Stranger on the Shore (Mirabelle Harbor, Book 4)

by Marilyn Brant

  “Seriously?” he said, his blue eyes narrowing. “Out of all the possible film choices out there, you want to see an old Elvis movie?”

  “That’d be fun,” Joy declared. “But how about we let our guest decide. Marianna?”

  As if I were crazy enough to contradict Joy and Abby. Plus, it would be fun to see an Elvis movie with an Elvis lookalike in the room. I nodded, laughing helplessly. “Sorry, Gil.”

  He rolled his eyes. “If anyone asks me to sing along, I will pelt that person with empty clam shells.”

  “So you know it, then?” I blurted. “That you...um, sort of resemble him?”

  “Since I was about sixteen,” he said with a reluctant grin.

  “And he does kinda sing like The King,” Joy whispered loudly.

  “I do not.”

  “You do, too,” his sister shot back. “He’s really good,” she informed Abby and me.

  “I am not.”

  “You are, too!”

  “Can’t you just see them as little kids?” Abby said to me.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “So, it’s decided then,” Joy declared. “Meet at my condo in a half hour. Baked clams, Clambake, and I’ll make us a pitcher of margaritas.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s get moving, y’all.”

  ~*~

  I followed Gil’s car on the short drive to Joy and Abby’s condo complex, a warm Clam Pit bag on the seat next to me with an aroma so enticing that it made my empty stomach rumble.

  He was waiting for me with his own Clam Pit carryout by the front entrance.

  “I’m debating whether or not I have time to scarf down one of these before my sister buzzes us in.” He motioned toward our bags. “The scent is killing me.”

  I grinned. “I know. There was a red light that almost lasted too long for me to stand it.”

  “The intersection of Third and Willow?”

  “Yes!”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” He pressed the buzzer. “C’mon, Joy.”

  His sister responded and, soon, we were up on the second floor, where her condo was located, and Abby was waving from down the hall. She met us by Joy’s open door, Elvis DVD in one hand, and a quart of ice cream in the other.

  “I was thinking Creamy Caramel Swirl for dessert tonight,” Abby said.

  “Perfect,” Gil agreed. “Now, if only I could talk you ladies into a good action flick or, maybe, some light sci-fi/fantasy—”

  “Not a chance,” said his sister, motioning all of us inside.

  And before I even had a second to stow my belongings in an out of the way corner, Joy thrust a massive margarita at me, edged with a rim of salt and garnished skillfully with a wedge of lime.

  “Drink up, honored guest,” Joy said with that impish grin of hers.

  I could feel myself beginning to blush at being called that. Thing was, in their presence, they really made me feel like an honored guest. Someone special. It wasn’t something I’d ever thought I’d need. Nothing I’d craved. And, yet, the pure gift of it couldn’t be denied. There was a beautiful sense that I was truly being seen and valued. It was impossible not to appreciate that...or to realize just how long that sensation had been missing from my life.

  Abby got the movie set up while Joy finished pouring everyone round one of the margaritas. Gil and I worked together to make space on the coffee table and lay out napkins and silverware for each person present. The table was surrounded by seating on three sides—comfy armchairs to the left and the right, angled slightly to face the TV on the wall, and then a small sofa on the long side of the coffee table, facing the TV screen directly. Plenty of room for the four of us.

  It wasn’t until Joy and Abby claimed the side chairs and I found myself left only with a space on the sofa next to Gil that I realized the sofa was more like a love seat. Suddenly, this movie thing had a bit more of an intimate feel than I’d expected.

  In some ways, the evening felt like getting a taste of what college might have been like for me, had I not already been married, commuting to night classes, and a young mother. Having drinks (potent) and carryout (delicious and still warm) and a movie to watch as a group (a lighthearted romantic comedy) was a fun way to spend several hours just in and of itself.

  But I hadn’t counted on that sense of hanging out with a couple of girlfriends, who seemed like roommates after just a few minutes, or that hyperawareness I hadn’t felt in so long toward an attractive man who was sitting only inches away from me. Every shift of his legs, every change in his posture, every rotation of his torso jostled the airwaves and made me more acutely aware of his presence. His body heat radiated outward from his skin so I could nearly feel it. And the sheer size of him! Gil could take up space effortlessly.

  “One of the funny things about the film,” Abby said, “is the way the main character that Elvis plays—Scott Heywood—is from Texas.” She raised an eyebrow at Gil.

  “The son of an oil tycoon,” Joy added.

  “Clearly, nothing like me then,” Gil shot back. “I’m sure he was even from a different part of Texas.” He looked relaxed on the outside, but I could feel some genuine tension drifting toward me, half a foot away. I sensed he was tolerating this teasing, but he wasn’t entirely enjoying it. Maybe something was hitting too close to home?

  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen the movie,” I said, trying to pull a little bit of attention away from him. “But I remember that Scott switches places with a very regular guy named Tom, who’s supposed to be starting his job as a water-ski instructor at a resort in Miami. Right?”

  “Yeah,” Gil said, sending me a grateful look. “Much as I could live without the goofy songs, the premise of the movie isn’t half bad. It’s like a 1960s version of The Prince and the Pauper. I mean, the main guy, who’s played by Elvis, just wants to try to make it on his own. To be seen and liked for himself, not for his father’s money.” He shot a warning look at his sister, who stared knowingly back at him but said nothing.

  “A little oil money would be kinda nice, though,” Abby said.

  Gil shrugged. “Maybe. But, as we’re told, the best things in life are free.”

  True.

  While I would have loved to have more of a financial cushion, I counted my blessings like good health and freedom all the time. How grateful I was that Kathryn was doing well. How, despite our differences, I had a sister like Ellen who loved me. And how glad I was to finally be free of the judgment of my parents and the irresponsibility of my ex-husband.

  No one was going to like me or want me because of my money (or lack thereof). If any man ever showed real interest in me again, I was fairly confident it was because he liked my personality or maybe even my looks—but definitely not my bank account. And that was liberating. In this way, Elvis had a point.

  As the ‘67 beach film played, the good-looking cast members went out on water skis or in flashy motorboats, took dreamy strolls along the shoreline or sexy motorcycle rides at twilight, or did some clam baking and wild go-go dancing in the sand. Elvis went smoothly from water sports to roasting a variety of seafood...from playing electric guitar to performing chemistry experiments in a nearby lab. (He was developing a special resin formula for racing boats.) Let no one ever claim that Elvis the actor wasn’t versatile!

  Somewhere in the middle of the film—our Clam Pit carryout long gone—Joy dished us all scoops of ice cream and made us sing along to “But You Don’t Know Me” with a crooning Elvis Presley on the screen.

  Next to me, I could clearly hear the resonant rumble of Gil’s baritone, and I realized his sister had been right. He did have a good voice.

  But that wasn’t the only thing sending tingles down my spine or making my arms dimple with goosebumps.

  It was the smell of him—so masculine and compellingly musky.

  It was his observant blue eyes and the laugh lines crinkling at their edges.

  It was his smooth, tanned skin and the muscular form underneath.

  It was his lips
. I kept catching sight of him licking the bottom one as if trying to get every last drop of that caramel ice cream. This motion literally made my knees weak. I was relieved to be sitting down.

  It was his very presence.

  “Did I miss some ice cream?” he asked me suddenly, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Oh, busted! He’d caught me staring. “Um...” I gulped. Then, faking a look of scrutiny, I added, “Yeah. Just a tiny bit, but I think you got it all now.”

  What a liar I am!

  Still, it was better than admitting the truth, wasn’t it? That I’d been daydreaming about what it would feel like to kiss him.

  “Oh, good,” Gil said, hopefully oblivious to my fantasies. “Thanks.”

  When the father character in the film—Duster Heywood, a.k.a., Elvis’s movie dad—said something about how the Florida climate sure does “strange things” to people, I almost laughed aloud.

  No freakin’ kidding.

  How convenient to be able to blame my adolescent thoughts on the sun and surf.

  By the time Elvis had won both the big boating regatta and the pretty girl he’d been lusting after for an hour and forty minutes, all four of us sitting in Joy’s living room had become almost as boneless as a bunch of baby shrimp, sinking deep into our respective cushions and not at all interested in the prospect of moving.

  “I don’t wanna get up,” Abby moaned. “Should I hit replay? The DVD’s not that long. We could watch it again.”

  “Nope,” Gil insisted. “I’m going to fall asleep if I keep sitting here.”

  “And then he’ll start snoring,” his sister said. “He sounds like guacamole.”

  She was serious, but the unusualness of the remark—so very Joy—had the rest of us bursting with laughter. And, naturally, a number of avocado jokes and wordplays on her synesthesia-like observations followed.

  “Y’all better get out of here,” she said, giggling, “before I kick your butts out the door.” She pitched a throw pillow at her big brother. He caught it and pitched it right back at her. Joy snuggled up with it, resting her head on it like a toddler, ready for naptime.

  Abby pushed herself to standing and yawned. Loudly. She padded over to the TV, retrieved her movie, and blew air kisses at us all. “Tomorrow morning’s gonna come way too soon. See you three bright and early.”

  We all said goodnight to her and then, moments later, Gil turned to me. “Did you want to stay longer and pester my sister? Or would you like me to walk you to your car?”

  I grinned. “Well, as tempting as it sounds to pick on Joy for another hour—”

  My friend raised her head off her pillow, feigned a look of irritation, and said, “Don’t you be taking his side, Marianna. I’ll retaliate.”

  “—given her threats, though,” I continued, “I’d better go, too.”

  Gil chuckled. “Wise choice. That girl can be vicious.” Then, belying his words, he walked over to his kid sister and pecked her on the top of her head with such gentleness, as if she were a beloved baby bird. “Just let me grab my keys.”

  I thanked Joy for the wonderful evening, and the younger woman smiled up at me. “It was my pleasure.” I didn’t doubt the sincerity of her words at all, but I still couldn’t help marveling at it. I had really made some new friends. It felt almost magical.

  Moments later, Gil and I strode outside, the heat of the Sarasota night held in the air, like an extra ration of warmth being kept in reserve. We were standing next to my car before my body could even adjust to the absence of air conditioning.

  Gil licked his bottom lip again, though there wasn’t so much as a drop of ice cream left anywhere. I couldn’t even pretend to see a speck, so I glanced away to keep myself from staring.

  “This is getting to be a habit,” he joked, motioning toward the car.

  I forced myself to meet his eye. “It is. But thank you. It’s really thoughtful of you to make sure I’m safe.”

  He waved that off as if it were a given. And licked his lip yet again. Damn.

  “So—” he began. Then stopped and took a long breath. “As we were watching the movie, it occurred to me that you might not have seen much of the Siesta Key nightlife, being so new to the area and all. Have you, um, heard of the Sunday night drumming at the beach?”

  “No.”

  He explained something about how a bunch of local folks got together each weekend and beat on their drums to an extemporaneous rhythm of their own making, while people of all ages danced on the sand. “It’s fun,” he assured me.

  “Sounds like it,” I said, though, to be honest, I was having a hard time imagining myself at an event like that. Seemed a little hippyish.

  “So, after the Craft Festival is over tomorrow, would you like to go with me? Usually starts around six o’clock.”

  “Sure. Are Joy, Abby, or Lorelei planning to come, too?”

  He shook his head and, just to torment me, licked both his top and bottom lips. “I don’t, um, generally bring my sister on my dates...and definitely not her coworker or her married friend.” He grinned, but there was an endearing look of nervous self-consciousness that he seemed unable to hide. “Still want to go, Marianna?”

  Then his words sank in. “On a date? With you?” I had to ask, just to make sure I wasn’t misinterpreting his question or anything.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, yes, Gil—of course.” And I nodded for emphasis. Then, in a rare bolt of audacity, I even added, “What took you so long to ask?”

  He laughed loudly, the tension in the space between us dissolving. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” And then, ever so tenderly, he brought those wet, luscious lips of his down toward my face and brushed my mouth with a light kiss.

  A kiss that, after just a few seconds of our lips touching, turned deeper, harder, wilder.

  A passionate kiss that promised so much more...

  My breath caught at the surprising intensity of it, and the tension between us returned with a heat that spiked like a fever.

  Now I was the one trying to mask my own nervous self-consciousness. “Um.”

  “Goodnight, Marianna,” Gil said, taking a deliberate step back from me and toward his own car. “Until tomorrow.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sunday Drumming

  Gil jumped out of bed with a spring in his step and a smile on his lips. The Craft Festival was always a good time, but there was something extra special about it this year. And that something special—or, rather, someone special—had a name: Marianna Gregory.

  Kissing her last night... wowza. He was rendered almost as speechless as his pet newt when he’d pulled away from her. Hadn’t managed to say more than a few words afterward. Could barely remember to breathe.

  She’d stolen the oxygen from his lungs and his mouth. But he didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, she was welcome to do it again. And again.

  God help him if his mother found out about her, though. Ma would have their wedding planned before the evening hit.

  He sprinkled some amphibian food into Nancy’s tank, bid his low-maintenance pet farewell for the day, and found himself actually whistling on his drive to the Circle.

  When he got to their tent, Marianna was already there, chatting with his sister in fevered whispers as they readied the tables for another busy day of sales. When they spotted him, though, both women paused abruptly—too abruptly—and grinned at him. Joy’s blue eyes danced with mischievous delight. And Marianna’s face was a study in shades of pink.

  Hmm.

  He knew when he was being talked about. Joy was insatiable when it came to ferreting out information, but he hadn’t taken Marianna as a kiss-n-tell type.

  “Mornin’, ladies,” he said warily.

  “Good morning,” they chorused back.

  “Lorelei and Abby are on their way,” Joy informed him.

  “But we’ve got almost everything ready,” Marianna was quick to say. “So, don’t worry.”


  He met her gaze and held it. “I wasn’t worried. In fact, I’m pretty sure this is gonna be a fabulous day.”

  His sister’s eyebrows rose with marked interest and Marianna blinked rapidly. “Me, too,” she murmured, and Gil had the satisfaction of seeing her blush deepen.

  The other two women came in and, as soon as it was humanly possible, he was cornered by his sister, out of earshot from her friends.

  “You and Marianna are going on a date tonight!”

  He feigned an indifferent shrug. “So?”

  “So? How can you be so blasé about it? I could see a change in her aura right away when she came in this morning. And in yours, too, big brother.”

  “Ah. You’re saying you’d guessed about our date from our auras?”

  She planted her strong little fists on her hips. “Of course, Gil. I mean, I had to worm the specifics out of her—when you were going out, who asked whom, and so on—but even though Marianna tried to downplay it, I can tell how much she’s looking forward to it. So, don’t mess this up tonight.”

  He laughed. If just the date details got his sister this excited, he knew he could really jolt her circuits with the rest. “She tried to downplay it, huh?”

  Joy nodded.

  “She didn’t mention our mind-blowing kiss, then?”

  His sister actually squealed and bounced in place like a baby kangaroo. “You kissed her?” Oh, my goodness, Gil. That’s so great!”

  “All right, well, now you know, So you can stop pestering Marianna for details. Your enthusiasm might scare her off. And, besides, we all know she’s leaving in a few weeks. You can’t get too attached, okay?”

  Joy wrinkled her nose. “But—”

  “But nothing. She and I are just going to the beach drumming tonight and talking. It’s a date, yes, but it’s a really casual one.”

  “If you say so,” Joy said, but with a distinctly disbelieving tone.

  Odd thing was, in quieter moments during the day when he was being honest with himself, he didn’t exactly believe his statement either. Every time he glanced at Marianna, his heart leaped. Every time they conversed, he began to fantasize about what a longer-term relationship with her might be like. There was a powerful attraction between them for sure, but there was also a growing friendship and respect. The combination was heady, and it left him breathless at the possibilities.