Scandalous Mistress: Double Take / Captivate Me / My Double Life. Leslie Kelly

he hated to see her seem so weary. Part of him wanted to pull her in his arms and hug her, convince her it would be all right, that she hadn’t moved to the ass end of nowhere.

      Well, she had moved to the ass end of nowhere, but honestly, it wasn’t that bad.

      Barring a hug, though—and he was barring that—spending more time with her proved irresistible. What harm was there in lending a little moral support to a newcomer who was just as much a fish out of water as he’d been when he’d moved here? Hell, he still was that way.

      Whatever Ollie had done to his office, even if he had to undo legal damage...it was worth it to be with her a little longer.

      “Did you bring all your stuff in your car?” he asked.

      “Yes. Since the place was described as furnished, I only packed clothes, my laptop and some personal things. Oh, and books. If I’m going to be teaching science, I’ll need to brush up.”

      “Why don’t I help you bring it in? From what I remember of science books, they weigh a ton.”

      “You really don’t have to do that.”

      He waved off her objections, already turning to head out the front door. Reaching her car, he spied some boxes on the backseat, and bent to hoist one. Lindsey, sensibly—he liked that—didn’t argue further, instead just opening the trunk and grabbing things, too.

      As she’d said, she hadn’t brought a lot with her. A couple of suitcases, a laptop and printer, some sheets and towels—he could understand wanting those around her to give her a sense of home.

      Then there were the books.

      “Damn, you said ‘books,’ you didn’t say ‘library,’” he said as he hefted a fourth heavy carton out of the trunk and carried it into the cottage. “You planning to teach the kindergartners about quantum physics?”

      She shrugged, walking over to place her own box on the floor beside a table in the living room. The table was already covered with the first few they’d brought in. He had no idea where she intended to put all the books; the place certainly didn’t have an office. Or bookshelves. Or much more floor space.

      “I want to do some work on my own project while I’m here.”

      She didn’t elaborate and he didn’t question her. Instead, he went back outside to bring in the last container—a laundry basket containing detergents and cleaning supplies. When he returned, he said, “Were you a Girl Scout? You came prepared.”

      “Definitely not a Scout,” she said with a twist of her mouth. “You had to pay money to join the Scouts, and no way would my parents have ever done that for me.”

      He frowned, hearing a jaded sadness in her voice. Obviously she had some issues with her folks.

      Having been raised by loving, generous parents, who had given him and his brothers as much as they could afford to give, he really couldn’t imagine growing up that way. But it wasn’t exactly a conversation for the first day they’d met.

      “I’m just glad I don’t have to start using those cleaning products right away,” she said, pushing a few long strands of hair away from her face. She yawned broadly. “I could really use a nap.”

      “It’s the seasickness. But you should probably have a decent meal before you lie down.”

      She grimaced. “Even if I wanted to, that would be tough. I’ve got Mrs. Wymer’s cookies and, I think, some mints in my purse. That’s about it.”

      “No Twinkies?” he asked with wag of his brows.

      Remembering their earlier conversation, she smiled. “I’m afraid not.”

      “There’s always a diner.”

      “If the Saturday lunch special is meat loaf, I’d consider it,” she said with another yawn as she put one more box on top of the others on the table. “Otherwise, I’m taking a nap.”

      “Understood.” He turned to leave, realizing there was no sense in delaying things further, especially since she obviously just wanted to sleep.

      Right before he reached the door, he glanced back and saw the precarious pile of boxes had reached critical mass. It had been leaning before. Now, with the one she’d just placed there, the whole thing was teetering. Watching him, she hadn’t even noticed.

      “Look out!”

      He lunged toward her, noting her start of surprise, but ignoring it. Diving just beyond her, he stopped the entire stack from toppling down, though he was unable to prevent the very top box from sliding to its death. It hit the floor hard, the tape splitting and the flaps popping open. Books and other items spewed out, clattering onto the hardwood floor. The books stopped where they fell, but the other things spun around, one skittering all the way across the room.

      “You almost got clobbered,” he said.

      She did not reply; in fact, she didn’t even look at him. She was too busy staring at the items that had spilled out of the box. Lindsey stood as still as a statue, her already pale face losing its last little bit of color. “Oh, my God.”

      He followed her stare, wondering what had her so frazzled. At first, he just saw random books and some hard-plastic-wrapped, oddly shaped packages that didn’t quite register. Then he stepped closer and bent down.

      The title of one of the books flashed across his consciousness: Giving Yourself Ultimate Pleasure. On the cover was a woman, her head thrown back, mouth open on a sensual moan, one hand covering her bare breasts, the other between her legs.

      Shocked, he froze in place. His heart leaped up into the vicinity of his throat. All the sexual energy and base attraction he’d felt for Lindsey since he’d spied her on that ferry gushed through him. And that was before he got a better look at some of those oddly shaped items and realized what they all had in common.

      When it sank in what he was seeing, Mike grabbed for the back of the nearest chair. Trying to stay steady on suddenly wobbly legs, he exclaimed, “Wild Boar Island’s new schoolteacher is a sex addict.”

      “I am not a sex addict,” Lindsey said, sounding torn between indignation and utter dismay.

      “Sorry,” Mike said, acknowledging as soon as the words had left his mouth that they should have stayed in his head.

      But, damn. The woman had packed like she meant business—sexy business for one—which was enough to make a man cry. Just from where he stood, he spied at least a dozen female-oriented sex toys, including a pink butterfly thing that the package claimed was to be “strapped on.” A small purple one, shaped like a tiny porpoise, appeared designed to clip onto a woman’s finger. There was a small, metal case for storing what might pass for marbles on a playground but were identified as Ben Wa balls instead.

      But wait, there’s more.

      He spied several slim vibrators in various colors and textures. And a black harness-looking thing that didn’t seem as if it was made for a single player, which just made his breath grow that much thicker in his lungs. He saw the box for another device called an “anal probe,” which to him sounded like an alien torture tool.

      Then his wide-eyed stare fell on the thick, long, extremely graphic-looking device that wasn’t quite as big as what he had in his pants but was pretty damned generous nonetheless. It was not plastic-wrapped. Nor was the one beside it—little dong’s giant brother. The thing was big enough to hold a lamp shade.

      Holy shit.

      He couldn’t move. Literally, could not lift a hand, or take a step or do anything except stare. Most of the sex aids were still in their packaging, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if she’d ever opened, used and then repackaged any of them. Or if, God help him, she’d used the ones that weren’t still packaged, like the huge dildo.

      He didn’t imagine any woman could take that massive conversation piece into herself...but the other