Monk draped the two guys in blankets while Aidan grinned and clambered out of the basket wiping water out of his face. "Always a pleasure," he yelled, feeling the adrenaline still pumping inside. "What happened to your boat?"
The man shook his head and leaned back against the shell of the chopper. "Damn thing started taking on water. Almost before we'd finished radioing for help, she got bottom heavy and did a roll, pitching us into the drink."
"Don't like boats," Monk shouted to no one in particular as he grabbed hold of one of the straps hanging from the roof of the chopper. "If God wanted us in the water, he would have given us gills."
Aidan laughed at his friend's solemn voice. The man hated water. Strange that he'd ended up in Search and Rescue. "But flying's okay?" he prodded, knowing the answer even before he asked the question.
"Hell, yes. It's safer. You ever see a tidal wave in the sky?"
While the man and his son relaxed to enjoy the ride, Aidan laughed at Monk and told himself he was a lucky man—jumping out of helicopters for a living—did it get any better than that?
* * *
By the next afternoon, Terry was ready for a break. She'd spent the last several days either in the bookstore, or tucked away in Donna's tiny, cottage-style house. She didn't know anyone in town—except for Aidan Reilly—and she hadn't seen him since he'd rushed out of the bookstore the previous afternoon.
Not that she wanted to see him, of course.
But spending too much time on her own only gave her too much time to think. Not necessarily a good thing.
Still, just because She was alone in a strange city, didn't mean she couldn't get out and mingle. Which was why she was spending her lunch hour walking along a crowded boardwalk, disinterestedly peering into the shop windows as she passed.
Although now, she was rethinking the whole, "get out and see some of Baywater" idea. The September sun beamed down from a brassy sky and simmered on the sidewalk before radiating back up to snarl at the pedestrians.
Even in a tank top and linen shorts, she felt the heat sizzling around her and realized that South Carolina muggy was way different than Manhattan muggy. She lifted her hair off her neck and let the soft ocean wind kiss her sweat dampened skin. One brief moment of coolness was her reward, but it was over almost before she could enjoy it.
All around her, families laughed and talked together. Kids with zinc oxide on their noses bounced in their tennies, eager to hit the beach. Young couples snuggled and held hands and the sound of cameras clicking was almost musical.
She came to the corner and stood on the sidewalk, watching the cars stream past along Main street
. Well, "stream" was subjective. They were moving faster than she could walk, but traffic was pretty impressive for such a small town. When the light changed, she jumped off the curb and hurried across the street, unerringly headed for the dock and the ocean beyond. The nearer she got to the water, the brisker the wind felt and the ocean spray on her face was cool and welcome.
Boats lined the dock. Everything from small skiffs and dinky rowboats to huge pleasure crafts and mini yachts, bumped alongside each other like close friends at a cocktail party. Fishermen littered the pier, their poles and lines dangling over the weather beaten railings. A couple of skateboarders whizzed through the crowds, weaving in and out of the mob of people like dancers exhibiting precision steps. A balloon slipped free of a little girl's grasp and while her mother consoled her, the wind carried the bright splotch of red high into the sky.
Terry smiled to herself and kept walking. The scent of hot dogs and suntan lotion filled the air and as she passed a vendor, she stopped, giving in to hunger. She bought a hot dog and a soda, then carried them down a steep set of stairs to the rocks and the narrow beach below. Close enough to the pier that she heard the crowd, but far enough away that she felt just a touch of solitude.
Perching on a rock, she brought her knees up, took a bite of her hot dog and only half listened to the sounds around her as she focused her gaze on a couple of surfers, riding a low wave toward shore. Close to the sea, the temperature was easier to take.
"Still, strange to be sitting on a beach in the middle of the day," she murmured, then glanced around quickly. Talking to yourself was the first sign of a wandering mind. She sure as heck didn't want witnesses.
If she were back home right now, she'd be rushing down Fifth Avenue, clutching her purse to her side and walking fast enough to keep up with the incredible pulse and rhythm of New York City. She'd be racing from one meeting to the next, lining up volunteers and donations for whichever charitable organization she was working for at the time. There would be luncheons and brunches and coffee-fueled meetings at trendy restaurants.
Busy days and empty nights.
She shivered, took another bite of the hot dog and told herself that her life was full. She did good work—important work. In the grand scheme of things did it really matter that at some point in the last five years, she'd actually stopped living her life?
"Great," she muttered, rolling up her napkin and taking a swallow of her soda. "Self-pity party at the pier. Bring your own whine."
She pushed off the rock and started for the shoreline where the water edged in across the sand, staining it dark and shining. Terry smiled, kicked off her sandals and let the cool, wet sand slide around her feet. The ocean rippled close and lapped over her skin and she kicked at it idly, sending spray into the air.
When her cell phone rang, she almost ignored it. Then sighing, she reached into her shorts pocket, pulled out her phone and glanced at the number before answering.
"Donna. How's Hawaii?"
"God, it's good to be home for a while," her friend said with a sigh of contentment. Then she added quickly. "Jamie, don't hit your brother with the sand shovel."
Terry chuckled and started walking slowly along the edge of the ocean. The tide rolled in and out again with comforting regularity and the shouts of the children on the beach played a nice counterpoint.
"How's it going there?" Donna asked as soon as the Jamie situation was settled.
"Fine. Business is good."
"And Aidan?"
Terry pulled the phone away from her ear and smirked at it. "You are completely shameless."
"Gee, don't know what you mean."
"Right." Terry laughed. "You're impossible."
"I'm a romantic."
"Who's wasting her time."
"Come on," Donna wheedled. "You've got to admit he's gorgeous."
"He is," Terry admitted with a sigh as an image of Aidan Reilly rose in her mind. "I give you that. But the man swore off sex, remember?"
"Uh-huh. And trust me," Donna said. "He's a man on the edge. Wouldn't take much effort to push him over."
"I thought you were supposed to be helping him."
"I'm trying to help both of you."
"And it seems so much like interfering."
"To the suspicious mind.
"Not interested," Terry said firmly and half wondered if she was trying to convince Donna or herself. Then she said it again, just for good measure. "Seriously. Not interested."
"Fine, fine," Donna agreed. "I can see you're going to be stubborn, so forget I said anything."
"Already working on it," Terry assured her and swished one foot through a rush of cold seawater.
From a distance, a shout floated to her and she looked up in time to see a man jump off the pier and drop, feet first, into the ocean below. "What an idiot."
"What? Who are you talking about?"
Shaking her head, Terry said, "Some moron just jumped off the pier."
"That's nuts," Donna screeched. "That close to shore, there are rocks and sandbars and—"
"Now he's swimming to shore, so apparently he survived."
"You know what they say," Donna said, "God protects fools and drunks— Jamie, don't hit your brother with the sand pail, either!"
"Whether he's a fool or drunk is still a mystery," Terry murmured, only ha
lf listening to her friend as she kept her gaze locked on the idiot swimming through the waves. "But he's a good swimmer."
When he finally hit shore, he stood up and turned toward her. His dark T-shirt clung to his muscular chest and his sodden cutoff jeans shorts hung from his narrow hips. As she watched, he came closer, grinning now and Terry's stomach fluttered weirdly as she whispered, "I don't believe it."
"What?"
"It's him. Aidan."
"The moron who jumped off the pier?"
"The very one and he's headed this way," Terry said, trying to ignore the stutter of her heart and the jolt in the pit of her stomach.
"Well, well, well," Donna said, laughing, "isn't this fascinating?"
"Go save Danny from Jamie," Terry muttered and hung up while Donna was still laughing.
Stuffing the phone back into her pocket, she gripped her sandals tightly in one fist and waited as Aidan came closer. If she had any sense at all, she'd turn around and head back the way she'd come. Take the stairs up to Main Street
and get back to the bookstore.
But simple pride kept her in place.
No way was she going to run away from him. Give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could get to her without even an effort.
"Come here often?" Aidan asked.
"Are you insane?"
His grin widened and her heart did a fast two-step. Ridiculous how this man could jitter her equilibrium.
"Not legally," he said and swiped the water from his face with one tanned, long fingered hand.
His soaking wet shorts hung low across his narrow hips. His legs were long and tan and his feet were bare. He looked athletic, rugged and way too good. "You jumped off the pier."
"Yeah." He half turned and waved one arm over his head.
Two men on the pier waved back. "Your keepers?" she asked.
Aidan laughed and turned back to look at her. "My brothers. Well, two of 'em."
Staring at Terry, he could see she was annoyed and damned if she still wasn't an amazing looking woman. Her green eyes flashed at him and disapproval radiated off of her. But there was something else, too … something like excitement. And that made the jump off the pier and the swim to shore more than worthwhile.
He could still hear Connor's and Brian's hoots of glee when he'd spotted Terry and told them to take his fishing gear home for him. No doubt they were already planning to make room for him in the convertible they'd be riding around base come Battle Color Day. But hell with that, Aidan told himself. No way was he going to be seen in public wearing a grass skirt and a coconut bra like his bet-losing brothers.
Nope.
Instead he planned on having a front row seat for the spectacle—cheering them on while basking in the glow of their envy—for him having won the bet.
"The other two thirds of your set of triplets?"
One of his eyebrows lifted. "Donna tell you lots about me or what?"
"Just the basics," Terry said and walked a little further into the ankle deep water. "She never mentioned your death wish."
He threw his head back and laughed. "Death wish? From jumping off that short pier? Babe, that little jump was like rolling off the couch to me."
"What about the rocks? Sandbars?"
He waved her points away and joined her in the froth of water sluicing up over the sand. "From the fourth pylon to the sixth, there's a trench, deeper water. We've been jumping off that stupid pier since we were kids."
"So you've always been crazy."
"Pretty much."
"You grew up here?"
"Ah, so Donna did leave out a few details." Terry chuckled, glanced at him and gave him a half shrug. "There's that ego again. Contrary to what you may believe, Donna and I didn't really discuss you in great depth."
He laughed again. Something about the way she could quickly go from fury to prickly to laughing really got to him. Nothing like a woman whose moods you couldn't predict to keep a man on his toes.
Not to mention her lushly packed body. It hadn't been hard to spot her from the pier. Her profile was tough to miss. She had more dangerous curves than the Indy 500 and her shoulder-length blond hair flew out around her in the sea wind like a starting flag. Probably every male within miles had already started their engines.
God knew his was up and running.
He brushed that thought aside, though. He wasn't some hormone driven teenager with his first case of lust. He could control himself. He could talk to her without drooling all over her. And he'd damn well prove that to both himself and the brothers he knew were still watching from the pier.
"Well then," he said and walked closer to her, dragging his feet through the icy froth of water, "let me regale you with tales of the Reilly brothers."
She smiled and shook her head. "So this is a comedy?"
"With us? Damn straight." He shifted his gaze from hers to the endless stretch of ocean laid out in front of them.
The sunlight glittered on the surface of the water, like a spotlight on diamonds. A few sailboats skimmed close to shore, their sails bellied in the wind. Surfers lazily rode the minor swells in toward shore and overhead, seagulls danced and screeched. A couple of kids with swim floats raced in and out of the water while their parents watched from a blanket and from not too far away, came the tinny sound of country music sliding from a radio.
"We moved to Baywater when we were thirteen. Liam was fifteen. Our dad was a Marine, so up until then, we'd traveled all over the damn place." He smiled when he said it, remembering all the moves with a lot more fondness than his mother felt for them. "We were stationed in Germany, Okinawa, California and even a quick stint in Hawaii."
"All before you were thirteen?"
"Yep." The water was cold, the sun was hot and a gorgeous woman was standing beside him. Days just didn't get any better than this. "Anyway, when he was assigned to MCAS Beaufort—"
"MCAS?"
He grinned. "Sorry. Marines tend to talk in acronyms. MCAS. Marine Corps Air Station."
"Ah…" She nodded.
"When he was assigned there, we followed just like always. He made every move seem like an adventure. New town, new friends, new school."
She was quiet for a minute or two, then looked up at him with eyes that looked deep. "Must have been hard."
"Could have been," he admitted, caught for a moment or two by the empathy in her eyes. But he didn't need her sympathy. "Probably was for other Marine brats. But we always had each other. So we'd go into a new school with built-in friends."
"Handy."
More than handy, he thought. The Reilly brothers had stock together through thick and thin. Even when they were battling—which was pretty damn often—there was a bond between the four of them that had been stronger than any outside pressure.
"Hey, there's a lot to be said for having a big family. Always someone to hang with."
"Or fight with?"
"Oh, yeah. We had some great ones. Still do on occasion. You have brothers and sisters?"
"One," she said. "Brother. Older. We're not close."
There was a story there that she wasn't telling. He could see it in the way she shifted slightly away from him. Her body language said a hell of a lot more than she was. "Why not?"
She stiffened a little further, lifted her chin as if preparing for a battle that she was used to fighting. Then she said, "Lots of reasons. But we weren't talking about me, remember?"
Shut down. Neatly. Politely. Completely. Okay. He'd let it go, he thought. Come back to it another time. He wanted to know why her green eyes looked shadowed. Why her brow furrowed at mention of her family. And yet … he really didn't want to explore why he wanted to know.
So he was happy enough to turn the talk back to him and his family.
For now.
"Right." He blew out a breath, focused on the sea again and started talking. "Anyway, Mom handled everything, as usual. Dad made it an adventure, Mom made it all work. She handled the packing, the bills, the r
equisitions, the dealing with the movers … everything. Basically all us guys had to do was show up."
"Your mother's crazy, too," she said, though her words were filled with more than a little admiration.
He laughed shortly. "She'd be the first to agree with that." He shrugged and stared hard at the horizon, where sea met sky and both blended, becoming a part of each other. "But, everything changed when we moved here. Mom loved it. Said she felt a 'connection' to this place. She loved everything about Beaufort, the south, the people. When she found Baywater on a shopping trip, she told my dad that here is where they'd be staying."
"Could he do that? Just opt to stop being deployed?"
"Not easy, but, yeah. Ask for an assignment to a company that doesn't deploy and you're pretty safe. But Mom wouldn't let him do that. She knew how much he enjoyed the deployments."
"But what about when he was reassigned to live somewhere else for a year or two? That happens, doesn't it?"
"You bet. Mom just told him 'happy trails' and that she'd be right here, letting us go to school and have some stability." He shoved both hands into his jeans pockets and winced as he realized he'd dived into the water still carrying his wallet. Damn it. But he hadn't been thinking. He'd taken one look at Terry and jumped off the pier.
He shook his head. "Mom wanted us to be able to finish out high school in the same place."
"So she stayed here with you guys and let him go?"
"Yep." He smiled to himself. "Dad would head off for six months and Mom would be right here, running the show until he got back. She told him this was home and she wasn't leaving it again."
"Strong woman."
"You have no idea." He laughed, remembering how his mother had managed to ride herd on four teenage sons and make it all look easy. "Dad lasted another year or two, then wangled an assignment back to MCAS and they've been here ever since. He retired not long after that—"
"Now?"
Aidan sighed. "He died a few years back."
"I'm sorry."
He looked at her. "Thanks. Mom's still in their house here in Baywater and loving the fact that all three of her sons are stationed close enough for her to irritate whenever she wants to."
"And you're all nuts about her."
THE LAST REILLY STANDING Page 3
