by Lori Wilde
She worked alongside him to bring the sail down, then carried it with him up to the clubhouse where they washed it down with freshwater to remove any salt spray. Once it was dry, they rolled it and stowed it in a long canvas bag. Then she helped him coil ropes, copying his expert moves in her own fumbling way.
“Sailing can be addictive, so you’d better be careful,” Nate said as he tied off a coil of rope and dropped it onto the trampoline. “Sam’s like that—not happy unless he’s on the water.”
It was the first time he’d ever mentioned her father and she shot him a look. His face was absolutely neutral as he checked to make sure the rudders were locked upright. As though they were discussing the weather or something equally banal.
“Sam’ll do pretty much anything to get out there,” he said. “A lot of small yacht deliveries for rich guys who need their boats sailed from one port to another, crewing with bigger yachts when the work comes up. He’s more than happy to spend days out on the water on his own. Which probably explains why he’s a taciturn bastard at the best of times.”
It took her a moment to understand what he was doing: letting her know that her father’s rejection wasn’t personal, that he was an isolate by nature. She stroked her finger along the silky weave of the rope she was coiling, assessing the conversation she’d had with her father from this new perspective.
If her father was a shy man, a loner, socially awkward…it was possible that his first response to contact from a long-lost child might be retreat.
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
Nate wiped his brow with the hem of his T-shirt, leaving a pink smear on the fabric from the zinc across his nose and cheeks. “Better go see if there’s anyone in the clubhouse who can give us a lift back up to the racks. Unless you’re hiding muscles I don’t know about, Lizzy?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Didn’t think so.”
She watched as he made his way up the sand. He’d gone out of his way to be kind to her today, taking her out on the water to distract her from her disillusionment then offering her some insight into her father’s character so she could better understand his behavior. Nathan was clearly uncomfortable with having that kindness acknowledged, however. She remembered how he’d told her he didn’t want to get involved in any This Is Your Life situations that first time they’d met—then proceeded to follow her to her car and reassure her, as well as make contact with her father on her behalf.
She realized she was staring after him like a love-struck teenager and forced herself to turn away and concentrate on coiling the last rope. She needed to tread carefully. She’d already acknowledged that he was different from any other man she’d ever met. He’d introduced her to a world of sensual pleasure she’d only ever suspected existed, and he’d been very kind to her, in his own quiet, low-key way. Then there was the intense, intelligent, intriguing conversation they’d shared last night….
She was smart enough to know that all those things together were a pretty deadly combination, no matter how many times she assured herself she understood that he was a good-time guy and this was only a holiday fling.
The sound of masculine laughter heralded Nathan’s return with three other men, all of whom were tanned and fit-looking, dressed casually in T-shirts and board shorts like Nathan.
“Lizzy, this is David, Gary and Steve,” Nathan said.
“Hi,” Elizabeth said, offering them all a wave of her hand.
She tugged on the hem of her soggy, oversize T-shirt, aware she probably looked like something the cat had dragged in.
As though he sensed her self-consciousness, Nate draped an arm around her shoulders and dropped a kiss onto her nose before ushering her to one side.
“Stand back and let us men do our thing,” he said in a deliberately deep, gravelly voice.
“Should I cheer you on? Or maybe squeal a little?” she offered drily.
Nate stripped off his wet T-shirt, tossing it over to her.
“Save the squealing for later,” he said with a wink.
The other men laughed, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes as they each grabbed a corner of the boat and hefted. Muscles rippled down Nate’s arms and back, and she forgot what she’d been about to say in response.
She followed them as they carried the catamaran up the beach. She couldn’t take her eyes off Nate. And it wasn’t just because of his body.
Be very careful, Elizabeth.
But it was hard to listen to common sense when the sun was shining and she was walking on the wild side for the first time in her life.
7
NATE WOKE TO FIND Elizabeth curled into his side again. Even as his cock rejoiced, his shoulders tensed.
He shouldn’t have invited her to stay for dinner last night. The sailing lesson was one thing, but he shouldn’t have cooked her dinner, then pulled her into the studio afterward and peeled off her clothes and laid his body over hers. Definitely he shouldn’t have wrapped his arms around her afterward and fallen asleep nuzzling her neck.
What he should have done was send her home and nipped this thing in the bud. She was a good person—a nice person. He didn’t want to hurt her. But it was inevitable if they kept seeing each other like this.
The problem was, he really liked her. The sex was fantastic, and she was smart and funny and she didn’t play games.
And he was a guy who could barely get through the night without nightmares. A guy who’d retreated to the far corner of his own life in an attempt to stop himself from going completely nuts—if it hadn’t happened already.
He had no business starting something with her that he couldn’t finish. He had nothing to offer beyond sex, and somehow, despite his best intentions, this thing between them was already moving past that.
So. It was time to pull the pin. She might hate him for it in the short term, but she’d thank him in the long run.
Having made his decision, he told himself to get out of bed and start putting distance between them. Instead, he smoothed his hand down her shoulder, savoring the cool silk of her hair against his fingers. Then he lowered his head and inhaled the warm smell of her skin—sweet, with just a hint of her citrusy perfume lingering.
There was no getting around it. He’d found more peace, more comfort in her arms the past few nights than he had for months. Ridiculous as it seemed after such a short time, he was going to miss her.
Get out of bed. Get out of bed. Get out of bed.
He knew the voice in his head was smart and rational, but he didn’t move. Instead, he waited another half hour until she woke, her eyes fluttering, a slight frown on her face. She smiled when she saw he was awake already, the warmth in her eyes making him hard and uneasy at the same time.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi.”
She glanced down and noticed his hard-on.
“And good morning to you, too,” she said.
She smoothed a hand down his belly. He caught it just before she wrapped her fingers around his cock and forced himself to say what needed to be said.
“Listen. I have to leave the island for a few days,” he said.
She stilled and he knew that she understood the unspoken message behind his casual words.
She withdrew her hand. “Are you, um, heading off today?” she asked, her tone carefully light.
“This afternoon, most likely,” he lied.
She nodded. “Well. Have a good trip.”
“Yeah. Thanks. I will.”
It was a ludicrously stiff and formal conversation to be having while naked, lying side by side in bed. He threw off the sheet and stood. Elizabeth’s dress and underwear were folded neatly on the chair in the corner and he passed them to her. She gave him a small smile of thanks that didn’t reach her eyes.
He turned away and pulled on a pair of cargo shorts.
“Might go make some coffee,” he said.
He left her to get dressed, crossing the dewy grass to the house, cursing himself every st
ep of the way for being about as subtle as a sledgehammer.
But he only had to remember the flash of hurt he’d seen in her eyes to know he’d done the right thing.
He was pushing open the back door when someone spoke behind him.
“Nate.”
He looked over his shoulder. Jarvie stood near the corner of the house, a wary expression on his face. His business partner looked tired, older than when Nate had last seen him. It took Nate a moment to find his voice.
“What are you doing here?”
Jarvie lifted his hand and Nate saw he was holding another one of those damned envelopes.
“I brought your mail.”
Nate stepped back onto the lawn. “Last time I looked, there were a bunch of people they paid to do that.”
“Last time I looked, people actually opened their mail.”
“You’ve got my vote. Do what you like with the business.”
“It’s your company, too, Nate. I can’t make all the decisions on my own.”
Jesus. They’d been over all this a million times. He stared at the ground, his jaw tight, not saying anything. He didn’t want to think about any of this. Couldn’t. All of it—the company, his old life—belonged to a man who didn’t exist anymore. And Jarvie knew that. Yet he kept sending mail and now he was here, asking for something Nate didn’t have it in his power to give.
“We can’t keep going on like this. The company works best when we’re both there. We need you,” Jarvie said.
“Believe me, you don’t. I gave you power of attorney over my share of the business. Just do whatever you need to do.”
“It’s not that simple and you know it. You’re the one who wrote the software. No one knows it better than you. We’ve had requests for new features, modifications…”
“Hire more programmers.”
“They’re not you. They don’t know Smartsell like you do.”
“They’ll work it out. It’s not rocket science.”
Nate could feel himself getting angrier and angrier. Why couldn’t Jarvie leave him the hell alone? He knew why Nate was here. He knew everything. So why did he keep pushing and pushing? “Nate—”
“You think I want this? You think I like living like this? Do you have any idea—” He broke off, breathing hard. He clenched and unclenched his hands, hot pressure building at the back of his eyes.
“Listen, I know it’s tough, man. But you can’t just lock yourself away down here. You need to come back up to the city, start seeing that doctor again. She was helping, right? And maybe if you came into work a few days a week, things would start looking up again.”
Looking up again.
Right.
Nate laughed. Jarvie had no idea. Standing there talking about Nate returning to the city and returning to work. As though there was nothing in the world stopping Nate from doing any of those things if he wanted to.
But, of course, as far as Jarvie was concerned, there wasn’t. He didn’t understand that after six months Nate still had to anesthetize himself with beer or vodka to get to sleep each night. Jarvie had no idea that all it took was the screech of tires or the wrong combination of noises or simply Nate letting his guard down and he was in the middle of a flashback to those long hours in the car, at the mercy of his own messed-up subconscious. Jarvie didn’t have his little sister’s voice in his head, pleading with him to do something, anything, to stop the pain.
He didn’t have to live with the knowledge that he’d taken the life of the one person he loved more than any other in all the world.
Nate stared at his old friend, his body shaking with the force of his fury. For a moment he teetered on the brink of giving in to the urge to pound on something, anything, to release the anger and self-hate and fear inside himself. Then he reminded himself that this was Jarvie, his oldest friend, his business partner, and even if Jarvie didn’t understand, he was here for the right reasons.
“You should get out of here,” Nate said, turning away.
Jarvie stepped into his path. “You have to stop running from this, man.”
“Get out of the way.”
“Not until you listen to me.”
“Move,” Nate said between his teeth. “No.”
Nate’s hand curled into a fist, his arm muscles bunching, his shoulders squaring. If Jarvie wanted a fight, he’d come to the right place.
“Nathan, don’t!” Suddenly Elizabeth was between them, her hand on his arm. She was barefoot, her hair a tangle around her head.
He had no idea how long she’d been watching, how much she’d heard. Jarvie released his grip and Nate took a step away from his old friend.
“Don’t come again,” Nate said.
Then he turned and fled the accusation in his old friend’s eyes.
ELIZABETH WATCHED NATE walk around the corner of the house. She couldn’t believe he’d been on the verge of a fight before she’d intervened.
“Shit,” Nate’s visitor said, the single word full of frustration and regret.
She glanced at him. He was about the same age as Nate, dressed casually but expensively in designer jeans and a Paul Smith shirt with striped cuffs.
He returned her regard, his gray gaze flicking up and down her body assessingly.
Since she didn’t know what else to do she offered her hand.
“I’m Elizabeth Mason,” she said.
When in doubt, be polite.
He stared at her hand as though he didn’t quite know what to do with it before reaching out to shake it. “Jarvie Roberts.”
“I’m sure Nate will be back shortly,” she said.
Because surely he would be. He couldn’t leave his friend hanging like this.
Jarvie smiled cynically. “No, he won’t. He won’t come back until he knows I’ve cleared out.”
“Oh.”
Jarvie’s gaze slid over her again, then he bent and collected the envelope from the ground. He handed it to her.
“Would you mind giving this to him?”
“Certainly.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he said. He raised his hand in farewell as he strode up the driveway.
Elizabeth sighed and pushed her hair away from her forehead.
What in hell had all that been about?
She looked at the envelope in her hands. She hadn’t heard much of the heated conversation, but she’d heard enough to gather that Nate was partners in some sort of business with the other man and that he’d recently walked away from it. She eyed the logo on the envelope. Smartsell. She’d never heard of it, but that didn’t mean anything.
Nathan didn’t strike her as a man who’d abandon a business on a whim. Even though her first impression had been that he was a lazy, feckless beach bum, she knew him a little better now.
She went into the kitchen and propped the envelope against the salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table so he would see it as soon as he came in. As she was turning away, her gaze fell on a magazine rack in the far corner, overflowing with similar-looking envelopes. She stepped closer to examine them. Sure enough, they all bore the Smartsell logo.
Confused and worried, she walked to the beach in search of Nate.
She told herself she was being stupid, that Nate did not want her chasing him. He’d cut her loose this morning, in no uncertain terms. She might not be very experienced with men, but she recognized a kiss-off when she heard one.
Still, she walked to the waterline and shaded her eyes, looking up and down the beach for him.
His whole body had been trembling when she touched his arm to stop the fight. And the look in his eyes…
Her gut told her that something was very wrong, and she was worried about him. Maybe that made her foolish, but so be it. She could be embarrassed about it later, when she’d assured herself he was all right.
She walked along the beach for fifteen minutes in both directions, then she went to the pub and checked both the beer garden and the public bar. There was no sign of Nate anywhe
re, and the barman, Trevor, said he hadn’t seen him.
Which left her at a standstill. She didn’t know Nate well enough to guess where else he might go. Which pretty much said everything, really.
Just leave it, Elizabeth. He’s not your responsibility. You had some good sex, he cut you loose, that’s it. Let it go.
Good advice, but it didn’t stop her from descending the stairs to the main bar earlier than usual that night, hoping Nathan would be there. He wasn’t and she was on edge all evening, waiting for him to appear. By eleven he hadn’t and she figured he wasn’t going to. She went upstairs to her room and told herself it was just as well.
Her island fling was well and truly over.
NATE SUCKED DOWN THE LAST of his beer and threw the empty bottle onto the grass beneath the hammock. It clinked against another empty bottle, which wasn’t exactly a miracle since he’d been drinking heavily since he returned to the house in the late afternoon and the lawn was littered with bottles.
Despite all the beer, the agitated, unsettled feeling still gripped his chest and gut, as it had all day.
Bloody Jarvie. Coming down here, ruining Nate’s peace. He’d given the guy carte blanche to do whatever he wanted with the business—why couldn’t he just piss off and leave Nate to what was left of his life? Why did he have to keep inserting himself into things, reminding Nate of the way things used to be?
It had taken Nate months to develop a routine that got him through the days and the nights. After too many hangovers to count he’d finally discovered the perfect amount of beer to consume to achieve an undisturbed night’s sleep without making the next day a disaster. Between the beer and the surfing and the occasional hook-up with a warm and willing woman from town, he’d survived the past four months. Just.
Then Jarvie had barged in this morning with his demands, bringing Nate’s old life with him.
He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his eyelids, thinking about the envelope Jarvie had left on his kitchen table and all that it represented.
Why can’t he understand? I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it anymore.