Storm Warnings [Anthology]

168 Pages·2016·1.22 MB·English

by  Harper Vonna

STORM WARNINGS
An Ellora(cid:146)s Cave Publication, October 2003

Ellora(cid:146)s Cave Publishing, Inc.
PO Box 787
Hudson, OH 44236-0787

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-690-9
Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):
Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

EYE OF THE STORM ' 2003 ANN JACOBS
SAVAGE STORM ' 2003 VONNA HARPER
TIME STORM ' 2003 SAMANTHA WINSTON

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales
is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors(cid:146) imagination and used fictitiously.

EYE OF THE STORM edited by Allie McKnight
SAVAGE STORM edited by Martha Punches
TIME STORM edited by Allie McKnight
Cover art by SCOTT CARPENTER.
STORM WARNINGS

EYE OF THE STORM
By Ann Jacobs

SAVAGE STORM
By Vonna Harper

TIME STORM
By Samantha Winston
EYE OF THE STORM

Ann Jacobs
Eye Of The Storm

Prologue

Marcy Kramer had to get out. After the day she(cid:146)d had in court and the hour-long bitch
session she(cid:146)d endured afterward with Harper Wells, her asshole boss, she could have downed a
pitcher of strawberry margaritas, so it wasn(cid:146)t Bennie(cid:146)s Place or the bustle of the crowd that had
her making her excuses after one quick drink.
No. It was listening to her former colleagues crowing about their respective offspring(cid:146)s
marvelous achievements that sent her running.
Somehow the furtive fucking she(cid:146)d enjoyed last night with one of Harper(cid:146)s newest fair-
haired law school grads seemed meaningless compared with babies(cid:146) first words(cid:133)first
steps(cid:133)first solid foods. Her lover(cid:146)s (cid:147)Jeez, lady, you sure can fuck(cid:148) paled in comparison with
the loving way her friends(cid:146) husbands greeted them.
Shit! Marcy, get hold of yourself. You decided eons ago that love wasn(cid:146)t worth the pain that being
married to Sam had caused. You told yourself you didn(cid:146)t need support, and you didn(cid:146)t need love as long
as you could find a hard body and a harder cock.
When she opened the door to her big, empty house, a welcome burst of cool air greeted her.
Apparently no one had told the weatherman it was almost October(cid:133)already fall, even in sultry
Tampa, because it had to be close to ninety degrees outside. After she set her briefcase on the
marble-topped table in the foyer, Marcy shed her suit jacket and pulled the tortoise-shell comb
from her shoulder-length hair and stashed it in her purse so it would be handy the next time she
had a court appearance.
Comfy now that she(cid:146)d kicked off her high-heeled pumps, she picked up the mail her
housekeeper had left for her and padded into her office. Bills. Always bills. She didn(cid:146)t know
whether she got more bills or junk mail. A large, cream-colored envelope addressed with
calligraphy instead of plain scrawled handwriting sat on top of the stack.
Who the hell was getting married now? Curious in spite of her annoyance with slight
acquaintances that trolled for gifts with wholesale invitations to their weddings, she ripped
open the outer envelope, then fumbled with the inner one. The office gossip mill must have
gotten clogged, because she hadn(cid:146)t heard of any of her colleagues who were planning a blowout
wedding.
(cid:147)Great. Just fucking great!(cid:148) Ileana, her former next door neighbor, who she hadn(cid:146)t seen in
ten years. She and Sam had offered Ileana comfort when she(cid:146)d lost her husband in a drive-by
shooting. Afterward, they(cid:146)d lost touch when Ileana had transferred to medical school in
Gainesville, unable to stand seeing places and old friends that reminded her of Ben. Now it was
Ileana who(cid:146)d apparently found a new lifetime mate, while she was the one alone except for a
string of meaningless fucking partners.
Marcy wasn(cid:146)t going to cry. She wasn(cid:146)t. And she wasn(cid:146)t about to miss out on celebrating her
old friend(cid:146)s good luck. Maybe she(cid:146)d take Cam Willis. No, not him. If she showed up with that
baby-faced boy-toy, it would look as though she were robbing the cradle. Hell, maybe she was.
She considered several other potential escorts, discarding each when she figured spending an
5
Ann Jacobs
entire weekend with any of them on an island just might make her retch. For a minute she
hesitated, then marked decisively that she(cid:146)d be attending Ileana(cid:146)s wedding alone.
Determined to shake off the blue funk that threatened, she picked up the phone and
arranged to meet her wet-behind-the-ears lover later. She might not have love, but she could
always manage to scare up a bedmate.

* * * * *
So Ileana was finally getting married again. Good for her.
Sam Kramer stared down at the heavy invitation with its raised lettering, idly watching the
tissue liner slide off the paper and float down onto the cluttered surface of his desk. Why the
hell did they put tissue paper inside wedding invitations anyhow? Setting the invitation down,
he made a mental note to send a present along with his regrets. Marcy would probably be there
hanging onto one of her current lovers.
Fuck. Why should he stay away? He(cid:146)d been Ileana(cid:146)s friend, too. He(cid:146)d hurt for her as much
as Marcy had after Ben(cid:146)s untimely death. The four of them had been practically inseparable
whenever they had a few spare moments, since he and Ben had been lab partners in med school
and Ileana and Marcy had been finishing their last year of undergraduate studies together at
University of Miami. Ben and Ileana had been as much in love as Sam and Marcy.
Hell, they(cid:146)d probably have broken up years ago if Ben had lived. Marriages rarely lasted
long these days. His own marriage(cid:151)even the coldly civilized divorce that had ended it(cid:151)was
ancient history.
If he didn(cid:146)t go to this wedding, Marcy would think he stayed away because of her. And no
way would Sam do anything because of, or in spite of, his ex-wife. He didn(cid:146)t give a shit if she(cid:146)d
fucked damn near every lawyer in town and half the docs since their divorce. Picking up the
invitation again, he noticed the ceremony was to be held on Cabbage Key. He knew the place, a
rustic resort on a small island off Port Charlotte, accessible only by boat. Great place to kick
back and enjoy the water and sand, get a little R&R. It had a restaurant that served the best
stone crab claws he(cid:146)d ever eaten.
He hadn(cid:146)t taken the Lucky Lady out as much lately as he(cid:146)d have liked to. Maybe he(cid:146)d motor
down the Intracoastal Waterway from Tampa, fish a little, enjoy a few days(cid:146) vacation(cid:151)and
witness an old friend taking the plunge into married bliss. Anyway, he hoped Ileana and(cid:151)he
glanced down at the invitation(cid:151)Joshua Klosinski would be more successful at marriage than he
and Marcy had been.
(cid:147)You need anything before I head home, Sam?(cid:148)
Sam looked up at Joanne, his capable office manager and sometimes-lover when they both
got the itch at the same time. (cid:147)Yeah. Can you clear my schedule for a day or two before and
after this wedding?(cid:148)
She glanced at the dates on the invitation he(cid:146)d handed her. (cid:147)Sure.(cid:148)
(cid:147)Then let(cid:146)s do it. I need a few days off.(cid:148) He picked up the RSVP card and checked off that
he(cid:146)d be attending, hesitating only a moment before indicating that he wouldn(cid:146)t be bringing a
guest. Then he handed it to her along with the envelope that came with it. (cid:147)Mail this if you
don(cid:146)t mind.(cid:148)
(cid:147)Okay. Anything else?(cid:148)
6
Eye Of The Storm
(cid:147)Not right now.(cid:148)
Joanne smiled. (cid:147)Don(cid:146)t forget, you(cid:146)re meeting Gray Syzmanski at the gym at six. I have a
hard time understanding where you find the energy to work out after spending all day in
surgery.(cid:148)
Sam groaned. Exercise was his albatross. He hated taking the time but if he didn(cid:146)t, he(cid:146)d
soon revert to flab, probably develop a paunch like his dad(cid:146)s. As he shrugged off his lab coat
and grabbed his keys, he gave credit where it was due: Marcy. For all she(cid:146)d done to hurt him,
she(cid:146)d managed to coax the skinny, nerdy kid he(cid:146)d been to hone his body into some semblance
of (cid:147)hunkdom(cid:148) as she(cid:146)d called it. She(cid:146)d also taught him how to dress for success and persuaded
him, after a lot of badgering, that a good hairstylist beat a barber all to hell for taming his
unruly thatch of curls.
Yeah, his marriage hadn(cid:146)t been a total bust. Even if it did hurt like hell every time he heard
yet another cock was pleasuring the pussy that used to be his own.

7
Ann Jacobs

Chapter One

Marcy heard the storm warnings but shrugged them off. For years now, the National
Hurricane Service had been posting dire predictions about this storm or that one, but none in
her memory had actually created much havoc on Florida(cid:146)s Gulf Coast. Likely as not, Tropical
Storm Katrina would fizzle or blow on out toward the Yucatan Peninsula, providing them with
no more than a brisk wind, higher than usual tides, and maybe a little rain.
Nothing in the warnings had been dire enough to make her miss Ileana(cid:146)s wedding, even if
more than half the guests had already taken off on the ferry that stopped twice a day at
Cabbage Key to pick up and deliver guests and diners. If the weather deteriorated, they could
always set out for the mainland in the morning, as soon as the vows were said.
A cool, salty breeze filtered through screened windows in the thatched-roof restaurant at
the top of a gentle rise. According to the resort owners who(cid:146)d greeted her earlier, the flimsy
building had been leveled several times over the years by storms, only to be rebuilt exactly as it
had been before. Marcy had to admit, the place had a rustic sort of charm. The breeze ruffled
Ileana(cid:146)s short dark curls and made her fiancØ(cid:146)s tropical print shirt billow out around his slim,
almost skinny frame. Josh Klosinski, a nephrologist at the teaching hospital in Gainesville
where Ileana had recently been named chief of anesthesia, had apparently swept Ileana off her
feet. In any case, they(cid:146)d been seeing each other just a few months before deciding to make the
relationship permanent.
Marcy envied her friend the emotional connection but not the man. And not the life they(cid:146)d
certainly lead with both of them being at the beck and call of patients twenty-four, seven. (cid:147)How
will you ever find time for each other?(cid:148) she asked, realizing they(cid:146)d both been waiting for her to
say something.
Josh lifted Ileana(cid:146)s hand to his lips, smiled. (cid:147)Where there(cid:146)s a will, there(cid:146)s a way, I think the
saying goes. Fortunately, neither of us is a resident, so we do have some control over our time.(cid:148)
Sam hadn(cid:146)t exercised that control once he(cid:146)d finished his residency and taken over his dad(cid:146)s
OB-GYN practice. If anything, they(cid:146)d had less time together while he(cid:146)d studied for specialty
boards and worked to build a reputation as a fertility specialist. Damn it, she(cid:146)d promised herself
she wouldn(cid:146)t think about him(cid:151)about the abject failure they(cid:146)d made of a marriage all their
friends used to say had been made in heaven. Besides, Sam(cid:146)s devotion to his patients had been
just a small part of why they(cid:146)d split up. Marcy forced a smile. (cid:147)Good for you.(cid:148)
The ferry she(cid:146)d taken over from Port Charlotte this afternoon had brought only a handful
of guests who were staying for tomorrow(cid:146)s ceremony, and most of them had finished dinner
and taken off to watch the sunset or stroll along the sandy Gulf side of the tiny barrier island.
Couples. All couples. Not a single unattached guy who might help her keep her mind off
ancient history. Marcy glanced down toward the dock and noticed a small, sleek cabin cruiser
being secured beside a couple of larger boats.
(cid:147)Sam(cid:146)s coming, Marcy.(cid:148)
8
Eye Of The Storm
Oh God. Pain cut through her as though it had been weeks, not years since she(cid:146)d tossed
him out. (cid:147)When?(cid:148) With any kind of luck at all, he(cid:146)d blow in for the ceremony tomorrow
morning and hightail it right back to Tampa and his precious patients.
(cid:147)I(cid:146)m not sure. He told me he was coming down by boat.(cid:148)
It took only a glance toward the dock and a brief perusal of the buff, chestnut-haired guy in
faded cutoff jeans for her brain to process that Sam was already here(cid:133)and that Ileana must
have meant he was literally walking toward them, not that he was coming in the morning for
the wedding. Marcy swallowed the alarm that had her wanting to run away, avoid facing the
painful memories. Damn it, why did he affect her like this now? She clamped down on
wayward emotions and tried hard to ignore the sudden gush of moisture from her pussy that
made her want to launch herself into his muscular embrace.
So he could shove her away again? Not in this lifetime. (cid:147)I think that(cid:146)s Sam now,(cid:148) she
commented, turning back to Ileana and Josh. (cid:147)From the looks of that boat of his, I(cid:146)d say the
fertility business must be pretty good.(cid:148)
(cid:147)I always wondered what went wrong between you two,(cid:148) Ileana said. (cid:147)You seemed so
perfect for each other.(cid:148)
(cid:147)What went right?(cid:148) Marcy wasn(cid:146)t about to air old, dirty linen period, much less to the
prospective bride and groom. (cid:147)Anyway, it(cid:146)s ancient history. We(cid:146)ve been divorced five years
now.(cid:148)
(cid:147)Sorry. It(cid:146)s just that I liked both of you. Felt bad when I heard you(cid:146)d split.(cid:148)
(cid:147)Ileana, sweetheart, it(cid:146)s obvious Marcy doesn(cid:146)t want to talk about this.(cid:148)
Score one for Josh. Marcy(cid:146)s feelings for her friend(cid:146)s fiancØ just moved up another notch. The
guy obviously knew how to read between the lines.
Marcy drew in a breath of damp sea air tinged with a light aroma of stone crabs and the
seasonings that made them taste so good but tickled her nose. Damn, what was it about this
place, these people, that had her stomach doing somersaults as though she were sixteen and
head over heels in love again? Why the hell was her pussy clenching at the sight of a man she(cid:146)d
hardly thought about since their divorce? The man who now was headed straight for
Ileana(cid:133)and, however coincidentally, her.
It wasn(cid:146)t as though she didn(cid:146)t run into Sam once in a while, for God(cid:146)s sake. She(cid:146)d even
exchanged a few words with him, introduced him to her man-of-the-moment and smiled at
whatever woman had been clinging to his arm at some social or civic function. So why was she
creaming her panties now? Why were memories of good times flooding her mind, keeping the
bitter ones at bay? Marcy tried to look away, but it seemed her eyes had other ideas because
they remained glued on Sam. He(cid:146)d filled out more since they(cid:146)d split, developed impressive lats
and biceps she hadn(cid:146)t noticed when he wore a suit or tux. They were mouthwateringly evident
now, when he was naked except for snug cutoffs that emphasized his narrow waist and
powerful thighs.
Shit. His bad luck that Marcy was sitting at the same table with the bride. Looked as though
she(cid:146)d left her latest squeeze back home, too. Sam willed his cock to relax when he felt it stirring.
No way was he volunteering to fill the void. She(cid:146)d probably already made plans to scratch her
famous itch sometime during the wedding festivities.
He squared his shoulders and approached the table. (cid:147)Ileana. And Josh, I assume.(cid:148) He held
out a hand, smiling at the man(cid:146)s firm grip. Then he turned to his former wife. (cid:147)Hello, Marcy.(cid:148)
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Ann Jacobs
(cid:147)Sam.(cid:148) She met his gaze, her deep green eyes full of challenge(cid:151)and something else.
Desire? Not likely. Not that he was interested anyway.
(cid:147)Mind if I join you?(cid:148)
Marcy shrugged. (cid:147)It(cid:146)s a public restaurant.(cid:148)
She didn(cid:146)t used to be so brittle. Her smiles used to light up her pretty face and make her
eyes soften to a tone not unlike the smoky gray-green of the Gulf. For a moment Sam mourned
the loss of love. Of friendship and trust. Not just hers but his. They(cid:146)d once been kids in love.
Kids who(cid:146)d grown older and busier and left the magic behind.
Fuck if he didn(cid:146)t still wonder from time to time what specific thing he(cid:146)d done that had
caused her to have his belongings packed up and set on the porch of the home they(cid:146)d bought
together(cid:151)the house where she still lived. Since he(cid:146)d asked her a hundred times and she(cid:146)d
closed him out, he chose not to give a damn anymore. Determined to ignore Marcy as fully as
she seemed to be ignoring him, Sam turned to Josh and began making idle conversation.

* * * * *
By the next morning the clouds started rolling in. Waves broke noisily against the sides of
the Lucky Lady, waking Sam and sending him on deck to survey the situation. Nothing too
alarming, only a little more wind than he(cid:146)d have liked to see. With any kind of luck, the rain
would hold off until after Ileana and Josh had said their vows. The fact that the only
transmissions he got over the ship-to-shore radio were spits and crackles didn(cid:146)t particularly
concern him. Reception was always lousy in protected coves like this one on the eastern side of
Cabbage Key.
Sam glanced at his watch. Five a.m. Too early for breakfast, or to socialize with the couples
he(cid:146)d met last night. Habit, he supposed, had caused him to awaken when he could as easily
have slept. Dipping his head to avoid the doorframe, he headed back into the cabin. His bunk
beckoned more insistently than the fish that might be biting in the deep channel that led into the
cove.
Then he saw her through a porthole. Marcy, strolling along the narrow stretch of sand.
Gusts of wind tossed her pale blond hair and molded something silky-sheer and hot pink to her
gentle feminine curves. Curves he found as arousing now as they(cid:146)d been twenty years ago
when she(cid:146)d flaunted them in a JV cheerleader outfit. There was something sad, something
singular about the picture she made, staring out across the Intracoastal Waterway toward Port
Charlotte as though looking for something(cid:133)someone?
Wasn(cid:146)t he looking a little sad himself, staring out a porthole at the woman he(cid:146)d written off
five years ago? Yeah. He didn(cid:146)t often acknowledge it, but he was lonely.
Damn it, why did he still want Marcy? He fought off a compulsion to go to her, enfold her
in his arms, drag her back here and assuage the loneliness. His as well as her own. He(cid:146)d hold
her, take her, make her admit that what they(cid:146)d shared had been better than her hundreds of
casual fucks, a hell of a lot more meaningful than the few scratches of a mutual itch he(cid:146)d shared
with someone he called friend.
Still a little sleepy, Sam(cid:146)s mind wandered. The present began to mesh with old memories
and latent dreams.
He strode quickly, quietly, behind her on that stretch of beach backed on one side by white-capped
waves, on the other by deep-green sea grapes and gently swaying palms. When a gust of wind brought her
10