Can't Get Over You (Fortune's Island, Book 2)
Page 22
Very, very alone. At one in the morning. With nothing but the dark night around them.
This was crazy. She should lock up and go home, skip the drinks and especially skip spending time with Kincaid. But then she caught his eye, and something went warm and needy in her gut, and she crossed over to his table, to the seat beside him, and laid the drinks on the table. She could have one drink with him and not end up in bed with him. “One,” she said. “No more.”
He took the bottle, poured the shots, then nudged one close to her. “One.”
She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “I’m going to regret this.”
He lifted his glass. She lifted hers, and he tapped the shot glasses together. “To old memories and new beginnings.”
She watched him as they each raised the shots to their lips, and then tipped them back at the same time. The tequila burned like fire going down her throat, lighting a warm path all the way to her belly. “Damn.”
Kincaid slammed the shot glass onto the circular wooden table. “Exactly what I was thinking.”
She settled on the chair beside him, and propped her chin on her hand. The ocean kept up its steady predictable whispering song, and the stars twinkled like smiley faces in the night sky. The tequila had already left her feeling a little warm. Maybe she should have eaten more tonight.
“I love it out here after everyone is gone.” She looked out at the dark night, at the hints of the sea she could glimpse in the moonlight. “This is my favorite time of day. When everything is asleep, and it’s just…peaceful.”
“It’s why I came back here,” Kincaid said. “I don’t get much of this in New York. There’s never a time when that city stops humming.”
“I’ve lived here for so long, I can’t even imagine a place like that anymore.” Darcy leaned back and stretched. Long hours on her feet, carrying heavy trays of drinks and food, had left her achy and tired. She rubbed at a knot in her left shoulder, but the pain stayed, stubborn, insistent.
“Let me,” Kincaid said. Before she could stop him, he had slid in behind her and was working magic with his hands on her shoulders, rubbing both at once, his thumbs impressing tiny, wonderful circles into all the tight and painful places.
“Oh my God. That is better than sex right now.” She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, nearly moaning with his every movement.
Kincaid chuckled. “Better than sex? I don’t think anything is better than sex.”
“This is, trust me.” She shifted to the right, then the left, as he adjusted his touch to hit the rest of her shoulders, her neck, the top of her spine. It was just a back massage, she told herself. Not sex with Kincaid. Maybe letting him touch her was the wrong thing to do, or maybe…oh God, yes, right there…it was a very, very good idea. “I swear, you must have gone to school for this. You are way too good at massage.”
“I’m good at a lot of things,” he whispered in her ear, his voice low and dark and making her crave things she shouldn’t.
“What are we doing?” she asked. “This was just supposed to be one drink.”
“And it is. With the bonus of a shoulder rub.” He kept on rubbing, and she became putty in his hands. Every touch sent a delicious warmth through her. “Okay, since this is supposed to be our time to catch up…tell me about the last seven years.”
“There’s not much to tell. I’m still living here, though now I own a cottage on the beach, instead of renting a room from Whit and Grace. My house isn’t much, but it’s big enough for me. Kind of ironic that I became a homeowner and a regular resident. I always told my mother I was never going to do any of that.”
Kincaid chuckled. “We all grow up eventually.”
“I like to think I didn’t grow up. Just…got smarter.” She grinned. “Anyway, I love it here, and love my life.”
“Maybe living simpler is the answer,” Kincaid said. “I have this ridiculously huge apartment in New York, and I use maybe a tenth of it. But the house here, the one Whit is renting me, is just right. I doubt it’s more than a thousand square feet, but it’s a perfect size.”
“Then maybe you should downgrade the New York apartment to a cramped walkup studio on the tenth floor.”
He laughed. “I don’t know if I want to go that small. But yeah, I’d love to live in something less…pretentious.”
“Then why do you live there?” She leaned a little to the right and Kincaid’s thumb hit a knot. God, she wanted to keep his hands on her forever. He was an expert at massages. “Oh…yes.”
“Right here?”
“Yes…oh, yes, please. Right there.”
“Your wish is my command, Darcy.” He rubbed until the knot eased, and her shoulders sank a little in relief. “The apartment was a perk for my job. All the partners at my father’s law firm get apartments. I didn’t ask for it; it just came with the position.”
“You’re already a partner? But you just graduated law school, right? I mean, you haven’t practiced that long.” Not that she should be too surprised. Kincaid was smart and driven.
“My father believes in solidifying the Foster position as quickly and efficiently as possible.” He moved a few inches south, rolling his thumb over the knobs of her spine. Oh my. Even better than the shoulders. “Or maybe it’s more a matter of making sure I am committed to the firm, right from the very start.”
“And are you?”
Kincaid stopped working her back and shoulders for a while. His hands rested there, but his mind was somewhere else. “No, not anymore. I have some hard choices ahead of me, choices that I’ve put on a back burner while I’m here. But choices that will have to be made, sooner rather than later. I’m not sure how long my sister will need me, or how that will impact the future.”
It was almost the same debate Kincaid had had with himself years ago. The man she’d met that summer had said he didn’t want to work for his father, didn’t even want to be a lawyer. At the same time, he didn’t see a way out of the life that had been planned for him since the day he was born. Yet, he’d also craved a relationship with his distant and workaholic father, and thought the only way to get that was to do what Edgar wanted.
As soon as they broke up, she’d heard that he had gone off to Harvard after all, and goose-stepped right into the plan Edgar Foster had laid out. Now, Kincaid said he wanted to throw that aside. Did he mean it? Or was this just another pipe dream she couldn’t rely on?
“Anyway, I’m here now, for a while,” Kincaid said. “My father won’t be happy, but then again, he’s never really happy.”
Darcy put a hand on top of Kincaid’s. A part of her wanted to lean into him, to tell him she understood parents who didn’t support their children. That she knew what it was like to hope that someday, a connection could be forged. For Darcy, her connection with her mother had come almost too late. It was only when her mother put the bottle aside and realized she had nearly lost her daughter and only grandchild that Darcy was given two years of her mother being a true part of her life. It had eased the wounds of the past, and though she missed her mother now and cursed the cirrhosis that had taken her too soon, Darcy would be forever grateful for that time. Her heart ached for Kincaid, because he didn’t have that and maybe never would. But saying that would be rebuilding the bridge from that summer, and she was only here for one drink. One. “Thanks for the shoulder massage. I should probably get home.”
He rose and came around in front of her, cocking a hip against the wooden table. That smile she loved played on his lips, flickered in his eyes. “I thought you promised me a dance.”
“The band already went home. And I don’t remember promising any dancing.” Her argument was about as strong as her resolve right now.
“We don’t need a band.” Kincaid fished his phone out of his pocket, opened the music app and turned it on. The strains of an old Queen song began to play through the tinny speakers. Kincaid put out a hand. “Ready?”
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sp; About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Shirley Jump spends her days writing romance so she can avoid the towering stack of dirty dishes, eat copious amounts of chocolate and reward herself with trips to the mall. Look for her all-new novella in the anthology ASK ME WHY (with Marie Force, Virginia Kantra and Jodi Thomas), as well as the Sweet and Savory Romance series, including the USA Today bestselling book, THE BRIDE WORE CHOCOLATE, on Amazon, and her Sweetheart Sisters series, starting with THE SWEETHEART BARGAIN.
Visit her website at www.ShirleyJump.com for author news and a booklist, and follow her on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/shirleyjump.author for giveaways and deep discussions about important things like chocolate and shoes.
Copyright Information
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2016 by Shirley Jump
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Book cover design by The Scarlett Rugers Design Agency
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eISBN: 978-1-942356-36-3