by Lori Wilde
Her fingers cramped from all the writing she’d done. She paused to shake out her fingers, surprised to discover the ice in her drink had melted and the sun was sinking low in the sky. It had been two o’clock when she’d walked across the beach, the sand burning hot through the thin soles of her flip-flops.
She had on a simple blue tank-top dress and had her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore it that way ninety percent of the time. It was easier. She wasn’t one for getting frequent haircuts, so that left out short hair.
“Another drink?” The bartender flashed her a cute smile.
“I’m fine.”
“Anything to eat?”
Her stomach rumbled and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything all day except for a handful of walnuts. “Sure. What’s good here?”
“Well—” Tad leaned over the bar “—we are known for our conch fritters.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll have that.”
“You’re pretty intense,” he said. “Most girls don’t have that kind of concentration. What are you studying?”
Girl. He’d called her a girl. Jackie pressed her lips together. Most women would probably be flattered.
The ceiling fan circled lazily overhead. Long rays of sunlight fell through the slats of the half-open bamboo blinds. Piped in music played “Under the Sea” from The Little Mermaid soundtrack. Tourist places could be so predictable, but the tune was catchy and she agreed with the sentiment of the song that it was better under the sea than up here on the surface with pesky people.
“Marine biology,” she explained.
“Cool. I’m studying to be an EMT.”
“Worthy career.” She flipped the page of her textbook, boning up on seagrass meadows to support her theory that the Key blenny had indeed changed its feeding habits. The textbook authors weren’t helpful in bolstering her suppositions.
“I was thinking about joining the Coast Guard for a while.”
“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, but even as she’d already mentally dismissed the bartender, his mention of the Coast Guard brought an unwanted picture into her mind. A picture of Scott Everly. The jerk.
Let it go. You don’t have to waste energy on him.
“I still might,” Tad continued.
She looked up, met his gaze. “Thanks for putting in the order for my conch.”
“Oh, yeah.” He snapped his fingers. “Right. I get it. You want to work.”
“Yes. Thank you for understanding.”
He flopped the white bar towel over his shoulder, looking mildly crushed and went to the kitchen to place her order.
A few single guys sat at the bar drinking beer and watching some kind of sporting event on television. Several slid her sidelong glances. She put a quietus on potential advances by sending the men a stern glower. They snapped their gazes back to the television. Good. Now where was she? Oh, yes, the sea grass meadows.
Minutes passed. Or it could have been longer. The smell of hot conch teased her nose as the bartender settled it in front of her. She frowned and pushed it off her papers, and then went back to her work.
SCOTT WALKED INTO the restaurant bar, bored out of his skull. By nature, he was not an idle guy. He had not been able to do any more investigating for Carl because of stuff he had to do for Megan’s wedding.
So this afternoon, he’d had to suffer cucumber sandwiches, herbal tea and a collective of oohs and aahs as Megan and Dave unwrapped toasters and place settings. Who knew that guys were expected to attend wedding showers? If Megan hadn’t acted like she was going to burst into tears, he wouldn’t have gone. But he’d shown up, endured and now he felt the need for a beer.
“Yo, Scott!” the bartender, Tad Winston, greeted him with a hearty smile. “How you doin’, dude?”
Tad’s family lived across the street from Scott’s mom and when he was growing up, he used to follow Scott around like a puppy.
“Never better, Tad. How’s EMT school?”
“Great. Can’t wait to start saving lives for real.”
“Good for you.”
“Beer?”
“Yup.”
Tad turned to grab a frosted mug from the cooler. “How ’bout them Marlins? Think they have a chance of going to the play-offs?”
“We can hope, but it’s only June. Lots of games between now and October.” Scott settled onto the bar stool and looked around the room.
His gaze fell on the woman at the far corner of the bar, her nose buried in a book. In front of her sat a plate of fried conch that looked as if she hadn’t touched it and a melted piña colada. He’d recognize that blond ponytail anywhere.
Jackie Birchard.
There was an empty bar stool on either side of her and he knew why. He pitied the fool who attempted to make bar banter with her. Grinning, he got up and sauntered over. His boring day had suddenly turned interesting.
“Mind if I have a seat?” he asked.
“Beat it, buster,” she growled without even looking up.
“Friendly as always. I’m glad to see there are some things that never change.”
Her head jerked up, eyes narrowed. “You.” She said the word as if she were spitting out something dirty.
“Me,” he confirmed, settling on the bar stool beside her.
Tad shook his head and gave Scott a you-don’t-want-nothing-to-do-with-this-female-stingray look.
Scott winked at Tad.
“Buzz off,” Jackie invited.
“How long have you been sitting here?” Scott asked, reaching over to pick up one of her notes.
She slapped her hand down on the paper before he could get to it. “Hands off.”
“She’s been here working just like that for six hours,” Tad offered. “She’s hard-core.”
“So I see.”
“What does a woman have to do to get some privacy?” She glowered. Thunderclouds looked friendlier.
“Leave the bar?”
“It’s a public place. I bought a drink and food. I should be able to sit here in peace.” She tossed her head defiantly and her ponytail swished seductively against her tan neck.
“You didn’t eat,” Scott noted.
“I’ve been busy.”
“C’mon.” He reached for her.
She pulled back, eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Sure you are,” he said easily.
“No, I am not.”
He started picking up her papers.
“Hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing? You can’t do this!”
“All work and no play makes Jackie a dull girl.” He nodded at the bartender. “Tad, deal with this.” He pushed the plate of cold, soggy, untouched conch fritters toward him. “And place my usual order times two.”
Then, tucking Jackie’s books and notes under his arm, he strode toward the open-air patio.
“You…you…high-handed Neanderthal,” Jackie sputtered and rushed after him.
He grinned.
“Stop smiling.” She tried to snatch the book and notes from under his arm.
He clamped down, tucking his elbow against his ribs and strode ahead, making her rush to catch up. Spying an empty table in a private corner of the patio, his grin widened.
“Ape, cretin, ass.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You can’t do this. You have no right.”
He plunked her book and notes on the table. “I can and I did.”
She reached for her things. He snaked out a hand and caught her wrist. She hissed in a breath as if burned. “You, Mr. Everly, are the most irritating, infuriating…”
“Keep it up, mermaid. You’ve got a gift for verbal foreplay.”
“This is not verbal foreplay. This is moral outrage. You have taken my possessions captive. I could have you arrested.”
“Not really.”
“I could tell my father on you.”
“Ah, Jackie, you disappoint me. I never took you for a tattletale.”
Tha
t got her. She sliced him to ribbons with her prickly glare. “What do you want?”
“Park it.”
“What?”
He nodded at the chair. “Sit and have a proper dinner with me.”
“If that’s all you wanted, why didn’t you just ask? You didn’t have to take my things hostage.”
“I did ask.”
“And I said no. No means no.”
He still had hold of her wrist. He let go and she instantly brought her hand to her chest.
“What is your deal?” Her eyes clouded dark as a summer squall. “Don’t you know when you’re not wanted?”
“No one has ever taken care of you, have they?”
Her eyes widened and for one second he saw an expression so vulnerable it hurt his heart and he knew he’d nailed her. No one had taken care of her. He knew enough about her father to understand that man had an ocean-size ego. Jack Birchard was not the sort to pamper a little girl. He wondered about Jackie’s mom, but didn’t ask. There would be time enough for that when he got her to trust him.
What the hell, Everly? Why do you give a damn? You rescue people all day in your job, no need to carry it into your personal life.
Maybe not, but if anyone ever needed rescuing from her own self-imposed isolation, it was Jackie.
“You don’t eat enough.” He cast a glance over her thin frame. “And if what you ordered at the bar was any indication, when you do eat, you eat junk.”
“So what? Now you work for the surgeon general?”
“You need to start taking better care of yourself.”
“What for?”
“So you’ll have the energy for all the important work you’re doing.” He nodded at the book and notes sitting in the middle of the wrought-iron table.
That softened her. She cared about her research. Maybe it was the only thing she did care about. That and impressing her father. Yes, he could figure that out about her, too. If you had a father like Birchard you’d have to constantly prove yourself.
“Sit down,” he said more gently and took the other chair parked at the table.
Slowly, anger draining from her face, she eased onto the edge of the chair and perched like a hummingbird at red honeysuckle bloom, prepared to zip away at the first sign of danger.
“Okay, here I am sitting down. Now what?”
“We have a nice meal.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. All you have to do is eat something healthy.”
“I don’t have to talk to you?”
“Silence works for me.”
She stared at him.
Scott smiled.
Jackie fought the smile tipping at her own lips, and settled her hands in her lap.
The sound of the ocean lapping against the shore reached their ears along with the soft tones on the sound system playing “Edge of the Ocean” by Ivy.
“I’m not talking. Just eating.”
“Fine.”
“You can’t make me have a conversation with you.”
“Jackie,” he murmured. “I can’t make you do anything.”
“Darn Skippee.”
He stacked his hands on the table.
She held his eyes with one of the most penetrating stares he’d ever encountered. She was brave. He liked that about her.
“Here you go,” Tad said.
Simultaneously, Scott and Jackie glanced up as the smell of broiled seafood curled around them. Scott moved Jackie’s books to one side of the table and Tad settled their plates in front of them.
“Thank you, Tad,” Scott said.
Jackie picked up her fork.
“Tell Tad thank-you,” Scott prodded.
She looked chagrined. “Thank you, Tad.”
“You’re welcome.” Tad grinned.
Once Tad was out of earshot, Scott leaned back in his seat and studied her a long moment.
“What?”
“You’re cunning and brave, but you have zero social skills. I’m beginning to think you were raised by wolves.”
Startled eyebrows bounced up on Jackie’s forehead. “You think you’re really insightful, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Eat.”
“I’m not talking.”
“So you said.” He unfurled the paper napkin wrapped around his silverware and spread it over his lap.
“This does smell good,” she admitted.
“And it’s a lot healthier than fried conch.”
“I thought everyone on Key West adored fried conch.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t good. It’s just not good for you.”
Jackie stabbed a rum-glazed broiled shrimp with her fork, slipped it into her mouth. “Oh, this is good.”
“Wow, you said something positive and complimentary.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Leave the sarcasm to you, huh?” He speared a hunk of bib lettuce dressed with lime vinaigrette.
“Something like that.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
“How’s the Coast Guard business?” she asked after a while.
“Excuse me? Are you actually making polite conversation?”
“I’m trying here. Cut me some slack.”
He raised his palms. “Consider the slack cut.”
“How come a hunky guy like you isn’t married?”
“You think I’m hunky.” He couldn’t help smirking.
“Don’t gloat. I don’t want to upchuck this beautiful shrimp.”
“Good food, isn’t it?”
“Great,” she admitted. “I had no idea I was so hungry.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“You never answered my question. Why hasn’t someone snatched up an eligible bachelor like you? You’re like, what? Thirty-five?”
“Thirty-one,” he said around his bruised ego.
“Or have you already been married and divorced?”
“No one’s ever slipped a ring on this finger.” He held up his bare left hand.
“So what? You got terminal bad breath or something?”
“Just haven’t found the right woman I guess.”
“What about her?” Jackie waved a hand at a waitress delivering food at the next table over.
“No thanks.”
“How come?”
“Too young.” He held her gaze.
She didn’t flinch. “She looks over eighteen to me. What’s wrong with young?”
“I’d have to teach her everything. I’d rather have someone who knows her way around the world.”
“Never know. She might be able to teach you a few things about taking orders.”
“Maybe you should date her,” Scott joked.
“Are you saying I don’t take direction well?”
“I’m saying you’d wash out of the Coast Guard on the first day.”
“Good thing I have zero interest in joining the Coast Guard.”
Scott chuckled.
“I don’t get it,” she muttered.
“Get what?”
“Why you seem to like me.”
“Abrasive, obsessive, cranky, what’s not to like?”
“If I’m so bad, why are you here?”
“I’m one of those guys who believes you can’t enjoy the sunshine without a little rain. How can I enjoy a pleasant woman without spending a little time with a shrew?”
“I’m not a shrew. I just have different priorities than most women.”
“I know.” He sobered. “I was just teasing. I don’t think you’re a shrew.”
“I can be,” she admitted. “When my research gets stymied.”
“And I stymied it when I pulled up your equipment.”
“Yes.” She lowered her eyes, gazed at him speculatively. “But all is well now. I forgive you.”
“Thanks,” he said, feeling strangely, incredibly relieved. The tone of the evening changed after that and they chattered leisurely about their mutual l
ove of the ocean for almost an hour. Every time he peered into her eyes, Scott felt swept away. Everly, something weird is going on here. Just pay the bill and leave while the getting is good. She won’t take offense.
Yes, right, good idea. That’s exactly what he would do. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, peeled off the money for the meal, plus a sizable tip for Tad, and tucked the cash under his empty plate.
He stood up, leaned down.
Jackie sat in the chair looking up at him. He admired her at close range. Moonlight draped over her patrician features. Her skin shimmered golden. The ocean whispered.
Mermaid.
He opened his mouth, meant to tell her good-night, good luck with her studies, have a good life, but instead, he said, “C’mon. I’ll walk you home.”
JACKIE DID NOT WANT to admit that she was enjoying herself and Scott’s company. She wasn’t prone to infatuation. If she felt lusty, she usually took care of it in the most efficient way possible, got the urges out of her system and then went back to work. She found anything that distracted her from her research an irritant.
But now, here, walking along the beach with her sandals clutched between her fingers, her feet digging into the sand, the sound of the surf whispering a sweet lullaby, and Scott walking beside her, she felt…well…feminine.
Normal.
Startled by this thought, she drew in a deep breath. Who was this guy and why was he interested in her? Bigger question, why was she interested in him? Yes, she was interested. There. She’d dared to admit it.
He carried her book and notes under his arm. She sneaked a glance over at him. The moonlight cast his profile in shadows. He had a strong nose and an equally strong chin, high cheekbones and piercing eyes. Her stomach jumped at the acknowledgment of her desire.
Hormones. Chemicals. That was all.
She was a scientist. She understood that. It was okay. Part of the human condition. One thing she did not believe in was the softer feelings of the heart. Emotions were transient. Shifting. As evidenced by her parents’ tumultuous relationships and her mother’s abandonment. She pushed that thought aside. She didn’t even miss her mother. Not really. Not anymore. She’d learned to comfort herself with science. Jack had taught her that. Her father had his faults, but he’d stuck by her and he’d shown her that the best way to cope with emotions was simply to ignore them.