Stranded With Her Ex

by Jill Sorenson

  Cursing his unruly body for having a predictable reaction to the sight of his beautiful ex-wife, who looked enticingly sleep-rumpled and adorably mussed, Sean rifled through his belongings, searching for his deodorant.

  “Damn,” he muttered, realizing he’d left his dirty laundry in the bathroom. He wasn’t going back for it until she’d cleared out of there.

  Taking the cap off his deodorant, he swiped it under his arms and tossed the stick back into his pack. He’d stripped out of his wetsuit on a public beach more times than he could count, so towel-changing was second nature to him. Employing the same technique, he kept the terry cloth wrapped around his waist while he pulled on his boxer briefs, moving quickly because it was damned cold.

  He’d tossed and turned most of the night, trying not to think about the way Daniela’s red thermal shirt cupped her luscious breasts. He wished he couldn’t imagine, in agonizing detail, the silkiness of her skin beneath his fingertips, the sounds she made when she climaxed and the soft cushion of her body under his.

  She made him feel like an ungainly adolescent, with no control over his reactions. Christ, they’d been together for almost ten years. He should be bored by the sight of her in comfy pajamas, not reduced to drooling.

  If nothing else, the cold shower should have kept him in check. He hadn’t expected to respond to her proximity, but when her eyes drifted down his belly, he’d felt a powerful jolt of lust, and could only hope she hadn’t noticed.

  One almost-glance from a woman he longed to forget had him swelling with arousal, remembering far too much.

  “Damn it,” he said under his breath, kicking into his pants. It wasn’t his fault she was still wearing that snug-fitting red top. And those baggy flannel pajama bottoms wouldn’t have been sexy if he didn’t know how easy it was to slip his hand inside the elastic waistband. One tug, and they would slide down her curvy hips.

  Jason roused, throwing back his sleeping bag. He frowned at Sean blearily. “It was my turn to shower.”

  “Be my guest. I didn’t use any hot water.”

  His drowsy eyes narrowed. “You took a cold shower on purpose? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Scowling, Sean draped his towel over a chair and pulled on his jeans. Before he was finished buttoning his fly, Daniela appeared in the doorway, holding his mesh laundry bag. Her gaze wandered down his bare torso, coming to an abrupt halt at his fumbling hands.

  “Oh,” Jason said. “Now I get it.”

  Dani blinked at him, curious. “Get what?”

  “Never mind,” Sean said, leaving his top button undone. Stepping forward, he took the laundry bag from her. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” she said, retreating into the hallway.

  Jason gave Sean a knowing smirk. “Does she rattle your cage?”

  “Shut up,” he muttered, lobbing the laundry bag at his bunk. To his disappointment, it missed Jason by a mile.

  “She’s a beautiful woman.”

  Sean couldn’t stop himself from growling, “Stay away from her.”

  Jason laughed, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “I’ve never seen you act so stupid. I’m relieved by the evidence that you might actually be human. I was beginning to think you were a robot.”

  Although Jason’s words annoyed him, they also spurred him into action. Moving quickly, he tugging on a sweatshirt and went after Daniela. “Hang on a sec,” he said, catching her before she entered her room.

  She turned to face him, her expression wary.

  A few damp strands of hair clung to her slender throat, and her breath smelled minty-fresh. He’d always liked kissing her before she brushed just as well as after, but right now he was struck by the powerful urge to press her back to the wall and taste every inch of her delicious mouth.

  He massaged his forehead, wishing he could scrub the temptation away. Focus, Sean. “How are you?” he asked inanely.

  Her brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

  “No…nightmares?”

  “I’m fine,” she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Because I thought we could…” He faltered, floundering like a teenager asking her out for their first date. “We usually give newcomers an island tour. Taryn and Elizabeth will show you around the lighthouse, and take you out to the blinds, where they do research, but the best way to see the Steller is by boat.”

  Her eyes brightened with interest. At certain times, she was so beautiful it pained him to look at her. “Will Jason go?” she asked, her excitement at viewing wildlife in their natural habitat tempered only by her distaste for being alone in his company.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, forcing a smile.

  She smiled back at him. “Okay, then. That would be great. Thanks.”

  “Great,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. Just great.

  As soon as she disappeared into the room she shared with Taryn, he went down the hall, his jaw clenched. What was he thinking? He wasn’t the welcoming committee. He didn’t even want Daniela to stay here.

  Not just for her own good. For his.

  He hadn’t mentioned this to Jason, but her panic attacks could be extremely debilitating. After the accident, he’d watched her withdraw from reality on numerous occasions, almost to the point of becoming unresponsive.

  Her nightmares were no less troubling. She’d bloodied his nose during one of the worst episodes. He’d gripped her wrists tightly, trying to calm her down, and she’d gone ballistic, screaming for him to let her go. From then on, he’d taken the hits without complaint. In a sad, dysfunctional way, her glancing blows were better than nothing.

  It was the only time she touched him.

  Pushing aside the memories, which were best left in the past—like his relationship with Daniela—he put on his boots, ignoring Jason’s amused expression. Downstairs, Elizabeth was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading, a pair of stretchy black gloves covering her slender hands.

  “Morning,” she murmured, not bothering to glance up.

  “Good morning,” he replied, ducking into the kitchen.

  Still unsettled by the chance encounter with Dani, he located his portable mug in the kitchen cabinet and filled it to the brim with hot coffee. His knee-jerk sexual response to her was a simple matter of compatible physical chemistry.

  Hard to predict, impossible to control.

  It didn’t mean he was doomed to pine for her forever. He just needed to rewire his system. Reprogram his thinking. Engage with other women.

  Other women. Like Elizabeth.

  On his way out the door, he paused, studying the pretty redhead in a new light. Although he found her attractive, Sean had never been curious about her sexually. He stared at her for a moment now, trying to drum up some interest. She wasn’t built like Daniela, but neither was she skinny. He appreciated curves on women, and he could see that she had her share.

  She had a nice figure. He just wasn’t eager to explore it. The idea of sleeping with her didn’t tempt him half as much as the faint scent of Daniela’s toothpaste.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing his perusal. She smoothed her hand down the front of her sweater, as if checking for crumbs.

  “Nothing,” he said, dragging his mind out of the gutter. “What are you up to today?”

  “I’m going to the bird blind to collect waste samples. That’s why I’m dressed in these old rags.” She smiled ruefully. “Ready to get bombarded.”

  “Oh.” Smiling back at her, he took a sip of coffee. Before now, he’d thought she was a little too reserved. After one harmless confession, she seemed much more down to earth. Or maybe imagining her naked had done the trick. “You look fine to me.”

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Florida, originally. Daytona Beach.”

  “Shark central.”

  Her eyes darkened. “Yes. There are more incidental attacks there than anywh
ere else in the world. More people in the water.”

  Sean warmed up to the subject. “Ever had a run-in?”

  “No. I don’t swim.”

  “You’re joking.”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, you have to learn. What if you fell off a boat, or—”

  “Around here? Drowning would be the least of my worries.” As if the conversation were finished, she opened her book and resumed reading. Water Birds of the Pacific Coast, ironically enough.

  It took him a second to realize he’d been snubbed. Elizabeth was a cool customer, and Sean had been amused by Jason’s attempts to woo her over the past few days. She’d shot him down a number of times.

  Sean hadn’t expected to get the same treatment.

  He ducked his head, smothering a self-deprecating laugh. If he wanted to talk to a woman, he could at least find a willing one—like Taryn. “I’m on shark watch,” he said, muttering goodbye as he headed out the door.

  The hike up to the tower was daunting.

  A zigzagged path dealt with the sharp rise in elevation, and traversing it was akin to walking up a thousand stairs. The most dangerous area, a narrow space at the outer edge of the cliff, had a sturdy wooden handrail for additional support. A sheer drop on that side careened down the cliff at almost fifty feet, ending at a section of water they called the Washtub. Incoming waves converged there in a swirl of powerful currents.

  The safety rail didn’t calm Daniela’s nerves. She could easily imagine flipping over it, falling into the treacherous waters below.

  Once they reached the summit, and she had her feet planted on stable ground, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her chest was heaving and her leg muscles burned from exertion, but these were pleasant aches.

  Perspiration covered her face like a fine sea mist.

  The lighthouse tower afforded a three hundred and sixty degree view of the island, which made it an ideal location for shark watch. Sean was standing there now, binoculars poised. The tower itself was empty, its upper floors barred to keep out wild animals. Near the edge of the cliff, an unsightly metal structure housed the automated beacon. A flashing blip had replaced the bright lamps of the past, and the high-powered Fresnel lens had long since been retired to the mainland.

  The scientists’ duties didn’t include guiding passing ships in the night.

  Before the U.S. Coast Guard took over, a light keeper had kept the lamps going by hand. In the past, hundreds of people had stayed on Southeast Farallon, but few had considered it home. Early hunters had visited seasonally, sleeping in sealskin tents. Egg collectors, who raided murre nests for a meager wage during a time when chickens were scarce in San Francisco, rarely battled the elements to attempt permanent lodgings.

  After the lighthouse was constructed, entire families had lived here. It was a hard life for men, even more so for women and children. The only fresh water came from a trickling ravine, dripping down over the face of the cliff like sweat from a wrung-out towel. When the weather was bad, no supplies could be brought in, and food was scarce.

  With unreliable access to medical care, many sick children died of curable illnesses.

  Daniela had learned all of this last night in the history book, which had offered an unflinching depiction of the island’s quality of life. The author of the text hadn’t romanticized the harsh conditions in any way.

  And yet, standing atop the lighthouse hill, with the enormity of the Pacific Ocean around her and the immensity of the blue sky above, she was…exhilarated. Yes, this place was intimidating, even scary, but there was a strange, stark beauty here, too.

  It was sort of like climbing Mount Everest. Few people had earned this opportunity. She felt as though she was on top of the world.

  Taryn’s expression was proud. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Daniela admitted, looking out at the dark blue horizon. It was a cold day, brisk and invigorating, a pleasant mix of clouds and sun. Early fall was her favorite time of year.

  Or, it used to be.

  “Sea Lion Cove is just there,” Taryn said, pointing down the opposite side of the hill. “There are a number of convenient haul-outs.”

  Daniela could see dozens of tawny bodies, fat and supine, basking on the flat rocks along the shore. Much of the island’s perimeter was sheer cliff, and they weren’t the most graceful climbers. They needed haul-outs for easy access to and from the water.

  “And that’s Dead Man’s Beach.”

  Next to the cove, there were more sea lions, sunbathing on an inviting stretch of pale yellow sand. The small beach was edged by steep rock on three sides, which probably made it hard to get to, except via watercraft. During high tide, any boat stranded there would be dashed against the rocks by pounding surf.

  Hence, the name.

  Daniela pictured the light keeper’s wife, lying wet and motionless on the sand, her white skirts tangled around her legs, face gray. As she blinked that disturbing image away, another came to mind. “Where was the skinned pup found?”

  “On the north side,” Elizabeth answered, gesturing in the general direction. “Jason has been doing some routine checks of the area, but we’re supposed to avoid it.”

  “The boogeyman lives there,” Taryn said, rolling her eyes.

  “It’s well off the beaten path, anyway,” Elizabeth said.

  Daniela nodded, wondering what kind of sick person would kill a baby seal. Skinning had been illegal in this country for years, and this was an incredibly inconvenient place to commit a crime. Who could have done it, and where had they gone? Even if the island had a secret stowaway, no one could survive here without shelter.

  She moved her eyes beyond the shore, staring out at the endless sea. A few hundred yards from the beach, there was a nice-looking break, creating a curling barrel of water that stretched far and wide.

  “The Perfect Wave,” Taryn said with reverence.

  “Jason wants to ride it,” Elizabeth added.

  “No,” Daniela breathed, dragging her gaze away from the shoreline. “You must be joking.”

  Elizabeth arched a brow at Sean, who was standing near them. Every day during shark season, one of the researchers kept an eye on the water. He’d been there since sunup. “Who do you think gave him the idea?”

  He took the binoculars away from his eyes. “He won’t do it.”

  Daniela’s stomach clenched at the thought of anyone paddling out into these waters. “You two have discussed this?”

  “Yeah, we’ve discussed it,” he said, growing defensive. “Every surfer who’s seen that wave has talked about riding it. That’s all it is. Big talk.”

  The women exchanged a glance, conveying a silent message about male stupidity.

  “I surf,” Taryn pointed out, “and I’ve never once considered getting in the water here. It’s suicide.”

  Elizabeth and Daniela turned to stare at Sean.

  “What are you looking at me for? I wouldn’t go out there, either. Jason is the maniac who wants to do it.”

  “You haven’t discouraged him,” Elizabeth said quietly.

  His eyes darkened. “He isn’t serious.”

  “And if he is?”

  “Then you can discourage him,” he said, putting the binoculars back up to his face. “You’re good at it.”

  Daniela sucked in a sharp breath, stifling the urge to apologize for Sean’s rudeness. He wasn’t usually so brusque with women. His handsome face and friendly demeanor had attracted a legion of adoring females.

  She hadn’t thought him capable of being standoffish.

  Taryn shot him a dirty look. “You’re grouchy this morning. Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed, or what?”

  He let the binoculars drop a few inches, glancing at Daniela, then quickly away. “Jason couldn’t surf that wave without help. Someone would have to take him out there in the whaler, and I would never do it.” His gaze met Elizabeth’s. “Is that better?”

  “Much,” she said, but he
r smile was chilly.

  Well. There was no love lost between these two.

  Taryn wrinkled her nose and moved on. “The bird-watching blind is closer, so we’ll go there first,” she said, gesturing toward a small outbuilding on the west side of the island. “Elizabeth can tell us all about the research she’s been doing.”

  While the Farallones were famous for the great white sharks that came to feed on the plentiful seals and sea lions, one glance across the rocky isles proved they were first and foremost a habitat for birds.

  On Southeast Farallon alone, there were more than half a million. The flat haul-outs near the shore were ideal for lounging sea lions, but the rest of the jagged terrain was bird territory. Every inch of space, every dip and peak, every nook and cranny, housed a roost.

  There were cormorants and auklets, storm petrels and pelicans. Rare breeds, like the black-footed albatross and tufted puffin, could be spotted in the same general area as the common murre and Western Gull.

  As they hiked toward the blind, hoods of their jackets pulled up to protect them from the inevitable outcome of having so many winged creatures overhead, the cacophony was deafening. Hundreds of thousands of birds, cawing, screeching, twittering, individual voices blending together in a chaotic blur of sound.

  It was pure lunacy.

  Daniela followed Taryn into the outbuilding, overcome with relief when Elizabeth pulled the door shut behind her, muting the noise.

  “Can you believe it’s not even breeding season?”

  Daniela’s ears were ringing, her senses reeling. “You mean this gets worse?”

  “God, yes,” Taryn said. “The gulls are brutal in spring. They’ll dive-bomb anything. Last year Jason was out here, walking around in the open, and one of them almost knocked him unconscious. They’re crazy.”

  Elizabeth bristled. “They do what they need to do to survive, just like any other animal. I don’t hear anyone calling sharks crazy.”

  “True, but some species of birds are vicious. They eat their own young, rob other nests, swoop down with so much striking power that they actually kill themselves during an attack.” Taryn shrugged. “You have to admit, that is odd behavior.”