“I think it’s perfectly reasonable to request your company here on the beach.” He looked up at her and realized he was enjoying this quite a bit. He might even go so far as to say it was relaxing.
“You said you were going to read a book,” she reminded him.
“I don’t believe I actually ever said those words. I said I didn’t have one and you challenged my manhood by implying that I was afraid.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Now, here we are. I think you’re afraid to be alone with me.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She huffed out an indignant breath. “We’re alone all the time.”
“Ah,” he held up his index finger. “But there’s always the structure of work to our aloneness. This will be different and I think that scares you.”
“There are things I’m afraid of but this isn’t one of them.” She pointed her finger right back at him. “You’re just being crabby and dictatorial. You realize that, right? A little while ago you were complaining about how slow technology on the island is and the pace was messing with work. Now you want me to sacrifice productive work hours to keep you company out here?”
“I’ve earned the right to be as crabby as I want. My leg aches. My scheduled activity plan is in the Dumpster. And the only assistant who will work with me seems to have a problem following orders.” Her issues didn’t appear to be with work so much as with him. “So, let me spell this out.”
“Please do. I’m listening.”
The words were consenting but that didn’t fool him. Her tone was pure pushback. “There is no way you’re marooning me under this stupid umbrella by myself. You pushed me into not working and there’s a price to pay. Keep me company. You can put on a bikini if you want. I’ll wait.”
He knew she had a bathing suit because every night before bed she swam laps in the pool without the patio lights on. The dark was probably some yoga trick to eliminate nuisance and distraction so she could concentrate and push that beautiful body to peak performance. But the fact was, he didn’t know what she looked like with fewer clothes on and would give almost anything to find out.
Cal watched emotions flicker across her face, ranging from stubborn to shy. And possibly scared. And darn if the freckles on her nose weren’t as cute as could be.
“Really. You should put on your suit. One of us should take advantage of that beautiful, warm ocean. Or at the very least not get weird tan lines.”
She sat on the other lounge, probably to shut him up. “I’m fine.”
There’s no way she was fine and he wondered about that. They stared at each other for several moments without saying anything. If she would start talking, maybe he could find out what wasn’t fine. One thing he realized—it was far more interesting to wonder about her than think about the boneheaded choices that had landed him in this mess in the first place.
“So,” he started. One of them had to go first and she showed no sign of cracking. “Say something.”
“Is conversation with you in my job description?” She sat straight as a poker with her hands folded in her lap. Prim and proper, some might say.
For some reason that got his pulse pumping. Probably because he would very much like to find out the parameters of her prim and proper. “Talking isn’t spelled out, but it’s kind of implied.”
“For work. Not this.”
“I think the line between the two blurred when you bullied me into telling you about the bet.” Cal was pretty sure that would get her to at least defend herself. He wasn’t disappointed.
“I didn’t bully you.”
“Yeah, you kind of did.”
“It would be impossible for me to push you into anything. You’re bigger than me.” Indignation looked good on her.
“Yes, but I’m fragile,” he said.
“Oh, please. About as delicate as a charging rhinoceros.”
“I think you’re pouting and, quite frankly, I’m a little shocked by it. Didn’t take you for a pouter.” Cal continued to deliberately bait her, just to see how she would react. He wasn’t proud of it, but since hang gliding wasn’t going to happen, what was a guy to do? And maybe there was a little payback thrown in for good measure because she’d pushed him outside.
“Pouting? Me? Really?” Her chin lifted slightly. “I’m not going to bite. I’m made of sterner stuff.”
And for some reason, that reminded him about her limp. “Tell me about the accident.”
Again, her face was a kaleidoscope of emotions, which she quickly shut down. “That’s not very interesting. Ancient history.”
A swing and a miss, he thought. The lady didn’t want to elaborate. “Then you come up with a topic for discussion. It was your rule not to talk about work.”
“That was when I was going back inside to earn my paycheck,” she said.
“I think we should take the rule out for a spin and see where we go.” Because that left personal stuff up for grabs and he was very curious about her personally.
“Well, I’ve got nothing.” Now her arms were crossed over her chest—classic defensive pose.
“Okay. How about this? We do questions. Back and forth.”
She thought about that, then nodded. “I’ll go first.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiled and put as much charm as possible into it. “A gentleman always lets a lady go first. Hit me.”
“Are you married?” she asked without hesitation.
The way she fired that one off, he would bet that had been on her mind, especially after he’d hinted at his pathetic social life. “No. Now me. What’s your favorite food?”
The query was designed to throw her off balance because she would be prepared for him to ask the same thing. Judging by the expression on her face, the ploy worked.
Finally she answered, “Cookies-and-cream ice cream.”
“That’s not food.”
“It might not be nutritionally well-balanced, but it is edible. Hence, food.” Her mouth curved up at the corners. “It’s an honest answer. I shouldn’t have to defend it.”
“You’re right. My bad. There’s no right or wrong here. How often do you eat it?”
“No you don’t.” She wagged a finger at him. “It’s my turn.” She seemed to be warming to the game. After thinking for a moment, she said, “So you’re not married now. Have you ever been?”
“Yes.” He could tell she wasn’t pouting anymore and was glad about that. “I bet you want to know what happened, don’t you?”
“Aha. That’s your question. And my answer is yes. What happened?”
The stigma of failure didn’t twist as painfully as it once had. “We got a divorce because I wasn’t very good at being married, and I don’t do things I’m not very good at.”
She looked at the cast on his leg, then met his gaze. “So, no more skydiving?”
“An odd term for jumping out of an airplane when you analyze it. The words imply a soft, free-floating experience.”
“And it is,” she agreed. “Right up until you hit solid ground.”
He winced. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to sneak in a turn with that question. I believe the next question is mine.” He was trying to think of something to ask that would get her to open up and give him more than a yes-or-no response. “How does your family feel about you moving away from Texas?”
“They’re conflicted. We’re close, so it’s hard not having them nearby. But everyone also encouraged me to branch out and try a change of scene.”
That was interesting, and Cal wanted to know why she’d needed encouragement to relocate. “So, you’re making friends in Blackwater Lake?”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you just took cuts,” she scolded him. “But yes. I like the small-town feel and everyone is superfriendly. Why did you decide to mo
ve Hart Energy there?”
“Besides the fact that my brothers and sister are there, it’s conveniently located with a lot of land for research and development. When the new airport opened, that sealed the deal for me.”
“Why?”
“I travel a lot, and the closest one was nearly a hundred miles away. Now I have a place to park the private plane.”
She frowned slightly. “Still, it seems a little surprising that you’d move to the same small town with the older brother you’re still competing with. Aren’t you trying to get out from his shadow?”
“Since our companies don’t overlap, it’s not him so much as leaving my ex behind.” He’d been such a moron. “Marrying her was a big mistake, but the stupidest thing was dating her at all.”
“Why?”
“She went out with Sam first.”
“Oh, my—” Her eyes went wide.
“Yeah. She loved my brother first, but he didn’t feel the same and was honest with her, let her down as easily as possible. She turned to me for comfort and I thought I could come first with her. I was wrong, probably because she never stopped loving Sam.”
“And you don’t blame him for what happened?”
“No. I love my brother.” Cal knew it was his own fault. Work helped him get through that difficult time and somehow it became a habit he couldn’t seem to break. “The mistake was mine alone and one I’ll never make again.”
“That seems wise,” she agreed.
Cal must have needed to get that off his chest, because she was extracting a lot more information than he’d intended. Turnabout was fair play.
“Okay, it’s my turn. And I think you owe me about six questions.”
“In your dreams.” But she laughed. “Okay, shoot.”
He’d run off at the mouth about his very personal life and stopped short of all the reasons he’d moved to Blackwater Lake. A major objective was to be close to his niece, and his sister, Ellie, was pregnant with her second child. He envied Ellie, her husband, Alex, and the beautiful life and family they were creating. The thought made him curious about Justine.
“Do you like kids?” he asked.
For a moment she looked as if all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Then she took a deep breath and seemed to be counting. Then she said, “Yes.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“No.” The breeze blew strands of her red hair free, and she tucked them behind her ears. “Do you like kids?”
Maybe if he shared more information with her she would do the same. “I like them very much. I’m especially fond of my sister’s little girl, Leah. Ellie is going to have another niece or nephew.”
“Ah, because it’s all about you.” Justine smiled but it faded almost immediately. “Do you want children?”
“Hmm...”
She stared at him while he mulled it over and finally said, “That’s a yes-or-no question, Cal.”
“Not for me.” He wouldn’t take the step without being married, and his competitive streak had seriously messed with his better judgment. That made him reluctant to trust himself, so kids seemed unlikely. “It’s a question mark. How about you?”
“Question mark.” She’d kicked off her sandals and now wiggled her toes in the coarse white sand. When her gaze met his there was soul-deep sadness in her eyes. She shivered even though the tropical air was warm and humid.
He was getting a vibe and couldn’t not ask. “Are you married?”
She looked back at him for several moments, and he doubted he’d get an answer. Finally she grabbed her shoes and stood. “Was. I’m starting to get sunburned. A redhead’s skin and all that. Do you need help getting back to the villa?”
“I can manage.”
“Okay.” Without another word she walked away.
It took Cal several moments to realize that she knew a hell of a lot more about him now. But he knew very little more about her than he had before playing Twenty Questions. Something had made her sad and he felt bad about reminding her of it. Possibly it was the fact that she’d been married. Past tense. He also knew her skin was sensitive to the sun, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t the only reason she’d called a halt to the game. She was running away from something.
Most women wanted to talk feelings until a man’s head was ready to explode. Not Justine. Cal found himself in the unfamiliar position of wanting to know more. He was acutely curious about what she didn’t say.
* * *
Later that night, Justine stroked and kicked her way from one side of the pool to the other. In the dark. She moved smoothly through the warm water, turning her face to the side to breathe. The same way she’d done since her first night here. She’d had no idea that Cal was aware of her evening ritual. And she wore a one-piece tank suit to do it, not a bikini, thank you very much. The exercise normally soothed her, but not this time.
Playing Twenty Questions on the beach had brought up memories and feelings of a life that seemed surreal now. Two years ago she’d been married to a wonderful man and had a beautiful little girl, but they died in the accident that nearly took Justine’s life, too. The doctors saved her leg. If given the choice, she would have gladly sacrificed it to keep her family, but one didn’t get to bargain or negotiate. Life and death didn’t work that way.
Now she did yoga and swam laps to stay strong because nothing else made sense. And she was swimming those laps on a tropical island to earn money for her own yoga studio, to help someone else find the will to live like she had. For some reason she was still alive and clung to the belief that there was a reason. Something she was meant to do.
The thing about laps was that muscle memory took over, freeing your mind to go wherever it wanted. Hers apparently wanted to go to Cal because that’s where it kept ending up. Why hadn’t he mentioned that he was aware she swam every night? And insisting that she stay on the beach today and keep him company. What was that about?
It wasn’t spelled out in her work contract that she couldn’t enjoy talking to her boss, and that was a good thing because she’d enjoyed it very much. He was handsome, yes. The sight of him was enough to make a girl weak in the knees. But he was also very smart. He really listened and remembered, so a person had better be careful what she said.
Justine was so caught up in her own thoughts that it startled her when the patio area suddenly lit up like a big-league ballpark. She swam to the end of the pool and grabbed on to the side. Cal was hobbling out of the villa and saw her watching.
“Hi.” He moved closer and looked down at her, leaning on the crutches. “I’m sorry about the light. Just wanted some air and figured it probably wouldn’t do my leg any good if I tripped over something in the dark.”
“Of course.”
“Hope I didn’t mess up your yoga, breathing, Vulcan mind-meld meditation technique.”
“What?”
“Swimming in the dark. No nuisance light or distractions to interfere with your concentration.”
“Right. But seriously, the Star Trek reference?”
“You got that.” He smiled. “Are you a fan?”
“Big time. The actor who plays Captain James T. Kirk in the new movies is perfect. You actually remind me of him a little.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said.
“Just a fact.”
“And it’s a fact that you’re swimming in the dark. Why do you do it?”
“It’s beneficial after a long day of work.” He started to say something but she interrupted. “This isn’t about you working me too hard. I swim at home, too. At least, I used to in Dallas. It calms me and strengthens the muscles in my legs. And it’s relaxing.”
Although her nerves were anything but calm at this particular moment. She swam in the dark here mostly because she was self-conscious
about the disfiguring scars on her right leg. This man had dated actresses and supermodels with perfect bodies. That was probably an unrealistic standard and didn’t allow for photoshopping or body makeup. But that was her perception and that made it true for her.
She shouldn’t compare herself or care what he thought but she did. That was obvious because she didn’t get out of the pool. And even with all her physical therapy and yoga breathing techniques, she couldn’t count high enough to breathe herself into serenity.
What was she going to do? If she got out there’s no way he wouldn’t see.
The answer was simple. She wouldn’t get out. She’d keep swimming. A metaphor for her life.
“I’m going to finish my laps,” she told him.
“Will it bother you if I sit here on the patio?”
“Not a bit,” she lied. She pushed off from the side of the pool and started gliding through the water again. Back and forth.
His presence actually bothered her a lot. Not because he might critique her freestyle form, but her female one. If she was being honest, it was more than that. Just being around him had all her senses on red alert. There was something about him that made her want to say the right thing, be perfect. If she made him laugh, that made her feel so good.
Except vanity wasn’t the only reason she hid her leg. If he saw the hideous marks and gouges out of the flesh from accident trauma and evidence of multiple surgeries to save it, he’d feel sorry for her, and his reactions would reflect that. He’d treat her differently, cut her slack when he otherwise might not have. All she wanted was to stand on her own two feet. Sink or swim on her own merit and not pity points.
So she kept swimming for as long as she could, but simply didn’t have the stamina to outlast his apparent need for fresh air. If ever there was a time for strategic planning, this was it. When she touched the side of the pool farthest from where he was sitting, she pushed her shoulders out of the water and rested her arm on the side. There was a chair two feet away where she’d left a sarong and her towel.
His by Christmas Page 6
