Love By Moonlight: A Small Town Grumpy Sunshine Romance (Solhaven Forevers Book 2)

It was several nights later, and quite late, when Claire next saw Daniel Morgan duck his head to avoid the low lintel and step into the bar of the Ship In A Bottle on the harbourside in Solhaven. She was with a group of people who were laughing at something someone had just said, and noticed his eyes flick over them, dismissing them, until he caught sight of her and hesitated.

After a few moments, during which their gazes locked, he turned deliberately away.

A flush rising on her cheeks, the laughter fading from her face, Claire bit on her lip. Unable to stop watching him, she observed him respond to the landlord as he slid onto one of the bar stools, clasping his hands loosely in front of him. The landlord pulled a half pint and slid it in front of him, saying something which caused Daniel to smile.

The pub smelled of chips and beer, and the windows were open to the balmy evening air, chatter and laughter seeping out into the summer night. Happy holidaymakers, cheerful locals.

Another burst of laughter from her group, who were on the far side of the bar from where he sat, caused him to look up, and he met her eyes for a second time. After another few moments, when for her, the noise and people faded, leaving them both in silent communication, his head dipped in a brief greeting before he slid off the stool and carried his drink to an empty table by an open window. It was clear he wasn’t interested in talking to her. She gave a quick shake of her head as the world around her slowly reinstated itself.

Daniel Morgan puzzled her. She knew him to be a man at the top of his profession, and she followed his career on various social media sites simply because she loved his style of painting. She knew he was doing well in his chosen profession. His paintings were in demand. He gave talks and lectures and was invited to openings and galas, so why was he so bloody miserable? Why wouldn’t he follow up on the interest she was sure she’d detected in him on that first night? He was very attractive, too. More the outdoors type than cover model, and a sheer pleasure to watch, in his worn denims and black tee shirt, with his craggy face and rumpled black hair. Feeling her insides melt, and her heart pick up its pace, she yearned to reach out and touch his hard body, and kiss his brooding mouth… but more importantly, take the pain from his eyes.

Yet… thinking about it, in the last year, there’d been very few reports about him attending anything, and no pictures. That was probably the reason she’d thought he was familiar but not recognised him, because in previous photos, Daniel looked… different, whereas now he looked tired, almost defeated, with harsh lines bracketing his mouth. His social media feeds had dried up as well. Something must have happened to him. Something dreadful.

Claire felt drawn to him, almost viscerally, almost against her will. But she knew she’d have to break through his sadness, and find the man whose eyes had flickered with interest the first time they’d encountered each other before she would properly understand him.

Maybe she should talk to Emily, who knew what it was like to fall for someone so abruptly, because Claire had no experience of this. She’d never met someone she felt so interested in, and she’d never met someone so immune to her. Hopefully they could become friends, but it looked like that would prove more difficult than she’d first suspected.

But a friendship would be a good place to start, if she could bank down on her desire.

Despite her intention to ignore Daniel and enjoy the last half hour of her evening, she couldn’t stop brooding about him. She kept looking over to where he sat by the window, probably watching the scattering of people outside. People casually walking along the harbour wall, calling out to each other, munching on fish and chips, kissing on a bench. He was watching life pass him by, keeping himself aloof, refusing to let anyone near. Well, there was only one way forward, and that was to try the friendship route. Yes, she’d like it to be a physical relationship as well, but for now…

Unable to bear it a moment longer, and ever the optimist, she excused herself from her friends, shaking her head as someone asked her a question as she passed, and walked over to Daniel.

Slowly, he turned his head, obviously aware of her. His brows creased and his lips compressed as he stared at her without speaking. Claire felt the colour rising in her cheeks again, but she kept her gaze steady on his face as she sat down, refusing to be rebuffed.

‘Mr Morgan,’ Claire began in her pleasant, soft voice. ‘I hope you’ve settled in and found everything you need at the cottage.’ She paused, obviously waiting to see if he contributed something to her efforts.

He dropped his eyes to stare down at his drink. After a few moments of silence, she took a deep breath and made another attempt to reach him. ‘I hope you found the milk and stuff in the fridge.’

Another long silence. Composedly, Claire took a mouthful of her wine. She’d sat with many a troubled child, waiting patiently until they finally reached out for the help they needed, and if ever anyone needed help, this man did. Daniel still seemed fascinated by the beer in his glass, but she noticed his body shifting slightly in his chair, and his hand clench on his thigh.

‘Ms Bradstock,’ he said finally, his voice low and harsh. ‘Please don’t.’

Claire felt bewildered. ‘I’m sorry? Don’t what?’

‘Please don’t fuss, don’t offer any help, don’t intrude, don’t be interested in me.’ Daniel’s voice was flat, his eyes blank as he raised his head to look at her again. ‘I’ve nothing to give, you see. Nothing at all to give.’

There could be no doubt about what he was doing. He was warning her off. Her face flushed, and she felt an unexpected sheen of tears in her eyes. Hell! She hoped he hadn’t noticed. Swallowing hard, she turned her face away, again taking refuge in her wine, her turn now to stare out of the window at the passing people as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Why was she so upset? He was pushing her away, yes, but she barely knew him, so what did it matter? She bit her lip. It wasn’t as simple as that. She might barely know him, but her body knew him, and her soul knew him.

She turned back. ‘Not even friendship?’

‘Oh, go away!’ he muttered. ‘Please, just leave me alone. I don’t need a friend. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.’

It sounded to Claire as if he was trying desperately to convince himself he spoke the truth as he stood and drained the last of his beer before pivoting on his heel and striding out of the pub.

Claire watched him leave, her heart aching for him. Whatever he said, he needed her, or needed someone. Oh, what on earth had happened to him to make him so bitter about people?

Or was he simply bitter about women?

‘Hey, Claire, are you coming back to join us?’

Looking up, she saw Paul, a local guy she suspected fancied her. Unfortunately, while she liked him as a casual friend, she’d no interest in him otherwise. Even before she’d met Daniel.

Standing, she drank the last of her wine and shook her head. ‘Sorry, Paul. Not in the mood. I’ll head off home.’

His lip curled as he tilted his head towards the entrance. ‘Anything to do with that guy who just left?’

‘Not really.’

But it was, and it was clear by the look he gave her he didn’t believe it. ‘Can I give you a lift home, then?’

‘No thanks. The walk along the sands will do me good. I’ll see you around.’

Neatly evading him, she set off along the beach, deep in thought. She felt it was worth just being around and trying to help Daniel. Maybe she could show him some of the best views of the coastline round here. They could certainly talk about painting and get to know each other gradually.

When Claire reached the cottage, she received a shock. In the gathering twilight of the summer evening, she observed a dark figure leaning against the low wall which encircled the patio. Realising it was Daniel, she hesitated. Did she want another encounter with him? No, it’d be best to continue along the beach until she reached the gate into the hotel grounds. But as she came level, the sound of his voice halted her.

‘Not you again. I hope you weren’t following me?’

Claire almost growled. Considering she’d decided to walk past, she felt the fault of this second verbal encounter lay at his door.

‘You know something?’ she asked equably, moving up the steps to his level. ‘I think I can reciprocate. Not you again. I’m heading for the path up to the hotel, which goes up the same track that serves the cottage. The gate is just there, so I’ve every right to be passing. Public beach, as far as I know.’ She was prepared to give him some leeway, but wouldn’t turn herself into a doormat. ‘In the pub tonight, I simply extended you the courtesy of some friendly chat, which I would do to anyone staying in the hotel.’ She glanced at him, her hair tangled softly round her face by the breeze.

There was a long silence as Daniel stared back. ‘I must apologise, it seems,’ he finally said, reluctance in his voice.

His eyes pinned Claire. She became as helpless as a rabbit in the headlights of a car until at last, with a low exclamation of dismay, she forced herself to move, turning to drop back onto the beach.

But he moved even more quickly, stepping away from the wall and catching hold of her hand. She was aware, as she tried to pull away, of the warmth of his fingers, the faint smell of citrus aftershave and his own unique male smell. A tremor ran through her. She needed to get away from him as soon as possible, before she did something stupid, like kiss him. Her body’s reactions were a betrayal of her determination to keep her attraction under wraps.

In the last of the daylight, Claire was aware of several fleeting emotions passing swiftly over his features—sadness, tenderness, maybe even regret. She couldn’t be sure, but one thing she knew, he wasn’t as detached as he wanted her to think.

Shifting uncomfortably, she cleared her throat. ‘Look, do you mind? I’d like to get home and you’re stopping me.’

Daniel laughed softly, but somehow it lacked humour. ‘Why the hurry? I thought you wanted to talk to me? That’s what you said you were doing back at the pub. Having a friendly chat… well, talk away. I’m here. Captive audience.’

His words grated. She knew he was using them as weapons, and it was working. They hurt. She decided it was better not to show it and maybe about time he needed someone to stand their ground.

‘You’re not the captive here. I am, and I object! Let me go.’ Her voice was low, controlled, and full of authority.

He looked down to where he held her hand, surprise on his face, and after a few moments, he let her go. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You seem so unhappy. All I’m trying to do is reach out to you, maybe offer friendship, but you make it very hard.’

She turned away and looked across the water. The rising moon cast a wide beam of light on the sea, blurring and wavering in the movement of the waves.

Daniel Morgan seemed to have the power to make her feel very emotional and for someone who considered herself calm and collected, it came as a bit of a shock he had this… this control over her.

‘Yes, I know you are. And in some ways, I appreciate it,’ Daniel said, his voice tired as he spoke to her resolutely turned back. ‘But I prefer not to get involved these days, and that includes friendship. Friendships demand a certain involvement, which I don’t want to give or receive. I might find you attractive—damn you, I admit it, I do find you attractive—but that doesn’t mean you can assume anything. Not now and probably never. The last thing I expected when I came here was something like this happening. I’m not surprised you find me so difficult to reach, and the solution’s easy. To me you’re just an unwanted irritation, so please, keep away from me, and—’ His voice broke.

She turned back to face him, her mouth opening with shock at the pain in his words, and held out her hands. Whether he admitted it, he needed someone. He needed comfort.

Daniel retreated. ‘Look… listen to me, damn you! Just listen! I don’t trust women, and I’ve no intention of getting involved with someone ever again, so if you thought…’ His voice trailed off despairingly.

Claire let her hands drop, his misery slicing through her. ‘But you need a friend,’ she murmured. ‘Someone to talk to, just be with. It can be uncomplicated, you know. You don’t have to exchange life histories with each other. We can just have fun. You know someone’s there for you if you need to talk.’

He straightened his shoulders and interrupted her, his voice flat. ‘I need nothing. The only time I get close up and personal with anyone these days is for a good fuck, okay? I’ll say it again… I find you attractive—sexually attractive. So, okay, you say you want to help me. Come inside. I’ll take you to bed. I’ll even make sure you have a good time. But that would be all. I’ve no emotion to offer you. No love. No trust. And certainly, no commitment. I’m empty, and I’m broken.’

Before she could move, he closed the short distance that separated them and pulled her against his body, his arms snaking round her like bands of steel. ‘Did you hear? Are you going to come inside with me for a good fuck?’

Claire stared at him, saw his eyes gleaming in the fitful light of the dying day. Her glance fell on his well-cut mouth with its sculpted lips, the small creases at each corner indicating humour and showing her that once, he hadn’t been as burdened as he was now.

She felt no fear.

In his arms, she could only feel the need to be closer, to love him, and to soothe his distress away. Of their own accord, her hands slid up his hard chest and curled round his neck, her fingers tangling in his thick, wild hair, and she felt his lips drop, hard and demanding on her own.

His tongue ran demandingly along the crease of her lips, which she opened until their tongues touched and explored. Her stomach swooped and a cool rush passed through her body until it gathered at the juncture of her legs and changed to passionate desire. Damn, but this guy knew how to kiss!

As her tenderness met his angry despair, his kiss unintentionally softened. His hands became gentle on her hips, and his lips and tongue continued to tease hers with sensuous need. For one brief, glorious moment, they swayed in a mutually felt passion. This kiss… it told her everything her body had known—they would be good together. Their bodies were made for each other, and as crazy as it sounded, perhaps their souls too. In the press of his lips and the seeking of his hands, he dropped his defences, and she saw him, felt him, knew him.

She used her own lips, her own hands, to heal him and offer nurture to the soul he kept hidden away. If he could survive the devastating drought in his life, he would grow back and become beautiful and whole again. She clung to him with her mouth, pulling him toward her sunlight, seeking that self he hid from everyone. He should never need to hide it from her.

But as suddenly as he’d pulled her to him, he pushed her away, hands balled into fists, his voice drained. ‘No, Claire. I’ll answer my question for you. I don’t want you in my bed. One-night stands are my rule, and I’m not going to use you. You deserve so much more. Certainly more than you’d get from me.’

She thought he was directing his anger as much at himself as her.

‘Keep away, okay? I told you that before and I’m telling you again. And I don’t think you and I can do the friends bit, either. I’m not fit for human company.’ Turning, Daniel left her, striding through the gate, lost in the shadows as the last of the daylight vanished, and clouds drifted across the moon.

Claire caught hold of the gate. She should feel angry, but she didn’t. Wrapping her arms around her body where moments earlier his arms had held her, she shivered as the memory of the tenderness of his kiss swept over her.

While something sexual attracted her to Daniel, she’d be the first to admit she cared for him as well, and wanted him happy again. Compassionate and empathetic, in the past, she’d met many people who needed help of some kind, and she’d always done her best to support them because it was her nature. None had needed her as much as this man did, though. She’d do everything she could for him, and if, as he said, nothing would come of it, then so be it. By taking him on, she realised she was possibly—no, probably—laying herself wide open to the greatest hurt she’d ever experienced.

She’d come to Haven House to recreate the Victorian gardens, a time-consuming and challenging project, and one she intended to put her heart and soul into. Could she also recreate Daniel Morgan? Turn him back into the man he once was?

A soft wind eddied round her, the gentle sound of the waves a constant lullaby, as she stared thoughtfully at the cottage.

It looked to her as if she’d given herself two massive challenges in her new life. Confident in achieving success with the gardens, she was less certain when it came to the man.