Barefoot by the Sea

Chapter Fourteen

Tessa had no idea how long she sat on the beach, halfway between Lacey’s house and the resort, halfway between certain she knew what to do and total indecision. Long enough for a few sanderlings and terns to pitter around her, their bird feet etching prints in the sand as they pecked for food she didn’t have.

Rubbing the silky smooth inside of a duck-clam shell, she stared at the undulating navy water of the Gulf, watching the blue morph to fiery orange as the sun slid closer to the horizon. The colors faded in her mind, though, replaced by images of mothers and daughters, and a poignant awareness of how much damage and love and emotion could be folded into one complex relationship.

Did she think her relationship with a child would be any different? Of course, it could—

“Hey.”

She startled, pulled back from her deep thoughts and drawing in a quick breath at the sight of John walking toward her, his silhouette and long shadow spotlighted in the burnished-gold rays like some kind of sun god casting a long, strong, daunting shadow.

“Hey.” Really, it was all she could manage. The T-shirt clung to broad, strong, endless muscles and the sun highlighted the smattering of artwork on corded forearms.

“I thought you forgot about me.” He approached slowly, giving her a chance to appreciate every inch, from the soft waves of milk-chocolate-and-hot-caramel hair all the way down to the bare feet that left a wake of sandbursts as he walked.

“I kind of did,” she admitted.

He thumped his chest as though her words had stabbed him. Slowing down, he searched her face, glancing around for clues, or maybe a sign of Ashley, and then he crouched next to her. A hint of kitchen aroma clung to him, floating toward her on salt air along with that raw scent of masculinity he seemed to exude.

“You okay?” he asked.

And then there was that tenderness. Affection and interest and kindness seemed so utterly out of place on a man who looked anything but tender or kind.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Need some help? Advice?” He reached into a breast pocket on his T-shirt and whipped out one of the after-dinner candies Lacey had ordered with the Casa Blanca logo on the wrapper. “Never met a woman who didn’t think chocolate could cure all ails.”

She laughed softly, taking the candy. “Do you have to be so utterly perfect?”

He eased onto his backside, right next to her. “Your bar is low, my dear. What’s going on? I missed my sous-chef.”

He missed her. Why did that make her stomach do incredibly stupid things? What was it about this man that made her as gooey as this chocolate would be if she held it much longer in her hand? “What’d you cook?”

“Delicious in a dish. Come back with me. We can have my very first chef’s kitchen dinner. It’s private and, evidently”—he lifted a brow—“quite the romantic setting.”

“So it seems.” She attempted a laugh. “Sorry I disappeared. I had a little disciplining to do.”

“What’s the problem? You don’t approve of her choice of friends?”

“It appears to be far more than friendship,” she replied, unwrapping the candy. “He’s a little old for her and she’s…”

“Naive and innocent?” he suggested.

“Yes, but that’s not why I’m troubled.”

He inched closer, managing to let their shoulders and thighs touch, somehow inviting without being invasive. “Tell me.”

And, just like that, she wanted to tell him everything. Dark, light, happy, sad, personal or public. He somehow drew her out that way. She took a bite of the chocolate, the creamy, minty flavor sweet on her tongue. As it melted in her mouth, she held the rest up to him. “I can share.”

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth enough for her to slip in the candy. She stole the opportunity to look at his lips, his teeth, the sexy growth of beard…and remembered how all that felt against her throat and cheeks.

“Waiting,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

“Watching,” she replied.

He opened his eyes and held her gaze. “Watching what?”

“You.” She leaned a little closer, so attracted to his mouth she couldn’t even pretend to not want to kiss him. But she slipped the chocolate onto his tongue instead, and before he tasted it, he closed the space and kissed her lightly.

Bathed in sunset, warmed by chocolate, close to a man who made every cell want to dance, Tessa grabbed the two seconds of pure bliss and tucked them into her heart, to be relived soon and often.

After a moment, he nudged her. “So? What’s the problem?”

“Ashley asked me not to tell her mother about him.”

“Difficult for you, I’d imagine.”

“Mmm.” She nodded, combing the sand next to her and closing over the duck-clam shell she’d dropped when she saw him. “Very difficult.”

She ran her nail along the shell’s ridges, mentally counting in tens, then multiplying that by a hundred. “What’s five thousand divided by three hundred and sixty-five?”

He looked surprised. “Why do you need to know?”

“Didn’t you say you do math like that in your head?”

“I did, and the answer is about thirteen and a half.”

She nodded, impressed. “You are a math whiz. Who’d guess that from a man with long hair, big muscles, multiple tattoos, and drives a motorcycle built to race off into the sunset?”

“Those may be things that terrify you, Tess, but none of those things says I can’t do simple division.”

“You’re right.”

“About the things that terrify you or simple division?”

“Both.” She held up the shell. “But, for your information, you figured out that for thirteen years, a sweet little mollusk called this home and lived in it, protected from all the dangers of the sea, until he was forced out to be food for some big shark.”

He looked equally impressed. “And you are a shell whiz.” He reached for the seashell but took her hand instead, clasping both in a strong, straightforward grip. “Who’d guess that from a woman with soulful eyes, sinful lips, no visible tattoos, and drives a truck big enough to haul a half ton of dirt.”

She laughed at the echo of her words. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

“That’s the fun part.” He got closer. “So, are you going to tell Lacey her daughter was making out with the line cook?”

Taking a deep breath, she managed to pull her gaze from the crystal blue of his eyes and look at the sunset, which was only slightly less breathtaking. “I don’t know. Let’s keep flirting instead.”

“Done and done.” He fingered some of her hair, twirling it slowly, a habit she was starting to like a lot. “You’re even prettier when you’re pensive.”

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, giving him more hair to play with. “God, you’re good. Like world-class, you know? Where did you learn how to work a woman like that? California? Nevada?” She turned to look at him. “Singapore?”

She could have sworn he paled, but that might have been the changing light. “I was born with this curse. Just like you”—he tipped her face toward him—“were born with a very big heart.”

“How do you know that?”

“You love living things,” he said with absolutely no hesitation. “You love fruits, vegetables, flowers, and shellfish.”

And babies. “And I love that girl.” She tipped her head toward Lacey’s house. “So I don’t want her to do something monumentally stupid or dangerous.”

“You think Marcus is trouble?”

“I think he’s a condom-carrying twenty-year-old boy who is taking advantage of a girl who…” Maybe he didn’t need to know all the details of that little family problem Ashley had described. He didn’t need to know his new boss was slightly overwhelmed by life’s responsibilities.

“Who what?”

“Who’s still young and probably feeling a little squeezed for affection right now.”

He nodded. “Yeah, the new baby. Kids’ll do that.”

Wow, perceptive. In fact, something in the way he made that statement was so laden with familiarity it took her by surprise. “That sounded like the voice of experience.”

“God, no.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Marcus doesn’t seem like a bad guy,” he added quickly. “Maybe has a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Wanted to be the chef and resents my appearance, but he’s smart enough to know he can learn from me. Not easy to be the low man in the kitchen.”

More experience speaking, but this time it made sense. “Will you talk to him?”

“Not sure he’ll listen.”

“She didn’t listen either. Still, I really want to respect Ashley’s request. In a weird way, I understand what she’s going through and maybe she has to work it out for herself. Or maybe Lacey…” The thought formed and wrapped around her heart. “Needs to see what she’s doing to her daughter.”

He frowned. “Because she’s preoccupied with a baby and a brand-new business? Can hardly blame her, and Ashley isn’t exactly a child.”

So, so perceptive. “You can’t ignore a kid because of another kid. Or because of your job.”

“Speaking of sounding like the voice of experience.”

She turned to the sand, finding a tiny white cockleshell, the kind that were on Barefoot Bay in the millions.

How had he gotten there already? How had he spent a few hours with her and managed to dig right to a place that she never, ever shared with anyone—not even her closest friends?

“I have to figure out what’s the best thing to do about Ashley.”

“I think you should keep her secret.”

“Why?”

“Because if you tell her mom, shit will hit the fan and she’ll keep seeing him anyway, but on the sly and then they really might get into some trouble. If you keep her secret, Ashley’s got an adult she trusts and then you have a chance to talk to her, to advise her, and give her the kind of attention you think she’s not getting. She’ll confide in you, and you can be more help to her that way.”

She considered that, the wisdom of his words pressing on her chest. “You’re right,” she admitted. Absolutely, dead-on right.

“And in the meantime, I’ll get to know Marcus for you and find out what his intentions are. Although his pocket change tells me exactly what they are.”

“And maybe you can keep him from doing anything stupid.”

He laughed. “A twenty-year-old with raging hormones? Unlikely, but I’ll give it my best shot if it’ll make you feel better.”

She leaned back to get a good look at him. The sun, almost below the horizon now, cast indigo blue in his eyes. “You really are amazing,” she whispered, unable to keep the hint of awe out of her voice.

“’Bout time you noticed.” He closed the rest of the space between them. “So are you, by the way. Are you so fond of sea creatures that you won’t eat them?”

That made her laugh. “I’ll eat them.”

“Good, because I have made you the best shrimp scampi you’ve ever had and I found a great bottle of sauvignon blanc that I’m happy to have taken out of my first check. It was in the wine vault, where not a soul was liplocked, but”—he stood, tugging her up, but she stayed on the sand—“we can change that.”

She didn’t rise when he added some pressure.

“No?”

“Yes, I mean…” She laughed, dropping her head back in surrender. “I’m trying not to be so easy.”

“You’re not easy, trust me.”

“I’m an open book.”

“Not completely.” He gave another gentle yank on her hand. “There’s lots you haven’t told me. Like how you know so much about seashells.”

“Shelling has become one of my favorite pastimes.”

As she rose up, he pulled her right into his chest, melting her into the sweetest embrace. He nuzzled her neck with a few kisses and then slipped up to her ear. “I want to be your favorite pastime,” he whispered.

A million chills exploded all over her, her legs almost buckling at the sexy sound of such a harmless request. “There you go again.”

“You told me to flirt.”

“I didn’t tell you to turn me into a helpless mess of brain-numbing female hormones.”

“Is that what I do?” he asked innocently. “I’ll stop immediately.” He took a step back, but she reached for his hand, bringing him to her side.

“’Sokay. I can handle it.”

“Good girl.” He slipped his arm around her back and guided her down the beach. “Now, teach me about your seashells. Which is your favorite?”

“The junonia.” The word popped out without a moment’s hesitation.

“A junonia.” He dragged the word out, rolling it around his mouth like a piece of sticky candy. “Never heard of that.”

“Well, if you hang around here long enough, you will. She’s the pride of the Gulf Coast barrier islands. Find a junonia and you get your picture in the paper and become the envy of all the shelling professionals.”

He laughed. “There are professionals?”

“Of course. And lucky beginners.”

“I bet I could find one.”

“Oh, the cockiness of a newbie. And if you do, I’ll kill you.”

“What’s it look like?”

“About this big.” She indicated about four inches with her thumb and index finger. “A spindle shape that’s technically known as a fusiform. Like that.” They stopped and she picked up a Florida cone, the most common spiral on the beach. “But the junonia has the most distinctive spots, like little brown squares, and it reminds me of a giraffe.”

“Really?” He hesitated and frowned. “That’s rare?”

“Oh, I know you think you’ve seen them, but a real junonia is nearly impossible to find, and goes for up to fifty bucks in a shell store. Also, because of its unusual shape and the fact that it doesn’t have this little ridge like other pillar shells”—she took his finger and ran it along the inside of the shell—“that’s called an operculum or a trap door. Anyway, it’s an amazing texture, and there’s a lot of folklore about it.”

“What kind of folklore?” He tucked her deeper into his side, a protective, interested, precious gesture that made Tessa almost tilt her head back and reach up for a natural, delicious kiss.

“Well…” Should she tell him? Would it scare him off? Would he think she was crazy? He already knew what she really wanted in this life and the very conversation had brought things to a fairly sudden halt twice now. But why lie? The last thing she wanted was a friendship or romance built on lies.

“It gets its name from Juno, the Roman goddess…” Of marriage and childbirth. “Who is generally considered a protector of women.”

“Ah, I see.”

But, he didn’t, of course. Not really. “So, I’d like to find one, because if I do…” She slowed her step and took a breath, finally looking up, her face at the perfect angle for that kiss.

“Yes?” he waited.

Then I will have a baby. “Then my…” She couldn’t say it. He’d slip through her fingers again, running scared and far, and right now, she couldn’t stand that.

“Then your what?” he prompted.

“Then my every dream will come true.”

He tucked her deeper into his side. “Sounds like a fairy tale.”

Maybe it was. “Like I said, finding one is really rare and almost never happens.”

“But not impossible.”

The way he said it made her light-headed with possibilities. She gave in to the sensation because, right that minute, nothing seemed impossible. Not hope. Not love. Not even finding a junonia.