She turned around, and there he stood, hands in pockets, head lowered, a guilty grin on his face.
“You doin’ anything this afternoon?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m working. I have a full afternoon and, as a matter of fact, was just leaving. Nice to see you.” She forced a smile and tried to walk past him.
“So that means you don’t want to go to Buenos Aires with me?”
“No, thank you.”
“Do the tango? I bet you’d be good at that.” He held his arms in the classic position and shook his narrow hips.
She stifled a smile. “No.”
“Okay, but, well, I also want to apologize.”
“You had to chase me across the roof to tell me that?”
“I’d chase you anywhere, for no reason at all,” he said. “But I would like a minute.”
She folded her arms.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I enjoyed our evening very much, and I wished I coulda taken you with me to Hong Kong the next day. I know it bothered you that I ran off like that.”
She groaned inwardly. The man was ridiculous. “Fine. Great. Now please move.”
“One more thing.” He held up his hands in a gesture that was half traffic cop, half conciliatory. “I know you were pissed about the app, but it wasn’t ever going to be worth anything.”
“It was to me,” she said.
“But commercially, it’s a nonstarter. Apps are all over the place now. Little kids’re making them. You had a good idea, but it was five years too late.”
“Thanks so much for clarifying.”
“I’m trying to be straight with you.”
“Then why the contract? And why leave that tiny little check? It was an insult.”
He lowered his hands. “Worse than if I just left the earrings on the nightstand the next morning?”
Karen looked away. Contract or not, she’d felt like a whore. And then she’d kept them. She closed her eyes.
He grasped her gently by the arms. “Hey, listen. I screwed up, okay? I’m sorry.”
She nodded.
“Something else. I had my guy do some research after I got back from Hong Kong. He said you could build that app yourself at a couple of DIY websites. You could probably look around and find one already made.”
“I did look, and there’s nothing like it anywhere.”
“So maybe it’s not feasible.”
“That can’t be true,” Karen said. “In my own situation, that app would let me do the work of ten people—while I’m sleeping. Without it, I can’t grow my business. I’ll be plugging along in my little trailer forever, working myself to death and staying poor.”
“Then try this.” He scribbled something on a business card. “Here’s their website. It won’t cost that much, and they’ll copyright it for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Ted.” When she reached for the card, he took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. Then he turned and walked away.
She stood there, holding the card, knowing he would always be her friend.
When she returned to the office, she opened an account on the Do It Yourself app-development website, submitted her specs, including application for copyright, and paid the analysis fee. The site confirmed her payment and promised to deliver a preliminary assessment within seventy-two hours.
That afternoon, she drove back over the bridge to Jekyll Island, the yachts below gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight. She was pleased with her work, but she was tired of her singleminded focus, and felt the need for company. She thought she might drop in on Ida but dismissed that thought. Except for the occasional friendly wave, the older woman kept to herself—two introverts living next door to each other.
Instead of going home, Karen headed for the historic district. She dawdled past the millionaire mansions and the sprawling lawns of the Jekyll Island Club and pulled up in front of the island bookstore. Inside, she wandered the aisles. Every cover that attracted her ended up being a romance novel. Her conversation with Ted had upset her equilibrium. His masculinity and self-assurance had reawakened the need in her. She picked up another novel and stared at the cover without seeing it. What the hell was going on with Curt anyway? Why hadn’t he answered any of her texts? Sure, she’d been standoffish but not rude or anything. It wasn’t like she’d told him to leave her alone. Besides, if nothing else, she’d made overtures. It didn’t make sense.
On the other hand, maybe he was shrugging her off. Maybe he’d found someone else. She knew what it was like back in Dickinson. Women flocked around Curt like sea gulls around a fishing boat.
And she’d been neglecting him, doing the workaholic thing as usual. Same old story, she thought. My special brand of magic applied to a relationship.
It was part of the reason her marriage had ended—neglect. Apparently she would never learn, and for the rest of her life, she would spend her evenings alone.
At the register, the woman smiled at the stack of romance novels. “Looks like you’re a fan,” she said.
“It’s more like I need to study,” Karen said. She left the store with a bagful of paperbacks.
At the trailer, Karen changed into sweats and went down to the waterline. The shoreline was deserted as far as she could see, and no footprints marred the smooth sand. She walked on the beach at sunset, as romantic a scene as a person could ever hope for, and yet she was alone. Peach, pink, and purple hues brushed the clouds, changing by the minute, and the setting sun lit the ocean with gold. Karen took a dozen new photos and trudged back up the slope to her trailer.
She poured a tall glass of wine and started a smooth-jazz playlist on her iPod. As much as she appreciated time alone to focus on her work, tonight the solitude felt leaden.
Maybe Curt hadn’t dumped her. Maybe he was waiting for her to make a move. After all, she was the one who’d run off to Florida and Georgia.
She scrolled through tonight’s photos, chose the best one, and composed a text.
I’ll only be here another week. Come see me.
DELETE.
I’ll be here another week. Come see me?
DELETE.
I miss
DELETE.
She took another slug of wine. I’ll be here another week. It would be great to see you. She crossed her fingers and clicked send.
Outside, clouds rolled in from the east. Karen opened a package of ground beef into a frying pan. While it browned, she chopped onions and tomatoes, grated cheddar cheese, and heated corn tortillas. When the tacos were ready, she set the table, closing the curtains against the darkness. The meal reminded her of California. Maybe when this was all over, she’d go back to Orange County. Peggy would throw her plenty of work. The thought didn’t do anything to lift her gloom.
She finished dinner, cleaned up the kitchen, and opened one of the new romance novels. This one, the first in a series, was about a woman leaving her law practice and buying a fixer-upper named Annalise, a decrepit mansion on a tropical island. The story seemed the height of impracticality, yet Karen was soon riveted. Hadn’t she done the same thing, in a sense? Leaving everything behind and starting a new life on a shoestring? She drained her wineglass and went into the kitchen for a refill, glancing at her phone for any sign of a text message arriving.
What if Curt called back? What if he accepted her invitation to visit?
She would love it.
She felt hot—either from the novel or the wine. Yes, he would definitely be welcome in her bed.
The wind picked up, coming in off the Atlantic, rocking the trailer. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and then raindrops fell—softly at first, then hitting the roof in such profusion it sounded like pebbles landing. In the deluge, Karen almost missed the sound of her phone ringing.
“You want company?” His sexy gravel voice was deep and compelling.
She smiled int
o the phone. “How soon can you get here?”
THE NEXT MORNING, CURT strode down the hall of the geology building, whistling a Fleetwood Mac tune and inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He tapped on his boss’s door.
Dan looked up from a pile of paper. “You’re looking chipper.”
“I wanted to let you know I’ll be gone next week.”
“Is Madison going to cover your classes?”
“I’ll probably ask one of my other assistants.”
“Good idea. She’s been moping around the halls like a twelve-year-old girl.” Dan shook his head. “I warned you.”
“Yeah, I should talk to her.”
“Saw her in the cafeteria.”
“Thanks.” Curt found Maddie frowning at a thick textbook propped in front of her and writing in a three-ring binder. When he pulled out a chair, she closed the book and started packing up.
“Wait. Can you give me a second?”
“I have a class.” But she stayed.
Curt ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of how to say it.
“Don’t bother,” she said. “I know how things are.”
“You do?”
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
He put on his most earnest face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Don’t give yourself that much credit.” Maddie fastened her backpack. “We had fun, but you’re too old for me.”
Curt grimaced. “The thing is, we’re at different places in our careers, our lives, everything. You’re at the very start of yours, while I’m—”
“Done.” She stood.
“I was going to say my life is changing in ways I’m still figuring out...”
“Keep telling yourself that. See ya, Professor.”
Regret mixed with relief as Curt watched her walk away. Then he hurried back to his office to book a Saturday flight to Georgia.
CHAPTER 30
KAREN PUT ON LIPSTICK and brushed her hair. She turned this way and that, inspecting the light summer dress she’d picked up in the Keys, wondering if it hugged her curves too tightly. She considered changing but didn’t have many choices. Besides, Curt would be here soon.
Her stomach churned from nervousness. She tried to think about what would happen when he arrived. She would give him a tour of the trailer—that would take two minutes—and suggest that place on the wharf for dinner.
But that was nerves talking. All she really wanted was to get him into bed.
She wandered around, looking for things to clean, but the place gleamed like a new coin. She’d hidden her whiteboards, stashed her folders, and stuck her file boxes in a storage space under the bed. She didn’t intend to take them out again for the next few days.
Tires crunched in the gravel driveway, and a new black Corvette pulled in. Heart pounding, Karen stepped outside. Curt unfolded himself from the low-slung seat and leaned against the car, staring at her with a squint, as if he were studying a mirage.
She caught her breath. He wore a T-shirt and Levis, his long legs ending in a pair of attractively beat-up cowboy boots. He removed his reflective aviators, tucked them in the pocket of his shirt, and opened his arms.
She walked toward him slowly, incredulous that he was really there. When she reached him, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, muffling her words. She kissed him back with equal fervor, and he groaned. “Wait a second.”
He reached inside the car and brought out a wide-brimmed hat with a long blue scarf wrapped around the band. “I thought you could use this.”
“My hat.” She clasped it to her head as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Let’s go inside,” he said, his voice rumbling in her ear.
She led him up the step and through the door. Without a word, he grabbed her by the waist and pressed her against the kitchen counter. His hands ran up and down her back and hips, his touch hot through the thin fabric of her dress. Then his hands slipped under her hem, and she was the one who moaned. He trailed hot kisses along her jawline and throat, and when he paused, she led him to the bedroom. She tossed her hat across the room, and when she turned back to him, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed his mouth hard against hers. He turned her around and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor, his hands roaming. Her bra fell open, and she gasped as he kissed her breasts, first one and then the other. She unzipped his Levis, sliding them down over his hips, the fabric catching on his erection. They fell onto the bed, skin against skin, his hands burning her. She wanted to kiss and taste every inch of him, and for him to do the same to her, yet she couldn’t wait another second to feel him inside her.
On his knees, he balanced over her. Her nails sank into him as she pulled him down onto her. He covered her, blocking the light, his hot breath singeing the skin of her neck, her lips. His body moved, pushing her. She closed her eyes and moaned, feeling the rhythm, rocking beneath him until she began to float in time, losing any sense of up or down, losing herself in him as she began climbing, lost in sensation. And when she had peaked and peaked again and finally began to slip back to the present, she became conscious of her breathing and her heartbeat, both slowing, leaving her with the greatest sense of peace. She opened her eyes and found him looking into hers. Then he smiled, and his grin turned into laughter, and she laughed with him, caught up in his delight.
“Oh my God, Karen.” He wrapped her in his arms and held her, still chuckling.
She pressed her cheek against his chest, closed her eyes, and savored the warmth of his skin. She breathed in his cologne, a woodsy fragrance with a hint of citrus. She must have dozed, because when she next noticed the light in the bedroom, it had changed to the grays of dusk. One of his arms encircled her shoulders. The other was flung upward, resting on his pillow as if in celebration. He slept quietly, his mouth closed, his lips curved as if smiling in his sleep. With tenderness, she reached over to brush a strand of dark hair from his eyes.
He woke, grasped her hand, and kissed her wrist. “You’re here.”
“You’re here.” She sat up, raising the sheet to cover her breasts. Smiling, he pulled it back down and touched her breasts, cupping their weight and squeezing the nipples gently. She closed her eyes. “We should get up.”
“I already am.” He pulled back the sheet to reveal his erection.
“You’re insatiable,” she exclaimed.
Laughing, he turned her around so her back was to him and slid inside her warmth while using his fingers to pleasure her.
When they finished, he held her in his arms, his face against her cheek, his front against her back. Lost in her own thoughts, Karen wondered if she was fooling herself when she proclaimed that life without him was possible, that she belonged anywhere in the world where he was not, or that her work, which kept them apart, even mattered. Making love with Curt restored something to her psyche, balanced her. She felt the greatest sense of peace.
She half turned, to be able to face him, and touched his lips with her index finger. He smiled and pretended to bite it.
“Hungry?”
“Starved.” He rolled out of bed and held his hand toward her. She took it, and naked, they padded to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, studying its contents and letting the cool air out. “Nuts and berries? Is that it?”
She elbowed him aside and came up with a handful of provisions. Sitting on the couch, they polished off a box of gourmet crackers slathered with a tub of pâté and washed it down with a bottle of wine. As Karen took her last sip, she saw him eyeing her. She set down her glass and reached for him, and he knelt on the floor between her knees. She twined her fingers through his hair, smiling at the idea that she could even consider coming again, and then the smile turned into an O, and her head fell back.
Afterward, they lay on the sofa, fitted together like a couple of spoons. Karen rested her head against his bicep, the length of his body warming her from shoulder to calf. They fit perfectly, her backside tucked against his abd
omen, her back against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said.
“I can’t believe you invited me.”
Eventually, they dressed and walked down to the beach. The moon rose, painting a glittering path to the horizon over a peaceful Atlantic.
IN THE MORNING, HE awoke when Karen slipped out of bed. She pulled on a robe and tiptoed into the kitchen. Moments later, he heard the coffeepot begin burbling, followed by the beep of her computer starting up.
He rolled over onto his back, laced his fingers behind his head, and studied the room. A scarf hung from a light sconce, and three small whiteboards leaned against the opposite wall, but nothing else personalized the small space.
Of course it was temporary, but it seemed too austere. He’d never seen the inside of any home she’d lived in. When she returned from California, she’d stayed with Aunt Marie. Then she drove to Florida in her fifth wheel, and now this. For all their closeness, Curt didn’t fully understand this mature version of the girl on whom he’d had a crush in high school—no, it was more than a crush. He knew that now.
But after all the years apart, they’d both changed. He wanted to know her better—to fully understand her—and a person’s home would be a good start, but the Airstream revealed little.
He’d have to work harder.
In the quiet of the morning, he heard her fingers tapping against the keys, then silence, then the sound of a heavy mug setting down.
“Karen?”
A chair scraped the floor. Then she entered the room, stood by his side of the bed, and dropped her robe. He drew in a breath, slid over, and pulled back the blankets so she could climb in. He reached for her breasts and ran his hands, warm from sleep, up and down her thighs and hips.
They were slower this time, with him moving gently to her rhythms as she guided him to give her what she needed. Afterward, they lay quietly, snuggled under the warm blankets. When Karen traced his lips, he kissed her fingers then grasped her hand and held it to his chest. He didn’t say anything. He knew what she was thinking.
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