The Kiss of Love

Chapter 1

The Lighthouse Inn

January 26

12:45 a.m. 

Desiree stumbled into the dark cottage and dropped her keys onto the table. She bypassed the bathroom and fell face first onto the bed. After a Power Nap, she’d deal with the bedtime stuff. 

Slumber came fast and was deep. She dreamed of celebrating her birthday with her friends at Siren’s Song, drinking fruity cocktails and flirting with younger men. Barely an hour later, her phone rang, bursting her dream and bringing her back to reality. It took several rings before she remembered where her phone was … in the pocket of the woolen blazer she was still wearing. 

“‘Lo.”

“Desiree?” 

The uneasiness in Maxwell’s voice cut through her sleep-induced fog … but just barely.  

“What is it, Maxwell?” she mumbled. “Did you get tired of your latest bimbo?” 

“Desiree, listen!” he snapped. 

“I’m done listening to you,” she cut him off. “We’re divorced, remember? Now, if that’s—“

“Wait!” Maxwell barked. “I need to talk to you.”

“Then call back during daylight hours.” She disconnected without giving him a chance to respond. However, as she’d expected, the phone rang again before she’d even laid it on the nightstand. It was only her long-entrenched manners that pushed her to answer, “Can’t you take a hint?” 

“Desiree,” Maxwell tried again. “I know you’re pissed.”

“Gee, you think?” 

“You’re in danger,” he jumped in to say. 

“Right,” Desiree retorted. “Try again.” 

“Des, listen to me,” Maxwell chastised. “I’m serious. You’re in danger.” 

Desiree opened her mouth to tell him where to put his warning, when something in his voice finally registered. It wasn’t his usual relaxed tone. There was an edge she’d never heard before — even when they were fighting. 

“What’s going on, Maxwell?” 

“I seemed to have pissed off someone,” Maxwell answered. 

“So, what’s new?” Desiree laughed. “Or do you mean someone other than me?” 

“Just listen.” Maxwell ignored her question. “They’re looking for you. You’re still in Swan Harbor, right?” 

“Why would they be looking for me?” 

“I can’t tell you that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

“Can’t.” 

Her sixth sense was telling her not to trust everything he was saying. Why? She didn’t know. 

“Just watch yourself,” he added. 

“You know I—“

“Don’t trust anyone,” Maxwell barreled on. “I’ll be in touch.” 

The phone went dead, leaving her feeling strangely unsettled. Her ex-husband might be an ass, but he wasn’t one to cry wolf. Except why would someone be after her? They were divorced and had been for months. Which was one reason she’d returned home, to Swan Harbor, and invested in the Mountain View Lodge rejuvenation project. Those thoughts, though, didn’t give her any answers. 

Desiree sat up and brushed back her hair. She was on her way to the bathroom, when the air changed around her, and she heard the click of the front door. A chill raced up her spine, and Maxwell’s words, ‘They’re looking for you,’ rushed by. 

Fear had her ducking behind the door and peering through the crack. There were two of them, and their size said males. When they walked past her hiding place, she pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. 

“Remember, he doesn’t want her hurt,” one of them whispered. 

Desiree’s thoughts raced with what to do. She’d been in business long enough to know how to take up for herself — verbally, at least. And while she was tall, especially in the boots she had on, she wasn’t stupid. 

Her flight reflex kicked in, and she took off toward the front door. She’d tugged it open and had taken one step, when someone grabbed her from behind. 

“Let me go!” she snapped. 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” the one holding her murmured. “Our boss just wants a little insurance.” 

“Let me go!” she repeated. “I’ll scream.” 

“We can’t have that, now can we?” A large hand clamped over her mouth and nose. 

The inability to breathe upped the fear inside. It took over, stealing her thoughts and freezing her limbs. Then a dirty rag was tied behind her head, and her thoughts swam. She needed an anchor. Something to push her toward safety. 

“You can make this easy … or not.” the man behind her growled. “Just stay still. Grab her legs,” he directed his partner. 

As soon as her feet were no longer touching the ground, Desiree’s ability to think began to grow stronger. Once upon a time she’d taken a self-defense class. She could take care of herself, couldn’t she?      Go for the eyes! 

Knee him in the balls!

Pick up their leg!

Jerk your head backward!

Unbalance them!

Multiple thoughts rushed through her head as her two captors started down the walkway. They’d said they wouldn’t hurt her. Yet, giving up wasn’t something in her DNA. If they were going to take her — she wasn’t going to make it easy. 

She might be sixty, but she was fit. Adrenaline kicked in and, using her long arms and legs, she fought.  

“Keep her still,” the man holding her top half snapped. 

“I’m try—“ 

Desiree kicked out again and with a grunt, her legs were dropped. The motion surprised the man holding her shoulders, causing him to relax his hold. That move allowed her to strike back with her elbow, and then, she was free. 

She ran toward the lights of the hotel. Every time she thought about screaming for help, Maxwell’s words, Don’t trust anyone, kept her quiet. Except that didn’t mean she was without resources. 

Just before she reached the door, she took a last-second right and ran toward the back of the Inn. Desiree Desmond Goodwin had grown up in a hotel located just up the mountain. Nooks and crannies were her speciality. Especially the ones located in Swan Harbor.  

“Stop!” one of the men called. 

His voice hadn’t even faded before she ran around a tree. There was a pop, and she felt a sting, but she barreled on. Her destination was just ahead, and if she could make it, something told her the men behind her wouldn’t follow. 

***

Siren’s Song

January 26

1:00 a.m.

As the manager of Siren’s Song, a music club that anchored one end of Swan Harbor’s pier, Dawson didn’t have to be the last to leave every evening. There was an assistant manager, as well as Tyler, the owner, who could help. But with one being a new hire, and the other newly engaged, he didn’t mind. Mainly because he understood if he needed to take a night off, one of them would be there for him. He stood back and took a last look around.

The tables were lined up just so, the stereo system was silent, the kitchen had been wiped down, and the floors mopped. It was impossible to tell that just an hour ago the club had been crowded. Its air had smelled of sweat, a variety of foods, and booze. Plus, the  decibel level of the music had been cranked up a little louder than normal. 

With everything in its place, Dawson flipped the switch and was immediately pulled right back to the club’s New Year’s Eve party. 

December 31

Dawson wiped off the bar, then glanced over his shoulder to where Tyler was standing. 

“What is that look for?” 

“This look?” Tyler pointed at his face. “It’s just a look.” 

“Why are you back here?” Dawson reworded his question.  

“Just checking on you.” 

“No,” Dawson corrected. “There’s more to it.” 

Tyler nodded toward the dining room. “What do you see?”

“What do I see?” 

“Look,” Tyler pushed. 

Dawson leaned on the bar and glanced around the room. He’d known something was different when he’d come back downstairs. What though, he hadn’t been sure. 

“Rachel’s mother, Karen, is having a good time with several of her female friends,” Dawson noted. “That’s new.” 

“I’ll give you that one,” Tyler murmured. “It’s not what I’m after, though.” 

“That bleached blonde of the tree decorating fame is much looser when she’s had a few drinks,” Dawson added. “She’s also here with several other females.” 

“And?” Tyler prodded. 

“The college kids aren’t here,” Dawson replied. “There must be a party on campus. That’s good. It keeps them off the roads.” 

“True,” Tyler acknowledged. “Are you purposefully being dense? Or do you really not see what’s so different?” 

Dawson shrugged. “I’m not sure where you’re going, Ty. Everyone appears to be having a good time.” 

“They do.” 

“Just spit it out, Tyler,” Dawson grumbled. “I don’t have all night.” 

“Look at the women, Dawson,” Tyler murmured. 

Dawson was used to seeing more females than males around the clubs he managed. Especially when there was live music — and for the last three years, that had been Tyler James. Although now that he was engaged …. 

“Where are the younger women?” He finally clued in. “These women are—“

“—In your age bracket.” Tyler laughed. “And no, I didn’t realize it either. Rachel was the one who pointed it out.” 

“Did Rachel also tell you why they’re here?” Dawson followed up. 

“Why do you think?” Tyler gave him a pointed look. “It’s almost time for the clock to strike midnight. You can have your pick.” 

“My pick?” 

“Your pick of whom to kiss at midnight.” Tyler pointed toward the dining room. “You know Karen and Desiree. How about Linda, Anita, Becca, and I believe that dark headed woman in the tight jeans is Phoebe. She works at the University.” 

Dawson huffed. “Go on back out there with Rachel. I don’t need any help in that area.” 

He waited until it was ten minutes until midnight and took his stack of party hats and horns to spread around. On the way back to the kitchen, Rachel’s mother, Karen, stepped in front of him.  

“Any more of those hats?” Karen asked. “There are four of us.” 

“I have a secret stash.” He winked. “I’ll be right back.” 

She giggled like a schoolgirl, making Dawson grit his teeth to keep from racing upstairs as fast as possible. There was something about the sound that set his teeth on edge. 

With less than a minute left, Dawson handed Karen and her friends the hats. He’d just turned away when everyone shouted ‘1,’ and there was a chorus of Happy New Year. 

On his way back into the kitchen, the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. His thoughts scattered for the location of the light switch. Before he could move in any direction, someone cupped his face and placed her soft lips on his.

The kiss paralyzed him. Instead of running toward the kitchen, he wanted to grab hold. Instead of pushing her away, he wanted to dive in. Instead of feeling awkward, it felt natural. Instead of wanting it to end, he wanted more. He reached to pull her closer, to take the kiss a little deeper. 

“Happy New Year.” She brushed her thumb across his bottom lip and disappeared. 

When the lights came back on, he’d looked for her. Every night since, he’d come to work expecting … hoping to find out who it had been. While he wanted to know why, he couldn’t stop thinking about doing it again. Couldn’t stop wondering if he’d imagined how it had felt. 

To be continued ….