by Jan Moran
“Did you come with your sister?”
“Our father insisted. I’m to protect her virtue.”
“What a fine brother you are.” Fianna kept walking beside him, though she knew she should turn around and attend to the packing of her clothes. Her assistant, Evangeline, and the interns could handle it a little longer, she decided. Niall had a voice like golden cognac, and she found herself drawn to its warmth.
“And what are you doing while you’re here?”
He leaned down to pick up more stones and handed her a few. As he did, his skin brushed against hers and she felt heat emanating from his body. “It was time for a change of scenery. I thought an ocean of distance would do me good.”
“And has it?”
He skimmed a few stones, and Fianna followed his graceful motions. “Not yet.”
She caught a wistful look in his eyes, which were the deep mossy green of the Irish isle. “Do you mind being here alone?” As soon as the words left her mouth, Fianna caught her lip between her teeth. He was here with his sister, but that wasn’t what she meant.
“It’s not my first choice,” he said, seeming to choose his words with care. He turned to her and lifted a wayward lock caught in her eyelashes, gently hooking it behind her ear. She could smell the fresh scent of lavender and moss on him, the natural aromas of her homeland.
She felt her face warm and was glad it was dark.
His eyes twinkled in the moonlight. “Are you asking me if I’m seeing anyone, lass?”
“No, of course not. I meant that creative people often spend a lot of time alone, creating.”
A smile tickled his lips. “That I do. I enjoy the creative process, but it can be lonely, that’s true.”
She curved a few more stones into the sea. Not many people understood the solitude that was a necessary part of her job. She needed time to think, to create. “What part of Ireland are you from?”
“Dublin. And you?”
“That’s what I thought. I’m from the countryside. County Cork. But I spent a lot of time in New York with my aunt.”
“Ah, that explains why you haven’t much of an accent.”
“Nor you. Why is that?”
“It was my musical training. The brogue comes back after a few pints, sure, and it does.”
Fianna laughed. She could listen to him all night. As they strolled, they talked about Ireland, Kaitlin, fashion, and music.
They walked past an inlet and then came to a rocky part of the beach where they could go no farther. They sat on a rocky ledge where they lingered, talking. When they turned around, they saw the tide had come in, and seawater swirled where they had walked.
Niall peered down the shoreline, frowning. Cliffs rose behind them. They had lost the beach. “The tide came in awfully quick.”
“Let’s hurry back.” Fianna started off, but water swirled around her shins, and she stumbled in a wave.
Niall grabbed her around the waist. “Hold on to me for balance.”
They trudged through the water, and Fianna grew quiet. They’d gone too far, and they weren’t watching the tide. She knew better than that, but she hadn’t been thinking about the sea, only about Niall. He wasn’t like any other man she’d ever met.
The sea was relentless, surging forward and growing deeper with each step they took. Fianna was having a hard time walking now, though she was thankful that Niall had a strong arm around her waist. The tent was still just a speck in the distance. It was on higher ground, and farther from the sea, but a rocky point jutted into the water between them.
“We’ll either have to swim, or climb over those rocks. Think you can make it?”
Fianna peered at the rocks. It was dark, and who knew what lived in the crevices. But she couldn’t think of that now. “Climbing or swimming?”
“I think we can get over those rocks, if they’re not too slippery. Good thing you have on that cat suit outfit—which looks incredible, I might add. An evening gown would be quite another story. Here, take my hand.”
She gripped his hand, and he led the way. The sea pounded against the rocks, sending salty spray onto their faces. Fianna shuddered as an icy wave broke against her, drenching her.
“Are you okay?” Niall yelled back to her.
Her teeth chattering, she called out, “I’m fine.”
Niall clambered down the other side of the rocks and turned to her, sliding his arms around her. But as he did, he lost his footing and fell onto the rocks. Water swelled around them and seaweed tangled in their legs. He sputtered and coughed as he slipped from the surface.
“Niall!” she screamed, trying to support him. But the rocks were slimy, and she lost her footing, too. When the sea rushed out, Niall gulped for air.
“Aw, hell, I’m stuck,” he said, twisting and yanking his foot.
“Let me help you.” The ocean roared in their ears, and a large wave towered over them.
“It’s hopeless. Get out of here,” Niall yelled. “Save yourself!”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Maybe it’s my time, Fianna.” He caught his breath, and the wave engulfed him. Fianna rode the wave toward the rocky cliff, and then it thrust her back toward Niall.
She grabbed him by his wet shirt. “Stop it, it’s not your time.” The powerful undertow pulled them under again and she flailed about, tugging his leg.
When the tide withdrew, Niall surfaced, sputtering. “Then go and get help.”
Fianna looked back at the raging ocean. A storm was brewing; the wind was driving the waves farther inland.
“Fianna, it’s all right if—” Niall’s voice was quieted by another wave.
Holding her breath, she dove against the wall of water, clutching Niall’s torso, and then his muscular legs. She worked her way down until she found his foot, wedged in a valley of rocks. She pulled on his leg, but to no avail.
Again the sea relented, and Fianna swam to the surface. “It doesn’t look good. I can’t—”
“I know.” Niall framed her face with his hands and kissed her on the lips. “Save yourself, lovely lass.”
Fianna clung to him. “I have an idea.” She picked up another stone, drew a deep breath, and groped her way back to his foot. She felt the force of the currents pulling her from him, but she latched onto his leg and began striking the stones around his foot in the dark, murky water.
She surfaced, pushing her hair from her face. “I think I can do this. Hold on, Niall.”
Twice more she dove under, hammering at the rocks that held him captive. On the third try, a rock shifted, and she doubled her efforts.
Niall twisted his leg, and between their efforts, they soon freed his foot. “You did it!”
“Come on, let’s go.” Making sure Niall was behind her, she fought another current to reach higher ground.
The tide swept out, and Fianna scrambled along the rocks, her feet slipping as she did. She tried to catch herself, but her balance gave way. Her head smacked on a boulder near the cliff. Disoriented, she slumped into the sea, the night blackening. She gulped for breath, but instead, salt water poured into her mouth, choking her.
“Fianna!” Niall swooped down and lifted her, carrying her as the waves battered against them. “Lock your arms around my neck.” She was only half conscious of his instructions.
Niall fixed her arms around him, and powered through the currents until they reached the other side of the cliffs where the beach stretched out. Niall dropped to his knees and sank into the sand with Fianna still in his arms. “Are you okay?” he pushed her hair from her face, tenderly touching the spot on her head where she’d fallen.
Fianna coughed water from her lungs. “My head…hurts…is it bleeding?”
“Only a little. Thank goodness you’re okay.” He crushed her to him, rocking her in his lap until she stopped coughing.
Her gaze dropped to his ankle, which was bloodied and bruised from thrashing against the rocks to free himself. He’d lost a shoe, but they were here. Alive. They�
��d survived the wrath of the sea.
Niall’s heart pounded against her, and she ran her hands across his sandy chest. His wet shirt clung to his powerful body.
In the distance behind them, the music from the party throbbed in the night. They’d nearly lost their lives, a mere quarter mile away.
Still shaking from the cold Pacific water, she pressed against him for warmth. “You saved me, you know.”
He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. “You saved me first, Fianna.”
3
“WE LOOK LIKE a couple of drowned vagabonds crashing the party,” Niall said as he and Fianna limped back to the tented extravaganza on Malibu beach. The music was thumping, the lights were blazing, and valet attendants were lounging near the entrance. He clasped her hand in his and was surprised at how natural it felt.
“What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath right now. I’m sure I look frightful.” Fianna’s laughter rang like bells in the cool midnight air. Her sleek auburn hair now sprang into curls that spilled around her freckled face, which the salt water had cleansed of most of her makeup.
“Actually, you look good, like you’ve just been for a swim.”
“Though we both nearly drowned.”
“And so we’ll live to welcome another fine day, we will.” Fianna shivered and Niall put his arm around her. The Pacific Ocean was cold, and once the adrenaline had dissipated in their bodies, the chill had set in. They paused outside a side entrance. “I’d call my sister, but my mobile phone seems to have vanished in the sea.”
Fianna pushed her hair from her forehead. “I have plenty of dry clothes and shoes here, but nothing for men, I’m afraid.”
“I’m staying nearby.” His eyes roved over her, and he liked what he saw. Truth be told, he hadn’t really noticed her at first, but then, he hadn’t paid much attention to the other half-clad models racing around backstage either. Not that he didn’t appreciate a beautiful woman—Fianna was certainly lovely—but he had a gash in his heart that might never mend.
“We should go in. I have to gather the garments and take everything back to my shop.” Fianna trembled again.
Niall rubbed her shoulders. “You’re shivering.” He wrapped his arms around her to warm her. “Let’s go inside and find your friends.” As they went in, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see a man dart away. Was that a camera around his neck? He hoped not; he’d kept a low profile for years.
Most people were on the dance floor. They skirted the throng, and the few people they saw made way for the ragged pair who were barefoot, trailing sand, and dripping water.
“What a fine way to end my first runway show.” Fianna nodded toward a rail thin woman in a vivid Pucci dress. “As soon as Greta Hicks sees me, it’s all over.”
“Who’s Greta?”
“A reporter for Fashion News Daily.”
Niall deftly guided her the opposite way. “No worries, I’ll shield you.” Attracting the attention of reporters was the last thing he needed. “Hey, Johnny. Wait up, buddy.”
Fianna’s fair arched eyebrows shot up. “You know Johnny?”
“I met him at the Polo Lounge years ago. I used to stay at the Beverly Hills Hotel a lot.” Those were the early days of his career. Johnny paid special attention to the regular guests, and they’d become friends.
“He has his own restaurant now. I didn’t know you’d ever been here before.”
Niall grinned. Smart lady. Not much got past her, and he liked that. “You asked how long I’d been here, not if I’d ever been here before.”
Johnny swung around, his dark hair glistening in the low lights, his tuxedo tailored to perfection. “Dios mio, what happened to you?”
“Yeah, look at us,” Niall said. “We got caught in high tide, had to make a run for it.”
“Looks like Mother Nature won that round. I heard you were here.” Johnny shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over Fianna’s quivering shoulders. “You’ve got to get out of those clothes. I’ll get Scarlett.” He waved across to a woman at a nearby table.
“I have plenty of clothes in the back,” Fianna said, pulling Johnny’s jacket around her. “But Niall needs to change.”
“I’m okay. Let’s take care of you first.” He was practically immune to discomfort now. For years, even on the stormiest days, he’d walk the cliffs of Howth, where his castle had stood as a sentinel for centuries in Ireland.
Niall turned to her. “Fianna, you said your interns were packing the show. Can they take things back to your shop without you?”
She whisked a hand across her cheeks, brushing off sand. “I wish they could, but I don’t think they have enough room in their cars.”
Niall caught Johnny’s gaze. “I’m staying nearby. Fianna and I can clean up there.” He draped his arm around Fianna, and was pleased when she leaned into him. It had been a long time since he’d felt a woman do that, or even wanted a woman to. “Kaitlin has clothes you can wear, too.”
“Good idea,” Johnny said. “Lance and I have the SUVs we use for work. Scarlett, Verena, and Dahlia can make sure everything is collected. You guys go get cleaned up.”
Scarlett stepped up behind Johnny. “What’s going on here? Oh, Fianna, what happened?”
“We were walking on the beach and got caught in high tide.”
While the two women were talking, Johnny turned to Niall with a frown of concern. “Are you going to be okay with Fianna?”
“Sure, I’ll take care of her. I’ll have her back in one piece in the morning. There are plenty of guest rooms at the house.” His house in Malibu used to be alive with family and friends, but that was long ago, before everything in his life had been engulfed in tragedy.
Johnny shook Niall’s hand and slapped his back. “It’s great to see you back in town. I really mean that. You’ve been missed. Hope you’re staying for a while.”
Niall grimaced. “I came to sell the house. It was Laila’s dream house, and now that she’s gone…” He moistened his lips. “Too many memories there, and I’d only rattle around the rooms, even with Kaitlin there.”
Johnny lowered his voice. “Scarlett and Verena were talking… Fianna doesn’t know who you are, does she?”
Niall ran a hand over his damp hair. “Not a clue. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her.”
“Then you guys should leave now before Scarlett does. Go out the back, there are paparazzi in the front. And we’ll give Kaitlin a lift back.”
“Thanks, Johnny. I’d like to see your new restaurant soon.” It was good to see Johnny again. He’d missed his friendship. After all he’d been through, he envied the close friendships women shared. In most cultures, men were expected to bear their grief in silence. Only Kaitlin really understood how deeply he’d grieved, and still did.
Johnny tugged his tie and grinned. “It’s a lot of work. Doing well, though. We’re closed on Sundays, so we often invite family and friends over and test new dishes. You should join us.”
“Maybe I will.” Niall gripped Johnny’s hand again, and moments later, he and Fianna slipped out a side entrance. This time, he didn’t see anyone who looked like paparazzi. Maybe he’d been imagining things earlier.
Padding through the house with their bare, sandy feet, Niall led Fianna across the creamy travertine floor, where moonlight spilled from clerestory windows high above. Before he and Kaitlin had arrived yesterday, he hadn’t been here in three years. He glanced around, ghosts of memories passed at every turn.
He and Laila had danced across this floor, the first night they’d moved in, and then again, the last time he’d held his wife in his arms and swayed to the music he’d written for her.
Three years ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago when she’d been alive and they’d been happy. Everyone hinted that it was time to move on, to go back to work, to start living again. But how could he? He’d only gone out tonight because Kaitlin had begged him, and their father had insisted. Kaitlin often traveled by herself, but their dad
still thought evil Manson followers still lurked around every corner in Los Angeles. Bunch of fruits and nuts out there, he’d say.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Fianna said.
“Lot of memories here.” He stared up the curved staircase, which seemed to float against floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. How many sunsets had they toasted here? He remembered his manners. “Would you like a glass of wine for your bath?”
“I’d love one.”
“Red or white? Or champagne?”
“Red, thanks. Something warm.”
He darted into the kitchen and grabbed a dusty bottle, a corkscrew, and two glasses. The wine cellar was still stocked with wine Laila had chosen. That would go with the house, too. He’d returned to collect some personal items—photos and mementos—but there was nothing else here he cared about. That task had taken no more than half an hour. If it weren’t for Kaitlin, he’d be on a plane again.
“I think you’ll like this aged Bordeaux.” He stared at her, and then quickly averted his eyes. He couldn’t deny that he found Fianna freshly appealing—and that alone was astonishing—but having her here in Laila’s home was causing conflicting emotions.
“Are you all right?” Fianna took the glasses from him, a simple gesture that Laila might have done.
“It’s not every day you nearly drown.” He took her hand and started up the staircase. “I have to thank you, Fianna. There was a point when I thought it was over.” He thought he’d welcome a release from this empty life, but hearing Fianna urge him on reminded him of Laila, telling him not to give up. “Guess it wasn’t my day to die after all.” He hummed to himself. Not my day to die.
He swung open a door to a guest suite. Laila had decorated it with her girlfriends and sisters in mind. “I think you’ll be comfortable here.” When she looked quizzical, he said, “I’m down the hall.”
“Are there towels in here?”
“Oh sure.” Niall opened a cabinet, relieved to find an assortment of plush towels, soaps, shampoo, and bath gel. Laila loved to pamper her guests. “I think you’ll find everything you need in here. And here’s a robe.”