Haven Creek by Rochelle Alers Read Free Book Online Page B

if hundreds of eyes were watching her and Nate. It was then she realized they were still holding hands. “Let go of my hand,” she said between clenched teeth.
    Nate took off his sunglasses. “Let them look, Mo. Even if we were standing ten feet away from each other they would make up something to beat their gums about.”
    She smiled up at him, dimples flashing. “You’re right about that.”
    Morgan knew that gossip was as essential to the island as genealogy. The inhabitants of Cavanaugh Island kept detailed family records in their Bibles because they didn’t want cousins marrying cousins. Nate dropped her hand and rested his at the small of her back. “Let’s find a table where we can sit together. Wait. I think I see one.”
    “Yoo-hoo! Na-than-iel! I’m coming, baby!” His name came out in three distinct syllables as Trina, arms outstretched, bore down on them. Those who heard her call Nate’s name moved aside quickly, stepping out of the way like the Red Sea as it parted. Trina’s heaving, ample bosom challenged the dangerously low-cut décolletage in a dress that was definitely a size too small for her voluptuous body.
    Her eyes widening in surprise, Morgan stared numbly at him. “You and Trina!”
    “There is no me and Trina,” Nate spat out.
    “Then why is she coming for you, baby ?”
    “I promised to dance with her,” Nate said sotto voce.
    “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
    He shook his head.
    “Bad move, Nate. Trina has tentacles for arms, and once stuck she’s like fast-drying glue. Do you want me to run interference for you?” Morgan wanted to laugh even though she knew that Trina coming on to Nate was no laughing matter.
    “I did promise her, and there’s probably no harm in just one dance.”
    Morgan knew that one dance would turn into much more, and she had to decide whether to warn him or mind her own business. Her conscience nagged at her, and she knew she would be remiss if she didn’t let Nate know what he was about to encounter.
    “It’s very noble of you to want to keep your promise. But the harm is she’ll stalk you like prey.”
    His eyebrows lifted as he gave her an incredulous look. “It’s that bad?”
    “It’s worse than you could ever imagine,” Morgan whispered, watching Trina’s approach.
    Nate closed his eyes. “The beautification ladies warned me she was looking for a husband, but that was only after I’d agreed to dance with her.”
    “Do you want me to run interference for you?” she repeated.
    “Yes, please.”
    “Work with me,” Morgan whispered again.
    His hand moved up and he put his arm around Morgan’s waist. “Thank you.”
    She affected a warm smile when Trina sidled up to Nate, false eyelashes fluttering, reminding Morgan of the handheld fans of churchgoers during Sunday service. Some unsuspecting men found it hard to resist Trina’s seductive wiles until it was too late. Like the late Liz Taylor, the beguiling woman collected husbands. She’d been labeled a black widow, yet instead of killing off her mates she traded them in for new ones whenever she grew bored with them. Several men had had to take out restraining orders to keep her from coming within one hundred feet of their homes.
    Trina flashed Nate her most seductive grin as she looped her arm through his. “I thought we could dance now that everyone’s eating. Hi,” she said, nodding at Morgan as if she were an afterthought.
    Affecting a frown, Morgan’s eyes shifted between Nate and Trina. “You’re dancing with her after you told me you didn’t want to dance?”
    Nate lifted broad shoulders under his shirt. “Look, baby—”
    Bracing a hand on his chest, Morgan pushed Nate away. “Don’t you dare baby me, Nathaniel Shaw. Tell me now. Are you my man?”
    “You know I’m yours, baby,” he crooned, then dipped his head and brushed his mouth over hers.
    Trina’s eyes grew wider. “You’re with Mo?”
    Nate nodded, smiling. “Yep.”
    A disappointed scowl