by Dawn Atkins
"Your father always wanted the beach, but I was not interested. Too much sand and smell."
"I know exactly what you mean." Ariel chuckled at the pair of them. "If we don't want to swim, we can stay on the porch and look out at the water. How about that?"
"Sounds lovely."
Ariel felt the pain of separation like a stab. "So, let's pick a date and you can clear it with everyone." She named the Saturday three weeks away and her mother agreed.
"Now tell me all about your business," her mother said. So Ariel laid out her plan. She'd start with Trudy's list of contacts, touch base with the former Business Advantage clients, especially the ones she'd handled. She'd join a networking group, contact the Small Business Administration about advertising in a newsletter, and more.
As she talked, her confidence rose, and her mother's support helped, too. As soon as she hung up, she took a moment for a positive visualization, picturing herself making confident phone calls, then meeting with new clients. She imagined the details—the notes she'd refer to, shaking hands when the client agreed to hire her, setting to work on the project.
She could do this. Except not this minute, she realized as exhaustion washed over her. This minute, she should sleep. Tomorrow she'd dig in, bright and fresh.
She gathered her toiletries and her nightgown, a high-necked pink thing that Jake would laugh at since he undoubtedly slept nude, and headed into the bathroom.
The bathroom was a masculine mess—towels mildewing in the corner, a sprinkling of beard shavings in the sink, a sagging shower curtain, Jake's shaving cream, razor, toothpaste and toothbrush scattered everywhere except the dusty toiletry organizer meant to hold them. Only a gooey soap bar rested in its place.
The medicine cabinet held a few items—disposable razors, bandages, antiseptic, liniment, a comb and deodorant. Plenty of room for her cosmetics and creams.
She put her things away, then paused at the sight of Jake's razor on the ledge above the sink. She picked it up and sniffed. Densely sweet coconut. So this was the source of that great smell. She sniffed deeply, guiltily, then rinsed the razor.
Might as well help him a little. She washed the toiletry rack, then put the rinsed-off soap and Jake's razor in place. She neatened the toothpaste tube, locating its cap under the sink, then put it, along with Jake's toothbrush and shaving cream, in the correct spot.
She took Jake's cologne out of the medicine chest and started to put it in its designated indentation, but that might be too much. She sniffed at the cologne, though. Light, with a bit of musk. Nice.
She picked up the towels Jake had hurled in the corner and hung them over the shower rod so they could dry. Hmm. She'd have to buy a new shower curtain. This one was cloudy with lime, torn from three of its hooks and trimmed in mildew. Beach living. She sighed.
In the next room, she could hear Jake lifting weights, the clank as regular as a clock's tick. The man didn't know how to do anything quietly, did he?
She should have been more firm about him moving out. She'd bet her sensible panties that he'd stretch out those couple of days if she allowed it.
The underwear banter had been kind of fun, she had to admit. A sense of humor was important in life. That made her remember her Husband-To-Be Checklist, which she'd put together a couple of years ago with her future in mind. Maybe making a list of criteria for a husband was odd, but goal-setting was the secret to success in life as well as business.
She ran down her list in her mind. He would be responsible and ambitious and emotionally dependable. He would be thoughtful and a good listener. He would feel her pain as deeply as his own. He would know her, sometimes better than she knew herself.
Oh, and he'd bring her roses. Romance had a place in love, but not the prime one. You couldn't let romance bewitch you into falling for someone who didn't meet more important criteria.
And he'd have a sense of humor, she added now. How could she have left that off? Of course Jake was the opposite of her dream man in every way—even his blond hair—except for the sense of humor. A sense of humor was important.
The banging and clanking stopped and Jake began to whistle—perfectly tuneful. She hoped her man would have a good voice, though that would be icing on the cake. The main thing was to be compatible, to be partners, looking ahead to the same things, enjoying the same pleasures and plans.
"Come on, pal," she heard Jake call. Lucky barked. Then she heard the door open and close. Jake was off to the volleyball game and Heather. She felt strangely alone. Jake Renner did fill up a space.
On the other hand, with him out of the house, she felt more comfortable wearing her nightgown around. She was so tired, she was tempted to skip her nightly routine, but if you dropped good habits over a little jet lag, who knew where that could lead?
So she washed and moisturized her face, using a circular massage to enhance circulation, gave her hair the required hundred strokes and brushed and flossed her teeth.
Finished, she made her way to the bed, cuddling into the pillow, intent on falling so deeply asleep she'd miss any post-volleyball action beyond the canvas screen.
* * *
Ariel woke with a start and shot to a sit. Her clock said midnight. She'd only slept three hours. Of course, it was 8:00 in the morning in London, which probably explained why she'd awakened. She decided to make herself some tea. That was one memory of England she'd carried home—several tins of fabulous tea, which she'd stored above the stove in the kitchen.
She tiptoed down the hall, trying to minimize the wooden floor's creak. Jake's door was closed, but she held her breath. She'd show by example how to be courteous to someone sleeping.
In the kitchen, she turned on the stove light and located the tea. Without so much as a clunk, she put a saucepan of water on to boil. She yawned. It would take a few days to get back on track sleep-wise from the time change, though sleep was often elusive when she was worried, and she was very worried.
She leaned over the hissing pot, letting the steam warm her face. Soothing. She'd get through this one task at a time. She poured the bubbling water into a mug where she'd placed a bag of chamomile and mint, and breathed in the rich aroma … and thought of London.
How she missed it. Even the relentless dreariness of the weather had not put a dent in her pleasure. All gone now—fizzled like the last bit of an Alka-Seltzer tablet. She'd go back one day, once her business took off, maybe with her husband … yes, before they had the first of their two children.
She clutched the mug between her palms, close to her face and carried it to the kitchen table. Out the window, she saw that the full moon glimmered on the ocean. The waves shushed in the distance.
For the first time, it struck her how lovely this was. A person could stare at the ocean for hours. The sound of the waves was soothing, almost hypnotic. Then she caught movement in the water. A huge fish…? No. A person. Swimming in the moonlight along the shore with long, strong strokes. A man, judging by the length of the arms and what seemed to be a bare upper body. After a bit, he flipped over and floated on his back, staring up at the sky. It must be cold, she thought, and swimming in the dark would be scary. On the other hand, people paid big bucks to have a house at the beach so they could do things like swim at night.
Not her, though.
Under the moon's glow, the swimmer looked mysterious, ephemeral—like some creature in a sea myth—a sea god or ghost. Strange.
Her gaze caught on a smear of mildew in the caulking on the window ledge. Following it upward, she spotted wood rot at the top of the window frame. That would need to be fixed. She took a deep breath and blew it out, then took another warm swallow of tea. Relax, go easy. Now, when she couldn't shut down for sleep, she saw the appeal of taking life as easy as Jake did.
Since she was awake, she might as well get started on her task lists. She tiptoed back to her room for the note-pad from her purse, returned to the table and started. First, pickup things from storage. Here, she was dependent on Jake an
d his friend's truck. She'd try to get that going as early as possible. Hard to be pushy when someone was doing you a favor.
Next, purchase office supplies, order new business cards and stationery. Minimal amounts, to keep costs down. Get a second phone line for business? No, not yet. Too expensive. She couldn't even afford her cell phone after tomorrow. Work Trudy's contact list. She'd do that before or after getting things out of storage. Maybe both.
She had to make things work right away. Anxiety tightened her chest. Keep on keeping on. She had enough savings for a couple of months. If clients didn't come right away, she'd get a job at a temp agency. Except how could she build a business when she was only available in the evenings? Part-time consultants did not inspire confidence…
Blood pounded in her head. Her stomach knotted. The business items were not helping her relax, so she started on her personal to-dos, turning to a fresh page. Change the utilities and trash pick-up accounts to her name, file ownership papers on the house, devise a budget. Pin Jake down about moving out.
Thinking of Jake made her jumpier than ever. She flipped her notepad shut and looked out the window for the swimmer. Gone. Probably off to sleep like a normal person. Ariel should try sleeping again. First, she'd clear the painting junk away from one side of the living room, where she'd set up her office in the morning.
She rose from the kitchen table to head to the living room, and stopped in shock. A man stood outside the kitchen door on the sun porch. Her heart flew into her throat and she froze, unable to make a sound.
The door opened… She tried to move, to shout, to do something. Then she saw it was Jake—soaking wet, dripping on the floor, a towel around his neck. He was her mysterious moonlight swimmer.
"You scared me to death!" she said, pressing her hand to her thudding heart.
"What are you doing up?" He scrubbed his hair with the towel, the moonlight playing on the planes of his face and the shifting muscles of his arms.
"The time lag from London, I guess. That was you out there swimming?"
"Yeah. I had energy and it's a great moon." He came closer. In the dim light, he seemed like someone who'd stepped out of a dream, not quite real. "It's more than the time lag," he said, taking in her face. "You're doing that thing with your lip."
"What thing?"
"Chewing on it. Like for dinner. What's going on?"
"Nothing. I just have a lot on my mind." She didn't realize she'd made biting her lip a habit. For all his laid-back attitude, Jake didn't seem to miss much.
"I know exactly what you need. Go get your suit."
"My suit?"
"Yeah, we'll go for a swim."
"But you just swam. And it's dark and cold and—"
"Perfect. Night swimming is the best. It's just what you need to put you to sleep. Trust me."
"I'm not that strong a swimmer." In the ocean anyway. The thought of what might be cruising around in the dark out there, what currents and undertows and creatures might be lying in wait…
"I'll keep an eye on you." He winked. "Go get your suit. Or, come to think of it, who needs suits?" He made as if to remove his trunks.
"No, no. I'll get my suit," she said. While she scrambled into her modest one-piece, hopping on first one foot, then the other, she argued with herself. This is insane. It's the middle of the night. There could be sharks. Followed by Oh, lighten up. Be spontaneous for once. Maybe Jake's right and this will make you sleepy.
Dressed, she glanced at her face in the mirror—pale, excited and scared. Was she losing her mind?
Jake met her at the kitchen door, and they headed across the porch and down the stairs. The May night was pleasant—warm with a light breeze. The sand tickled her insteps, shifted under her in that irritating way sand had, but she stayed on the balls of her feet and scampered to keep up with Jake's long strides. Soon they reached wet sand, which was easier to cross—flat and elastic, almost alive. And not too cold.
But the water, when they reached it, was icy. Ariel shrieked, then covered her mouth.
"Scream freely," Jake said. "You won't bother anybody."
She saw he was right. The beach was empty for as far as she could see in either direction, glowing a ghostly white in the moonlight. The houses and condos were dark except for a few windows shining yellow from lamplight or blue from a TV.
The water lapped at her ankles. She hugged herself and backed away. "Too cold."
"Come on," Jake said, starting forward, reaching a hand back for her.
She shook her head and backed up.
"Jump in, get it over with," Jake said, standing in water up to his waist. He turned, dove in, swam a few feet away, then returned.
Goaded by his grin, Ariel moved gingerly forward, gasping as the water slid like bands of ice up her calves, then her thighs. "I don't know about this," she said, wondering what that bumpy thing she was stepping on was, praying it wouldn't bite or slice her foot.
"Sure you do," Jake said. He marched through the water to her, then swung her into his arms. She gasped. His wet chest was cold against her skin. "What are you doing?"
He carried her deeper into the water.
"Put me down."
"You sure?" he said and dropped her with a splash.
She came up shrieking, gasped for air and slugged his arm. "That was mean."
"But you got it over with. See how nice it is now?" He bobbed near where she stood with the water up to her neck.
"I prefer to ease into things," she said, surprised to find the water wasn't so cold after all. He was right, damn him.
"I bet you take a bandage off hair by hair, too."
"As a matter of fact, I do," she said.
"Too much agony that way." He rolled onto his back. "Ain't this the life?"
She looked across the sea. The dark expanse of water seemed threatening and overwhelming. But right here close to Jake, the sea was silky and the waves produced a gentle, comforting sway, rocking her closer to, then away from Jake. She rolled onto her back the way Jake was doing and stared up at the sky, a black blanket, the stars dimmed by the thick ocean air.
"It is kind of nice," she admitted, her words sounding muffled in her water-filled ears. She turned to the side and caught Jake watching her. Their gazes locked and energy rolled between them like the waves they were swaying in. Startled, she went under.
Jake pulled her up quickly. "You okay?" he said, gripping her by both upper arms.
"Fine," she said, still caught by the energy between them.
"You look like you belong in the water," he said softly.
"I doubt that." Jake did, though. He seemed like a sea being, putting her under a spell, luring her near, pulling her in. The shifting water rocked her closer and closer. Go there, it's magic, it's right … the wave seemed to say. Hazily, she realized she was moving closer, hypnotized by the moment, the look on Jake's face, the suspended dream of it all.
"Quit it," he murmured.
"Quit what?" she murmured back.
"You're chewing your lip again," he said, moving closer.
"I am?" she said, swaying nearer.
"Yeah. And I have a much better idea for your mouth."
"Like what?" she breathed.
"Like this" he said and when he moved in to touch his salt-flavored lips to hers, she wasn't the least surprised.
Heat shot through her and she made a sound. Jake pulled her gently against him, his tongue just there, soft and waiting. Waiting for her to open up to him … to this experience … to…
Pure insanity.
Ariel broke off the kiss and sloshed away from Jake. "You said you never sleep with roommates," she managed to say, forcing indignation into her tone.
Jake shrugged. "I'm moving out, remember?"
"This is a bad idea. My life is upside down right now. I need all my concentration…"
"All your concentration?"
She gulped. "I'm very busy." Too busy for Jake's mouth, Jake's arms and a few incredible hours in Jake's bed?
Her wild side was hopping around like a child fighting to escape from the time-out corner.
"You're sooo strict," he said, shaking his head, his eyes laughing, but she could see he accepted her decision.
"Somebody has to be," she said, backing away from him to keep herself from just surging into his arms.
"You're leaving? But we're not done swimming."
"I'm done," she said. Done swimming in lust-infested waters anyway. "And I need some sleep."
"We could do that, too."
"No thanks," she said, continuing her backward walk. "The point was to get me relaxed. And I am. Very relaxed." Before he could contradict her, she turned to plow to the shore.
Relaxed? Ariel asked herself lying miserably in her bed a few minutes later. She'd barely rinsed off the sand in the shower and hurried to her room to avoid another encounter with Jake. The last thing she felt was relaxed. She could still feel Jake's lips on hers—warm and strong and ready for whatever she wanted. Her whole body seemed alive with what she wanted. She touched her fingers to her still-tingling lips. She thought of Jake's eyes on her, watching her with that curious combination of concern and appreciation, as the waves swelled and dipped around them, feeling that magical sense that they belonged together there. Hell. She was going as wonky as poor Trudy.
But that was just the Jake routine, she told herself. Just standard practice with women. How about a night swim, baby? He probably always tried that one.
She heard him come into the house, then silence. She turned on her side, fighting for sleep. Finally, finally, she felt herself drift off…
Bang … clunk … crash … bang. Jake was hammering something to a wall or a door. Then there was a ripping sound. What? He was working on the house now? In the middle of the night?
She could go out there and yell at him, but who knew where that might lead? Instead, she groaned and folded the pillow over her ears. At least he was working. The sooner he finished the cottage, the sooner he'd be completely out of her hair.
* * *
There was something about that woman, Jake thought, trying to understand why he'd kissed her when everything in him said it was a bad idea. She'd looked so good in the water—softer, more womanly, less bristly. Limber as a seal, too, with an easy grace she didn't know she had. The feeling had caught him off guard, like an unexpected wave, and he'd wanted to hold her just to feel all that electric energy against his skin, taste it with his tongue.
