His, Unexpectedly

by Susan Fox

  His hand tightened on mine. “You could do what I do.”

  “Yeah, right, Dr. Chambers.”

  “You don’t need a Ph.D. to work on an environmental project,” he said. “You just have to be intelligent, learn quickly, and care about what you’re doing. There are jobs for all sorts of people. You know that. Look at the falcon survey.”

  I was only listening with half an ear because the ocean called to me. I tugged my hand free of his. “I need to put my feet in the water. Race you.”

  Before he could react, I sprinted down the dune, going as fast as I could in sand that dragged and shifted around my feet. Then I was on firmer packed beach sand, running toward the fringe of waves that sent white lace foaming across the shore.

  Quickly Mark took off after her. The pure physical actions—struggling through soft sand, feeling the muscles of his legs pumping, throwing his whole body into the race—were exactly what he needed right now.

  He caught up with Jenna and they hit the water together, both breathless and laughing.

  They slowed, then stopped when they were knee deep. The sprint, the laughter, the chilly water, the sight of the ocean stretching away, and the lovely woman beside him—suddenly nothing existed but pure exhilaration. When he grinned at Jenna, her bright smile flashed in return.

  “Wanna skinny dip?” she asked, mischief in her amazing eyes.

  “Ha ha.” Given the number of people on the beach, he was pretty sure this time she was teasing. As if to punctuate that thought, a little dark-haired girl and a black poodle raced past them into the water. “Let’s walk.”

  They reached for each other’s hands and strolled, ankle deep.

  “I wonder how Mr. and Mrs. Watkins are?” He voiced the thought that had been on his mind for the last hours.

  She squeezed his hand. “They’re doing great. I’m sure of it.”

  She’d also been sure they’d get a campsite. He grinned to himself. And so they had.

  They didn’t talk after that, not anything more than pointing out a hawk, laughing as spotted sandpipers dared the waves in their hunt for insects, exchanging hellos with others wandering the beach.

  The ocean was where he belonged. Mark had been aware of that at some instinctive level ever since his first visit as a kid. It healed him, de-stressed him, energized him.

  Since the accident, he’d been stressed, that elderly man always in the back of his mind. The ache in his shoulders was a constant reminder. He’d also wondered what was going on with Jenna, who’d been in a strange mood. He wasn’t sure if that was due to the accident, her emotional revelation, or the intense lovemaking. Now, he felt his shoulders begin to relax and let the worries drift away on the ocean breeze.

  Jenna, lifting her face to the early evening sky, seemed to feel equally at home, at ease.

  He felt a surge of affection, of rightness. Was this love?

  He could imagine them doing this—strolling beaches at the end of the day—in different countries around the world after a long day spent on a worthwhile project.

  Hmm. If you combined his knowledge and expertise with her creativity and skill with people, they could make a great team.

  “I’m getting hungry,” she commented.

  “Me, too. But it’ll be sunset before long, and I hate to miss it.”

  “We could bring the barbecue down to the beach.”

  “Not sure they allow that.”

  “Then let’s cook the skewers and bring them down.”

  “Good idea.”

  Walking faster now, they headed back, arguing amicably about where they needed to cut up to cross the dune. They overshot by a little, and walked the top of the dune until they were across from their campsite.

  Mark got out the barbecue and hooked up the new canister of propane while Jenna brought the prawn and vegetable skewers and a couple of plates. When he’d got the food cooking, she put the opened bottle of wine on the picnic table. While he didn’t know Oregon state law, drinking from an open wine bottle on the beach might get them in trouble. “We shouldn’t—” he began.

  From behind her back, she produced an empty water bottle. Pouring from the wine bottle into it, she said, “Okay?”

  “Works for me.”

  The prawns and veggies cooked in a few minutes. Soon he and Jenna, still wearing shorts, were trooping back across the road carrying food, the bottle filled with wine, and an old tan-colored rug.

  Other people were scattered along the beach, considerately spread out, some on towels or blankets, some sitting on logs, others in folding camp chairs.

  He and Jenna claimed a washed-up log and spread the rug, only a few shades darker than the sand. They sat with their backs against the log, plates on their laps, and began to eat.

  “A table with the best view in the house,” she said with satisfaction.

  He unscrewed the cap from the bottle, offered her a drink, then took a swallow himself. Dry wine, fresh on the tongue and hinting of fruit. Then he picked up a prawn. They’d shoved all the food off the skewers onto two plates, and not bothered to bring forks.

  He popped the prawn into his mouth, holding onto the tail and biting it off. Firm, succulent flesh, tasting of the ocean. A mushroom next, earthy and musky. A chunk of tender-crisp green pepper, sweet and crunchy. Purple onion … He closed his eyes, savoring its gentle bite.

  He opened his eyes to see Jenna gazing at him. “What?” he asked.

  “You’re really tasting the food.”

  “It’s good. Delicious.”

  She gave a satisfied smile. “It is. Now, I wonder what kind of performance the sun’s going to put on to entertain us?”

  “Nothing too dramatic, since there aren’t clouds or pollution.” They always made for the most spectacular sunsets.

  “Gold, I’m thinking. Rather than red or orange.”

  “Redder to start, then gold when the sun nears the horizon.”

  She reached for the plastic bottle and took a sip. “Let me guess, there’s a scientific reason.”

  “Different wavelengths for different colors. For example, blue’s short and yellow is long. As the sun sinks, it’s the longer wavelengths that are still visible.”

  “Too bad. I like to think it’s magic.”

  He gazed at her, the dying sun deepening the gold of her hair and darkening her tanned skin. “It is magic. Just because there’s a scientific explanation doesn’t mean, uh …” He hunted for words.

  “That the experience is any less magical,” she finished. “Like, there’s a reason those sandpipers dart around the way they do, a reason for the colors in the ocean, a reason the falcons nest in the most out-of-the-way spots. But when you see them, you’re touched by magic.”

  He nodded. When he looked at her, he was touched by magic.

  Shielding her eyes, she pointed toward the sun. “You win, no surprise.”

  Red tones were seeping into the blue of the sky. Watching, he picked up another prawn and paired it with a piece of red pepper. That was another thing Jenna had taught him: you could make each bite a different experience.

  He’d never give up planning. But once the planning had paid off, she had a good point about living in the moment and truly enjoying it.

  As the sun dipped lower, it painted strokes of orange and gold to join the red. He and Jenna finished the food and put their plates aside. When he stretched over for the plastic bottle, he winced at a twinge in his shoulder.

  “I promised you a massage,” she said, swinging gracefully to her feet.

  A moment later she was sitting on the log behind him, one leg on either side of him. She rested her hands on his shoulders for a minute or two, and he felt their heat soak through his tee shirt. Then she dug in with her thumbs and fingers and began to work his aching muscles.

  He sighed with mingled pain and pleasure. “Thanks. Now, how about a story as well?”

  “A story? What kind of story?”

  “You told me about your parents and older siste
rs. How about the sister who’s getting married?”

  “Merilee. Well, after the three-pack, Mom and Dad figured they were done having kids. But then, can you believe it, eight years after me they had another birth control screwup—after which, by the way, they fixed things so it’d never happen again. Anyhow, when M was born, we all had some adjusting to do, but luckily she was an undemanding kid.”

  “She must be young to be getting married.”

  “Twenty-one. But she and Matt have been together since they were seven. It’s always been inevitable.”

  The red and orange were fading, the sky more of a golden dazzle now. “Sounds like she’s the opposite of you.”

  “Oh, yeah. She’s old-fashioned. She always played house with her dollies.” Her strong hands deftly worked out the knots in his shoulders.

  “What did you play?”

  “I took my dollies into the garden, and we had adventures.”

  He smiled at that picture, and imagined her doing the same with kids of her own. No, she wasn’t conventional like her sister. Nor was he. “Is Merilee going to stay home and raise kids?”

  “She does want children.” Her hands stilled for a moment and sadness touched her voice. “But she may be out of luck too, poor kid. She has endometriosis, and it’ll be hard for her to get pregnant. They’re going to try, though.”

  “They could adopt.” And so could you.

  “Yeah, but they’ve always had this thing, this really tight bond—M&M, we call them—and they really want to create their own babies.”

  “I guess that’s hardwired,” he reflected. “The biological imperative to pass on our DNA.”

  “I suppose.” She leaned forward, took the wine bottle, and had a swallow.

  “Doesn’t mean it’s the only path, though. There are so many kids in the world who need parents.”

  “There are. And M&M would be great ones.” She held the bottle out to him.

  “So would you.”

  Her hand jerked, and she almost dropped the bottle before he got a grip on it. “Me? Yeah, for the fun times. But children need stability, responsible parents. That’s not my shtick.”

  What the hell was so wrong with responsibility? With responsibility that was full-time and long-term, not just bitten off in little chunks here and there?

  “Anyhow,” she said, putting her hands back on his shoulders then beginning to work his neck muscles, “M’s getting a teaching degree and plans to teach elementary school, and Matt’s going to be a high school teacher.”

  “How about Kat? She’s the one you said had bad luck with men, right?”

  “Yes. She’s the opposite of Tree. Smart too, but really people-focused, socially skilled, always the center of what’s going on. She wants marriage and kids but has crappy judgment when it comes to men.”

  The sun hovered at the horizon line, sinking lower as he watched.

  “Sun’s almost gone,” she said.

  “My neck and shoulders feel much better. Thanks. Come sit beside me and watch.”

  She did, and together they watched as the glowing ball slipped out of sight. Up and down the beach, people began to pack up but he knew the sunset would continue and there’d be lovely twilight colors. He knew the scientific explanation, but if Jenna wanted to know, she’d ask.

  “What kind of work does Kat do?”

  “She’s the PR director at a boutique luxury hotel in Montreal.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” A wry note in her voice, she said, “She makes sure rich folks have all the luxuries they figure they’re entitled to.” Then, quickly she added, “Kat’s a good person.”

  “I’m sure she is.” He might not think her job had a lot of social value, but if Jenna said her sister was a good person, he believed her.

  “And you said both your older sisters, the ones who’d had bad experiences with men, had recently fallen in love?”

  “Uh-huh. Like, in the last … How long ago was it Merilee announced the wedding? Eight or nine days?”

  “You’re kidding.” Startled, he glanced away from the sky, a deep red-orange at the horizon line, merging into rich purples and indigo higher up.

  “No, it’s bizarre. It’s like there’s something in the air.” Then she chuckled. “Pretty rarified air, to stretch from Vancouver to Montreal and Sydney.”

  And maybe even to the California coastal highway.

  That rarified air theory wasn’t such a bad one. He brushed his finger over one of the butterflies on her shoulder. “A butterfly flutters its wings in Brazil …” Would she understand what he meant?

  She tilted her head to look up at him. “Chaos theory?”

  Yeah, she got the reference. “This one isn’t even a stretch, like the butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil and causing a tornado in Texas. Here, a young woman in Vancouver decides to get married, and that decision sends her far-distant sisters on trajectories they hadn’t contemplated. Trajectories that intersect with those of men they’d never otherwise have met.”

  “I suppose.”

  “And with the wedding coming up, love’s on the sisters’ minds and who knows, maybe they’re giving off stronger pheromones and are more sensitive to men’s pheromones.”

  Her brows lifted, and she said dryly, “I’ll be sure to explain that to Tree and Kitty-Kat.”

  Or you could take me home with you, and I’ll do it myself. Jenna didn’t seem to have a clue that he was including her and him among the parties affected by Merilee’s wing-flutter.

  The sky was growing darker and the wine was finished. Almost everyone else had left the beach now, and the air was cooling. He tugged Jenna tighter against him.

  Since they’d made love earlier, she’d been keeping things light. On a public beach, with other people around, that had been fine with him. Now, though, mellow with food and wine, he hoped for more.

  He caressed her shoulder. Jenna saw those tattooed butterflies as a symbol of her carefree approach to life. But now, to him, they symbolized other things about her. Had she thought about the important work those lovely insects did, pollinating the flowers they fluttered between? Or about how strong they were, to survive long, rugged migrations?

  Her head nestled against his shoulder, cheek warm against his skin, curls tickling as the breeze flicked them against him. She yawned then moved away, stretched, graceful and catlike, and eased down to lie on the rug. Staring up at the sky, she said, “Come lie down, Mark. There’s an almost full moon and the North Star. Soon we’ll see more and more stars.”

  He shifted down to lie beside her and gazed up. There was nothing like a clear night sky over the ocean. “Too bad we can’t sleep on the beach.”

  “Ooh, I’d like that. We could bring out the sleeping bag and pillows.”

  “And a park ranger would roust us. The joys of being in a supposedly civilized country.”

  “You’ve slept on the beach a lot?”

  “Often, yeah.”

  “You’re right that it’s hard to do here. You need to be on private property or find a really secluded place.”

  He hated to think that she’d slept on beaches with other men, even though he’d done the same with a couple of lovers. Yeah, he was completely unevolved and jealous.

  Though stars now brightened the night sky, he turned away from them, rose on one elbow, and gazed down at Jenna. In the dusk, her body and clothing almost merged with the rug. He couldn’t see her expression, but her eyes gleamed. He leaned over to brush a kiss against her forehead. More than that, he didn’t dare do on this public beach.

  But he was hungry for her. Eager to shower away the stress of the day and do the totally conventional thing of climbing into a double bed with her. Somehow, he knew that with Jenna, even the conventional would be something special.

  “I think it’s time for bed,” he told her.

  Chapter 10

  I’d let myself live in the moment for the last couple of hours and enjoyed the wonderful evening and Mark’s ea
sy company. Now, a thrill of anticipation raced across my skin.

  Bed. Together. Each time, it was a different, amazing experience. What would happen between us tonight?

  He rose, tall and strong as he held out a hand to me.

  I took it and let him pull me to my feet. For a moment I stood in front of him, our bodies almost touching. Neither of us moved, and I could barely see his face, but between us was a certain tension, a current of energy that was almost palpable.

  “Let’s go,” he said, voice even huskier than usual.

  Quickly we gathered our things and headed back to the camper. There, he said, “I could really use a shower. The accident …” He shrugged.

  “Go ahead. I’ll tidy up here.”

  “Thanks.” He dropped a kiss on my cheek and left me in the camper.

  As I tidied up and readied the bed, I imagined him under a hot, hard spray, washing away the memories of an old man’s blood soaking his hands.

  Such an amazing day. Mark had risked his life to save someone else’s, then he’d been my playmate at Prehistoric Gardens, a mind-blowing lover, an easy companion as we watched the sun set. He was … so much. So much more than any other guy I’d hooked up with.

  But I couldn’t let him be. The things he wanted were ones I didn’t. There was no future for us. When I’d fallen in love with Travis, I’d lost my judgment and ended up heartbroken and irreversibly damaged. Love wasn’t an emotion I could handle.

  I opened a couple of windows, not just for fresh air but so we could hear the surf, and didn’t pull the curtains.

  One night and one day. I sat on the end of the bed. That was all Mark and I had left. Though the idea gave me a pang of sadness, I also felt relieved. I could keep my heart safe for that short period of time and still reap the benefits of his company.

  He stepped into the camper, closing the door behind him. He wore shorts and a shirt unbuttoned down the front despite the chill in the June air. His hair was damp and uncombed and he smelled deliciously of something masculine and vaguely oceany.

  My gaze tracked his exposed skin—tanned, lightly haired, lean and sexy. All the way down to the low-slung waistband of his loose shorts. Oh yes, with Mark there were lots of benefits.