Free The Virgin and the Vengeful Groom by Dixie Browning Page B

there’s one here at the marina. Another one a few miles down the road at Pea Island.”
    â€œIs that the wildlife sanctuary? I read about it in lastSunday’s paper. I’d rather stop there if you don’t mind. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
    â€œNot at all,” he assured her. He might be a physical wreck, but even wrecks had their pride. Waiting for her to look her fill around the busy marina, he couldn’t help but admire the way the sun highlighted her cheekbones and the long line of her throat. She wasn’t precisely pretty. Forehead too high, nose too proud, cheekbones too pronounced. Patrician was a word that came to mind. He kind of thought it might apply here, and wondered for the first time about her background.
    Whatever it was, it had to be a hell of a lot more impressive than his own.
    â€œLet’s move on,” she said. Stretching her arms out behind her, she flexed her shoulders. “I’m eager to get to Bess’s house, to see if I can pick up anything from the ambience.”
    â€œIf it’s vibes you’re looking for, you might have to put up with some interference. The house is still pretty much the same, or so I’ve been told, but a lot’s changed on the island since the early days. Tourists, for one thing. The bridge, the highway—surfers and wall-to-wall fishermen.” He nodded toward the nearby inlet, where sportsmen of all types, both in and out of boats, vied for space. “Hell, they even moved the lighthouse.”
    She nodded. He could almost see her taking mental notes. He led the way, pulling into the state-sanctioned rest stop at Pea Island, with its state-sanctioned gift shop and nature trail. He hoped she didn’t plan on doing any bird-watching. As usual he planned to get the job done and get out. Or in this case, open the boxes, take what he wanted and let her have the rest.
    One thing he definitely looked forward to was being under his own roof, in his own bed, with all the doors andwindows wide open. A couple of nights in an airless motel was about all he could take. The food had been pretty good, but then, one of the things he’d been intending to do was to learn how to cook something besides bacon and eggs. His mother had been a lousy cook. Made a botch of her first marriage, too. Evidently, he’d inherited his lack of domestic genes from her side of the family.
    While he waited for Lily to emerge, he considered the irony of going this far for a bunch of family records. For a guy who’d been a rolling stone ever since he’d graduated from high school, it was a switch. Suddenly he was a home owner. It sounded a little too much like having an anchor slung around his neck. Still, for the time being, he had nothing better to do than to explore his so-called legacy. Leaning against the hot metal side of the truck, absorbing the sun and salt air, he told himself that if he didn’t watch it, he’d be soon planting flowers and hanging curtains at the windows.
    He was still there when Lily emerged. Breathing deeply—or as deeply as he dared—of the clean salt air, he watched a pair of white herons lift off, admiring their graceful lines. Reluctantly he admired Lily’s lines, too. He liked the way she moved, as if she knew precisely where she was going. With the wind pressing her loose shirt and slacks against her body, she managed to look fragile, feminine and resilient at the same time.
    Hell of a thing. The woman could tick him off, turn him on and mess up his mind without even trying. And here he was, taking her home with him. The medics just might have been right when they’d warned him about discharging himself from the hospital too soon. Evidently, a few parts of his body were recovering faster than others.
    Just don’t start anything you can’t finish, Powers.
    They headed south. Curt was scowling when they leftPea Island, grimacing with pain by the time