Beneath the Surface

by Joya Fields

  “So you came to Florida to visit Linda and Jeff? From Baltimore?” he asked.

  “Not just vacation.” She fiddled with the edge of her cocktail napkin. “I came for an appointment with a plastic surgeon. I’m getting a new prosthetic.”

  “Dr. Merrick?”

  Her eyes widened and she glanced up at him. “You’ve heard of him?”

  “Sure. Comes in the pizza place all the time.” He nodded his thanks to the waitress as she sat their drinks in front of them and then lifted a frosted glass. “When do you meet with him?”

  She took a long swig of her beer. Had she eaten today? He’d order some appetizers when the waitress came back.

  “My appointment was supposed to be two days ago.”

  “Oh,” he said, and took a gulp of his beer. Then he realized two days ago was the day he met her. “The day the boat caught fire?”

  She lifted her beer and nodded. “I have no idea when I’ll be able to reschedule. It’s hard to get an appointment with him.”

  Garrett reached into his jeans pocket for his cell phone. When his knee brushed hers, his jeans got a little tighter. He focused on the text message he was typing, leaned forward and hit the SEND button.

  “Sorry. Don’t mean to be rude by texting at the table,” he said.

  “Not a problem.”

  Inching his legs away from her didn’t help. Instead of creating a barrier of space, there was now an electrical field that sizzled between them. He shook away the fog in his head and signaled for the waitress. “I’ll bet you haven’t eaten all day. How about a sandwich? Their specialty is buffalo chicken.”

  “Split it?” The tiredness faded from her face.

  Well, who knew a little chow could cheer her up so much? He placed the order just as his cell phone beeped, indicating an incoming text. Again he typed, then flipped his phone shut and smiled at Brooke. He didn’t want her to think he had bad manners, but he didn’t want to say anything until he knew the news would be good.

  “So is there a job waiting in Baltimore for you?” He lowered his gaze and picked up his beer again.

  She pushed a strand of hair from her eyes and nodded. “A good job. I’m a teacher. School starts this week but I can’t leave Linda and Jeff.”

  He had to remind himself to breathe as she looked into his eyes and bit her bottom lip. Her sadness went so deep. His cell phone beeped again, pulling his attention from her gaze.

  After reading the message, he couldn’t hold in a smile. He could do one small thing to make her happy. He leaned across the table to show Brooke the text message. DR. MERRICK WILL SEE BROOKE AT 7 AM TOMORROW MORNING.

  Brooke’s face alit with pleasure as she scanned the words. She grinned up at him, then slipped her hands behind his neck. The phone slid out of Garrett’s palm and to the floor. She pressed her soft lips against his, and he reached to cradle the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

  ****

  Brooke’s heart thundered in her chest. What the hell was she thinking? She’d initiated kisses twice now.

  “Wow.” Garrett leaned back and stared at her through narrowed eyes. “If I’d known I’d get that reward, I would have arranged it a lot sooner.”

  She’d meant the kiss as a thankful, spontaneous gesture. It turned into so much more. Right now, he smiled at her through clouded, sexy eyes. He flashed his trademark half-smile and dimple. They were still only inches from each other, neither in a hurry to move away. The taste of his lips still lingered on hers. God help her, she wanted more.

  Garrett made the decision for both of them. He leaned close, barely touching his lips to hers. Rockets of desire jetted and pulsed through her bloodstream.

  “I’ve wanted to do that all day.” His voice cracked and he leaned his forehead against hers. Suddenly, every inch of her body ached for his touch.

  She drew a deep breath and let it out. She wanted to taste his lips again. Wanted to get drunk on his kisses.

  She searched his dark eyes—darker now and heavy-lidded. He wanted it too. She turned her head just enough to find his mouth with hers. He slipped his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss. She moaned when his hands massaged her scalp, sending tingles of pleasure all the way down to her toes.

  The waitress cleared her throat from beside their table.

  “Sorry.” They separated and she planted the plate in front of them. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Garrett squeezed Brooke’s hand. “No problem. Thank you.”

  Brooke waited until the woman moved out of sight and then chuckled. She hadn’t laughed in such a long time, and boy did it feel good.

  “Busted?” He leaned down to pick up his phone.

  She nodded and licked her lips. The taste of him still lingered and made her hungry for more than just a sandwich.

  It would be so easy to let go of every worry, every detail of the past few days in his embrace. Even easier to stroke his tanned chest…

  She stopped herself before the fantasy got the best of her. She couldn’t think about the taste of his lips or the way his strong body felt against hers. She couldn’t think about how protected and needed he made her feel, either.

  She had a priority here, and romance wasn’t part of the plan.

  He must have sensed her hesitation, because he pushed the plate toward her, then took a bite of his half of the sandwich.

  Her hunger had waned, but she took a small bite and was surprised by how good the tangy, spicy flavors tasted.

  “Good, huh?” he said, before taking a swig of beer.

  She nodded and took another bite.

  “That text was from my sister Alisha. Dr. Merrick eats at the pizzeria a lot. He happened to be there tonight.” He picked up a napkin, wiping it along her cheek. His innocent gesture made her think of some not-so-innocent possibilities. She resisted the impulse to grab his hand.

  “Dr. Merrick heard about the explosion, said he’d meet you before regular office hours.”

  He leaned back against the vinyl seat cushion. A slow smile spread across his face. “And if you want to thank me again right now, that’s fine with me.” He puckered his lips and wiggled his brows.

  It was a good thing she’d swallowed, because she probably would have spit out her food. Instead, laughter bubbled out loud enough to bring the attention of half the restaurant—all three customers—to her. Relief flooded her veins. At least she knew she was still capable of laughter.

  She felt a little out of her comfort zone. She’d grabbed a man and kissed him—twice now. Not something she usually did.

  “Thank you.” She smiled at him. “And your sister. It means a lot to me.”

  He picked up his beer and proposed a toast. “To Brooke. To getting what you came here for.”

  She clinked glasses with him, but couldn’t help wondering if his toast meant something else.

  Time for a change of subject before she lost her willpower and gave into this physical need for him. “Is this your hangout? Do you know a lot of people here?” She glanced around the cozy tavern. There were old, scarred wooden tables with matching chairs. But instead of looking worn-out, the furniture and surroundings looked well-loved and well-used.

  “No.” He scanned the near-empty room. “Not often.” His answer made her wonder what he did with his free time. A girlfriend?

  A slow country song started playing on the jukebox, making the room feel relaxed, comfortable. Or maybe it was the man sitting across from her.

  He set his empty beer glass on the table and glanced up. “No boyfriends back home, eh?”

  “N-no,” she answered, unable to take her eyes off his. In this light, his deep brown eyes danced with flecks of amber. “I had a fiancé.” She set her beer on the table. “It’s over,” she added. She leaned back in the booth, interested to see his reaction.

  The waitress delivered two more beers, then left.

  Brooke lifted her glass and took a long swig. The gold liquid cooled her throat and gave her time to compos
e her thoughts.

  Garrett took a drink of his beer, and kept his gaze on the glass as beads of sweat made their way down the side. “How long?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How long ago did you stop having a fiancé?”

  “Oh. Two months ago.”

  He drummed his fingers lightly on the table, avoiding her eyes. “That’s not very long ago. Maybe you’ll get back together.”

  She shook her head. “We split for good. We were engaged for over two years. We should have broken it off a long time ago, but he felt obligated to stay with me after the accident.” It still hurt to admit this to herself, no less voice it out loud. But time helped the pain fade. She dropped her hand to her beer mug and started tracing a random design on the frosted glass.

  In her peripheral vision, she saw him lift his head to look at her. Now she was the one who refused to meet his eyes. She kept her gaze on the wooden table and ran a finger around the rim of her glass.

  “According to Jonathan,” she said, “I became withdrawn after the earthquake. He said I wasn’t as outgoing as I’d been before the accident.” She’d expected a little more compassion. “Things changed in our relationship and we weren’t able to make those changes together.” With a sigh, she looked up to meet Garrett’s gaze.

  He moved his hand over hers and squeezed.

  She swallowed and lifted her chin, needing to change the subject. “So how about you? Do you have a girlfriend?” She said it jokingly, then realized with a start that she cared an awful lot about the answer. She wanted him to be free. He wouldn’t have kissed her back unless he was unattached, right?

  “No girlfriend,” he said. He pulled his hand off hers and pushed his plate away. A shadow fell across his eyes as he leaned back. “I had a fiancée once, too.”

  She waited, her beer halfway to her lips.

  He ran a hand through his dark hair and blew out a loud breath. He looked away for a moment and then his dark eyes focused on hers. “She died…and it was my fault.”

  Brooke hoped her shock didn’t show on her face. Maybe she’d only known Garrett for three days, but she already knew he wouldn’t harm someone without a damn good reason.

  She took his hand, not at all prepared for the heat that soared through her arm as their skin touched.

  “You don’t have to talk about it.” She focused on their joined hands, afraid to meet his gaze, afraid of the sadness she’d seen in his eyes.

  “Her name was Melanie.” He sat back again, slipped his hand from hers, and leaned against his seat.

  Brooke waited so he could continue at his own speed.

  “She was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known—a social worker—and the profession suited her. She loved helping people.” He dragged a hand through his dark hair then dropped both hands to his lap.

  Brooke itched to reach out and comfort him. Something in her gut told her to wait.

  “She took SCUBA lessons to surprise me. I was supposed to meet her at the dock to see her first dive. But rough weather was rolling in, and they had to get the one-on-one dive done quickly.” He paused, took what appeared to be a steadying breath. “The instructor was busy attaching a flag while she was in waist-deep water. He didn’t see the rough water pull Melanie out deeper.”

  Brooke shivered, picturing a novice diver alone in deep water. She knew what must be coming next. Her heart thudded against her ribs.

  “She wasn’t connected to her air tank yet,” he continued. “By the time the instructor turned back, he couldn’t find her.” His voice became a whisper. He lowered his head in his hands and leaned forward with both elbows on the table. “She was only in twelve feet of water. But she must have panicked, or maybe got caught in a riptide. I got there just as the paramedics were trying to resuscitate her. But it was too late.”

  Brooke swallowed hard and searched her brain for words to comfort him. She laid a hand on his upper arm. “I’m so sorry.” She hesitated and then continued. “But I don’t see how it was your fault at all.”

  He straightened in his seat and stared at her with his dark brown eyes. “I was supposed to be there. I was late because I’d been speeding and a sheriff’s deputy pulled me over. Hal Fisher to be exact. If I had been ten minutes earlier, Melanie would still be alive. I would have noticed something was wrong.”

  Guilt. She understood that emotion well.

  She stared at him across the table, took both of his hands and sighed. She didn’t like going back in time, reliving her worst moments. But she needed to make him understand.

  “Garrett.”

  He lifted his gaze to meet hers.

  “What if I blamed myself for my parents’ deaths?”

  “You didn’t cause your parents’ deaths.”

  “No more than you caused Melanie’s. My parents threw themselves on top of me during the earthquake. I didn’t ask them to do it. And Melanie took diving lessons because she wanted to. You can’t always stop bad things from happening.”

  She sighed, looking over his shoulder in an effort to avoid his intense brown eyes. “My parents did everything together…travel, work, digs. They even died together.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “We were in an old church, documenting some local archaeological finds.” Her memories of the moments just before the event were still blurry. Doctors told her that was common with trauma victims.

  She looked away from Garrett and ran her fingers up the side of the sweat-covered mug. “When the earthquake hit, Dad threw Mom and me to the floor. He covered our bodies with his. That’s the last thing I remember.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  “The next thing I remember is waking up in the ambulance and finding out that my father was dead and my mother was in critical condition.” She looked at him again, trusted him, wanted to be open with him. “They died saving me. Mom threw herself on me, and Dad covered us both with his body. He died instantly from a head injury. She died hours later from internal injuries.”

  Garrett shook his head slowly. She could see tears shining in the corners of his eyes.

  “They loved you,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “This belonged to my dad.” She lifted her left hand to show him the orange-faced dive watch. It was a clunky men’s watch, too big for her wrist, but she felt closer to her dad when she wore it.

  His fingers skimmed her palm as he leaned forward to examine it. “Nice. You must treasure it.”

  With a nod, she pulled her hand back and rested it in her lap. She hated telling the story of her parents’ deaths and how her leg got crushed. But she’d felt compelled to share it with him. Why?

  Maybe she’d figure that part out later, when she was alone in her motel room. “But Garrett,” she paused, trying to make her point, “My parents did what they did because they wanted to. I’ve learned not to feel guilty. Just like Melanie did what she wanted. You didn’t make her take diving lessons and you didn’t bring the stormy waters.” With a sigh, she rubbed the sadness from her eyes. “And as much as you want to, you can’t protect everyone you love from harm.”

  The waitress’s tennis shoes squeaked on the floor and alerted them to her approach. They both leaned back against the vinyl seat cushion. They’d barely touched their sandwich.

  “Want a box?” The waitress flashed her gap-toothed smile, lightening the mood at the table with her cheerful attitude.

  Brooke shook her head.

  “We’ll just take the check when you’re ready.” Garrett reached for his wallet.

  The waitress tore off a sheet of paper and laid it between them. “Thanks, y’all have a good night.” She turned and headed for a table across the room.

  Brooke reached for her pocketbook. “Let me—”

  “How about you get it next time?” He laid two twenties under the salt and pepper shakers.

  Next time? Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

  On the way out, Garrett rested his hand on the small of her back and guided her through the re
staurant. His need to protect vibrated from his very core. Exactly the opposite of what she needed. She had to make him understand that she could take care of herself. She didn’t need to be shielded.

  If only she could get her thoughts off the heat that raced up her back at his touch.

  When she opened her car door, Garrett leaned against the roof. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “Can I ask a favor?”

  “Oh, of course. I’m going out on the boat with you tomorrow. I have the maps and this time I’ll be prepared in case—”

  “No.” His dark brows lowered and he shook his head. “Thanks, but that’s not the favor. I want you to spend the night at my house.” He held up his hand, ready for her objections, and continued. “I have a guest room. Better than a motel room—and safer too.” The crease between his brows deepened and the reflection of the moonlight made his eyes appear even darker than usual. “I’m worried about you.”

  Great. Just what she didn’t need. She wanted to repeat herself, remind him that he couldn’t protect everyone. Instead, she said, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine at the motel.”

  Still frowning, he stood aside.

  “Thanks for the sandwich and beer,” she said.

  He nodded and she slid into the car.

  He wouldn’t leave until she was safely out of the parking lot, and she knew it. With a quick wave, she backed out of the spot, and headed for the road. She watched him grow smaller in her rear view mirror.

  Chapter Nine

  Brooke steered her car along A1A with the ocean on one side and the dim lights of restaurants and shops on the other.

  The taste of Garrett still lingered on her lips, and the memory of the way her body reacted as if she’d had a warm blanket wrapped around her on a cold winter’s night still pulsed through her. If only she could keep her physical reaction under control.

  She loved driving at night—the roads were almost deserted and the hot September sun didn’t scorch through the windshield. She spotted a side road she’d noticed earlier, and decided a detour along the tall, palm tree-lined street might be the balm she needed for her soul tonight.