by Ellie Hall
Shaking his head as though to rid himself of the thought and feeling, he started across the sand. “Come on, you’re going to get cold.” He was anything but. His skin blazed, carrying with it desire that not even all the water in the sea could extinguish.
Being in her presence lit something inside him just as it did the first time that he’d laid eyes on her. They’d flirted, they’d skied together, they’d kissed. Then he ignored her.
Even with the peach fuzz on her head, she was just as gorgeous as he remembered, maybe more so. But that wasn’t something he wanted to think about. It was better to let himself forget.
Blake was good at that too.
As she kept pace with him, her long legs striding across the sand, he made a solid argument with himself about staying away from her. He’d managed it once. He could do it again.
He fought back the surge of feelings as he caught her coconut scent above the sea breeze.
When they neared the main building of the resort, he shoved away the desire to meet her eyes because he knew if he did, if he apologized, if he let her in, he’d be a goner.
It had been hard enough for him to sever the many ties in his life and to protect the people he cared about from his carelessness. When he sequestered himself on the island, he’d vowed never to even entertain a serious relationship—not that he’d ever allowed himself to move past a few dates to begin with.
Unlike his twin, Blake was more of a casual fling sort of guy. He’d seen the inevitabilities of trying for something more. He’d experienced the pain of loss. It was easier, better, and safer to keep his distance. Even more so with the woman standing opposite him because the crackling between them had turned electric even though they were both drenched.
She stopped on the lantern-lit path and glowed in the low light.
His pulse raced at how her damp clothing clung to her body. That and his continued silence seemed to set her off—or perhaps it was his earlier comments.
Her hand gripped her hip. “Thanks again for yelling at me, commenting on my poor decision-making skills, telling me that I’m stupid, and what I did was dangerous.” Her smoky voice reverberated off the stucco walls of the nearby buildings.
“You’re welcome, Cecelia,” he said because that was the kind of thing that reminded him who of he was, at least when it came to women: cocky and in control.
Her chest lifted and lowered. Her nostrils flared. “So you think you’re some kind of Captain America rescuer crossed with Ironman arrogance?”
“Do you think that?” Amusement played on his lips.
She huffed. “Cecelia?” she asked, echoing his word choice.
He shrugged. “Is this the hunger talking? Or Cece Sparrow singer, songwriter diva? Or Cecelia Stevens?”
“Diva?” she asked, picking out another single word from a slew she could’ve chosen.
“You must really be starved since you’re only giving one-word sentences. Or maybe the wave held you under longer than I thought.”
Her other hand lifted to her hip in full Super Woman pose. “For your information, no, I am not a diva. But yes, I’m hungry. Starved.” Her eyes held on his. He could tell she was hungry, but for more than food. Something had hollowed her out. He didn’t know exactly what, but he’d seen his own reflection and recognized the look.
“Lucky for you I can help with that,” he said, softening slightly.
A faint smile lifted on her lips. “Oh, really? Well, I’m staying at the resort here. Can you also help me find someone named Blake? He was supposed to meet me and make sure everything went smoothly. Yeah, right. Today, yesterday, the last week have been awful. You cannot imagine. The very least he could’ve done was meet me. I just traveled all this way and—” She was on a diva-esque roll sounding every bit as entitled as he’d expected.
“Did he send the private jet to bring you to a resort featuring all the comforts money can buy on a remote island, away from it all?”
“Yes, but where are my gummy bears and M&Ms?”
He wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. “You sure you’re not a diva? Maybe he thought you needed a moment to yourself, to settle in…”
Her eyes hardened. “Well, he could’ve at least let me know that.”
“Then he would’ve missed the sunset.”
“Oh, boo hoo. I can’t remember the last time I sat down and watched the sunset. He sure has some life, working down here at this tropical paradise, without a care in the world, including about his guests.” She paused and pouted as though running out of steam. “Wait? Do you know Blake?” she asked.
“I am Blake.” He couldn’t help but smirk.
Chapter 3
Cece
Cece wanted to slap that cocky grin off that big, handsome face of his. “Is this some kind of joke?”
On top of everything else, it was bad enough she’d barely made it out of the States. She’d tried to go incognito, but the paparazzi had doubled their efforts tracing her. They tipped off fans who’d blocked her car at the stop sign at the end of her street so she had no choice but to be polite and let them snap selfies while the paps hollered insulting and prying questions.
When she saw the photos posted online by her rabid fans, her false smile revealed that the cameramen were getting to her, that she was slowly cracking, and yet they’d continue their mission to undo her. An unraveling starlet, singer, or celebrity made for better headlines than the genuine, generous, and kind person she actually was. They did everything in their power to get under her skin in order to encourage the process.
Blake, or whatever his name was, had gotten under her skin too.
It wasn’t because the world, blurry from unconsciousness, slowly came into focus only for her to meet his dark eyes.
It wasn’t because he’d rushed to her aid. Nope.
It wasn’t the way he’d called her Cecelia. Definitely not.
It wasn’t because his wet T-shirt revealed the taut muscles of his chest, six-pack abs, or his capable biceps. Uh, uh.
It wasn’t any of those things. Even though she couldn’t keep her eyes from roving over him.
He laughed softly and humorlessly finally answering her question. “No, this is definitely not some kind of joke.”
“By joke I mean you gallantly rescued me from the water, then recognized me, and thought you’d trick me or something.” She wrapped her arms across her chest, suddenly feeling exposed.
He shook his head. “Nothing of the sort. But I am Blake and I did rescue you without thought to who you are or intending to trick you. I was just doing my job.”
“Lizzie said you’d take care of me.” She hated that she’d said that aloud, making her feel even more vulnerable.
“Do you need taking care of?” His eyes flickered. “I’m the caretaker after all, but usually people who come here want privacy.”
She tucked the question in the back of her mind to think about later. He was obnoxious and full of himself, but he was right about why she’d gone there. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I want. Privacy. To be left alone.” She moved to storm off, but not having any idea which path to follow or where her cabana was, she hesitated at the same time Blake stepped into the low lantern light of the path.
She inhaled sharply as something crackled to life inside of her.
They both shifted fully into the light. It spilled over his damp brown hair, streaked with sun-kissed highlights, and hanging almost to his shoulders. His skin was bronze and a smattering of freckles covered his nose. Stubble, at least a few days old, hid his strong jawline. She should’ve recognized those brown eyes together with his frustratingly perfect lips. They were legendary, the kind to write songs about. In fact, she had.
“Blake? Blake Hawkins.” The first time she said his name she took aim. The second time, she fired, intending the tone of her voice to pierce his armor, the outer layer he’d laid on thick to keep people at a distance, to remain in control. She knew all about guys like him thanks to her therapist.
/> “You’re only recognizing me now?”
“With the near-drowning, I didn’t have time to dredge up the past and place your face. It took me a moment to remember.”
“I’m surprised you forgot.”
But she hadn’t. Not by a long shot.
“Don’t think so highly of yourself.”
He flashed his patent cocky grin. The one that had gotten her in trouble in the first place. Did he know she’d written her hit song about unrequited love with him in mind? Was it possible he knew she’d penned the follow-up girl power anthem about getting over him?
Her heart stuttered when she realized he’d spotted her right away. But then halted. He was expecting her since he was the caretaker of the resort.
“I suppose we both look different.” She’d keep the upper hand in the conversation and spare herself teasing by acknowledging her new look without hair.
His gaze remained locked on hers—not her bald head or her wet clothes. “No, you look just as beautiful as ever.”
She squawked a laugh as she pulled off her hat. “I shaved my head and was just pulled from the ocean like a drowned rat. I’m quite sure I look anything but beautiful.” Her chest rose and fell because the effort of the truth sapped her remaining energy.
His lips twisted as he seared her with his intense good looks and mocked her in equal measure with his cocky gaze. “Come on, you need some food,” he said.
If she weren’t starving and feeling like the aforementioned drowned rat, she wouldn’t have listened.
As she trailed behind him, noticing several thatched-roof cabanas hidden among palm groves and each with a private pool, she recalled a chillier, but equally luxurious resort.
Cece and Blake had met when she’d visited Hawk Ridge Hollow Ski Resort during a concert tour of the northwest. He’d given her a tour of his own, including the slopes where they’d snowboarded, the lodge where they’d hung out, and by the fireside where they’d sipped hot chocolate. They’d flirted all day and talked all night. They’d exchanged phone numbers and promises.
They’d kissed and her foot had popped. She’d gushed to Serena.
Cece didn’t know feeling the way she did about someone after such a short period of time was possible, but she’d fallen. Hard. Though thankfully not on the snowy slopes.
After Cece had left Hawk Ridge Hollow Ski Resort, she longed for Blake’s flirtatious grin and had texted a few times.
He never replied.
She called and got no response.
Time passed. Nothing. He’d vanished from her life as quickly as he’d appeared.
She wrote a song about her broken heart.
When she’d learned that he was the kind of guy who enjoyed a fling, who kissed and told, and wrecked hopes and hearts in the process, she wrote a song fueled by anger that rocketed her back to the top of the charts. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who’d experienced that feeling.
“So you were on the mountain rescue team at your family’s resort and left to become a bodyguard?”
“Then you do remember me?” he asked.
“Blake, trust me, I’d much rather forget.”
“Yeah, me too,” he mumbled.
She held back the scream that built in her throat. She wanted to yell at him. There was no need to kick someone when they were already down, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Cece was good at containing her emotions and saving them for the stage.
They walked up a set of softly lit slate steps toward the main building that glowed warmly from within.
She expected him to lead her to a restaurant, but they passed it. She got the sense that the resort wasn’t on scale in guest size typical of many of the other luxurious properties in the Caribbean and tropical locales. Hawkins Harbor seemed to operate on a more intimate scale. In fact, she scarcely had seen another person since she’d arrived. Granted, she’d gone immediately to the ocean.
A woman with a tight bun sat behind a desk in the front lobby of the main building. She nodded as they passed. A porter bowed slightly when they walked by. Blake exited through a side door and continued down another path.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You said you wanted to be alone.”
That was true, but wanting to be alone and actually being alone were two different things. She’d hardly been alone ever. Serena was always there and if not her, Lizzie, her manager, agent, and the various other members of Team Cece Sparrow. Plus, she’d always had a boyfriend. The truth was, the thought of actually being alone caused her chest to tighten and her limbs to lighten.
The path narrowed and Blake skirted an inground tiled hot tub and stopped in front of a somewhat larger cabana than the ones they’d already passed. Nevertheless, each cabana had an ocean view. The waves rushing to shore sounded from across the beach.
He stopped by the door.
“So you quit the mountain and became a beach bum?”
“No, I run this place, security mostly, and am a bodyguard.” He folded his arms in front of his chest. The rope-like muscles flexed.
She swallowed hard. “Doesn’t look like you’re guarding anyone.”
He stared at her then flicked his eyes to the ocean.
“Right.” The words to thank him properly were on her lips but she held back, partly distracted by his forearms and his biceps. She didn’t imagine beach bums worked out, but he certainly had been. Again, she swallowed back the feeling pushing up from her belly and into her chest.
Blake opened the door to the cabana and said, “Welcome. This is your home for the next few months.”
“I’m not staying that long.”
He shrugged. “Lizzie said you’d be here for the summer.”
“My tour was canceled so I can see why she’d assume that. I’ll be out of your hair within the week.” There was no way she’d endure him or the impending solitude for more than a few days. She needed long enough for the paparazzi to find someone new to aggravate.
She stepped into the cabana as he flicked on a light that softly illuminated the space. Although the outside was rustic, the interior was luxurious. The slatted wood ceiling vaulted to the center. Several fans spun slowly, circulating the already pleasantly cool air. Cushioned, cream-colored couches were arranged in a sitting area around a teak coffee table. Windows framed with Bermuda shutters opened in every direction except for the sleeping area which was in the back upon a raised platform and draped in netting.
Blake crossed the space and went into a kitchenette. Without a word, he opened the refrigerator, took out several items, and set a pan on the stove.
She scoped out her luggage in the spacious closet and took a moment to freshen up in the bathroom, splashing water on her face. When she looked up, her short, fuzzy hair was frosted in dried salt. Yup. Drowned rat.
If she could go back in time, she’d change a lot of things, most notably, at that moment, giving in and going to the island. When Lizzie arranged her travel, Cece wasn’t expecting a private jet to bring her. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d experienced such luxury, but after growing up in a trailer park, she still had to pinch herself when surrounded by wealth and extravagance.
Lizzie had spoken so casually of her family’s property. Cece expected a condo in a timeshare or something outside the typical celebrity haunts. Hawkins Harbor Resort was in a league of its own.
Despite the clanking and cooking sounds coming from the kitchenette, and the person producing those noises, the place was peaceful, serene. In the few short days she planned to stay there, she hoped to bring some of that into her life and have it translate into her music—the peaceful serenity, not Blake’s clanging.
She changed into a strappy sundress along with swiping on some mascara and lip gloss before returning to the main living area. An herby, buttery scent met her nose.
Blake had tossed together a salad with scallops, basil, tomatoes, crispy onions, and some kind of lemony dressing. Two plates rested on the table wi
th a fizzing bottle of sparkling water between them.
He plopped down and poured them each a glass.
She didn’t expect him to cook for her and she certainly wasn’t thinking he’d join her for the meal. Nonetheless, it was considerate of him. She lowered into the chair and folded her hands. As she’d done since finding faith in high school, she said a prayer, grateful for a meal, a roof over her head, and the many blessings in her life.
When she opened her eyes, he was also offering a blessing. She stole the moment that he had his eyes closed to study the sweep of his lashes on his cheeks, the slope of his nose, and the full kissability of his lips. He was every bit as handsome in real life as he was in her memory even with his long hair.
For years, she thought she’d done something wrong or that he hated her. But he’d rescued her from the ocean even though he knew who she was. She recalled wading into the water, feeling like she wanted to get lost in the depths like a mermaid or something equally fantastical. Perhaps it was the stress or the hunger; maybe she was overtired after the long trip across time zones.
She’d just wanted a moment to forget.
She’d gotten that and more.
She’d nearly drowned.
Shaken up, she was grateful to be alive. But then she remembered Serena wasn’t and the thought robbed her of her appetite.
Blake glanced up with a flicker of curiosity that quickly hardened. “Eat.” He had a low, husky voice. Ease-filled yet commanding.
She’d hardly eaten in months. She’d picked at meals, nibbled here, took a bite there. But she hadn’t fully indulged since that lunch she’d shared with Serena.
It had been seven days since her sister had died.
Nine since she’d gotten the call that Serena’s condition had worsened and she’d shaved her head, parting with her second most valuable asset, at least according to the media.
Fourteen since she’d left Serena’s side and wrapped up the tour in the south.
Thirty days since she’d stopped smiling.
Sixty days had elapsed since she’d laughed.