by Jill Sanders
“Who told you that?” She could see his eyes grow dark with condemnation.
“It doesn’t matter. She was right. Keeping the southern drawl meant narrower role opportunities. So, I worked hard on losing it for three months.” There was a moment of silence. “What about you?” she finally asked. “You’ve probably had to make changes, other than your last name.”
“Writing is probably the polar opposite from acting,” he added.
“I’m not sure about that. Both deal with being someone else or making others believe they are. After seeing where you write…” She shook her head. “If others knew that wrote your dark stories in such a beautiful setting…” She let the rest of her statement hang while her eyebrows rose.
“Okay, you have me there.” He smiled and set down his empty coffee mug.
“Then there are the public viewings. We both have to dress up in stiff clothes and sell ourselves.”
“True.” He motioned for her to continue.
“We try to keep our lives, our real lives, hidden from the public eye.”
“Privacy is important.”
“Not all of us can buy our own islands.” She glanced around once more. It was still hard for her to believe they were miles away from anyone else. “How do you get electricity out here anyway?” she finally asked.
The change in conversation caused him to laugh.
“Wires, just like everywhere else.” He smiled. “They lay on the bottom of the ocean just fine. Of course, the original owners had to pay an enormous sum to lay them, but every year or so, I pay a guy to scuba dive down and make sure everything is where it needs to be. The boathouse also acts as a mini power station. Since I’ve been here, I’ve added solar panels and hope to wean the island off the grid completely by the end of this year.”
“Okay, I’m impressed.” She smiled.
“What about you?”
“Hmm?” She smiled down at Bo, who was snoring lightly in her lap.
“What other concessions have you had to make?” he asked.
“Not many.” She glanced over at him. “I haven’t slept with anyone to get a part.”
He shook his head. “That hadn’t… of course not,” he added. “Not what I meant.”
She smiled. “I’ve heard horror stories about some who have. It never ended well for them, so it was one promise I made to myself when I moved to California.”
“I didn’t hire you for… never mind.”
“Why did you pick me?” she asked.
“You fit the part,” he added, and her eyes narrowed.
“I thought we were being honest?”
He sighed. “You did. I mean, when I wrote Hannah Rodgers, it was your face I saw.”
She tilted her head. “Me?”
He nodded. “When you walked in, that day you auditioned, it was freaky strange seeing my first character come to life.” He waved his hand and she could tell he was more than a little embarrassed.
“That must have been…”
“Strange? Exciting?” He nodded. “Both. Of course, it was an added bonus that you could act better than most of the others who had auditioned.”
“Now you’re just playing nice.” She shifted slightly, causing Bo to glance up at her like she had just disturbed the best dream in the world. “Sorry,” she mumbled down to the dog, causing JT to chuckle.
“I don’t play nice with others,” he added. “Hence me owning my own private island.”
She smiled. “Okay, I’ll take the compliment.”
“You had already played a few notable parts.”
She nodded. “Some small supporting roles. Nothing that I’ve felt as passionate about as Crescent Creek. And nothing as big.”
“There were some parts you did that you didn’t fully get behind?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve made concessions yourself.” She sighed. “I mean, you have to go into town sometime. Surely people recognize you there?”
He nodded. “For the most part, but Silver Cove is a small town. During tourist season, I tend to stick to my own.”
“Someone mentioned you drive a ferry?”
“I do, sometimes. It usually sits in the boathouse.”
“Where is it now?”
“Todd parks it at the mainland when he’s covering for me. I rent a slot at the docks for it. I hate leaving it out in the weather, but…” He shrugged.
They were silent for a moment, then JT spoke.
“What about other concessions you’ve made?” he asked. “Mark?” Suddenly the past few months surfaced and she felt the tightness return to her chest. “I’m sorry,” he added immediately.
“No, you’re right.” She looked down at Bo and felt her eyes burn. “At first, I think it was the attention I enjoyed. I mean, after all, what girl would turn down a date with Mark Rayes?” She glanced around the room, not really seeing the warm cozy space.
“Was it all about advancing your career?” he asked, causing her to glance over at him again.
“No,” she started, but the look he was giving her told her he wanted the truth. “Like I said, it started out with me being flattered. Shortly after our third date, it turned sexual.” She avoided his eyes. “Which continued to be the driving force of the relationship for a while.”
“When did it change?” he asked.
For some reason, she felt like she could totally open up to JT. She hadn’t even admitted most of this to herself but talking to him about it felt easy.
Her eyes met his. “When I met you.”
Chapter 6
He was pretty sure he had never before received a shock like her words gave him.
He wasn’t sure what to say and if it wasn’t for the seventy-pound dog lying between them, he would have pulled her into his lap and kissed her.
Instead, he took a few deep breaths and waited until his control was back in place.
“Will you tell me what really happened?” he finally asked.
“Maybe, later.” She set her feet on the ground and pushed Bo aside so she could stand. “For now, I think I’ll head up and use that bathtub of yours.” She rolled her shoulders and glanced down at him. He remained perfectly still. “Thank you, JT. You can’t understand what it means to me to have someplace to go, to have someone like you around right now.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
“Night.” She turned and made her way up the stairs with Bo on her heels.
He sat in the living room for a few minutes, listening to the water upstairs turn on and trying to close his mind to the fact that she would be sleeping in his bed that night.
He got up quickly, his fingers itching for the keyboard. He didn’t want to hike to the office, so he pulled out his laptop and sat at the kitchen table.
When he looked up again, the sun was just coming up. His neck was stiff and his ass hurt like he’d sat on a rock for the past ten hours.
Standing up, he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms above his head and then made a cup of coffee. What he needed was a cold shower. Glancing out the window, he smiled.
The temperatures were supposed to be in the mid-eighties today, and he figured a dip in the ocean would be the very best thing in the entire world, right after a cup of coffee.
Taking his cup with him, he headed out towards the swimming beach. By the time he reached the water’s edge, he was wide-awake and a bead of sweat rolled down his back. It already felt close to eighty degrees.
Pulling off his clothes, he tossed them by his empty coffee cup and dove into the crisp water. Instantly, his body was a million times more awake than any amount of caffeine could do for him.
He swam out to the small buoy he’d placed the first summer he’d lived on the island. It marked exactly a mile out. His mind focused as he cut through the water, concentrating on nothing more than breathing and form.
By the time he reached the shore, the sunrise lit the sky with every shade possible. He almost stepped out of the water, but, thankfully
, noticed movement and stayed waist deep.
“Morning,” he called over to Emma. She was sitting on the beach watching Bo race in and out of the waves.
“Morning.” She smiled and held up his shorts. “Need something?”
He chuckled. “I, uh… I guess I’m used to living alone.”
She smiled. “I won’t look.” She held the shorts up and turned her head away.
He thought about it, then swam to shore and walked towards her, keeping his eyes on her as he moved. When he tugged the shorts from her hands, she dropped her arm and tucked her legs close to her chest while looking the other way.
He pulled on his shorts and then shook his jeans and tugged them on as well.
“I’m decent,” he said as he pulled his shirt from the sand.
“I like your beach.” She looked out over the water.
“You should jump in, it’s refreshing,” he suggested. When she laughed, he glanced over at her as he zipped his jeans. “What?”
She shook her head, but he turned and gave her a look. “Fine, I can’t swim.” She stood up and dusted the sand off her jeans. “I have always found it funny that in all my years, I’ve never gone swimming. I was raised in the south. You’d think once I would have ended up at a pool or lake, but…” She shook her head and glanced out at the water. “Just the short boat ride over here scared me to death.”
He thought about the scared look she’d had as she stepped onto his dock and suddenly it made sense.
“I can teach you,” he suggested as he pulled on his shirt. “If you want to learn.”
She glanced away from him towards the water again and bit her bottom lip. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Actually”—she laughed—“I don’t own one.”
He smiled. “There’s a place in town that has some. We could head in today, have some lunch while I show you around Silver Cove?”
He watched as she thought about it, and seconds later, she nodded. “Okay, but no promises I’ll pick it up quickly.”
He bent down and picked up his shoes. “Are you hungry?”
He straightened and glanced over at her as her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. Raising his eyebrows, he watched her. “Everything okay?” He took a step closer to her.
When her eyes met his, he realized where her thoughts must have turned. Smiling, he held out a hand for her.
“I’ll make us some French toast,” he said after she laid her hand in his.
No one would blame her for what she was thinking. Especially after she had watched, from the corner of her eyes, JT walking out of the surf in all his glory.
She had gotten a full view of him standing in front of her in worn, unbuttoned jeans as the sun rose slowly behind him. If she was a movie director, she couldn’t have set up a more perfect shot.
When he mentioned hunger, she realized it had been months, close to a year, since she’d felt satisfied. The kiss in the car surfaced in her mind and she lost all other thoughts.
As they walked back to the house, she thought about all the differences between JT and any other man she’d been with before. There were so many that, by the time they reached the back porch, she had stopped counting.
He stood back, holding the door open as she walked through it. Yet another difference. He really was charming. Not that she was a woman who demanded a man open the door for her, but he was the first one to do so on a regular basis, and she had to admit that it felt wonderful.
“Can I help?” she asked when he walked over to the stove and pulled out a pan.
She could tell he was about to say no but stopped himself.
“If you want, you can set the table and get us some juice.” He pointed to the cupboard and drawers, telling her where to find everything. “Cups are there, plates over here, silverware in the drawer.”
She busied herself with setting everything up and getting the orange juice. “Coffee?” she asked when she set the glasses down.
“I’ve already had my fair share.” He glanced back at her as he flipped the toast over. “Which reminds me, I left my mug on the beach.” He groaned.
“I can run and grab it,” she said, heading towards the door.
“No, we’ll get it when we head down to the docks.” He motioned to Bo. “Maybe you can give that thing his breakfast?” He chuckled when Bo started groaning and promptly sat down on his butt, his tail wagging a million miles an hour.
She walked towards the pantry, stopping to pick up the large silver bowl with Bo written on it. Opening the pantry door, she noticed a large white container near the back corner and opened the lid. There was a cup with a line drawn near the top. She squinted to read the words. Bo’s vomit line.
“What does this mean?” she called out.
“Don’t go over the line,” JT said back.
She dumped the food in the bowl. “Does he really vomit if you feed him more?”
JT chuckled. “After the second time, I didn’t want to chance it further.”
She set the bowl down, and Bo looked up at her like he was waiting for something more.
“What?” she asked Bo. “Eat,” she said, but the dog didn’t move.
“Bon appétit,” JT said from across the room. Bo’s eyes moved from her to JT but then moved back to her. “He wants you to say it.” JT laughed.
“Bon appétit,” she said and the dog lunged at his food. Glancing over at JT’s back, she shook her head. “Do you still think he’s not trained?”
He turned off the stove and set a plate of French toast on the table. “Yeah, when it comes to jumping at guests.”
He pulled out a chair for her.
“Who taught you to be so chivalrous?” she asked as she sat down.
He shrugged his shoulders as he sat down. “No one had to teach me, it’s just… something I do.”
He looked embarrassed.
She smiled over at him when he sat down. “You’re the first man who has ever pulled out a chair for me that wasn’t a waiter.”
“Sounds like you’ve been hanging around the wrong men.” He held up the plate of toast for her to choose from.
She took two pieces and waited for him to pass her the syrup.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” she asked after taking a bite of the French toast, which melted in her mouth and warmed her entire body.
“Loads of stuff.” He smiled across the table at her. “I suck at math.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “One of my hidden skills, which I happen to enjoy.”
“Good, then you can look at the numbers my accountant sent over last week. They cause my eyes to cross and my liquor cabinet to empty.”
She chuckled. “I’d be happy to look at them. Actually, if I didn’t make it in Hollywood, I was going to enroll in classes at UCLA.”
“For math?” he asked, looking a little shocked.
“Engineering, actually.” She leaned forward. “Lots of math.”
He shook his head. “You never told me you were into punishment.”
The book cover image popped into her head, and she felt her entire body heat once more. Did he know he was doing that to her? Was it on purpose?
She helped him clear the dishes again and waited downstairs while he ran up to change his clothes.
They were halfway to the doc when he sidestepped over to the small beach area to pick up his coffee mug from that morning. She waited on the pathway for him with Bo. The dog had been her constant companion since she’d arrived.
She had serious thoughts about getting a dog herself when she went back to LA.
When she heard JT returning, she stood up and wiped the dog hair from her jeans. Her smile fell away when she saw the frown on his face.
“I guess…” He stopped and pulled his hands through his hair as he looked around. “Maybe I did take it in?” He turned to her.
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t see it when we walked back to the house. Of course, I don’t remember seeing it on the beach with your clothes either, but…” S
he dropped off when she realized she was about to own up to being distracted by his half-dressed body. “I could have missed it,” she added.
“I guess I’ll look again this afternoon. Maybe it was covered with sand.” He shook his head. “I liked that mug.”
They had reached the boathouse, and she tried to steady her heart when he opened the door and she saw the shiny powder-blue boat docked in the large building. There was another larger slip beside it where she assumed his ferry docked. She’d never ridden on a ferry and wondered if it was just like in all the movies.
The boat looked brand new, and she was sure that if it was a car, men would have drooled over it. There was a large white cabin area that stood a full story above the deck.
“I use it for fishing.” He motioned for her to come closer to it. “It’s safe,” he assured her. “I’ll go slow. Besides”—he jumped easily onto the deck and moved around, then pulled out a bright orange life vest—“you’ll be wearing this.” He smiled as he held it, then reached out his empty hand to help her across the small space between the dock and the deck of the boat.
“Maybe I’ll…”
“Emma.” The tone of his voice stopped her retreat. “Trust me. You made it this far.”
She took a deep breath and reached for his hand.
Chapter 7
JT was pretty sure Emma’s knuckles were white as he pulled his boat out of the boathouse.
“What about Bo?” she asked when they were clear, and he opened the throttle slightly. If he continued at this rate, it would take them almost thirty minutes to get to shore. He figured distracting her with conversation would allow him to open it up even more.
“He likes roaming the island. He has a large doghouse at the back with everything he needs. I installed one of those automatic water bowls for him a few months back. He has the best dog beds, better than my own mattress.” He glanced at her and saw that she was hanging on his every word. Her fingers, on one hand, were twisted around the life vest in a death grip. Her other hand held onto the railing in front of her seat. “Want to drive?” he asked, deciding to take a different approach.