weeks ago and everything was in tip-top condition.”

“I don’t know what’s happened since then but it certainly doesn’t seem to be now.”

“What have you been doing here?”

She clenched her fists and made an effort to keep her voice calm when she asked, “Are you accusing me of vandalism?”

He looked shocked. “Sorry, that came out all wrong. Good heavens, no. Unless you’re having wild parties in the place?” He looked around, took in the pristine neatness of kitchen and living room, and caught her frown. “I didn’t really think so. Just wondering what’s going on. Thought it might be someone pranking you or me, but can’t think who would do it. Late in the season for the kids and college students. They’re all back in class now.”

Mary almost blurted out something about the ghost sort-of claiming responsibility, then stopped. She really didn’t want to sound crazy in front of this very attractive man. “I don’t know.”

“Mind if I have a look around?” he asked.

“You own the place.”

“But you’ve rented it for the week. You’re here by yourself?”

She hesitated. “Yes. But plenty of people know where I am.”

His mouth crooked in a wry smile. “Of course. Wise move on your part. Got your cell phone in your pocket?”

Heat rose in her face even while she told herself a woman alone couldn’t be too careful. “Yes, I do.”

He nodded. “Let’s check it out, then. Show me what’s broken.”

For the next hour, they examined the house from top to bottom, looking for evidence of hidden problems, vandalism, deterioration, breakage, wiring problems, anything to explain why so many things had gone wrong. As he’d claimed, it all looked to be in excellent condition.

He saved the bedroom she was using for last and asked for permission before going in.

Unfortunately she didn’t remember the books she’d left on the bedside table until after she’d followed him into the room. Her face burned as she saw them there. She prayed he wouldn’t notice. But of course he did. In fact, seeing the lurid cover on the top one brought him up short for a moment. He stared at it and drew a harsh breath but he didn’t say anything. Instead he turned and examined electrical outlets and windows, and went into the bathroom to check the plumbing there.

He came out moments later and stared at her before saying, “I don’t see any problems other than some loose screen on the door. I’m going to look closer at a couple of things downstairs, then I want to test some of the appliances.”

While he was out of sight, she rushed to the bedroom and tucked away the books. The damage was already done, but she could limit future embarrassment, at least.

When he returned she met him in the kitchen.

“One of the railings on the steps down off the deck is loose,” he said, sweeping back sweat-dampened hair. “I’ll need to get some stuff to fix it. Okay if I come back tomorrow to work on it?”

“Why not? In the meantime, you look hot. Care for some lemonade or iced tea?”

He considered the offer for a moment that went on long enough to convince her he’d decline. “Lemonade sounds great.”

A tiny spark ignited in her chest at his acceptance. Mary poured two glasses of lemonade and put a few shortbread wafers on a plate. “Sit on the deck?”

He nodded, took the plate from her, and held the door as they went out. The late afternoon sun shone behind the house, leaving most of the chairs in shade. A refreshing breeze blew off the ocean. As usual in North Carolina in early October, the day had been warm, but started to cool as the light waned.

They sat, angled so they half-faced each other but could also look out at the ocean. To break a silence that stretched long enough to border on awkward, Mary asked, “Do you live near here? You got here very quickly.”

“Not far. I have another place a mile or so up the beach that I’m in the process of renovating. This house has always been special, though. Annie loved it.”

“Your wife?”

He took a long, slow sip of lemonade. “Was. Gone now. Breast cancer. It’s been almost exactly a year.” He didn’t add anything.

She let the silence sit for a couple of minutes before she broke it. “That’s ironic. My life fell apart almost exactly a year ago, too. I’m celebrating that I’m ready to move on now. Marking the transition to really living again.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. His expression remained neutral, neither sympathetic nor judging. “Might I ask what happened?”

For some reason she didn’t hesitate to tell this stranger the truth she’d been reluctant to share with other close friends. “Two days before our wedding I discovered my fiancé wasn’t the man I thought he was. I can’t believe I didn’t know before then that he had a gambling addiction. He told me those weekend trips he took were business trips. I suppose in his mind, they were. That would’ve been bad enough, but he didn’t really love me. It was all pretend. He just wanted to get hold of an inheritance I have from an aunt to pay off his debts and let him continue. The thing is, I really was in love with him. Or at least the man I thought he was. Still I called off the wedding. I don’t have to tell you what a pain that was. I guess I’ve been grieving for a man who didn’t exist, but I’m over it now.” She stopped to take a sip of lemonade and listen to the soothing roar of the waves. “And hey, major win! I can now talk about this without breaking down in tears. So, bring on a new life.”

He watched her steadily for several long moments before a hint of a smile broke through and he raised his glass. “Cheers for a new life—or at least restarting life—for both of us.”

As she raised her glass, he startled her by adding, “Have dinner with me?”