Good Deed Bad Deed, Marcia Morgan [summer beach reads TXT] 📗

brisk and congenial. They stopped at a small café for a light meal, during which Gareth seemed more quiet than he had been on their first evening together. He seemed preoccupied, his expression anything but attentive.

Sensing that his thoughts were elsewhere, Olivia said, “Is there something wrong? You seem to be miles away.”

He took an obvious deep breath and answered, “I was, but it has nothing to do with you. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here—right now—with you.”

“Can I help? Is it something about your office that has you stressed?”

“No. No. It’s not that—just some business stuff. But I’ll do better. My eyes and thoughts will be on you for the rest of the evening. That’s how I like it.”

“Hmmm—I don’t think you should stare at me during the set at the club. The musicians might be insulted. You should stop when you cross the street too. You might get hit.”

He chuckled and smiled at her. Noticing the time, he signaled for the bill and they were soon on their way to the jazz club. About two hours later, having enjoyed the music and the stroll back to her flat, he asked to see her the following week. As they climbed the stairs to her flat, she told him about her plans and that she would be out of the country for about ten days. His disappointment was evident, either because he couldn’t see her, or because the plan he was ordered to carry out could be impossible and could put his brother in more danger. At that moment he couldn’t think of himself as Clive. He was Gareth Logan, an innocent weekend rugby player and employee of a technology services company who had been coerced into taking part in a crime about which he was being kept in the dark.

He told himself to suck it up and do what he had to do, so he thought quickly and asked if he could take her to the airport. She declined, saying that she and her friend had booked a car service to pick them up. In an effort to glean more information he offered again, saying that if the taxi didn’t show up, she should call and he would hurry over. But he would need to know the time of her flight, and the airline—just to make it easier in a pinch. She didn’t quite understand his request, but saw no reason not to share the information, including the layover and arrival time at San Sebastián. Then he asked about their accommodations. Olivia was happy to talk about all of it— about her connection to Pamplona through her grandparents, about the guesthouse, its name, and that it was inexpensive. He suggested that due to his selective memory, he should write down the information—just in case of any problem they might encounter where he might be of help. Then he held up his phone and took her picture. He said it would help him not to miss her too much. She found his concern unnecessary, but found it all flattering. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a notepad and pen.

They were still standing outside Olivia’s door when she told him she should go inside. The two stood face to face in the deserted hallway, each feeling self-conscious for a different reason. Gareth wanted desperately to kiss her, but the situation he was in made him doubt the wisdom of that choice. Olivia wondered in that moment what his kiss would be like—whether it would be tentative or passionate. Her preference was a kiss that began as tentative, its sweetness promising an explosion of passion to follow. She looked up and their eyes met. Neither said a word. He realized that this could be his only chance to kiss her. What was to come was still an unknown. What he wanted to do was to tell her everything, to appoint himself her protector, and for them to run far and fast. Instead, he leaned down and took the kiss. Standing on her tiptoes she met his lips halfway. The first kiss did begin tentatively, and he resisted putting his arms around her. Each backed off and looked into the other’s eyes again. Before either could take a second breath, he reached for her, his arms pulling her close to his chest. His open mouth devoured hers, and she returned the pressure. She felt his tongue slide into her willing mouth, and for as long as the exploration lasted she was lost in the idea of a romance with this rugged looking yet gentle man. They bid each other good night, each a little shaken by the unexpected intensity of their first kiss. Olivia went inside and just stood in her dark flat, reluctant to turn on the lights that would bring her back to reality.

Kissing Olivia had left him too distracted to remember there was a lift. He took the two flights of stairs to the street very slowly, and once outside he began to wrestle with what was required of him. He stood on the sidewalk, leaning against a streetlight, wondering what to do next. He took out his phone and then hesitated. But there was no escaping his involvement, so he took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and dialed the number written there. The person who answered Gareth’s call had the same altered voice as the man that had recruited and threatened him, issued instructions, given him an alias, and was now generally in control of his life. With much reluctance he relayed the information regarding Olivia’s plans and whereabouts for the next week or so. The voice then ordered him to book any airline in whatever class available for a red eye flight to Madrid and on to San Sebastián. If a red eye flight wasn’t possible, he was to fly out early the next morning in order to arrive at least a day before Olivia and her companion. The ticket