by Bella Andre
She couldn’t believe how strongly she was drawn to him. Not just sexually—even though the heat between them was off the charts—but because he got her.
And yet that, more than anything, was what had her instinctively pushing the idea of a fling even farther away. Because if they got each other this well, this quickly, and he came to mean something special to her this week, how much harder would it be to walk away from him?
Of course, for all she knew, Quinn might be one of those guys who only had flings.
Desperate to get ahold of her emotions so that they didn’t bloom into something bigger than either of them were prepared for, she said, “Tell me about your work.”
“I own a shipping company.”
Ah, so she’d been right about the boardroom and the suit. He exuded power, and she could easily imagine how women everywhere must drool at the sight of him in a suit and tie. She had to work really hard to push aside a supersexy vision of surprising him in a boardroom and reaching up to unknot his tie. “Did you always want to do that?”
“Believe it or not, the impetus behind it was because I loved my boats so much when I was growing up, and I wanted to do something that would allow me to be on the water. Little did I know that I would run a fleet of ships and land transport vehicles from an office while my personal boats sit unused.” She could have sworn there was regret on his face as he said it, but before she could ask him any other questions about his career, he pointed at the sand. “Look. There they are.”
“Spit marks!” Water spurted out of the hole in the sand, and she laughed delightedly. “What do we do?”
“We dig, but I’d better warn you, jumping on the sand makes them burrow faster. You’ll never catch it now.”
“Oh, come on!” She dropped to her knees and dug as fast and as deep as she could while Quinn stood beside her, laughing. Sand flung right and left as her hands burrowed deeper into the wet channel.
“Oh my God, I feel it.” She dug one hand deeper, leaning into the sand as her fingers continued digging, trying to grip the clam’s slick shell. “Help me, Quinn!”
But he was already on his knees, and in seconds his fingers were brushing hers, the wet sand cutting into both their skin as they laughed and egged each other on.
“Faster. Come on!”
“Come here, you little bugger,” Quinn said through gritted teeth.
Shelley fell back on her heels in a fit of laughter.
“Get him, Quinn. Don’t let him get away!”
His biceps flexed with his efforts. He laughed and groaned, then laughed some more as he dug down elbow deep and actually fell over, sinking to his butt on the wet sand.
Shelley fell across his lap in another fit of laughter. They were both covered in wet, gritty sand, but he was making no move to brush it off. She’d never met a man like him, who was as serious as he was carefree, as sexy and powerful as he was gentle and sweet.
When their laughter subsided, Quinn reached for her cheek.
“You have sand…”
Unable to wait another second, she leaned up to kiss him. Quinn immediately drew her closer, deepening the kiss and filling all of the places inside her that had been empty for far too long. His hand slid beneath her hair and he angled her head back, allowing his mouth to claim hers even more powerfully.
Coming together with Quinn felt like an awakening, releasing her preconceived notions about power and wealth and all the hurt they’d caused her over the years, and replacing those memories with hope for something more.
“I think I’m becoming addicted to your mouth.” Quinn pressed his lips to hers again before saying, “I’m sorry I got sand in your hair.”
“Sand?” Her brain was too foggy to respond coherently. But, still vibrating from the kiss, she was in no rush to remember how to think.
No rush at all, she thought as she pulled him back down to her for another mind-blowing kiss.
Chapter Nine
FOR THE SECOND time in as many days, Shelley had made Quinn completely forget about work and his grandfather’s demands about the resort. All he could think about, all he wanted, was her. Her kisses, her laughter, the bright light she shined down on everything around her.
As the tide rolled back in, swirling around their feet, they washed the sand from their limbs and faces. As they dried off their arms and legs with the towel, they couldn’t resist the urge to kiss each other again, and then again and again. The sun was starting to set behind them by the time they finally managed to stop kissing each other for long enough to head back to return the rakes and bucket.
The marina came into view, and for the first time in years, Quinn thought about how much he’d loved tinkering with the engines of the power boats and working the masts and riggings on the sailboats. The more he thought about the time he’d spent on the boats, the more he realized he missed those lazy afternoons. He’d come to accept that they were long gone.
But now he found himself wondering: Do they have to be?
“Look how pretty the sunset is.” Shelley pointed over the bay at the darkening sky, rivers of blue and violet running across the horizon.
“Sometimes I forget how beautiful it is here,” he said.
She put her arms around him, and it was pure instinct to gather her in even closer as they watched the sun setting together. Quinn’s chest swelled with an unfamiliar fullness. It was easy to imagine Shelley getting to know customers in her café, warmly welcoming them, listening to their problems, consoling them, doling out advice and smiles with complete sincerity. He felt incredibly drawn to her—and he liked the way he felt when they were together.
But at the same time, even as his emotions were flooding in fast, he knew he couldn’t let himself pretend that his overwhelming workload—and his drive to be the very best and biggest in his field—weren’t there waiting like a viper for him to relax or drop his guard.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget how beautiful it is here,” Shelley said.
As she gazed up at him, he got lost in her emerald eyes, and his thoughts of work fell away again. In that moment, Quinn knew that he’d never be able to forget how beautiful she was. No matter how much work he had to do, this afternoon with Shelley would always be special. So special that he didn’t want it to end.
“How about we go get some ice cream and then build a bonfire on the beach?”
Ice cream and a bonfire when there was an endless amount of work to be done? What are you doing to me, Shelley Walters?
SHELLEY COULDN’T IMAGINE a better way to spend her solo honeymoon than forgoing the solo part, for a little while at least, and spending it with Quinn.
She felt badly now for initially judging him by his family name at the bar when he’d just shown her how different he was from business-only men like her father. And as they walked hand in hand toward her cottage, where they planned to build a bonfire, carrying their shoes and eating their sweet treats, she didn’t want the night to end. Every time he kissed her, her body went up in flames. She wanted to ask him to come back to her cottage, wanted so badly to make love with him—wanted a night with Quinn more than she'd ever wanted anything before. But she'd never gone to bed with a man she'd only met twenty-four hours ago, so even though everything about Quinn felt so right, she couldn't quite find the words to ask him for more.
“How much longer will you be on the island, Shelley?”
“The original plan was for five more days after today, but like I said earlier, there’s something about this place that’s calling to me.” Quinn attracted her like crazy, of course. But even before she'd met him, she'd thought Rockwell Island was the prettiest place she'd ever seen. “I’m going to ask Sierra tomorrow what she thinks about the idea of bringing my coffee shop to the island.” She breathed in the sweet sea air. “It would be amazing to spend more time here.”
“You’re really considering moving your coffee shop here? After only a day or two?”
“Why not? I love it here. And if it ends u
p feeling like it makes sense after I do some more research into it, I figure it will be worth the risk.”
“You’re not afraid to pick up and leave everything you’ve built? Everything you know?”
“There’s so much in this world to be afraid of. Hackers, contaminated foods, bad drivers. Why would I be afraid to go on an adventure? What’s the worst that might happen if I move my business? That it might fail?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
“I guess I’ve never been afraid of failure. I don’t entertain the idea of failure, either. I’d much rather focus on being hopeful and having fun making sure things work out the way I want them to.”
“I have no doubt that if anyone can pull off starting a new business in a new place, it will be you.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence.” She loved the warmth in his voice. It was as mesmerizing to her as his kisses. “How about you? How long are you going to be here?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but probably just a few more days. I’m in the midst of a huge merger with my own business. Critical meetings are taking place this week and next, so the sooner I get back to Maryland, the better.” He paused for a moment and studied her face as if he was trying to decide if he should say more. Finally, he said, “I’m only here because my grandfather wants my brothers and me to take over the resort and move back to the island. But that’s never been in the cards for us, so we all have plenty of things to work out. The timing happens to be terrible, since we all have our own ventures to tend to and being away long-term is not an option.”
She tried to reconcile his incredibly stressful response to her question with the carefree guy she’d just spent the afternoon with, and it made her wonder about how much of a workaholic he really was.
Thinking of workaholics brought a sudden picture of the old man in the wheelchair to mind. “I met your grandfather on the beach, with his nurse, Didi. She seemed really nice.” Shelley held her tongue about his grandfather. Chandler Rockwell had been downright intimidating and unwelcoming. Except with Chugger.
“I just met her today, too,” Quinn said. “We’ll see how long she lasts.”
“Because of your grandfather, you mean? Didi seemed really capable and professional.” Shelley hadn’t wanted to say anything negative about his grandfather, but the words, “I guess he did seem a little gruff,” came out despite herself.
Quinn laughed softly and when he pulled her in closer, every inch of him was so deliciously hard against her that she lost her breath. “Gruff? That’s a really nice way of putting it.”
“Well,” she said, trying to simultaneously get her synapses to start firing normally again while also finding something that was actually nice to say about his grandfather, “he was very loving with his dog, Chugger.”
“You saw Chandler with Chugger?” Quinn looked really surprised to hear it. “That’s Ethan’s dog.”
Just then his phone vibrated in his pocket. When he pulled it out and looked at the screen, his brows drew down to a serious slash.
“I’m sorry, Shelley. I really need to take this call from my business partner. I have a feeling it’s about that merger I was telling you about.”
“Sure,” she said with a small smile, a cool breeze rushing over her the moment he stepped away. “Go ahead.”
He walked a few feet away and Shelley turned, giving him privacy to take his call. In any case, she was glad for a few moments to think about what he’d said and what he hadn’t.
When they were talking about how long each of them would be staying on the island, he hadn’t made mention of seeing her back in Maryland, which meant he was probably thinking of her as nothing more than a short-term fling—just the way she should be thinking about him.
A fling. She did her very best to try the idea on for size again. Maybe I can deal with that.
After all, like Taryn had said, since no one here on the island knew Shelley or her family, this week should be the perfect time and place to cut loose and live a little.
Yes, she wanted him in her bed with a desperation that stunned her. But even as she tried to psyche herself up for her very first fling, she had to work really hard to try to ignore the queasiness in her stomach…and the way the thought of having nothing more than a sexy fling with Quinn stung, smack-dab in the middle of her chest.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER she was still standing by herself, waiting for Quinn to get off the phone. He’d walked farther away, but it was obvious that he was having a heated discussion about the merger as he paced with the phone glued to his ear.
She was reminded of when she was a little girl, standing in her father’s office waiting to tell him about how well she’d done on a test in school, or about the part she’d just gotten in a school play. The phone would ring and he’d hold up a finger. He’d never said, Excuse me, honey, or, I’ll just be a moment. He’d just disregard her altogether and take the call, sometimes leaving her standing in his office for half an hour before shooing her silently out so he could finish the call in private. Other times she’d simply left, unnoticed and not missed.
More and more of those same uncomfortable feelings were taking hold by the minute, tightening in her chest, making her feel unimportant and a little lonely. She tried to fight those feelings by remembering how much fun Quinn had been while clamming and what a gentleman he’d been the night before, when he’d found her skinny-dipping. How even after she'd thrown herself at him, and their kisses had sparked like fireworks on the 4th of July, he'd still gone out of his way to make sure things didn't go too far. Plus, she now knew just how much he had on his plate, with the possible resort takeover and his shipping conglomerate.
Ten minutes later, however, when the call didn’t look like it was going to end anytime soon, she walked up behind him to let him know she was going to head back over to her cottage and would wait for him there. But just as he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, he turned away, as if he needed to make sure he didn’t lose focus on his call for even a few seconds.
The pinched look on his face and his complete disregard made her feel so insignificant that tears stung in her eyes.
Again she fought those feelings, trying to give Quinn the benefit of the doubt by telling herself that he was juggling a ton of responsibilities. But she knew better, didn’t she?
I’m rationalizing for him.
How hard was it to say, Excuse me for one moment, to the person on the phone in order to give the person he was with a quick goodbye, or even an apology for taking so long?
She’d had the most incredible day with Quinn, and there was more heat between them than she'd ever imagined possible—but this was not okay.
She turned on her heel and walked quickly back to her cottage, taking big gulps of the sea air to try to get much-needed oxygen into her lungs. How could she have even considered having a fling with Quinn Rockwell, who was one of the wealthiest and most successful men on the East Coast? Was she a glutton for punishment? Hadn’t she known enough men like him to know what to expect?
She mounted the steps to her cottage and spied the champagne bottle on the windowsill, but this time, instead of softening her heart, his gesture that had once seemed so sweet only made the hurt from being ignored cut a little deeper.
Shelley had thought that as an adult she was over the hurt of being disregarded, but she clearly wasn’t. At the very least, Quinn’s behavior was a really good reminder of why she’d planned a solo honeymoon.
I’ll have my own damn bonfire.
QUINN’S PHONE BEEPED, indicating the battery was dying. He couldn’t afford to drop this call. Not only because there were now four of his business colleagues on the conference line discussing the merger, but because he’d also just learned that a competitor was honing in on Joseph Alger, one of their key executives. They needed to strategize so they didn’t lose him. Agitated and annoyed, Quinn sprinted back to his suite in the resort and plugged in the damn charger, continuing the conversation
while tethered to the plug.
By the time Quinn ended the call, they’d hammered out several issues that had been looming around the merger, but there were still more on the horizon.
Unbidden, the thought came at him: There are always more on the horizon.
Quinn nearly choked as he finally checked his watch and realized that he’d just spent more than four hours on the phone. How the hell could he have been on the call for that long, when it had seemed like ten minutes?
Damn it. He’d asked Shelley to wait, thinking he’d be on the call for only a few minutes—not for four hours. How could he have done that to her?
He cursed as he looked out through the balcony doors. It was pitch-dark, and he hadn’t noticed that, either. Studying his reflection in the glass, Quinn didn’t like what he saw—a man who had been so consumed with work that he’d been too afraid of losing the focus his business partners demanded by seeing Shelley’s smile and hearing her voice to even pause his conversation for five seconds.
He shifted his gaze to his grandfather’s wing of the resort. The lights in Chandler’s office were still burning bright. Of course they are. Because the truth that Quinn could no longer deny was that the more he focused on building his business to the exclusion of all else, the more he became like his grandfather. It had been no fluke that Quinn had seen his grandfather’s pinched, stressed eyes on his own face when he’d looked into the mirror last night.
It wasn’t easy to admit, but Quinn couldn’t ignore this wake-up call. Not when he could too easily see himself in another ten years, alone and so damn focused on his work that no one wanted to be near him.
But the tightening in his chest and the twisting of his stomach over how he’d treated Shelley cut deeper than the thought of becoming unlikable and losing his business deal combined ever could.
That guilt was a first, and it hit him like a ton of bricks.
