by Shirley Jump
There was just the golden wash of the moonlight on the sand, the quiet swish of the ocean tide. And Brad.
"Okay." She took his hand and rose with him.
"You're agreeing just like that?" He grinned. "Do I have the right girl?"
"Don't press your luck, squid boy," she said. Her voice, however, lacked its usual bite.
Had to be the moonlight. The seclusion of the beach. The vulnerable state he'd caught her in. Nothing more.
"At least I've moved up the food chain from fisher boy to squid boy," Brad said, still holding her hand and leading her along the sand.
"You consider squids an advancement?"
"Cephalapods are quite smart. Scientists have taught octopuses to navigate mazes and remove lids from jars to get to their food. Show me a fish that can do that."
She shook her head, laughing. "Sometimes you scare me."
"You ain't seen nothing yet, baby."
The joke set her at ease and made her forget that she'd had a hell of an exit earlier. She shouldn't trust him, this man who said one thing about himself and lived another way. And yet, somehow, she did. Wasn't that who she was, too? A woman who was one thing and was working on leading another life?
He led her past where the resort property ended, past the edge of the trees, to where the beach whittled down to a narrow strip, flanked on one side by age-old palms.
"Are you taking me someplace where you can get a little revenge for when I pushed you off the dock?"
Brad laughed. "That's a damned good idea. But, no, I have something better in mind."
"Better?"
He merely smiled.
"You're probably going to tie me to a tree, drizzle me with honey and leave me for the fire ants."
"That's the best idea you've had all week."
"Torture me until I agree to that makeover you want?"
He took a step closer, taking both her hands in one of his, as if he were about to get out the rope and do just that. "Would you, if I did?"
She broke away and stepped back. "I don't know why you want my opinion anyway. I haven't exactly done the best job as a consultant for this auction. Or even for myself."
"You? You always look amazing. Like you stepped out of a catalog."
She grabbed at one of the palm trees and swung around it, the rough bark chafing her hands. "It's easy for a woman to do that. All she has to do is open up to a page or point to a mannequin and order everything on it. The model has already done all the mixing and matching."
He hooked an arm onto the trunk and looped around the tree to meet her halfway. "That's not true. You have an extra something—"
"Attitude?"
"Well, there's that." Brad grinned. "I still can't believe you used the word 'disembark' on my boat."
"A college education is a terrible thing to waste."
Brad shook his head. "Tell that to my mother. She thinks my whole degree is a waste of time." He took in a breath and she wondered about what that pause meant, what he was leaving unsaid. "Anyway. That's not a topic for tonight. Or any night, far as I'm concerned." He took Parris's hand, leading her away from the tree and over to the edge of the shore. An uneven circle of water shone against the sand, carved by the inward swishing of the tide. "Here, look at this."
"Look at what? It's a puddle."
"That's because you only see it from far away. Get up close, Parris, and see the miracles." He bent down and swished his hand in the water. When he did, a burst of yellow-green light appeared at the water's edge.
"Oh! What was that?"
"Dinoflagellates. They're single-celled algae that let off a light when they're disturbed. Some think it's a defense mechanism."
"Can I…can I try it?"
"Sure."
Parris knelt at the edge of the tide pool and dipped her hand inside, swirling it in a circle. The color flashed again, like turning on a light switch. "That's incredible. I've seen the lights along the edge of the island at night but had no idea it worked like that. I thought it was pollution."
He laughed. "No, it's as natural as you can get."
"Are you sure they aren't irradiated or something?"
"Nuclear fish?" Brad shook his head. "No. Not at all." He knelt beside her and pointed toward the water. "They're too small for me to show you with the naked eye, but under a microscope, you'll see they're just marine plankton that have two flagella, movable protein strands that work like fins and help them move through the water. They spiral more than swim, but they can move fast."
"Do they all do this?" She moved her hand again, her eyes wide and amazed when the algae responded with another light show. "All the time?"
"No, not all of them. Only some have bioluminescence. It's a chemical reaction that works with an internal clock. They produce the greatest amount of the internal chemical that makes them glow two hours after nightfall."
"Which is now."
"Exactly."
"But you said it was a defense mechanism. How does it make them less attractive to light themselves up?"
"When they sense a predator, they flash the light and hopefully illuminate something more appetizing nearby."
"Get the attention onto something else."
"Right."
"The exact opposite of what women do," she joked.
"Some women don't have to flash anything at all to get attention," he said quietly. "They're luminescent all on their own."
He could swear she colored in the darkness, but then she turned away and dipped her hand in the water again. "Are they the only animals that do this?"
Brad cleared his throat. Stick to safe subjects, he reminded himself. "There are lots of other marine animals that do this. There are some squid species that have bioluminescent capabilities, too. But they use it for other purposes."
"Like what?"
"To attract mates." He turned toward her and she lifted her head to look at him. "There are two species of octopods, the Japatella and Eledonella, that have green light organs around their mouths." He traced a circle around her lips, slow and easy, as if drawing glow-in-the-dark symbols on them. In the moonlight, her lips seemed larger, more tempting. "The males see them and they're goners."
"Drawn right into the female's lair?" Her words came out in a breath.
"Hmm." He didn't care about dinoflagellates or octopods or, hell, anything in the food chain right now. All he saw in the soft glow of the moon was Parris. She seemed to be lit from within, much like the creatures they'd discovered together. He looked at her mouth and knew he was a goner, too.
She didn't say a word. Her breath went in, out. A heartbeat extended between them.
And then he leaned forward and kissed her.
The flash of light in the tide pools held nothing over the brilliant burst in his head the minute his lips met Parris's. A jolt of electricity ran through him, pushing him forward. He cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in that blond mane.
She opened against him, her tongue teasing his, asking for more. Her arms went around his torso, holding him tight, as if she were afraid to let go and break the spell between them.
She was as sweet as dessert, tasting of cinnamon and vanilla, smelling of chocolate. Brad scooped her up and pressed her to the soft sand. His brain had stopped thinking about anything but her. He moved against her, drawing her tighter into his arms.
Parris jerked away and scrambled to her feet, "This is crazy. I don't even want to kiss you."
What had she been thinking? Brad Smith was the wrong man for her. Parris had decided that only this afternoon when he'd proved he was like every other man she'd ever met. He wasn't who he purported to be. He wasn't interested in her for her mind. He'd concocted this crazy makeover scheme as a way to get close to her, nothing else.
She needed to focus on her own life, on her fledgling business venture, not on him. He was a distraction. A hindrance to her goals.
A damned good-looking distraction, but still.
Her resolve had retu
rned just in time, thank God.
Brad had drawn away from her. He rose, a tall, stone sentry in the darkness. "Sure seemed like you wanted to kiss me a second ago."
"You imagined that."
His gaze caught hers, hard and sure. "Oh yeah?"
Parris willed her heart to stop racing, her mind to stop spinning thoughts like a runaway tumbleweed. "Yeah."
"So if I kissed you again right now, you'd hate it?"
"I'd probably slap you." She could lie with the best of them. If he did kiss her again, she didn't know what she'd do. But slapping him wasn't anywhere near what her body had in mind.
"I have no doubt you would."
"Good. Long as we're straight."
"Then there's only one thing to do," he said, taking a step closer to her, coming within an inch of her mouth.
She drew in a shaky breath, her pulse screeching within her like an Indy 500 car on a hairpin turn. Anticipating. Wanting. "What?"
His attention flicked from her eyes to her lips and then back to her eyes. He was going to kiss her again. He was going to open his mouth to hers, take her lips and do that wonderful thing all over again. And this time, she wouldn't say no, wouldn't pull away, wouldn't stop him.
Because she'd lied right through her teeth about not wanting a kiss. She wanted that one and this one and all the ones that came afterward.
"Stay the hell away from each other." His face hardened, then he turned on his heel and walked away.
Chapter Six
The minute she reached the resort property, Parris reminded herself of the several dozen reasons why kissing Brad Smith had been such an enormous mistake. She'd made him mad. Good. Now it would be easier to avoid him.
Not only had she crossed the line with the son of the woman whose auction she was organizing, but she'd also done the one thing she'd long ago vowed never to do again—
Let a man into her heart.
Men let her down. Men broke her heart.
Her father had taught her that, when he'd left her mother, who could—and often did, after a substantial investment in facial treatments—pass for Parris's twin. Garrett had done that to her, by sending her a note the day they were supposed to be married, saying he'd changed his mind because he didn't think she was the kind of woman a man could marry.
She didn't want to get married anyway. It had to be this silly resort that had her even thinking about it. All these couples, falling in love and mooning over each other like there was an epidemic of romance on Torchere Key.
Down the beach, Parris could see a wedding taking place against the picture-perfect setting sun. She walked along the sand until she reached the fringes of the circle. Merry was there, as proud and beaming as if she were the bride's mother. The wedding was a small affair, a dozen or so people in attendance, the kind of intimate, cozy gathering Parris had always dreamed of for herself.
A crazy thought. She wasn't going to get married. Men didn't look at a woman like her—a society princess—and think simple wedding on the beach and a couple kids in a two-story Cape. To be honest, she wasn't even sure she thought that about herself. And yet, sometimes, in a weak moment, she craved that very thing.
Jeez. She needed to stop getting so much fresh air. It was clearly messing with her head.
The breeze carried the words of the wedding down the beach, like romantic music. "Do you, Ruth Fernandez, take Diego Vargas to be your husband?"
Parris recognized the slim, dark-blond-haired woman now. She worked at the hotel. In her knee-length, spaghetti-strap white dress, with her hair loose about her shoulders, she looked so different.
Then Parris realized what made the difference in Ruthie today. She was happy. Ruthie took her groom's hands in her own and met his dark gaze with one so filled with love, Parris had no doubt they were marrying for the right reasons. She didn't see any vestiges of "pookie" and "sweetums" in their connection, just something real and true and based on a depth she'd never expected to find on a beach in Southwest Florida.
Around them, the guests, who appeared to be relatives of the groom, looked on with happiness. A set of parents, a set of grandparents, a sister with her two children, all dressed in pretty summer attire.
"I do," Ruthie said, and the guests beamed.
The minister asked the same question of the groom, whose eyes had never left his bride's. "I do. Forever," he said. He was dressed simply, in a white shirt and dark pants, but his tall, solid bearing spoke of the precision of a military man.
A few minutes later, the couple kissed and began their own version of happily-ever-after. Parris wished them well. Some people, she was sure, did last forever.
But not her. Not her father and mother. Parris left Ruthie and her new husband behind and headed up the beach to the resort lobby, which was quiet now that evening was well underway. She could hear a party coming from the Oasis swimming pool, but she avoided the noise and lights, opting instead to enter the hotel building and head down the hallway to the suites.
Parris paused outside her sister's room. A soft light shone under the door. She took a deep breath and knocked.
"Parris! I thought you'd packed your bags and headed for Europe." Jackie had changed into shorts and a T-shirt and had pulled her hair back from her face. She carried the file of papers from the auction, sticky notes marking pages like white flags admitting defeat.
"I'm sorry."
Jackie blinked. "You're…sorry?"
"I blew up at you and I shouldn't have."
Jackie leaned forward and peered past Parris, down the hall. "Are you sure you're the right person? Not some alien version of my sister?"
"Hey, I'm apologizing. Don't make it difficult or I'll take it back and book that flight after all."
Jackie grinned. "Now that's the Parris I know." She opened her door wider. "Come on in."
Parris entered and took a seat at the small round corner table. "Why don't we order in some room service?"
Jackie sighed. "Parris, I have no time for a pajama party. This auction—"
"And work on the auction together." Parris rose, took half the stack of papers out of her sister's hands and put them in front of herself. "We might make a better team than you think."
Jackie arched a brow.
"Have faith," Parris said. "Because I think that's the only thing that's going to make this auction come together in the next seventy-two hours."
Brad had paced his floors so often last night that even Gigi had given him a couple barks of irritation for disturbing her sleep. Try as he might, he hadn't been able to close his eyes. Every time he did, he saw Parris Hammond's emerald eyes, luminous trusting pools, drifting shut just before his lips met hers.
And his world turned upside down.
He shouldn't have kissed her. That had been mistake number one. No, his first mistake had been letting her into his boat.
Something about her had touched him, entered into that deep, dark part of him he thought he'd closed up, sealed off and welded shut.
Apparently he'd sprung a leak.
Gigi barked again, this time by the door. "All right, you do deserve a walk." He snapped on a leash, leading the chow into the bright sunshine.
His feet didn't follow the usual morning path. Gigi didn't seem interested in the trail that led through the palms and back to his tiny apartment, connected to the research building.
Yeah, right. Gigi would have followed her master to Timbuktu if he'd asked her to. It was his own two feet that took him toward the resort, around the front and over to the side where the extended-stay rooms were located. A lone towel lay on the sand, probably belonging to one of the early-morning swimmers out in the calm water.
Brad's attention returned to the buildings. Would Parris be behind one of those blowing curtains? Would she step out here, wearing nothing more than a flimsy negligee, and make all his late-night fantasies come true?
There was a movement behind the curtain of the first room and Brad paused, pretending to let Gigi sniff at the sa
nd. A smile started to curve across his face when he saw a flash of pink silk moving forward onto the balcony.
His smile disappeared when he saw the old woman in curlers and fuzzy rabbit slippers wearing the nightgown.
So much for that fantasy.
"Come on, Gigi. Time to get back to work." But his eyes lingered on the balconies.
"Let me guess. Squid on your shirt, nice dog by your side. You must be Brad," said a female voice behind him.
He pivoted and found a slim, dark-haired woman clad in a bathing suit grabbing the towel off the sand.
"How'd you know?"
"I'm Jackie, Parris's sister." She extended a hand to his. "She tried not to, but she ended up talking about you more than the auction last night."
"She did?"
"You're driving her to distraction, which, in my opinion, is a good thing."
He noticed her dark eyes twinkled with amusement. And maybe a bit of approval? He chuckled. "I'm not so sure about that. In fact, I'm not even sure she likes me." Though when they'd kissed he hadn't had a doubt in the world about Parris's feelings.
But after she'd left…
He'd had enough doubt to last him a week.
"She's a hard case, but a softie underneath." Jackie wrapped the towel around her waist and started finger-combing her hair.
"Are we talking about the same woman?"
"Oh, come on, admit it. You think she is, too."
He smiled. "She surprises me. Often. She's not always what she appears at first glance."
"That's definitely true." Jackie smiled. "You know, there's a dinner tonight for the auction donors. Being part of the team that's putting it on, I have an extra ticket." She arched a brow at him. "Do you own a suit?"
"Of course I do." Though whether it would fit, he had no idea. He'd never even opened the box from Brooks Brothers his mother had sent him two years ago.
"Then wear it. I'll have the ticket sent over to you later today." She started to walk away, then turned back. "One more thing. Parris says she doesn't believe in fairy tales, but underneath it all, she's a sucker for a happy ending. So break out every Prince Charming trick you have." Jackie tossed him a grin, then made her way up the beach.
