“Walk or swim.” It was a statement, not a question, but he couldn’t find it in himself to turn his words softer.
“I’m sorry?”
“We’re either going for a walk or a swim. You choose. Before you fidget right out of your skin.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, immediately going completely still. “Is it bothering you?” She looked down at her formerly twisting hands as if they were traitorous betrayers.
Marcus sighed and rubbed at his eyebrows. “No. Nothing about you bothers me.” Except for all your damn short shorts. “But I can tell you’re wound up and it would be good for both of us to get out of here for a little while.”
Nothing about you bothers me. Iris sat still, stunned for a moment. Right into silence. Here she was feeling like the ultimate burden to him, doing her royal best to stay out of his way and then he goes and says something like that. What was she supposed to do about it?
“Um. Well. Maybe we can do both?”
“Sure,” he nodded, glancing at his watch. “We have a few hours before the sun goes down, so that’s fine. Meet you back down here in ten minutes.”
She watched him leave the room, presumably to go get his—gulp—bathing suit on, before she rose dumbly to her feet. Good lord. She was really going to have to get ahold of herself, but part of her still felt like none of this was real. She still felt that at any minute she might wake up in her bed in Pennsylvania. That Owen was going to call, to tell her that he was back from whatever vacation and that he wanted to get in some studio time. She expected to head in to the recording studio alongside him. With Jet, ugh, behind the glass, guiding Owen into more top ten singles.
But that wasn’t in the cards right now. She didn’t have a phone, a computer, no way at all to contact Owen. Who had apparently fled the country. Currently, Jet had absolutely no way of contacting either of them.
That thought put a little satisfied smile on Iris’s face. She kind of got a kick out of that. He’d be going insane. And after everything that he’d put her through, well, served him right to have to worry about her for a change.
She heard the floor creak above her and she jumped, started heading up to her own room to get ready. It was time that she surrendered to this completely, because there were no signs that the situation was changing anytime soon. She realized that besides his name, she really didn’t know a thing about the man that she was trapped in this house with for an indeterminate amount of time.
Nothing you do bothers me.
She heard the words again and it hit her all at once how silly she’d been. Tip-toeing around the house, pretending as if all of this was barely even happening. Sometimes it seemed like the only person she ever stood up to in her life was Owen. Not her mother and certainly not Jet. It was time to get a little backbone with this guy. What did she have to lose?
Iris pawed through the drawers in the room where Tia’s clothes were, looking for a bathing suit. She could be calm and cool and start a regular conversation. She could stop hiding from him like a mouse from a fox. She could, and would, form a camaraderie with this man who was charged with protecting her. She could make this duty of his be a joy for him. Yeah. She tugged on the bikini bottoms and ripped her shirt off over her head to tie on the top. She was gonna be charming and attentive and she was just gonna smooth this whole thing over.
Iris pulled a long t-shirt over the top of her bathing suit and called it a good job. She was far from a model in the swimsuit edition, but she’d do. She just hoped she’d get to repay this Tia woman at some point or another in her life. She was really helping her out on the wardrobe front.
Marcus waited at the foot of the stairs. He had a white t-shirt on and navy blue swim trunks. He wore no shoes.
“We’re just gonna walk on the sand if you wanna leave your shoes behind.” He handed her a beach towel that she threw over her shoulder. Glancing at her as he opened the sliding glass door that led to the back yard, he tentatively kept going. “Are you gonna need sunscreen or something?”
Iris looked up at him in surprise. “No, I tan pretty well. And besides, it’s February, I won’t burn, even if it’s warm.”
“Alright,” he shrugged, pointing the way toward a little overgrown path that apparently led down to the beach. “I never know what you pale people need.”
Iris picked her way down the path and glanced over at his bronze feet, they just looked so strong. So… capable. For some reason, she found herself blushing as she looked at the wide set of each toe. She cleared her throat. “Are you… not white?” she heard herself ask before she shut her eyes in horror and brought one palm up to her forehead. Good one, Iris. Way to smooth things over. Make friends. Make this not awkward. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ask it like that!” she blurted and was beyond relieved when he was laughing.
“It’s okay. In my experience, there’s never really a graceful way to ask that question. I’m just grateful you didn’t ask it in the first two seconds of meeting me, the way a lot of people do. Drives me nuts.”
Suddenly his hand was firm and hot on her elbow as he helped her step over a fallen log, gray and bleached from the salt and the sun.
“My dad is Greek. Real Greek. From Thessaloniki. Came over to the states when he was 22. And my mom’s grandmother was black. So, that’s why I always have tan skin, even in the winter. A lot of people consider me to be white, some people don’t.”
“Do you think of yourself as Greek?”
They were to the white, pillowy sand now and Iris groaned a little as she wiggled her toes into the warmth.
“No,” he answered immediately as he started the walk down the beach. “It’s a little rocky here in the water, but there’s a great place to swim a little further down. We can get a good walk in and then swim and walk back.”
“Alright,” she answered, a little stunned at how quickly and resolutely he’d answered her question. He obviously had no desire to talk to her about it. Which, why should he? He barely knew her.
Marcus cleared his throat and slowed his pace a little to match hers, he walked closer to the water than she did so when waves came they wrapped around his ankles and just kissed her toes. Her cute toes. They were small and neat and had little pink nails. He’d always been a sucker for pink nails.
For some reason, he found himself wanting to answer her question. He’d been asked that question before and he’d shut it down just as firmly, no looking back. It was a sensitive topic and he generally didn’t care to talk about it. Today, though, with her, he found words on the tip of his tongue.
“My dad and I, we don’t get along. We never have. And any kind of Greek traditions or heritage never really got passed down to me. And he didn’t really raise me. So, nah, I don’t feel Greek at all.”
Iris bobbed her head. She knew all about not getting along with a parent. “Are your folks divorced?”
“No. They’re together.” He squinted out at the ocean and then scanned his eyes along the tree line. Just walking along the beach, it was easy for her to forget that he was working right now. But he obviously was busy trying to make sure this situation was completely safe for her.
She furrowed her brow, took a deep breath and mustered the courage to ask her question. She would not be a mouse hiding from a fox! “But he didn’t raise you?”
Marcus glanced back at her. He was kind of shocked that she’d been able to work up the gumption to ask him that. And he was kind of shocked that he was about to answer it. There were very few people he would ever have spoken to about all this, and they’d known him long enough that they already knew all the answers. It struck him, suddenly, that he’d never really tried to explain this in his adult life. He’d never been close enough to someone, or wanted to try. He wondered now why this was the moment. Why she was the person? And as had become his habit over the past week, he concluded that it was all because of his self-imposed celibacy thing that he’d been doing for over a year now. He figured his body was so desperate for contact t
hat it was abandoning his usual patterns and going for broke. Well. There wasn’t much he could do about that except grit his teeth and bear it. Because he wasn’t going to break his celibacy now. And certainly not with this wisp of a woman.
“I was pretty much raised by my friend Eli’s dad and my friend Jay’s mom. Their names are Ryan and Kat. And weirdly enough, I’m pretty sure they’re dating now.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Eli, Jay and I have been best friends since I was a kid. Maybe four years old or so. And I spent all the time that I could with them growing up. Things got so bad at my house when I was around twelve or thirteen, that I pretty much lived at one of their two houses. I was always sleeping over. And Kat and Ryan were pretty much splitting all parental duties between them. Even parent teacher conferences and that kind of thing. Ryan took me to doctor’s appointments and Kat talked me through my first break-up. They were really there for me. They’re my real family.”
“Wow,” Iris repeated. “I’m jealous.” She bent to pick up a shell and didn’t notice the way her oversized t-shirt lifted against the back of her thighs as she bent over, but Marcus did. “I’ve got you matched on the crappy family part, but I was never lucky enough to find a second family the way you did. It was always just me and Owen against the world.”
“Your parents not around? Here, I’ve got pockets in my swim trunks if you want me to carry that shell.”
Iris passed over the shell as she shook her head her head at his question. “They’ve both passed away. My dad when I was really young, I don’t remember him. And my mom a few years ago. But we didn’t get along when she was alive. And when she was dying, things just got worse.”
“I’m sorry,” he said in a voice so low it was almost lost in the rumble of the ocean. She wondered if it was intentional or accidental when the backs of their hands brushed briefly together as they walked side by side.
Iris shrugged. “It sounds insensitive to say water under the bridge, but honestly, that’s how I feel.”
Marcus eyed her for a second and she forced herself to look in his eyes. She was rewarded with a look of great surprise and familiarity. “That’s exactly how I feel. Everyone always acts like it’s the saddest story that I’m not close with my parents. But I’m over it. I have no desire to keep being sad about it.”
“Agreed.”
“And besides, I have parents. Ryan and Kat are the best parents I could have asked for. Ryan’s such a proud dad. You should have seen him when Eli won the Superbowl. I thought he was going to—”
“Wait,” Iris hissed as she roughly grabbed one of Marcus’s biceps with both hands. With more strength than either of them thought she had, she brought Marcus around to face her. The wind off the ocean caught in her long hair and floated it up in the air between them. If he hadn’t been so alarmed by her behavior, Marcus would have had to fight off the urge to rub some of the strands between his fingers.
“What?”
“You mean,” she began, each word pausing for a breath in-between. “To tell me. That your friend ‘Eli’, is ELIJAH BIRD? Superbowl-winning star quarterback?”
Marcus pursed his lips, not liking the expression on her face one bit. “Uh. Yeah.”
“Holy SHIT!” Iris yelled, color flooding her cheeks as she slapped her hands over her mouth and took a stumbling step away from Marcus. “Oh my god!”
Marcus furrowed his brow. He had not been expecting this. He felt his frown deepen even further when she let out an insane giggle as she scooped the hair off her face. “I take it you’re a Stingrays fan?”
“Pfff,” Iris waved her hand through the air in dismissal. “Please. I’m an Elijah Bird fan. Jesus. You mean to tell me that I’ve been staying in Elijah Bird’s beach house?”
“Quit saying his name like that!” Marcus snapped, full on scowling now. For some reason, hearing her call herself an Elijah Bird fan had launched Marcus into a terrible mood. When she showed no signs of letting up on the pink-cheeked, shocked hero worship, Marcus just grabbed her hand and continued tugging her down the beach.
“I can’t believe this. Oh my god.”
“Get ahold of yourself,” Marcus growled. “Show a little respect. You’re wearing his wife’s clothes right now.”
“They’re not married yet,” Iris said as she wagged a finger at Marcus.
“I know, I know. I’m the best man, for god sakes. I know whether or not they’re married. But they’re as good as married. So you can wipe that fangirl look off your face.”
Iris did no such thing. Actually, she was a little taken with the scowly, irritated side of him. He’d been so calm and collected the entire time that she’d known him. He didn’t like her losing her mind over his friend and she wasn’t exactly sure why. But he was still holding her hand on the beach, so she figured she was doing something right.
“You think he’d sign something for me?”
Marcus just growled and continued tugging her along, a whole step in front of her. “Get in the water,” he growled as he dragged them toward a small lagoon.
He was right that it was better swimming here. The blue water kissed along the white sand of the beach and the waves were much smaller here. She couldn’t see any rocks and the water was about hip deep for a long way out. It was perfect.
Still chuckling to herself, Iris carefully unfolded her towel so that she could lay out the second she got out of the water. When she turned back, Marcus was halfway through taking off his shirt. She quickly turned away from him as if the sight had burned her. Well, that answered her question about chest hair. Yes, he had a lot of it. And yes, it was perfect and manly and she really, really wanted to rub her cheek against it. And yes, just that half second glance at his partially naked chest had been enough to permanently kick her Elijah Bird celebrity crush to the curb. But was she going to tell Agent Marinos that? Hell no.
“Wait, how did you get a bathing suit?” Marcus asked from behind her.
Iris turned around, the ocean wind plastering the long t-shirt to her front. She cocked her head to one side. “I borrowed one from Tia. You think that’s okay?”
“Yeah, of course she’d share with you. But how in hell are you going to fit in Tia’s suit? You’re nowhere near the same size.”
Iris’s cheeks flamed as she cleared her throat. Men. He was really going to make her explain this. “Well, uh, we’re not the same height, of course. But we’re pretty much the same size…otherwise.”
Marcus lifted an eyebrow, as if he didn’t believe her and then shrugged, turning his back and giving her an eyeful of that golden, sculpted expanse. He waded into the water and Iris tugged her t-shirt over her head, quickly glancing down at the pale pink bikini she wore, to make sure that it did, indeed, fit her. It did. In fact, it looked great on her. It was a tad skimpier than she’d normally wear, but beggars can’t be choosers.
She knew why Marcus was confused about her size. Iris had the kind of boobs that could be smashed down to nearly nothing in the sports bras she’d been wearing throughout the week. But on display in a bikini, lifted and supported, she sported some very respectable C cups, if she did say so herself. And as for her curvy ass, well, she wasn’t completely sure how he’d missed it accept that she’d been wearing long sweaters and shirts that did their part to cover it. There was no covering it now, though.
She stepped toward the ocean in the skimpy bikini, extremely aware that every pale, lush curve of her body was on display in the bright sun. She resisted the urge to pull her long hair in front of her. I will not be a mouse hiding from a fox!
She’d taken a step or two into the water, just a bit chilly, and she felt two things happen at once. One, the cool water caused her skin to tighten all over, including across her breasts. She knew her nipples had gathered, to press against the thin pink fabric of the bikini top. And two, even though her eyes were on her feet in the water, she felt Marcus turn, she felt his gaze fall upon her. She felt that same heat that she always felt. But without lookin
g up, which she didn’t, she had no way of realizing that this was an entirely different look than he’d been giving her.
Holy shit. God in heaven. What in the absolute hell was he supposed to do with this? Marcus tore his eyes away from the goddess walking through the water toward him and did the only thing he could think to do. He dove into the cool water and swam as fast as he could away from her. For just a few strokes at least. He needed a tiny bit of distance. He could feel the heat of her racing through his veins.
Unfortunately, closing his eyes against the salt water merely caused her image to pop up again and again. One foot lifting to step through the water, her hair floating all around her in the breeze. Her trim little waist flaring out into those curvy hips he’d been dimly aware that she had. But then that chest. Good lord those breasts. Where in the living hell had those come from? From the way her clothes had fit her, Marcus had been positive that she’d had a small chest. But what he’d just seen, perky and trying to press their way through that bathing suit top, had been a solid handful. And he had big hands.
Seriously. What the hell was he supposed to do? Finally, his lungs screaming, he came up for air. Tossing the salt water off his face and treading water, he glanced back toward the beach, expecting her to still be standing, knee deep in the water. She shocked the hell out of him when she came up for air two feet from him.
“You’re fast!” she remarked, rubbing water out of her eyes and grinning like crazy.
“So are you, apparently.”
“Swim team in high school. My favorite sport.”
He nodded. His training was the only thing that kept him from trying to make out her shape underneath the water. Instead he forced his eyes to scan over the beach, checking for anything amiss. He found nothing, just like he knew he wouldn’t. There was virtually no chance of them being found here.
“Wanna race?” Iris asked, one of her hands brushing his forearm as she circled them in the water to keep herself afloat.
Bachelors In Love Page 55
