“Don’t be. I had just as many hellos as goodbyes.” He moved closer until he could feel her slick skin pressed against him.
She tipped her chin up, her gaze locked on his. “Well then, I guess we could consider this a hello.”
He could make a joke, laugh it off and swim back. He probably should. He hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since he met Angela, even though they’d had separate bedrooms for the past six months. But there was a single drop of water clinging to Mollie’s lip and he just had to have a taste.
Slowly, giving her time to stop him, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She tasted of salt water and sweetness, like the taffy he’d had at a carnival as a kid. She floated in his arms as they kissed, the waves washing against them while he feasted on her mouth. He wanted more, to take her right there, to feel her from the inside out while the first stars of the night peaked through the sky.
Mollie pulled away, leaving him with her taste clinging to his lips. “This is crazy.”
“It doesn’t feel crazy.” It felt incredible.
“Despite the fact that you’re on the rebound and I don’t date?”
“Well, yeah, aside from that. Are you sure you don’t date?” She was pretty and fun and could have her pick of guys. So why was she off the market?
She nodded, bobbing in the water. “Very sure. No offense, but men have a way of getting in a woman’s way when it comes to a career. I’ve got too much I want to do to risk getting distracted by a relationship.”
She had a good point, but something in him wanted to try to change her mind. Maybe it was the months of celibacy talking or the need to forget all the crazy parts of his life, at least for a few minutes. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to say goodbye, not yet. “I don’t know, distractions can be fun.”
She shivered. The sun had fully set now, and the air was no longer warm enough to make up for the cold water. “Nice try, but I don’t even know you.”
“Sure you do. You know I’m a military brat, my parents are crazy, and I can’t hold my liquor. What more is there?”
She splashed him. “I mean, I don’t know where you live, what you do for a living, if you have any pets, that kind of thing.”
“To be fair, I don’t know any of that about you, either. But I’m willing to keep making out anyway.” His body didn’t care about any of that stuff. And the rest of him was too spellbound to think straight.
“How very generous of you.” She was shivering again.
Taking her hand again, he waded up to the shore. He wrapped her in one of the soft, oversize towels they had left there and then rubbed himself down.
“You’re like ice. We need to get you into some dry clothes.”
She rolled her eyes. “One minute you’re acting like you want me out of my clothes, the next you want me to put more on. I can’t win with you.”
“Very funny. Come on.” He led the way to the steps and onto the deck, then held the door for her to go inside.”
She hesitated. “I’m not going up to your room with you.”
He hadn’t expected she would. But he wasn’t ready to let her walk out of his life yet, either. “Mollie—”
“No, wait, I’ve been thinking. You said you want to get your mind off things while you’re here, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. But that doesn’t mean I expect you to—”
She smacked him. “Get your mind out of the gutter. No, I was going to say, why don’t you let me show you around while you’re here, be your personal vacation guide?”
Was she serious? “What about your work, or whatever?” He didn’t know what she did, but she must have some kind of responsibilities.
“I’ve actually already got the week off from school and work.”
“School?” He’d thought she was in her midtwenties, just a bit younger than him.
She shrugged. “I take college classes at night, and I arranged my vacation hours at work to match up with the break between the fall and summer semesters. So I’ve got the time.” She blinked those big eyes at him. “I’m not suggesting anything, well, romantic—I’m not looking for a relationship, and I don’t do one-night stands. But I’d like to be your friend while you’re here. If you’re interested.”
Interested in spending a week in Paradise in the company of a beautiful woman? “I can’t think of anything I’d like better.”
*
Mollie sipped her coffee and checked the kitschy black-and-white cat clock hanging on her living room wall. It was almost nine o’clock; Noah should be there any minute. As if on cue, she heard a car pull into the driveway. Nerves flopping in her stomach, she quickly smeared on some tinted lip gloss. Makeup so wasn’t her thing, but after that kiss last night, soft lips seemed more of a priority than they had before. Not that she was planning to kiss him again. Still, better safe than sorry.
She opened the door before he could knock and was struck again by that feeling of awareness that had tickled her senses from the first time she saw him. It was a bit like the tingle before a lightning storm, a warning of the heat and power to come.
He was dressed casually, in a pair of cargo shorts and a gray army T-shirt, and had a bag from Sandcastle Bakery in his hand. “Ooh, breakfast?”
“If you consider a variety of sugary pastries breakfast, then yes. I had the cabdriver stop on the way here.”
“That’s the very best kind of breakfast. Let me get some plates.” She led him into her tiny kitchen and handed him the plates. “Do you want coffee or orange juice?”
“As a Florida tourist, I think I’m required to at least try the orange juice.”
“Good point.” She poured a glass for him, and then motioned to the back door. “We can eat on the patio.”
He reached the door before she did and started to open it, only to slam it closed again.
That was odd. “What are you doing?”
He swallowed hard. “This is going to sound crazy, but do you have bears around here?”
“What? No way. They see them over near Orlando and Ocala, but we don’t have bears on the island.” A thought occurred to her. “Wait, you haven’t been drinking again, have you?” If he had some kind of problem, she needed to know now.
“No, I’m telling you, there’s something out there in the bushes. Something big.”
Realization dawned. Oops.
“Yeah, about that…” She pushed past him and opened the door, letting out a whistle.
“Are you crazy?”
“Hey, I’m not the one seeing imaginary bears.” She pointed and he peered around her. Out of the bushes came her large, but not quite bear-sized, dog.
“Holy cow, what is that? And why does he only have three legs?”
“That’s Baby, and you be nice to him. He might be big, but he’s sensitive.”
Noah’s eyes widened. “He’s yours?”
“It’s more that I’m his. But don’t worry. He’s a total sweetie. He just looks intimidating, right, boy?” The massive dog trotted over on and sniffed the bakery bag.
“If I give him the donuts, will it keep him from eating me?” To his credit, Noah hadn’t retreated back into the house, but his color looked a bit pale.
“He’s not going to eat you. And he’s not allowed any donuts. He’s on a diet.”
“So you’re saying he’s hungry? Great. That’s just great.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re afraid of dogs.”
“That’s not a dog,” he protested. “Beagles are dogs. Cocker spaniels are dogs. That’s a—”
“Mastiff. An English mastiff, to be exact. And he wouldn’t hurt a fly, so stop acting like he’s the big bad wolf. You’re going to hurt his feelings.” She rubbed the big dog’s head and took the pastries from Noah. Immediately, the dog left him and followed her, nosing hopefully at the bag. “I said no. You already had your breakfast, and Cassie says if you don’t lose weight you’re going to end up with arthritis. Go lie down.”
Chastised, the oversize canine shambled off to lie in the grass. She put the bag on the bright blue picnic table and sat in one of the mismatched chairs. Noah cautiously joined her, keeping his attention on the now-snoozing beast. “So, what happened to his other leg? And who is Cassie, some kind of doggie-diet guru?”
“Cassie’s my boss. She’s a veterinarian. She and her father own the clinic I work at. As for Baby, a rescue group we work with brought him in when he was just a puppy. He’d been hit by a car over in Cocoa Beach and one of the volunteers found him. We fixed him up, and when no one claimed him I got to bring him home.”
“So you work at a veterinary clinic? Are you some kind of animal nurse or something?”
She finished the bite of donut she was chewing. “No, that would be Jillian. She’s the veterinary technician. I’m the receptionist. Oh, and I teach obedience classes on the weekends.”
“Is that what you always wanted to do, work with animals?”
“Not as a career, no. I do like the dog-training part of it—I don’t want to give that up. But working in an office, any office, for the rest of my life would suffocate me eventually.”
“Well, what are you going to school for?”
“I’m only going part-time, but I’m a photography major, much to my parents’ disappointment.” She grimaced. “They’re glad I finally went back to school, but they think I should do something practical, like accounting.”
“But that puts you right back in the office all day.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, so forget them. What do you want to do?”
Right this second, what she wanted to do was to lick the powdered sugar off his lips. But that probably wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “What I’d love to do is travel, take pictures, maybe work for a magazine. I want to make a name for myself as a nature photographer. But as my parents have repeatedly pointed out, art isn’t exactly a practical career choice.”
“Photography, huh? Can I see some of your pictures?”
She hesitated. She always felt so vulnerable, showing her work to a new person. And with him, for whatever reason, the nerves were multiplied.
“Please? You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
If that was a pickup line, it was awful. “Show me what?”
“My sculptures. Well, photos of them. I might have some on my phone of the most recent one, or you can just look it up online.”
“Excuse me?” Sculpture. Her stomach dropped. Oh no. He couldn’t be. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and started frantically typing. At the top of the search results was Noah James, metal sculpture artist. She clicked on the link and there he was, in a photo taken at the grand opening of the Caruso Hotel in Las Vegas. Behind him was the sculpture the hotel had commissioned for the lobby, an abstract swirl of metal twining at least ten feet high.
She held the phone out and showed him the photo. “You made that? Jillian told me you were a welder!”
“I did make that, and I am a welder.”
She shook her head in frustration. “No, you’re not. I mean, I’m sure welding is involved, but you’re one of the most famous metal artists in the country.” Hadn’t a celebrity magazine included him as one of its sexiest men alive last year? She remembered only because he’d been the only artist in a list of politicians, actors, and pop stars. But he’d had a beard then; no wonder she hadn’t recognized him right away. That, and well, famous people didn’t tend to show up in small towns like Paradise. She looked down at the screen again, trying to understand how the man sitting across from her could be the man in the article. “This says your last sculpture sold for almost a quarter of a million dollars! I thought you welded rebar for building foundations or something. Why didn’t you tell me?” She tossed the phone down, and covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God, I made out with Noah James. The Noah James.” Holy crap. Girls like her did not go around kissing famous millionaires. So much for him being a stray in need of a helping hand.
He reached over to pry her hands away. “I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter. I’m still the same pathetic guy you found on the steps yesterday.”
She rolled her eyes. “You might be the same guy, but from where I sit your bank account just got a lot bigger. For crying out loud, I fed you food from a roadside stand.” She paused, considering. “Although, I will say, I feel better now about making you pay for dinner.”
*
He hoped his financial status wasn’t going to change things for her. He was happier here, eating donuts from a sack than he’d ever been at fancy galas or exhibitions. A few high-dollar sales hadn’t changed who he was or what he wanted. And right now, he wanted to see her photos. He’d bet money she was better than she thought she was. Her house and garden reflected an innate understanding of color and light. Even her mismatched furniture showed an artistic flair. “So, are you going to show me some of your work, or not?”
She looked at him. “After finding out you’re a famous artist? No way. My ego isn’t ready for that kind of scrutiny, not this early in the morning.”
Eager as he was, pressing her would probably do more harm than good. “Fine, then let’s get started with whatever’s first on the tour. What are we doing today? Swimming, Jet Skiing, sightseeing?”
She shook her head. “Nope, today we’re fishing.”
“You mean, with worms and stuff?” He hadn’t been fishing in years, and had never really enjoyed it. Sitting on the edge of some muddy pond doing nothing for hours on end didn’t sound like much fun. Of course, he’d never had her for company before.
“No worms. You’ll have fun, guaranteed, or your money back.”
“Easy to say when I’m not paying you anything anyway.”
She winked. “Exactly. And if we want to actually catch anything, we need to hurry. Once it really heats up, the fish stop biting.” She stood and gathered their breakfast remains. “Baby, come on. Time to go.”
The big dog stood and shook himself, then loped over, panting and wagging his tail.
“He’s going with us?”
“Oh yeah, he loves to fish. He goes nuts when he sees the poles. We can’t leave him behind.”
Of course not. That would be crazy. After all, who wouldn’t want to spend their vacation fishing with a moose-sized three-legged dog? He eyeballed him again. “Does he even fit in the car?”
“Sure he does, but the longer we stand here talking about it, the less time we have to actually fish.”
That had kind of been the point. But he’d asked her to give him the real island experience and if that meant fishing, well, then, he’d fish. Fishing with her would be better than doing pretty much anything without her. “By all means, let’s go then.”
She stacked the dishes in the sink, then came back out and locked the door. A small detached garage was beside the house, and she ducked into it, telling him to wait. A minute later she was back with two fishing poles, a long leash, a bulky camera bag and what must be a tackle box. Setting the box down, she snapped the leash on Baby and handed it to him. “You take him, I’ll carry our gear.”
He recognized the challenge in her suggestion, and took the leash. It wasn’t like he was afraid of dogs. He’d just never met one that looked like it could eat him whole and still have room for dessert. Following Mollie around to the front of the house, he kept a tight hold on the leash and a close eye on the dog.
He had to admit, it was pretty impressive how well the dog managed on three legs. Unlike most people, he didn’t seem to care that he wasn’t quite perfect. He just was happy to be alive. When Noah stopped in the driveway beside Mollie’s little hatchback, Baby moved closer, bumping Noah’s hip with his massive head. Getting the hint, Noah gave the dog a cautious scratch and was rewarded with a tail wag forceful enough to knock over a small child.
Mollie secured the poles to a roof rack, and then took the leash and loaded the dog into the cargo area. Noah watched with fascination as Baby wedged himself into a c
omfortable position, then proceeded to shut his eyes as if the whole process had exhausted him. By the time Noah was buckled into the passenger seat, there were loud snores coming from the backseat.
Mollie started the car. “I still can’t believe you’re a famous artist.”
“And I can’t believe you’re still thinking about that. I’m just me, and this is like any other fishing trip, okay? Just you, me and Baby. Which, by the way, is a ridiculous name for a hundred-pound dog.”
“He’s almost two hundred pounds, actually.” She grinned. “I thought the name might help him seem less intimidating.”
“It didn’t work.”
“Hey, I saw you petting him. Admit it, you like him.”
“Fine, yes, I like him. What concerns me is how he feels about me.”
She laughed. “I see your point. But you don’t have to worry, you’re pretty easy to like.”
*
The drive to the marina was quiet, other than Baby’s snoring. Inside her head, though, chaos reigned. Was she crazy to be spending more time with Noah? Safety wasn’t her concern; between Baby and her years of martial arts training, she wasn’t worried about him trying anything. But how could she keep things fun and casual when every minute around him had her liking him more? And not in a platonic, let’s-be-friends way. Not even close. But even if she was willing to break her no-dating rule, in a few days he’d be headed back to his real life, and she wasn’t interested in being someone’s vacation fling. Not to mention he was on the rebound. No matter how she looked at it, anything other than friendship would just be asking to get hurt.
He broke the silence first. “Do you go fishing a lot?”
“Not as much as I’d like. Between work and school, it’s hard to find the time. But I try to go out at least every few weeks, usually with my dad.” Which reminded her—she really ought to make an effort to go see him and her mom while she was off this week. She made a mental note to call them as she turned into the parking lot of the marina. Boats of all sizes and shapes dotted the water, from beat-up fishing vessels to sleek yachts. There were quite a few houseboats, too, some that were bigger than her own home.
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