Barefoot by the Sea bb-4

by Roxanne St Claire

  “I don’t know how you are socially,” she said.

  He gave her a confused look as they exited the booth, reaching for her hand. “This didn’t count as social?”

  “I mean in a group. My friends are getting together tonight. You’ve met them. Now you can meet the men in their lives, too.”

  He looked interested. “Is this the equivalent to meeting your family?”

  “As a matter of fact, this is the only family that counts.” They walked to the car, hand in hand, then he curled his arm around her back so he could pull her all the way into his side in a move that only a boyfriend made. It shouldn’t have felt quite as good and natural as it did.

  “Tell me about them,” he said.

  “Well, these women have been my closest friends since we all met in the dorm in college. Zoe and Joss and I were in a triple room, and Lacey was our resident adviser. We got close and stayed that way through the years.”

  He nodded, absorbing that. “What about your real family? Parents and siblings?”

  “Not much to tell.” Not that she wanted to share, anyway. Not yet. “I’m an only child, and my mother is…” Oh, no. Not the time for this. “Not really in my life,” she said quickly. “My ‘friend’ family is the one that matters. And who’s who will be self-explanatory, and you’ll get to know them all when you work at Casa Blanca.”

  “Can you give me a refresher before we get there?”

  “Sure. Lacey and Clay Walker own the resort and have a new baby, Elijah, plus Lacey’s teenage daughter, Ashley. Zoe has a hot-air-balloon excursion business, which she has someone else piloting right now because she’s pregnant. She’s engaged to Dr. Oliver Bradbury, an oncologist, and they’re planning to get married after the house they’re building is finished and the baby’s born.”

  “After?”

  “She wants the baby at the wedding. She lives to be unconventional.”

  “So there are a lot of babies in the air,” he noted, keeping his arm tightly around her.

  “A few. None for Jocelyn, yet. She recently married Will Palmer, a local carpenter. She runs the spa at Casa Blanca.”

  “How did you all end up at the resort?”

  “Lacey launched the project and, one by one, we came to join her.” At the truck, she unclipped her key ring from her bag, handing it to him. “Don’t think it escaped my notice that you barely drank one glass of wine and let me dip into a second. You drive.”

  He took the keys, maneuvering himself so her back was against the passenger door. “Be happy to.”

  She sighed as he got closer, tilting her head up to look at the full moon, but her gaze caught his instead, and stayed there, letting the power of those blue eyes nearly flatten her. For a long moment, he said nothing, just looked into her eyes.

  Since he’d taken over the conversation at dinner, the warning bells had stopped ringing. He’d made her comfortable and content. He had convinced her they’d had two rocky starts—the bar and the interview—but this was all new. He had made her stop doubting, at least for now.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked him.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  The answer surprised her. “Then I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “I’m thinking about a lot of things.”

  “Name one.”

  “How perfect you are,” he whispered.

  “Oh, with the lines.”

  “That’s not a line,” he insisted. “You are perfect.” He backed her against the passenger door with one step, stroking her cheek with a shockingly light knuckle, the feathery touch making her close her eyes. “I’m not sure how I feel about that, but you’re perfect.” The hint of sadness in his voice made one of those dormant warning bells ring again. Something wasn’t right with that answer, or the regretful tone in his voice.

  “Perfect for what?”

  He frowned and shook his head, not answering.

  She put both hands on his chest, not to push him away but to get a good feel of the muscles under his shirt. “What exactly are you looking for in a woman, John?”

  “I don’t know,” he said gruffly, added some pressure so they were chest to chest, legs to legs. “But I think I found it.”

  Oh, God. Was it possible he was for real? Was she about to kiss a guy who could possibly…

  No. Not this soon. Not this man. It wasn’t—

  He lowered his head, angling it one way, then the other, as if he couldn’t decide the perfect way to go in for the kill. “Damn it, you’re beautiful.”

  His mouth covered hers, warm and wet, soft and sweet, his lips lingering like she was as delicious as the tiramisu they’d just shared.

  Lifting her hands, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and standing a little higher on her toes to get every bit of this moment. Her head buzzed and her heart hammered and every nerve in her body quickened to life. She couldn’t separate the taste of mocha and mint and man, and didn’t try. She merely reveled in them all.

  He opened his mouth, swirling his tongue around hers. An invitation, not an invasion, and Tessa licked him in even deeper. A soft, low groan escaped from his chest, the sound of sex and desire, a sound that made her dig her fingers into his silky long hair and press harder against his granite-like torso.

  “Now I’m sorry,” she whispered into the kiss.

  “Sorry?” He broke the contact, frowning at her. “For kissing me?”

  “For inviting you to meet my friends.”

  He almost smiled. “Because you want to go straight home and fall into bed?”

  She kind of nodded, fighting a laugh.

  “I know how you feel, but…” He kissed her again, taking her face in his hands this time, tilting her so their mouths fit perfectly, breathing life and hope and a dizzying, stunning jolt of desire all the way through her. “I really want to meet your friends, too.”

  Seriously? “I can’t believe this,” she murmured into the kiss.

  “Believe it.” He inched back, his eyes squeezed closed. In the moonlight, it almost looked like his lashes were damp and he worked hard to swallow.

  Was he crying?

  He squeezed her into him, fending off the question with a hard kiss, unforgiving, and completely different from the ones before. This was far more fury and desperation than seduction and sex. And tears rang the warning bell again. Tessa pushed back, aware of the hammering of his heart under her palms.

  He kept his eyes closed and took a ragged breath. “I told you,” he murmured. “You affect me.”

  Tessa stood perfectly still, looking up at a god in the moonlight, no question that the sides of this tough guy’s eyes were moist.

  She touched the tear-dampened line and brushed his long lashes. “In more ways than one, I’d say.”

  “Yes, in many more ways.”

  Believe it, he’d said. Everything in her wanted to believe him. Everything. But something wasn’t right.

  Corralling his composure, he put his hands on her shoulders as if to steady her, despite the fact that he was clearly the one in need of steadying.

  Once Ian Browning committed to a course of action, he rarely veered in any other direction. That was why he had excelled in university. That was why he’d sailed up the ranks at Barclays. That was why once he decided he’d get Tessa Galloway to marry him, he pulled out all the stops and turned up the heat.

  At least that was what he kept telling himself, even after he made the monumental mistake of letting himself feel something for her—enough that his emotions were all over his face.

  He was no stranger to tears; he’d shed a thousand since Kate died. But these? These stunned him. Surely they weren’t because he felt something for Tessa Galloway already.

  “Let’s go,” he said, not wanting to get into the conversation here and now. “I want to meet your friends.”

  She gave him a wary smile. “Really?”

  “No, that’s a lie,” he admitted. “I’d rather have a root canal and hug
a cactus tree than go to a party, but”—he opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in—“let’s go.”

  She hesitated. “Why, if you hate parties?”

  “Because you want to go.”

  Her eyes flickered in surprise, and affection. “That’s not necessary.”

  “You do want to go, right?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  “Then get in the truck, sweetheart.”

  She started to, then stopped. “Why?” she asked again.

  “Because I want to make you happy.” And having her friends like him was another key component to the marriage plan. Without waiting for another question, he closed the door and rounded the back, shoving down the misgivings that threatened to rise up and choke him.

  There was no other choice.

  Sliding behind the wheel, he felt her gaze on him, steady and definitely unsure.

  “Why do you want to make me happy?”

  He let out a soft laugh and twisted the ignition key. “Boy, you have been hurt. Tell me about it.”

  “I did already,” she said, warming him with her directness.

  “You had a shitty ex-husband,” he acknowledged, happy to have the conversation off his motivations and onto her life, where it should stay until they got to the party. “Was that enough to destroy your trust in all mankind?”

  She laughed softly. “If all mankind were like you, womankind would be in big trouble.”

  He shot her a grin. “You like me.”

  “Jury’s out.”

  “You like me.” He took her hand, the feeling of her fingers warm and familiar now. “You know you do.”

  Her head on the backrest, she turned to him, smiling. “I could,” she admitted. “But we have to work together.”

  “So?”

  “Could be awkward.”

  “What’s awkward?” he countered. “Longing looks across the kitchen? Kissing in the cooler? Daily trips up to the garden to roll around in the dirt with my favorite farm girl? What’s not to like about this arrangement?” Damn, it sounded a little too good.

  But she laughed, clearly enjoying the exchange. “You make it sound fun.”

  He squeezed her hand. “It will be fun.” Until it wasn’t. “It already is.” And that was no lie.

  It had been a long time since he’d laughed easily with a woman, or made out in the moonlight. It had been a very long time since he’d delayed sex to linger over a romantic dinner or meet friends and family. It had been a long time since he’d…

  Had a normal relationship.

  Except, this wasn’t normal because this wasn’t real. He glanced at her and she met his gaze, giving him a warm smile.

  But sometimes it felt real.

  While they drove back to Mimosa Key, he let her tell him more fine points about her friends, the conversation lasting all the way along the beach road, up to Barefoot Bay to Lacey and Clay’s house. As they walked across the circular drive, he took a deep breath of salt air, eyeing the darkness of the Gulf of Mexico to their left.

  “Nervous?” she asked.

  Not a bit. “Spitless.”

  She slipped her arm around his waist and reached up to kiss his cheek. “You’ll be great, John Brown.”

  John Brown. John Brown. He clung to the new name he’d been given when Sean Bern had “died” in Singapore, which meant—for the N1L gang who wanted him dead, anyway—that Ian Browning was dead, too.

  He had to be careful not to let this comfortable, easy, genuine woman make him slip and forget he was now John Brown. A man who’d bounced around from job to job but had recently been consumed with the burning need to settle down and had already fallen for this little island and one particularly appealing resident.

  The front door opened and a man stepped out to greet them. “Hey, Tessa.” Reaching his hand out, he greeted Ian. “I’m Clay Walker. I understand you’re our newest employee.”

  “John Brown.” The name rolled off his lips, so he added a confident nod to the other man, whose shoulder-length hair almost covered a small gold earring. The man was definitely a few years younger than his wife, but his handshake was strong and sincere.

  A small group of adults gathered on an outdoor patio around the pool, but on the way out there, they walked through a family room where two teenage girls languished on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn between them.

  “Oh, hi, Aunt Tess.” One of the girls rolled off the sofa and popped onto her feet, her reddish-blonde hair and freckled face telling Ian immediately this was Lacey’s daughter.

  “This is my stepdaughter, Ashley,” Clay said. “This is Chef Brown.”

  She gave a quick smile and then her eyes widened at him. “You’re the new chef?”

  He nodded. “Looks that way.”

  “Yeah, Marcus told me about your soup.”

  “Are you friends with him?” he asked, digging for his finest small-talk abilities despite the fact that they were negligible at best, especially where teenage girls were concerned.

  She shifted her gaze quickly to Clay, and shrugged. “I know him from, you know, around.”

  “Come on out, guys,” Lacey called from the patio.

  Ashley looked relieved, and Clay gestured for them to head outside. As Ian stepped across the threshold, he heard a whistle from the family room.

  “Hey, Aunt Tessa. Nice!”

  He didn’t turn to see Tessa’s reaction, but he mentally counted teenage Ashley among his supporters. One down, six to go. Oh, there were seven out here.

  He froze midstep when he saw the infant in Lacey’s arms.

  “I’d get up, but I don’t want to wake him,” Lacey said from a chaise near the pool. “Hello, John. It’s great to see you again.”

  Even from fifteen feet away he could make out the familiar shape of a baby’s head, the slope of a button nose, the bundle of blanket tucked around a tiny, tiny body. Nothing prepared him for the soul-shattering impact.

  “We’re all celebrating the news that you’ve accepted the job,” she said, beaming at him.

  He had to hold it together. He had to act like any other guy who had absolutely zero reaction to a baby. Ambling over, he forced his attention on mother and off child.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ms. Walker.”

  She smiled up at him. “Please call me Lacey and thank you for accepting the offer. I hope you’re ready to work ASAP.”

  “I’m ready,” he assured her, unable to fight the urge to look at the baby.

  He supposed they really did all look alike, which only made this worse. Same peach fuzz of hair, same heart-shaped lips, same peaceful look while sleeping.

  “This is Elijah,” she said proudly, lifting him gently. “You can hold him if you swear not to wake him up.”

  “Sure.” He had to. Vaguely aware of Lacey glancing to one of the other women, he took her bundle, familiarity mixing with pain and a sense of déjà vu so strong it nearly took his breath away. This baby was a carbon copy of Shiloh and Sam.

  “About six months?” he asked, adjusting the baby a little closer to his heart. Shi had loved it there; she fell sound asleep when he held her that way.

  Lacey pushed out of the chaise, smiling up at him. “Just about. You’re a natural, John.”

  “Yeah, well, I…” Elijah shuddered with a soft sigh, the whimper as powerful as a kick in the face. “I have nieces and nephews.” Two, and he’d been away at school when they were this age.

  He turned, coming face-to-face with another couple watching him with interest. Lacey introduced Will Palmer and his wife, Jocelyn.

  “We met at the Toasted Pelican,” he said to Jocelyn, forcing himself to be social when all he really wanted to do was wallow in memories and misery at how purely hollow holding this baby made him feel.

  “We didn’t exactly meet,” Jocelyn corrected him, an amused look divided between him and the baby. “But it’s nice to see you again.”

  “I better give this guy back to his rightful owner,” he sa
id, looking around for Lacey but landing on Tessa, who stood a few feet away with the third couple, a look of sheer disbelief and wonder on her face.

  Their eyes met for several heartbeats, and the whole patio stayed eerily silent for that same amount of time.

  “Here.” Lacey ended the awkward moment by swooping in and taking Elijah back. “He needs to be put down and you need to…” She hesitated for a moment as if she had so many different options for finishing that sentence, she didn’t know where to begin.

  “I need to meet the rest of your guests,” he said smoothly, walking over to Tessa, who still stared at him. He felt the heat and hope in her look, burning him with shame.

  If his plan succeeded, he’d have what he wanted and she’d—

  “This is Zoe Tamarin and Dr. Oliver Bradbury,” she said quickly, blessedly ending his thought.

  While shaking the doctor’s hand, he nodded to Zoe’s stomach. “I see congratulations are in order.”

  Zoe beamed back. “You know what we say about Barefoot Bay? Kick off your shoes and fall in love.”

  Tessa choked softly. “Zoe, please.”

  “What? It’s our new marketing slogan. Haven’t you told him about that, yet?”

  Ian shook his head and Tessa held up a hand. “I haven’t really…”

  “Did you tell him about the wedding business?” Zoe asked.

  Ian blinked at her, a flash of panic. “What wedding business?”

  “No need to look terrified,” Tessa said with an uncomfortable laugh. “It’s some really important guests you’ll have to dazzle with your culinary skills.”

  That he could do. “Who am I dazzling?”

  “You didn’t tell him about the wedding-planner board?” Jocelyn asked.

  “We haven’t talked about weddings,” she said quickly.

  “Yet,” Ian added. All six of them looked right at him, an incredibly brutal silence descending. “So why don’t you all tell me?” He put a casual arm around Tessa. “And give poor Tess a break. I’ve been grilling her all night learning everything I can about her. She didn’t have a chance to talk business.”

  Clay poured some drinks and they gathered around a long table, small talk flying while Lacey headed out to put the baby down. Ian suppressed the desire to take one last look at the wee lad, instead smiling at Tessa as she responded to Lacey’s tug.