ELODIE HAD BEEN in town for just over a week, and though people seemed to recognize her, very few of the townsfolk greeted her on the street. In truth, she could count on one hand the people in Winchester who had been friendly to her—Dev, of course, and his mother. Joannie at the café now smiled when she stopped by for lunch. Officer Kyle seemed to accept her. And finally, Susanna Sylvestri, the glass artist who had replaced her windows. They’d had lunch the day before to talk about her work.
“Five friends,” Elodie murmured. “In one week.” Manhattan had been friendlier. But then, no one had known her there—or her family’s reputation. Maybe she ought to consider five a good start. She’d simply have to change people’s minds one person at a time—assuming she stayed, of course, which wasn’t likely.
She had a nice life in Manhattan, a good job and a lovely group of friends. And though her apartment was the size of a closet, there were so many things she loved about the city.
And yet, when she was here, she felt like she had a purpose. She owed it to the house and to the town to see what she could do for them. Her plans might fail miserably, or she might be run out of town before she even got started, but she had to try.
She stopped in front of the office for the Winchester Journal. The paint was flaking off the front door and the blinds across the plate-glass window were faded, but the paper was still running. She’d read the latest issue over coffee at Zelda’s just this morning.
Grabbing hold of the door, she pushed it open and stepped into the cool, dimly lit interior. Dust motes swirled through the shafts of sunshine coming through the blinds, and the scent of newsprint and fresh ink filled the air. It smelled exactly like the Sunday New York Times, Elodie mused.
“Can I help you?”
An elderly woman appeared from the back, wearing an ink-stained apron and gloves. She pulled off the gloves, shaking her head. “Damned press. One of these days, it’s finally going to give up the ghost and I’m going to move to Florida and live with my sister. What can I do for you, dear?”
“I’m hoping you can help me—”
“Wait,” she said, frowning. “Are you Elodie Winchester?”
“Yes,” Elodie said. She held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you...”
“Oh, I’m Violet Feeney. Editor and publisher of the Winchester Journal, serving Winchester and the surrounding area for over one hundred and twenty years. I haven’t been here for that long, but the paper has.”
“Well, you are exactly the person I’m looking for,” Elodie said. “I’m working on a project and I’m hoping to find local folk artists who’d be interested in promoting their work. I read that article you ran on the quilters club in your last issue, and I thought you might be able to give me information on other artists.”
“Artists?” she said. “I doubt those quilters consider themselves artists.”
“Oh, but they are,” Elodie said. “I believe they are.”
“We do keep a clip file,” she said. “Most papers index their content on a computer nowadays, but we’re a little behind the times,” Violet said. “Still do everything the old-fashioned way.”
“Could I look at the clip file?” Elodie asked.
“Let me go fetch it for you,” Violet said.
Violet cleared a table for Elodie in the rear of the shop and set down a pile of file folders. “If I can get you anything else, just give me a shout.”
“Thank you.”
Elodie picked up the first folder and flipped through it, scribbling down notes as she went along. Her plan was taking shape, a chance to help the people of Winchester and to draw tourists to the charming town. It would be a small start, but Elodie wanted to use her expertise to help.
After combing through articles from the past ten years, she felt as though she had a good group of artists to approach. She’d start by inviting them to a small reception at the Winchester mansion, where she would explain her plans for a folk art gallery right there on the first floor of the house. And then she’d host an art fair, hopefully spanning two or three blocks of Wisteria Street, featuring artists from all over North Carolina. And finally, she would explore her idea of turning the old mill into artists’ lofts, combining both studio space and living accommodations for talented artists.
It was an ambitious plan, but Elodie had heard of similar projects in other states where they’d transformed failing industrial towns without hope into thriving artists’ communities. Many had transformed old factories and mills into condo complexes or shopping malls, creating an interesting mix of history and commerce that always seemed to draw a tourist crowd.
Elodie had plenty of resources to draw upon. She’d made a lot of important contacts managing the gallery in Manhattan, clients who had money to dole out to worthy causes. Renovating the mansion for her own purposes was out of the question, but if she turned it into a nonprofit gallery to showcase local folk art, then more sources of funding would be open to her.
And what better way to kick off the fund-raising campaign than an art fair? She could just imagine the streets filled with artists’ tents, the booths stuffed with interesting work.
Elodie stood up and gathered her things. Violet returned to the room, a box in her arms. “Finished with your work?” she asked.
“I am.”
“I hope if you’re planning something newsworthy, you’ll come to me and let me put it in the paper.”
“You’ll be one of the first to know,” Elodie said.
Violet held the box out to Elodie. “I thought you might like to look at this,” she said. “There’s so much here, I packed it up so you could take it home.”
“What is it?”
“The history of your family here in Winchester,” Violet said. “It’s interesting reading.” She chuckled. “You might want to start with your great-grandfather’s feud with Chief Cassidy’s great-grandfather. Back in the day, it turned this town inside out.”
“Dev Cassidy?”
“Yes,” Violet said.
“I’ve never heard anything about it,” she said.
“Oh my, there were years of lawsuits. The Winchesters were a powerful family even then, and this Lochlan Quinn was just a worker in the mill. He came up with some kind of invention with the looms at the mill. Your grandfather stole the idea and made millions on it.”
“When was this?”
“Long before you were born, my dear. Long before most people were born—there aren’t many in town who still remember it. Your father was just a boy. It’s all in there.”
“Thank you,” Elodie said.
“Just make sure you bring the clippings back when you’re done,” Violet said.
“I will,” Elodie said. She picked up the box and followed Violet to the front door, then stepped outside into the midday heat. It was only then that she realized she’d walked downtown rather than taken her rental car. She wasn’t prepared to carry the box all the way home. But the police station was only a block away. Maybe she could ask Dev to deliver the box to her that evening when they got together for dinner.
She turned toward the station, but as she was struggling with the heavy box, she heard the blast of a siren behind her. The sound startled her, and the box slipped from her hand and landed with a thud at her feet. Dev’s police cruiser pulled up alongside her, and he smiled at her.
“Need some help?”
“You startled me,” she said. “Aren’t there rules for using that siren?”
“Yes,” he said. “And trying to attract the attention of a beautiful woman is against the rules. Are you going to report me?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. But only if you take this box and drive it to my house later for me. I walked downtown and it’s too heavy to carry all the way home.”
Dev hopped out of the car and crossed the distance between them, then picked up the box. “I’ll take both of you home,” he said. “Get in.”
He put the box in the backseat, then held open the passenger side door for her. Elodie got inside and waited for Dev to get behind the wheel. When he did, she turned to him. “What do you know about your grandfather Lochlan Quinn?”
He frowned. “What?”
“Your grandfather. His name was Lochlan Quinn.”
Dev shook his head. “I don’t have a grandfather named Quinn. At least, not one that I’ve ever met. My mom doesn’t talk about her family. My dad walked out on her when I was just a baby, and both her parents were gone by then, as well. That’s all I know about my family.”
“Well, according to Violet from the newspaper office, your grandfather was a man named Quinn and at one time he worked for my grandfather.”
He leaned over and brushed a kiss across her lips. “That’s all very interesting. It seems everyone in this town worked for your family.”
It was, Elodie thought. But she hesitated to tell him the bit about her grandfather allegedly stealing Lochlan Quinn’s idea. To nearly everyone in town, the Winchesters were evil overloads, a power-hungry family that had made life miserable for everyone beneath them. Dev was the only friend she could truly depend upon. She didn’t want to say anything that might change his mind.
“Do you have time for lunch?” Elodie asked. “We could stop by Zelda’s and—”
“I can’t,” Dev said. “I’m due to appear in court at two.”
“Jimmy?” she asked.
He nodded.
Dev had been working tirelessly all week to try to help the young man. Despite his efforts, Jimmy had been locked up in the county jail and given an impossibly high bail. Dev had been trying to get him out, but Jimmy was protecting his family, and his father and brother weren’t talking.
“Is there anything I can do?” Elodie asked.
He sighed, then shook his head. “I wish I could get him to see what he’s going to lose. He thinks he’s being noble but he’s just being stupid.” Dev cursed softly. “What I’d really like to do is forget all of this for just one evening. There’s a picnic in the park tonight to benefit the fire department. I have to go and it would be a lot more fun if you’d come with me.”
“Would that be a good idea?” she asked. “I don’t want to be the dark cloud that spoils everyone’s fun.”
“You’ll be with me,” he said. “No one will bother you.”
Elodie considered his invitation for a long moment, then shook her head. “I think I’ll pass. I have a lot of work to do. But why don’t you come over afterward and we’ll have a late dinner.”
“When are you going to tell me about this project of yours?”
“When I get it all sorted out,” she said.
Dev pulled up in front of the mansion, then hopped out of the cruiser and circled around to help her. He retrieved the box of clippings and walked with her up to the porch.
“So, I’ll be back later tonight,” he said.
Elodie smiled. “I’ll see you then.”
“Stay out of trouble,” he warned.
“You stay out of trouble.”
He pulled her into his arms and gave her a long, lingering kiss, his tongue teasing at hers. Elodie was tempted to pull him inside for something more intimate, but she wanted to wait until they had more time.
As Elodie watched him jog back to the police cruiser, she smiled to herself. For the first time in a very long while, she was utterly and completely happy. And Elodie suspected that it had everything to do with Dev Cassidy.
* * *
“B-SEVEN. B-SEVEN.” Dev reached into the bin and pulled another bingo ball out. He’d agreed to call the big-money game in the bingo tent, and it was quite a change of atmosphere from the raucous party outside.
Every summer, Winchester’s volunteer fire department sponsored a barbecue, an all-day and night affair in the town park, attended by nearly all of the town’s three thousand residents. There were rides and games for the kids, food and dancing for the adults, and plenty to drink.
Dev glanced at his watch. It was nearly 9:00 p.m. Any minute now, he’d be called upon to break up the first of the evening’s fights. Between now and closing time at eleven, he’d mediate arguments over sports, family, romance and who owned the best hound dog in the county. Occasionally, he’d make an arrest if the fight turned physical, but he hoped that there’d be nothing serious tonight.
“I-seventeen,” he said. “I-seventeen. I’ve got a feeling there’s a bingo coming up on this next number. Who’s going to win this big pile of cash?”
He pulled another ball from the bin, but before he could read it, Eddie Grant from the grocery store hurried over. “Officer Kyle sent me in here to get you,” Eddie said. “There’s a problem outside.”
“Can’t he deal with it?” Dev asked.
“He thought you’d want to deal with it. It’s Elodie Winchester.”
“What about her?”
“She’s here. And she’s causing a bit of a stir.”
Dev handed Eddie the next bingo ball. “Finish calling the game,” he said. He jumped off the riser and hurried outside, following the sounds of shouts and jeers. He found a small crowd gathered near the games, and he pushed through to find Elodie caught in the center of it.
“What the hell is going on here?” Dev demanded.
“She has a lot of nerve showing up here,” Jeb Baylor said.
“We don’t want any Winchesters in this town,” Art Holman added.
Hank Pearce pushed through the crowd, his face red with anger. “She’s just a reminder of everything her old man stole from us.”
“Go back to where you came from!” another man shouted.
“Get out of here. This isn’t your town anymore,” said Jeb.
Dev placed himself in between the drunken crowd and Elodie, but she pushed him aside. “I don’t need your help,” she murmured.
Elodie cleared her throat, then tipped up her chin defiantly. “I understand why you’re angry. And I don’t blame you. My father did horrible things in the name of profit. And since I’m the only Winchester in the vicinity, you can take it out on me. Who’d like to hit me?”
“Elodie!” Dev moved to stand in front of her, but she just pushed him away again.
Four or five of the men in the crowd raised their hands and she nodded. “All right. Each of you can take one punch.”
A low murmur went through the crowd as the men moved forward. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Jeb Baylor said. “I’m not going to hit a woman.”
“Slap me, then,” Elodie offered. “I can take it.”
“No!” Several of the women in the crowd began to protest, and before long the conflict had created two factions in the crowd.
“No, she won’t take it,” Dev shouted. “That would be assault. And I will arrest you, count on it.”
“Not if she’s asking for it,” Frank Sinclair said.
“That’s right,” Elodie said.
“All of you, just move along,” Dev said. “There will be no slapping or punching here.” He bent close to Elodie. “We need to get you out of here right now.” Dev slipped his arm around her waist.
“I’m not leaving,” Elodie said. “We’re going to get this sorted out tonight. Wait!” she called. “I have an idea. Follow me.”
Dev held tight to her arm. “What are you doing?”
“You’ll see.”
Elodie stopped in front of the dunk tank, then faced the enemy. “I’ll spend the rest of the evening in the dunk tank,” she said. “If you want to take your chances, you can buy three balls and try to put me in.”
This seemed to interest most of those who had gathered. “Yeah,” Jeb said. “That’ll work.”
“Just one thing,” she said. “Instead of a dollar for three balls, it’s ten dollars. I understand the fire department needs a new pump truck and we can help make that happen.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Dev said to her.
Elodie turned to him, grabbing his arm as she kicked off her sandals. “I’ll be fine.”
Dev watched as she crawled up the steps and then scooted out onto the rail.
“Ten dollars for three chances,” she called to the attendant.
Within minutes there was a long line of both women and men waiting to take a shot and dunking her. Dev watched, his temper barely in check, furious that the whole town had ganged up on her.
“Folks are wonderin’ where your loyalties lie.”
Dev turned to find Frank Sinclair standing next to him, his angry gaze fixed on Elodie’s slender figure.
“I’m responsible for the safety of everyone in town,” Dev replied.
“I think you’re concerned with a little more than her safety,” Frank said.
Dev fought back a surge of anger. If he were any other man, he’d call Frank out and they’d end their disagreement with fists instead of words. But Dev was the police chief and had sworn an oath to promote harmony in the community. “You mind your own business, Frank, and I’ll take care of mine.”
“I’m just sayin’ that if you side with the Winchesters, you might find yourself out of a job.”
“Go ahead and try to fire me. I’m not worried. And if it makes you feel like a man to dunk that nice lady in the tank, then you go right ahead. But don’t be telling me how to do my job.”
By the time the line at the dunk tank disappeared, the breeze had picked up and Elodie was shivering badly. Dev finally convinced her to come down off the tank, and he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back.
“Jesus, you’re freezing.”
Her teeth chattered and she forced a smile. “I’m just a little chilled.”
Dev quickly escorted her to the cruiser. He found a thermal blanket in his first aid kit in the trunk, then wrapped her first in the silver film, then topped it with a rough wool blanket. “I’m taking you home.”
They drove through the dark streets of Winchester. “You didn’t have to do that, Elodie.”
“Maybe I did,” Elodie said. “They seem to want their pound of flesh, and if I want to live here even for a short while, I needed to give it to them. Even if it was with a silly dunk tank.”
Dev glanced over at her. “Do you want to live here? I thought you were just going to stay until you sold the house?”
Elodie shrugged. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Staying here is one option. But if everyone in town hates me, that makes it a lot less appealing.”
“Not everyone in town hates you,” he said. “I feel very differently.”
She chuckled softly. “Yes, and I’m glad. But you can’t always come riding to my rescue every time someone is mean to me. And I know what our relationship is costing you. I don’t want you to lose your job because of me.”
“I won’t,” Dev said. “And if I do, then I’ll just move on and find something else to do.”
“And leave Winchester? You love this town. The people here need you.”
They rode the rest of the way to the mansion in silence, their conversation at an impasse. Dev didn’t want to admit that there might not be a future for them simply because of her last name.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I’m just tired. And cold.”
Dev pulled the car up to the curb and helped her out, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “I’m going to run you a nice hot bath and then I’m going to make you dinner. And then we’re going to crawl into bed and get a good night’s sleep.”
“Sleep? In bed?” she asked. “Now that’s a novel idea.”
* * *
ELODIE SANK DOWN into the warm water, her hair floating out on each side of her. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until Dev stripped off her damp clothes and helped her into the tub. Now the heat was seeping into her flesh and making her feel sleepy and content.
“I brought you some wine.”
She opened her eyes to see him standing in the bathroom doorway. Elodie held out her hand, and he slipped the glass between her fingers. “I’m exhausted.”
“You should be. In and out of that tank for almost two hours.” He reached out and smoothed his hand over her cheek. “It was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen.”
“It was a dunk tank,” she said. “I didn’t swim the English Channel.”
“You stood up to the town of Winchester,” he said. “All by yourself. And I think you were right, it did some good.”
“Did it?” Elodie asked. She couldn’t help but smile. If anyone would know, it would be Dev. He understood this town better than anyone. “I’m lucky they had a dunk tank. I could have ended up in front of that dart game where they break the balloons. That would have hurt.”
Dev laughed as he sat down next to the tub. He grabbed her wine and took a sip. “They admired you for what you did, stepping up and letting them blow off some steam.”
“They probably still hate me.”
“They probably do,” Dev said. “But they might also respect you. And that’s a step in the right direction.” He paused. “Is it important that they like you?”
“Yes,” she said. “It bothers me that my family name is viewed so negatively in this town. And I want to change that.”
“Why? You’re going to be gone as soon as you sell the house, aren’t you?”
He was asking for the answer she hadn’t given earlier. But she still couldn’t give him the one he wanted. She sank down in the water and took a sip of her wine. “I don’t know. The more time I spend here, the less I want to go back to New York.”
“It would be nice if you stayed,” Dev said.
She glanced over at him. “Yeah?”
He nodded, then pushed to his feet. “And now that I’m aware you’re considering that, I ought to do my best to convince you.” Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he pulled it over his head.
Elodie watched as he slowly undressed. When he was naked, he stepped to the side of the tub.
“Are you going to join me?” she asked.
“Damn right,” Dev said.
She moved forward, and Dev stepped in behind her, stretching his legs out on each side of her body. Elodie leaned back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her body.
“Now, this is the way to spend a Saturday night,” he murmured, his breath soft against her ear.
“Have you done this before?”
“Never,” Dev said. “I’m a shower kind of guy. Get in, get out, get to work. But now I see the allure.”
“So you don’t spend too many Saturday nights hanging out in bathtubs?”
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I can’t recall ever spending a Saturday night in a bathtub. How about you? If you were in New York, what would you be doing?”
“On a Saturday night?” Elodie considered her answer. In truth, she’d barely thought about New York since she’d left. Wasn’t that some type of sign? If Manhattan were really home, wouldn’t she be homesick? “I’d probably attend a gallery opening or some charity event.”
“Would you have a date?”
“I had a boyfriend. He’d come when he wasn’t involved in a new project. He was an artist. And if he didn’t go with me, I’d invite a friend. Or I’d go alone. Afterward, I’d have a late dinner. Now that I say it, it doesn’t sound very exciting.”
Her life had become a bit repetitive. What had once seemed exciting now bored her to death. But here, she had a fresh start, new objectives and an interesting man pursuing her. She had a purpose now. Her life didn’t revolve around selling expensive paintings to very wealthy people.
She wanted to tell Dev about her plans, about her idea to open a gallery and host an art fair, even about the artists’ colony in the old mill. But Elodie had never attempted anything of this scope and she still had a healthy level of self-doubt.
Everything revolved around her ability to raise money. Once she had her plans in order, she’d have to head back to New York and other places to secure funding. The thought of leaving Dev already brought pangs of loneliness.
But was she in love with Dev Cassidy? Now that was the question she needed to answer. She’d had other men in her life and had considered herself “in love.” But this affair with Dev was different. Their time together ranged from the heights of desire to ordinary everyday events. And yet, every moment was as interesting and exciting as the last.
Elodie leaned forward and grabbed the washcloth, then squeezed water over her arms and shoulders. Dev reached out and gently massaged her shoulders. “This is heaven,” she said.
“And you’re an angel,” he murmured.
Elodie giggled. “That was especially cheesy.”
“I know,” Dev said. “But I couldn’t seem to help myself.”
Elodie stood up and grabbed a towel from the shelf at the end of the tub. She turned and held it out to him. “The water is getting cold.”
He stood, the water sluicing off his body. Elodie reached out and ran her hand over his chest, her fingertips skimming along the ridges of muscle and bone. Dev caught her fingers and pressed them to his lips.
A shiver skittered through her, and Dev frowned. “Still cold?”
Elodie shook her head. “No, not at all.”
“Then what?”
“I think you better take me to bed.”
Dev wrapped a towel around her body, then helped her out of the tub. They walked to the bedroom, their feet leaving wet tracks on the hardwood floors.
Dev gently pusher her down on the bed, pulled the towel away and tossed it aside. Then he knelt beside her and gently parted her legs. Elodie groaned, anticipating the pleasure that was about to come. Dev always seemed to know exactly what she needed, whether it be uncontrolled passion and fire, or a soft, sweet seduction.
When his tongue found its target, her body responded immediately, every nerve suddenly tingling with anticipation. She arched against him and focused on the sensations pulsing through her body.
There was nothing more in the world she could possibly want. At that moment, she was willing to give up food and water, creature comforts, just to experience that delicious climb toward her release.
But it wasn’t just the physical that she craved. It was more than the slow build and the explosive ending. There was an emotional connection with Dev, a trust that he’d protect her, even in her most vulnerable state.
Tonight, he seemed to want to prolong her pleasure, and Elodie was at first happy to let him. But after a short time, she found herself desperate for relief. Furrowing her fingers through his hair, she held him close, silently pleading with him to end the torment.
Elodie whispered his name, and Dev finally relented, taking her over the edge and into oblivion. Her body writhed uncontrollably. She pushed him away, but he was determined to see her orgasm through to the final spasm.
When it was over, she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “You’ve wrecked me,” she gasped.
“You’re welcome,” Dev replied. He crawled up and lay down beside her. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
She was too exhausted to get up. “I could use something to eat. A piece of toast would be lovely.”
Dev dropped a kiss on her lips. “Anything else?”
“Orange juice,” she said.
When he left the room, Elodie crawled beneath the sheets and buried her face in the down pillows. A groan slipped from her lips. This was all happening so fast, and it was impossible to sort out her feelings.
At first, Dev had been just a piece of her past, a memory she wanted to revisit, a few moments she wanted to relive. But this passion between them had taken on a life of its own. She couldn’t deny the power it held over them both. And it wasn’t something to be casually tossed aside.
But her feelings for Dev were clouding her judgment. When she’d come to Winchester, it had only been to find a way to get rid of the house, to divest herself of the last bits of her childhood. But now she was searching for reasons to stay, rationalizing the need to build a life here in Winchester.
Did she really belong here? Was this the life she wanted? If she made the decision to stay, she had to be fully committed. The townspeople had been disappointed by the Winchester family in the past, and she wasn’t going to do that to them again.
But what if this affair with Dev fizzled out? How could she live in Winchester if their relationship soured? And even if their passion lasted, it would be a long time before the town forgave her. They would punish him for her family’s mistakes.
The solution was simple, Elodie realized. If she stayed, she’d have to end her affair with Dev.