by Kim Law
It wasn’t realistic in this day and age that in order to raise kids she’d have to be a stay-at-home mom, but what floored her was the fact that the idea didn’t upset her as it once had. When she’d been with Mark before, that had been one of their many arguments. He’d claimed he didn’t mind if she worked, yet something had bothered him about the idea of her not being there for any kids they might have. He’d never admitted it out loud, but she’d always felt it. Since his mother hadn’t worked, she’d assumed he’d expected the same from his wife.
Yet honestly, that had never felt quite right, either. Something had just been “off” when it came to him and talking about kids. Not that he didn’t want them. He did. But something odd, which she’d never quite been able to put her finger on, had lingered in any such discussion they’d had.
She shook her head, clearing it from the past, and from thoughts of giving up her life to raise kids. That wasn’t who she was. She was a career woman. Just like her mother.
She was also very much like her aunt, who had been alone and happy since she was thirty-five. So it wasn’t out of the question that Andie might follow suit.
But she wanted sex.
She thumped her head against the wall again.
Her inner voice had recently developed the silly notion that there was more to life than going home alone every night and burning up the occasional battery-powered device. It wanted hard-core, full-body-contact extracurricular activities.
And right now, it wanted that with Mark.
Ridiculous, but ever since that scorcher of a kiss, her insides had been lit up like a Christmas tree. Her libido suddenly remembered what sex was and it wanted it.
But with Mark? Really? She couldn’t have grown and evolved over the years?
Why did he have to be the one who still set her on fire?
She plopped down on her bed, making a face in the dark, and wondered what it was about him that made it near impossible to put him out of her mind.
It was all the abstinence, she decided. Her friends had been right. She should have started dating again a long time ago. Then the first sighting of Mark wouldn’t have made her remember with clarity how good he was with his hands. And other parts of his body.
Go out with a few men, kiss a few. Surely someone would wake her up like Mark did.
She rose and went to the sliding doors to push them open, wanting to hear the night. Seeing the slow, straight rain coming down, she tossed her e-reader on the nightstand and went to the mini refrigerator she kept in the room. It was the perfect night for a glass of wine and a quiet, introspective sit on the deck. She’d think about the men she knew from the island, and figure out who she would be inviting out on her first date.
No need to wait for them, she decided. If she wanted to do something about the situation, she needed to make the first move.
And making sure she didn’t get caught wanting to wrap her legs around Mark again was priority number one.
So she needed a date.
She poured herself a glass of Riesling and took a sip as she slipped out of the shorts and T-shirt she’d been wearing. The ankle bracelet caught the light shining in through her balcony doors, and she paused to lift her leg, wondering why she still wore it.
It had been her mother’s, though she’d never seen her mother wear it. Andie had found it in her jewelry box when she’d been young and asked about it. Cassie had merely taken it from her and put it back, telling her not to bother it again. It wasn’t something anyone needed to wear.
Years later, Andie had taken it when she’d gone away to college. She had no idea why, but she’d wanted it. Something about the delicacy of the chain combined with the single crescent moon charm had always called to her. Also, if she were to be honest, the jewelry had made her feel closer to her mother.
Granted, it hadn’t done a thing to improve their actual relationship. Her mother had still worked sixty hours a week, all for the purpose of looking forward to vacations — with her husband. And she did not worry about Andie. Yet Andie continued to wear that chain.
Some things didn’t make sense. Not worth thinking about tonight, though.
Nor was it worth wondering what had happened to the sea turtle charm Mark had once given her to go on it. It hadn’t been there when she’d dug the anklet out of her jewelry box after Aunt Ginny had returned from Boston. Andie had sent her to pack up her belongings. She’d known Mark wouldn’t be there since he and Rob had apparently headed off to Vegas after bailing on the wedding, but she hadn’t even wanted to step foot in the place again. It had been too raw. Too painful.
The loss of the charm had at first made her sad, but she’d used Ginny’s logic and scratched that one up to fate. She hadn’t needed that reminder of Mark for all these years, anyway. Just as she didn’t need to be reminded of anything about him now, either.
She tossed down another gulp of wine, then topped off her glass, pulled on her pajamas, and slipped out into the night.
The breeze hit her first and then the smell of honeysuckle from below. She leaned against the railing and inhaled, staring out over the pool and on to the ocean, watching the slow rain dance upon the water. Occasionally the sky lit as if a massive flashlight beam arced briefly across it, followed by the distant rumble of thunder. Maybe Mark leaving her and her subsequent firing had been the best things to happen to her.
And maybe she wouldn’t screw up and lose this place next.
Ugh.
She had no idea why she’d let herself go there. She just wanted to relax. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and she’d go back to worrying then. Tonight she wanted to get more than a little lit and think about all the good-looking men she wanted to date.
She settled into a lounge chair that was pushed up near the exterior wall of her room. With the rain falling as it was, and the third-floor deck shielding her, she could easily sit there without getting wet. She tilted her head back and tossed down more wine, searching for the light-headedness that would soon come. She wanted to float in a major relaxed state, and not worry about one single thing.
When over half the glass of wine was gone, she smiled, slumped low in her chair, and closed her eyes to think of men.
“You’ve been avoiding me, Andie.”
Andie shot up in her seat, spilling the remainder of the wine across the legs of her pajamas, and whirled around to stare at the man standing quietly in the shadows, about fifteen feet from her.
Mark was propped against the stucco wall beside the open balcony doors of the room next to hers, his arms crossed over his chest. His bare chest. Of course. And he looked as tasty as a forbidden snack. Good enough to sneak a nibble.
She’d never regretted not installing partitions to separate the deck space until tonight.
“What in the devil are you doing over there?” she whispered. Her pulse pounded in her throat. The man had nearly scared her to death. That room was supposed to be empty until the elder Mastersons arrived next week. She glanced past him to ensure no one else was out on the deck.
“Kayla invited me back over. Said there was no need to stay at the hotel when there was a perfectly good room right here in the house.”
Andie blinked, wishing futilely that she hadn’t guzzled the wine so fast.
“Well, that room isn’t it.” Stinking, efficient Kayla. “You’ll need to move your stuff. You belong at the other end of the hall.” The room on the side of the house that didn’t have a deck connected to hers.
She heard a shuffling noise and squinted in hopes of seeing more clearly. He was heading her way. She started to get up, but he lowered himself to another lounger before she could get her feet under her. He was still on his side of the deck, but now within a couple feet of her.
Forcing herself to relax, she leaned back in her chair. Hadn’t she promised herself that she wouldn’t allow him to run her off anymore? So she had to stay. And she couldn’t help it if she checked him out. Any woman would.
His bare feet stretched out
before him, strong and sturdy, looking for all the world as if they would run over hot coals to save his woman if they needed to. Soft, faded jeans covered his legs. She was pretty sure those were jeans he wouldn’t wear out in public, as they caressed him a little too snugly in places. He might be built as if he didn’t work behind a desk and demand hundreds of dollars per hour in front of a judge, but that didn’t mean he’d show up in public underdressed. And as already noted, above the waist … he wore nothing.
The moon was nowhere to be found, so she couldn’t enjoy the view to the fullest, but it wasn’t as if she’d ever forgotten what he looked like without a shirt. Nor what he’d felt like.
She’d gotten reminded of that a couple nights ago as she’d clung to him in the water.
He was hard. Ripped. Everywhere.
And she suddenly wanted another drink.
“I spilled my wine,” she murmured, straddling the chair on her way to standing up. She was not quite steady on her feet but not what she’d call shaky, either. “I’m getting some more.” She stepped just inside her room before pausing. “You want a glass?”
They’d once sat together on the small deck of their Boston apartment in the evenings, drinking wine and enjoying the end of the day. Only they’d always drunk from the same glass.
“No, thanks,” he said.
She disappeared into the room without another word, quickly shedding her wet pajamas and tugging back on the shorts and T-shirt she’d recently discarded. She glanced down at her obvious lack of a bra but decided she didn’t care. It was after midnight, and she didn’t want to be bound. A woman had a right to sit on her own deck however she wanted.
She topped off her wine and headed back outside. When he saw that she’d changed, his glance lingered on her chest before he lifted his eyes to hers.
“You made me spill my wine on my bottoms,” she said. “I couldn’t very well sit out here like that.”
He nodded and she slipped back into her seat. What was she doing? She should run him off, or better yet, run back into her own room. She should not be sitting out there like she was. It was too personal. Too much like the old days. Yet sitting there was exactly what she wanted to be doing, so she stayed. Because she was a glutton for punishment.
He finally spoke. “Thought we could talk a little.”
“Probably it would be better to just sit. And then you’ll need to go find your room.”
“This is my room.”
“No, it’s not.” She scooted her chair around so she could see him better, then curled over onto her side. She took another sip before resting her head against the vinyl strips of the chair. The sound of the rain soothed her. “Mr. and Mrs. Masterson will be in that room when they arrive.”
They were a couple in their eighties who were unlikely to do anything at all to cause her any distress.
“The other room is bigger,” Mark said. He rested his hands in his lap, clasping them together, his thumbs tapping out a slow rhythm against each other. Her gaze locked on the movement. “And there are two of them,” he continued. “Me taking this room makes more sense.”
“That’s a load of crap,” she said, her voice a soft whisper. “You took it just to screw with me.” She did not need him on the other side of her wall.
He turned his head, his eyes laughing, then reached out and took her wine. “Screw with you, huh? When did you develop such a potty mouth?”
She shrugged. A little wine and Mark in close proximity, and there was no telling what she might come out with next.
A couple drinks later he handed back her glass. “You should have brought out the bottle.”
“I should have brought you your own glass.”
The broad slash of his mouth turned up in a curve and Andie realized it was the first time she’d seen him smile since he’d arrived. And of course, her temperature shot off toward the sun.
“Would it upset you if I told you that your aunt Ginny was the one who let me move into this room?”
She most definitely should be upset. But the wine was doing its job. She was more relaxed than anything. And she couldn’t say that she was surprised, either. Ginny had been sufficiently mad on her behalf when the wedding hadn’t happened, but Andie had always sensed that she’d understood something about Mark that she’d never shared. Though who knew what that might be. “Why would she do that? She should be busy hating you like I do.”
“Awww.” He blew her a kiss before stealing her wine again. “You don’t hate me, sunshine. And neither does Ginny.”
“I do too hate you.” She squinted again, as if that would help her brain focus. “And why’d you just call me sunshine?”
He shifted in his chair until he was lying on his side, mimicking her position. “Because for some reason the days have seemed brighter this week. I credit that with you.”
With the soft rain and the dark night surrounding them, it felt as if they were tucked away in a cave.
“That makes no sense,” she said. She took back the glass, but it was empty, so she shot him a frown. “Really? You show up uninvited and drink all my wine? Rude.”
Before she could rise to go for a refill, he took the glass from her and walked straight into her room. He didn’t flip on any lights — as if he’d been there a hundred times before and knew his way around — and she busied herself with watching his butt move under the denim. Appeared to still be in nice shape. And firm. Then she rolled her eyes. Sheesh! She really should not be out there with him. Wine and dirty thoughts were doing nothing but telling her libido that it was winning this round.
When he returned he handed her the glass and set the bottle on the ground beside her. “And for the record, you don’t hate me, either. Your kiss the other night said otherwise.”
“That was a good-bye kiss.” She kept her eyes on him until he was back in his seat, half-afraid he was going to push the point and try to kiss her again. Between her hormones and the wine, she suspected she would let him. And if those abs didn’t quit catching her attention, she might even start it. “Did you forget that?”
“I didn’t forget.” He turned to her, his strong face clear in the darkness, with the smallest glimmer of humor coloring his features. “I just didn’t buy it.”
“Well, you might as well get on board, because this train is leaving without you.” She closed her eyes and thunked the side of her head against the chair. What in the hell had that meant? She rolled to her back and let out a long, weary sigh while Mark chuckled beside her.
“Can’t hold your wine these days, babe?”
“I can hold it fine. I just skipped dinner.”
“Ah.” With that he reached over and took the glass from her once again. “Maybe I should finish it for you, then.”
“No. Give it back.” She reached out, intent on not letting her good buzz go anywhere, but he caught her wrist with one hand and held it up high in the air. The playfulness disappeared from his gaze.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking these last couple of days,” he said. “I suspect you have, too.”
“Have you?” She wiggled her fingers in the direction of the glass, wanting desperately to break the mood he was trying to create. And no way was she going to admit that she’d done a lot of thinking, too. “About how to steal a woman’s wine and get away with it?”
He brought the glass to her mouth then, her hand still caught in his, and she quit moving. He tilted it so she could take a drink, and she watched him over the rim as the clear, cool liquid slid down her throat. His eyes never left her lips.
When he pulled the glass back, he took another sip, licked his lips, then set it on the ground between them. He lowered her hand to his lap and caressed his thumb along the center of her palm.
Finally he admitted, “It scares me. This thing between us. I’d rather it was gone for good.”
She nodded. Her, too. Since it wasn’t, there was the constant fear she’d screw up and get her heart broken again. And that had been no fun at all the first t
ime around.
“But it is there,” he said. “Whatever it is. And I came to a decision about it earlier today.”
She caught the intent in his eyes and quickly shook her head, panic flaring to life inside her. She did not want to hear that decision.
When he only smiled in reply, she shook her head again. More deliberate this time. “No,” she whispered. It came out like a plea.
He chuckled and ran a finger down her cheek. “Yes.”
She closed her eyes, then shivered as she felt the heat of him hover near her.
He whispered directly into her ear. “I don’t think it should be good-bye yet.”
EPISODE FOUR
CHAPTER EIGHT
Fuck,” Andie murmured, and Mark laughed out loud.
“Shhh,” she whispered, pointing to the deck above them. “Mr. Jordan already saw us out in the water the other night. Don’t you dare let him realize you’re down here with me right now.”
He looked up. “He saw us?”
She nodded, not looking pleased, but Mark couldn’t help the smile.
“Bet he liked it.” Who wouldn’t like seeing Andie all wet?
“No, he did not. And I’m pretty sure his wife isn’t speaking to me.”
He laughed again, but at her stern look covered his mouth with his hand. When he did, their eyes met and they both seemed to return to his statement about their kiss not being good-bye.
The tight, annoyed look on her face would be funny, except it wasn’t. They had some kind of ridiculous chemistry between them.
“It’s too late,” she said. “It was good-bye, Mark. Really.”
“It didn’t feel like it.”
The way she’d clung to his body had felt like the sweetest woman he’d ever known, coming darn close to falling apart in his arms. And it had felt amazing.
She remained silent, so he reached out and grabbed her lounge chair, yanking it over to his. He shot her an apologetic grimace when the move knocked over the glass between their two chairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. He owed her a wineglass. Probably should throw in a bottle of wine while he was at it. Leaning in, he got close enough to smell the alcohol on her breath.
