by Traci Hall
“All of that?” Michael questioned with a laugh.
“It brought you safely to shore. How did you do it? Maybe you fell overboard close to shore. Is it possible that your survival instincts came into play?”
He lifted his Rolex. “My brother was a Marine—special ops. The watch he gave me has a compass, and a light. I remember thinking to myself, well, actually—” he scuffed his sole along the sand “—I heard Mark’s voice in my head, to go west. Crazy, huh?”
“That’s not crazy. My sisters and I don’t need words sometimes.” Maggie, unable to help herself, knowing she was going to suffer acute heartache after he left and went back to his billionaire world, took his hand again. “I am very sorry that you lost him.”
“Two years ago. Me too. He was a better man than I ever could be.”
She doubted that, but kept her opinion to herself. Staring at the water, at the place he’d surfaced, she wondered where his clothes had gone. Had he stripped them off in the middle of a drugged state? Or were they in the water? Had someone taken his clothes on purpose, to hide his identity? If she could find his wallet, or anything, it might be helpful later. Divers could retrace the point of drop-off, perhaps. “Can I see my phone real quick?”
He gave it to her and she snapped pictures of the pier, even the post about fifty feet out in the ocean, and the one eighty feet out as well.
“We’re famous for our off-shore diving, you know.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, hearing the flirty tone in her voice but not changing it. “If you want to try someday. We’ve got coral reefs and a shipwreck.” She wanted him to come back already, to make plans, to love the ocean as she did.
Michael shrugged and stared down at the sand she’d pointed at, overrun with footprints and shells, dried seaweed, small pebbles. “I work a lot.”
Maybe he needed time to play. “Do you remember what you were wearing last night?”
He considered this and said, “A black suit. It was a formal dinner. Kayla had bought a new dress for the occasion.”
Kayla Spence was beautiful, even crying on camera about her missing boss. Had he meant it, about there being no spark? Maybe his assistant had felt one, and was angry that Michael hadn’t.
“Black, huh? Hard to see against the pilings, if they’d gotten caught. No shoes, either.” She stared hard at the barnacled posts then tossed him the phone. He caught it smoothly, though he almost fumbled it as she tugged down her shorts and dropped them. Bringing her top over her head in a single motion, she stepped out of her sandals and left everything in a pile. “I’ll be right back.”
Michael watched her with a look of surprise.
Wading into the calm turquoise sea, she dove under the next gentle wave. Maggie swam around the pilings, searching, wishing she had her goggles or a dive mask to see beneath the water. At least it was clear, she thought, swimming to the next barnacled post. Silver pencil fish and a tarpon, looking for bait dropped by the fisherman above darted around her.
Swimming to the end, she sighed. Nothing. She looked back to shore where Michael stood protectively over her clothes, his arms loosely crossed at his waist as he waited. Gorgeous.
When she emerged from the surf, she felt his eyes on her body. Water sluiced down her abdomen and she welcomed his gaze on the length of her thigh. The heat between them leapt like an electrical current and she turned away to wring out her hair. The man was going to make her melt into a useless puddle. “Let’s talk to the guy who runs the pier. Maybe one of the fishermen found something.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his voice deepening. “Get wet.”
Maggie lifted a brow and decided to keep the conversation PG. “I live in the water—it’s no big deal, I promise.”
She shimmied into her shorts but kept her shirt off until her bikini top air-dried.
He looked uncomfortable. Because of the ocean, or because he wasn’t used to people being nice? Or, it could be the pulse of attraction that had him off-kilter.
Laughing, she brought him around the side of the deck attached to a small restaurant and bar at the end of the pier and waved to the hostess on duty. “Hey Ang, I just have a question for Pete.” Normally, there was a charge to go out onto the pier.
“Go ahead, hon.” Ang waved them by, her graying dark hair back in a high ponytail, her other hand tucked into a blue apron. Her eyes casually scanned Michael but didn’t show recognition.
“See?” Maggie said as they passed. “Just another tourist. Nobody recognizes you.”
“It’s because I’m with you,” he countered.
“Could be,” she agreed. However, she didn’t want anything to happen to Michael, so she pulled the brim of his hat farther down over his face. “That’s better.” She pushed through a glass door separating the restaurant from the pier’s entrance and stopped short inside the thin, rectangular bait shop. “I think we might have found your pants.” She pointed at the black slacks Pete had hung as Catch of the Day—he had a quirky sense of humor. “Looks like you made a float.”
Michael stared at the pants, knotted at the legs, now deflated since the fabric had dried. “Mark taught me how to do that, years ago, when we were at the lake. I never thought I’d ever have to really use it.”
“It saved your life.” She stuffed her hands in her back pockets, wishing she could hug him—he seemed so lost.
Pete, a sixty-year-old man with dreadlocks and sunbaked skin, came out from the store room to the counter. “Hey, Kohl sister.”
“Maggie,” she said, holding out her hand. Most people couldn’t tell the three of them apart so she wasn’t offended. “Where did you get those pants?”
“One of the guys fished them out this morning—you never know what you find out here. He was hoping for snapper.” Pete smacked the countertop and laughed at his own joke.
“I believe they belong to my friend here. Was there a wallet or anything?”
“No, just the pants.” Pete eyed Michael. “Nice slacks. You in the military? What happened?”
Michael looked to Maggie, who gave a soft laugh. “Bachelor party gone wild. You know.”
Pete had no choice but to go along with the story, or risk acting like he didn’t know. “Well, I suppose you want them back?”
“Yes,” Michael said immediately.
She snagged her phone from Michael’s pocket and took a picture before either man could touch them, documenting where they were at when the pants were located. Just in case.
“Let me put them in a bag for ya,” Pete offered. He rummaged beneath the glass-topped counter for a plastic Publix sack.
“Sweet.” Maggie smiled her thanks at the older man. “I’ll see you around!”
As they left, Michael held his bagged pants beneath his arm and mumbled, “I can’t believe you thought to look inside the bait place. I never would have. Thanks, Maggie.”
“I can’t believe how lucky we were to find them.” She waited for him, waved to Ang, and continued down the ramp to the sand. The town’s quaint downtown area had a covered sitting area with wooden benches shaped like boats. Roomy enough for fifty people, and a place for kids to play with a giant checkerboard or Connect Four game. She steered Michael to a vacant bench that looked out to the horizon. “Let’s sit a minute.”
He plopped down, agitation on his face. “What if Pete puts it together, finding those pants with me, missing, on television?”
“He didn’t…yet.” Maggie sat next to Michael, their legs brushing. She slipped her knit top on over her dry bikini and sighed. “Now I know how you survived and made it to shore. Impressive, especially for someone not used to the ocean.” Unbelievable, really.
“I think my brother was watching over me.”
She nodded with understanding. “What next? Have you remembered anything else?” She scooted to the corner of the wooden bench, so that she could look at him as he talked. Maggie tried to imagine him in a boardroom somewhere. He looked at ease in her dad’s shorts, t-shirt, and
flip flops. Yet, those pants had been made of expensive material and his styled cut made him look like a fashion model. Beach billionaire playing at the boy-next-door. She’d buy whatever he was selling.
“Nothing solid, just a kaleidoscope of images, stars against the night sky. Then blackness.” He swallowed hard, reaching for her hand. “Waking up to you. Your pretty eyes.”
Maggie laughed softly. She could have had a crush on this particular boy next door, if that was really who he was at the end of the day. “Should we go back to the marina?”
“I wish my attorney would call back. I imagine they’re busy.”
“Doing what?” Maggie asked. What could be more important than returning a call from a client that was supposedly missing at sea?
He smiled slightly, his left cheek dimpling. “Yeah. That’s what I want to know too. It’s good to have you on my side, Maggie.”
“What do you do to relax?”
“Swim, in a pool, but I can’t even think about that right now.” He turned away from the expanse of turquoise water in front of him. Maggie didn’t really blame him.
“Don’t you watch television? Eat microwave popcorn and watch movies?”
Michael shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Maybe you’re a gamer.” She mimed playing video games.
“I do like that,” he said. “Hockey or football. I have a telescope at home. I watch the stars at night from my balcony.”
Nice. “If you’d like, we can watch them later on from the deck of the boat.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
Maggie couldn’t resist brushing his hair away from his face as she stood. “Let’s go home. I’ll make the popcorn, and you can choose the movie.”
Michael caught the smell of her shampoo, something coconut, over the scent of her skin. She chattered on as they walked, upbeat and teasing, warm and real.
“I bet you’ll like Captain America,” she said. “Do you like super heroes? It’s funny too.”
“Sure, whatever you suggest.” When they reached the marina, Maggie went inside to make popcorn while he paced the dock and made another phone call to his lawyer, his message irate. He left another just for good measure then went inside.
The marina had been closed when they’d returned at five o’clock, with a note from Mindy that she’d ordered the bait fish for the freezer so not to worry—she was going home to watch television with Neil, who agreed not to say anything about Michael’s being alive at Kohl’s Marina. He felt a twinge of guilt for thinking that the guy might have turned him in for a few bucks.
She started up the small computer and found a site streaming local news. “Let me grab some beer and water to take to the boat. Who knows? Maybe we can turn it into a movie marathon. It’ll be like a sleep-over.”
Michael drew up straight. What had she just said? He shook his head, sure he must have heard wrong. She buzzed around the shop, gathering items. “Can I help?”
“Nope—just watch, and see if there is anything new.”
His heart sped each time he looked at Kayla, standing close to Ryo, saying that she missed her boss. Should he call her, so that she wouldn’t worry? He hated to see her cry. His intuition told him to wait. Common sense suggested that all was not okay in the outside world and until he talked to Jessup and Forbes, it was better to lay low.
Also, he hoped to have more memories after his visit with the hypnotist. He took the paper bag of supplies from Maggie as she shut the computer down.
“I’ll lock the door. Oh, wait—napkins.” She snagged a stack and then they left, she locking the marina behind them.
Michael followed her onto the deck of her dad’s boat and down the stairs. Maggie had the full-size bunk tricked out with pillows and blankets for them to get comfortable. It wasn’t at all awkward to be with her, hip to hip, legs stretched out before them.
She flipped a button on the remote control and a thin television lowered from the ceiling, blocking the shelves behind it. The quarters were tight, and yet he was relaxed despite it all. He could do nothing but live in the moment.
He fluffed a pillow behind his head and wiggled his bare feet on top of the old quilt comforter. She’d painted her toenails an aqua blue, and her short fingernails matched. Still in her swimsuit and shorts, her bare knee rested against his. His feet were long and narrow next to Maggie’s. “I don’t think I’ve done this since high school,” he said.
“Watch a movie with a girl on a bed?”
“Yeah.”
“I worried that might be the case.” She turned, her gaze teasing, her blonde hair curling down her throat.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You are a very focused man, that’s all. It’s important to find time for yourself. Find a girl that likes to be in your bed with you,” she joked before popping a kernel of buttery popcorn into her mouth. He wanted to kiss her.
The bag steamed open between them with a waft of salt. She turned to look at the film and the moment was gone. He forgot his troubles in the action and laughs of the movie, but never lost sight of the woman next to him. Or her last words. So when the movie was over, and the good guys won, he turned to her and said, “You are the woman I would like to have in my bed.”
Chapter Seven
Maggie laughed softly as she looked into Michael’s eyes. His voice was still rough from the salt water, and the timbre of it slid over her in a sensual thrill. “I am in bed with you, so your wish is granted.”
“You know what I mean.” His half-smile suggested he might find her amusing, but he wasn’t forgetting his point. “I am not a monk, don’t get me wrong, but,” his hand curved around her knee and she shivered at the electric touch, “I don’t sleep around. My brother and I were raised by a woman who had a different guy every other week.”
“Your mom?” She leaned into him, offering her compassion.
“Aunt. We were grateful, so we didn’t complain but Mark and I decided that we would be different. Not that we actually talked about it, you know. He had the same girlfriend from tenth grade through his second year as a marine. She left him for a school teacher and he turned his passion toward saving the world.”
“What about you?”
“My relationships run about a year before they fizzle. My last one ended three months in—but I knew it wasn’t going anywhere. If I need a date for a fundraiser or something, I take my assistant, Kayla.”
“Sounds like a great arrangement. Except for those lonely nights.”
“Who said I had lonely nights?” He traced his thumb across her lower lip. “I prefer my own company to bad company.”
Maggie flicked her tongue out, catching the salty tip of his thumb. His eyes darkened with desire. “I have never been alone. Never. I can’t imagine it.” She cupped the back of his head and brought his mouth down to hers so she could kiss him properly.
He answered her kiss with passion, pressing down and tracing her mouth with his tongue, nipping her lip before suckling it. She partially opened her eyes, memorizing the beauty of his skin, the line of his nose, the shape of his brow. He tasted like popcorn, salty and buttery. He felt warm and hard, his palm splaying over her hip.
Michael leaned over her, then rolled onto his back so that she sat astride him, his firm length tenting his shorts. She longed to press against him, but resisted the temptation. Barely. She wanted to be with Michael.
No strings, just pleasure. The tingle between them whispered of possibilities.
She lifted his Rolex to check the time. “Nine. Want to go on deck and look at the stars?”
His eyes narrowed but he ran his hands down her back, then over her ass to her legs and knees, lifting up to press a kiss to each knee cap. “Yes, I do actually. Why don’t you stay the night?”
“I would like to, but only if,” she shrugged. She slid off the bed, but he pulled her back.
“I want to,” Michael said low and sultry. “I want to now.” He stole a kiss that made her eyes cross. �
��The stars will still be there.”
Nodding, Maggie settled herself back on top of him, inhaling the hint of spicy pepper beneath the salt from the popcorn. She reached for a condom in the nightstand.
Michael tilted his head in question. “This is where you seduce all the men you find on the beach?”
She laughed and smacked his chest. “You are the only man I’ve brought back here, thank you. But I am not the only person that uses this boat.”
“Sorry!” He grinned and rubbed his chest as if she’d actually hurt him. She lifted the gray t-shirt from the hem and inched it up his lean abdomen. Each muscle defined. She kissed her way toward his mouth, stealing tiny tastes of his skin as she went, skimming the shirt off over his head to toss it aside.
Dusky nipples with whorls of dark brown hair around the centers matched the thin line that led up from the waistband of his shorts. As she massaged his shoulders, she recalled thinking he had the trim physique of a swimmer. She unbuttoned the shorts and slid them down from his hips, he commando beneath the fabric. Maggie almost swallowed her tongue at the sight of him, hard and wanting. “Nice,” she whispered, kissing her way down first one muscular thigh and then the other, caressing his calves. His feet. Returning to what drew her between his legs.
He pulled her up. “Nice?” His growl made her breasts heavy. “Your turn. Allow me.” With easy strength, he flipped their positions so that she was prone beneath him. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you, peering down like an angel.”
“I am no angel,” Maggie said, running her hands down his lower back as he drew off her shorts and swimsuit. Once naked she lifted her hips to tease him.
“My mistake.” He kissed her navel, circling her belly button with his tongue. He gave proper attention to her breasts, her throat, her thighs.
He was in no hurry, she noticed, as he kissed her again and again. He made her wait until she was practically moaning with need for him.
At last he reached over to the side drawer and sheathed himself. She watched through half-lidded eyes, every nerve ending on fire.