"Well, you weren't lying about the food. I've never had a more delicious meal in my whole life."
"I know. I don't think I'll be able to move for the next week."
The more time she spent in Tom's company, the more she relaxed and enjoyed herself. Tom had an air of confidence about him that made the staff bend over backward to make sure their water and wineglasses were constantly filled. The moon beamed a bright streak of white on the water, giving the impression of a path leading to heaven. It was the perfect night for a walk along the beach.
"So pretty," she murmured beneath her breath.
"I agree."
Caryn looked up and found Tom watching her rather than the view.
"Wanna take a walk along the beach?" he asked, pushing his chair away from the table.
"Yes, I would love to." Why would she say no when it was what she wanted?
Tom guided her out of the restaurant, his hand resting on the small of her back. Her skin warmed beneath his fingers. He kept his hand there until they reached the steps that led down to the soft, white sand.
"I believe this is where we should take off our shoes." He canted his head to the left, where she saw a group of shoes resting on the top stair. It would be nice if they didn’t run into the people on the beach. The last thing she wanted to do was intrude on someone else's moonlight stroll.
Bending, she slipped off her sandals and skipped down the stairs, her toes sinking into the cool sand.
"Ready?" Tom asked as he stopped next to her.
She looked up at him, her gaze locking on his, the green irises shining in the muted light. Her answer lodged in her throat. Time slowed as he stepped closer, his head lowered toward hers.
It's too soon to kiss, the logical part of her brain screamed at her. She ignored it. She may have met him only a few hours ago, but over dinner she'd noticed a shift in the atmosphere. The tension residing in her shoulders had seeped out, and the more she and Tom talked, the closer they leaned over the table toward each other. Not to mention the shards of sensations tingling up her bare legs when he brushed his denim-clad ones against them. The shared nervousness had been replaced by a slow burn of awareness.
All thoughts evaporated when his lips touched hers in a sweet, light kiss. His mouth moved gently over hers. She moaned and leaned farther into his hard body. When Tom's arms closed around her, she was very glad she'd taken him up on his offer of a second chance.
4
A salty-scented breeze wafted over the balcony where Tom sat drinking his morning juice. It had been two days since his date with Caryn. He hadn't expected to have such a good time, although the guilt weighed on him, especially after her declaration of not liking people lying to her.
After getting over the initial hurdles of wanting to be called a different name than his profile and the discrepancy in his occupation, the rest of their conversations had been general. He'd told Caryn the truth about the construction work he did. He just didn’t share that the work was filmed and edited for television.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. For the last few years, whenever he'd gone anywhere, whether out for dinner, away on vacation or simply walking the streets, he'd been recognized.
But Caryn had no idea who he was. During the course of their evening she’d admitted that she didn't watch reality television shows.
For the first time since fame had found him he had an opportunity to be himself. Not have to be conscious of his every move so that it wasn't plastered all over social media. For someone to get to know him as a person and not a media celebrity.
He stood and walked over to the edge of the balcony, leaning his arms on the balustrade. It still didn't sit well with him that he had kept an integral part of himself from her. Why hadn’t he come clean? He also didn't know why he was letting himself get so caught up with these thoughts. They'd had one date. Shared a kiss he hadn't been able to forget. When he'd walked her back to her villa, he'd opened his mouth to suggest they meet the next day, but before he could utter one word, she'd rushed inside with a quietly spoken good-night. The brush off had dented his ego, especially considering she'd seemed to enjoy the kiss as much as he had.
He'd made sure to keep himself busy over the last couple of days in an attempt to convince himself that the fact they hadn't made any other arrangements was for the best. She’d come to the island to meet a specific person and that person wasn't him. He was still waiting to hear about this Brad Jones person from his agent, who was making sure there weren't any more people using his picture on dating websites.
But whether Tom had been working out in the resort gym or swimming in his private pool, his thoughts had drifted back to Caryn Stapleton and her sexy Australian accent.
"Hi, Tom."
He thought he imagined the words floating up to him until he looked down at the beach below his balcony and saw the woman he'd spent the last forty-five minutes thinking of standing there. In the early morning sunlight, wearing a soft, pink lacy cover- up over a bathing suit, she looked beautiful and tempting.
"Hey yourself," he called down to her. "Wait there, I'll be right down."
The last thing he wanted was a conversation where they were yelling at each other.
He wandered out onto the beach behind his villa and stopped to watch Caryn. Her head was tipped back, absorbing the sun’s rays. He clenched his hands to stop from reaching out and pulling her into his arms, to feel her soft body against his.
He cleared his throat. "This is a nice surprise. What have you been up to the last couple of days?"
"Taking it easy. Checking out the spa and the various treatments they offer. How about you?"
"Relaxing before my life gets hectic again with endless schedules and demands on my time that make a vacation near on impossible."
The moment he said the words he wanted to snatch them back.
"Endless schedules?"
"Yeah, you know, people with their demanding requests and unrealistic deadlines to get their houses finished."
It was the truth, just not the whole truth. God, he should come clean. Just tell her who he was. It would make life so much easier. But would she look at him differently if she knew who he really was? Would her attitude switch from what he assumed was natural and genuine to seeing what his fame could bring her?
"Of course, that's understandable. I guess you don't get to have a lot of time off."
Wasn't that a fact. The only reason he had this month off was because he'd told his agent not to book him any promotional gigs or personal appearances. He needed a break.
"Not really. But I don't want to talk about me. What are your plans for today?"
"Well, I thought I'd take a walk along the beach and then maybe head into town for a bite to eat." He watched as she swallowed visibly, a hint of rose tinting her cheeks. He knew it wasn't from the sun. "Care to join me?"
Spending the day with Caryn sounded perfect, except the part about heading into to town. The people who worked at the resort were discreet; the maître’ d hadn't batted an eyelid when Tom asked the waitstaff to refrain from using his real last name during his dinner with Caryn. If he went into town, his identity would be blown to shreds and, even though he knew it was wrong, he didn't want that to happen.
Not yet anyway, no matter how wrong it was or how it went against everything he believed in. The need for Caryn to know him without his television persona was important to him.
"I'd love to join you, but how about instead of going into town, I arrange to have a picnic basket made up and we can have a picnic on the beach? When was the last time you did something like that?"
"Umm, I don't think I've picnicked on the beach in a very long time. But I was really hoping to go into town. There's this new gastro pub that's opened, and apparently the food is way above the usual fare you get at a pub. I'd really like to check out. It’s got a great vibe, or so I’ve overheard from the girls at the spa."
A great vibe meant the possibility of him being reco
gnized would be high. He wasn’t ready to risk it this early in his vacation. "Well, maybe another time then. I'll join you for a walk though."
He counted his heartbeats, waiting for the moment when she asked why he didn't want to go to town.
Fuck, it would be easier to tell her the truth. Then if she still wanted to spend time with him, she would. If she decided she didn't want to … well, he'd deal with that when it happened.
"Well, okay, sure. A walk sounds great." Her shoulders slumped and her eyes lost a bit of sparkle.
He was back to being the asshole he'd been the first night he'd met her. Perhaps there was a way around this situation, where they could both get what they wanted.
Caryn started to walk away, but he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her close to him. Immediately heat flared through him, his blood warming and his groin tightening at the contact of her scantily clad body.
"I missed you these last two days."
Well hell, those weren't the words he’d meant to say to her. All sensible thought had fled his mind the moment he touched her. He'd always been an all-in type of guy, so throwing caution to the wind, he lowered his head and laid his lips over hers.
Caryn opened her mouth beneath his and he slid his tongue inside. His cock hardened against her belly. It was insane, this intense desire ripping through him. He'd spent a total of four, maybe five, hours with her, yet his body was acting as though they'd known each other for years.
Tom abandoned her mouth for the sweet taste of her neck, nibbling and kissing his way around until he sucked her earlobe into his mouth. Her moan encouraged him to move his hand up and squeeze her breast. He wanted to take her back to into his villa and worship her body. Fortunately, sensibility returned and he broke the kiss, his hand lingering for a moment on her before returning to his side. Thank God, he had on loose boardshorts— anything tighter and he'd be in pain.
"Well, if you're trying to change my mind about going into town, it's working. A beach picnic sounds like a good idea."
That hadn’t been his plan at all, but he was going to run with it. His body could definitely use a dip in the cold water.
"Okay, let me go into the villa and organize a picnic basket. Want to come?" He cocked his head toward his villa.
"No it's, uh, fine. I'll wait here."
Tom chuckled. It seemed he wasn't the only one who needed to cool down. Her nipples were still aroused against the thin fabric of her swimsuit.
"Give me five minutes."
True to his word, he returned five minutes later, relieved to find Caryn sitting on the sand, gazing out at the ocean. Her black hair glinted in the morning sunshine, tempting him to run his fingers through the river of silk.
He took a deep breath to get his wayward hormones under control. He stopped next to her.
"We're all set. I've booked a cabana for midday, and our picnic will be ready for us when we get there."
"Sounds great." She stood and brushed the sand off her legs, drawing his attention to those long limbs. Pictures of those legs wrapped around him fired into his mind.
Not yet. Go with the flow. If it happens, it happens. Oh, yes, it was going to happen.
"Let's take a walk," he said and slipped an arm around her shoulders, pleased when she didn't pull away from him.
They walked in a companionable silence along the soft sand of the beach, stopping every now and then for Caryn to pick up a seashell.
"Do you collect shells?" he asked when they'd halted for the third time in as many steps. Although he noticed she hadn't kept any of the ones she'd looked at.
"No, I just like looking at ones that catch my eye. It sounds silly, but I wonder what their story is. What happened to the creature that inhabited the shell? Did it grow, so it needed to find a bigger shell to live in? Or did something tragic happen to it?"
She held out the cylindrical one in her hand. It wasn't large, nor did it have any unusual coloration to it that would make it attractive to the eye. What it did have, though, was a small hole marring the perfection of its surface.
Tom found her explanation, and the sadness coloring her words, intriguing. He pulled her close, hoping to take some of the sorrow away from her.
"Tell me your theory for this shell."
"Well, it doesn’t have a pretty pattern or colors to make it attractive. It's plain and unassuming. It should've protected its inhabitant from any type of attack because it could blend in and, you’d think, not attract any attention."
"But the hole," he murmured.
"Yes, even with its plainness, did it become a target to a bigger prey? Or as the creature scuttled across the bottom of the ocean, did it hit an overhanging rock or a piece of coral pierce it?" Her finger traced the small imperfection. "So now the shell isn't the creature’s perfect little home, so it discards it, seeking out something shinier and better, leaving this one to float endlessly on the current until it washed up here to become one shell among thousands walked over, crushed, and thrown away because it's not perfect and everyone wants perfection."
"Not everyone wants perfection," he uttered quietly as he stroked a hand over her dark hair. "Perfection is an impossible thing to achieve anyway."
How many times had he had to counsel the homeowners participating on his show about this same thing? Their expectations were unrealistic at times, but the way they argued with him made for good television. He could enhance the layout and design of the home so it flowed better. Take walls down and do an addition if they had the budget. He could paint and wallpaper over imperfections, but those imperfections were still there, only hidden from the naked eye now.
"Imperfections enhance a person's character." Tom clasped her hand, the shell resting between their palms. "I like imperfections."
His breath hitched when her other hand landed on his chest and she raised herself on her tip-toes, bringing her mouth close to his. "Me too."
Then she bridged the tiny gap between them. For a moment he stilled, the sound of his pounding heart echoing in his ears—she’d taken the first step in kissing him. After a second, instinct took over and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, trapping her hand against his chest while their joined hands, still holding the shell, rested against the side of their bodies.
Their mouths moved languidly together. This wasn't an erotic kiss. It was a sweet, getting-more-familiar-with-you type of kiss. It was a kiss he'd never experienced before, and he wanted more of them.
Her mouth opened beneath his, deepening the kiss. Now it was getting erotic. And they were standing in the middle of the beach where anyone could take a video of this kiss and plaster it all over social media if they recognized him. He didn't want to expose Caryn to the harshness of the gossip websites. She didn't deserve to have her private life splashed all over the web for everyone to see.
Reluctantly, he pulled away, his breath sawing in and out as he tried to get his body under control.
She went to move away, but he held tightly. "Give me a few moments before you pull away."
"Why?" He flexed his hips against her belly; there was no way she would miss how his body had reacted to the kiss. She giggled, the action not helping his erection at all.
"Oh, okay."
"That's not helping," he grumbled in her ear.
It only made her laugh more, and her hand cupped his cheek. "Oh, the shell," she exclaimed and quickly pulled her hand away to squat to the sand.
Somehow, during their kiss, they’d managed to drop the shell. He got down on his haunches as well and helped her look, her distress at losing it calling out to him.
"Found it," she said triumphantly and held it up.
"Why do you want to keep this shell?" he asked, considering her previous action of discarding them back on the sand.
She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, but I told its story and I don't want to reject it as well." Caryn looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "Besides, it's a nice memento from today."
He'd had ple
nty of women use that technique when they were flirting with him. From Caryn there was a hint of shyness in the action.
Tom couldn't deny he found it attractive. Hell, he found Caryn Stapleton attractive, and that was dangerous. He had no time in his life at the moment for any type of relationship. He could do a fling if Caryn was interested, that's all. Now all he had to do was keep remembering that and not fall under her spell. Although part of him feared it was too late.
For the first time in years, a woman intrigued him enough to want to throw caution to the wind and leap into the unknown.
5
"Just one more spoonful. You know you want to." Caryn eyed the sinfully decadent chocolate cake she and Tom had shared.
"Ever seen Monty Python's Meaning of Life?" He nodded. "Remember that restaurant scene? Well, I'm this"—she held up her thumb and index finger, a minuscule gap of light penetrating the digits— “close to turning this picnic from fun to disastrous."
Tom laughed. "Well, we can't have that, can we? Let me save us all from a Mr. Creosote type of event." He popped the spoon in his mouth and moaned as he chewed. "You don't know what you're missing out on.”
She picked up her paper napkin, scrunching into a ball and threw it in his direction, hitting him in the middle of his forehead. She giggled when he fell back onto the cushions, fake groaning in pain.
While she would've loved to have lunch at the Twisted Pelican, she couldn't deny that spending the day with Tom had certainly been better than being alone. Her body tingled with memories of the kisses they'd shared.
Now here they were in the close confines of a cabana on the beach. Tom had closed the curtains, saying he didn't want passersby to look in. They were in their own little world and could do anything they wanted.
A little spark of devilry danced inside of her. Without giving it too much thought, because if she did, she'd no doubt talk herself out of it, Caryn crawled over the blanket, pleased when Tom's eyes widened and a wicked, sexy grin broke across his face. She could definitely get used to seeing that smile.
Barefoot Bay: Swipe for Mr. Right (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 3
