Barefoot at Sunset (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 1) (25 page)

“Plenty is wrong with me.” He sat on the side of the tub and reached out to her wet hair. “And I really don’t like when you look unhappy.”

“See?” she asked, holding up her hands as if her point had been made.

“Not…entirely.” He tread lightly, knowing better than to contradict a naked woman making confessions in the bath.

“I know I said no regrets or second-guessing or morning-after doubts, but…” She shook her head and looked outside, more to avoid his gaze, he suspected, than to appreciate the water view.

He stroked a finger over her bare arm. “It’s not the morning after yet, and you’re allowed to doubt. What brought this on?”

“The third orgasm?” she said with a crack in her voice.

“Should we go for four, five, and six? Maybe they’ll cancel the others out.”

“I won’t be able to walk, let alone dance.”

“How about we eat and talk? We need to talk.” Talk…about truths. Although, if she was having doubts about having sex with him, he’d just rock her whole world by dumping the truth about Kyle on top of her. That just wasn’t fair.

But
not
telling her wasn’t fair, either.

“Talk about what?”

He sighed. “I haven’t been honest with you.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Please, oh God, please don’t hit me with something like you’re married.” Her voice rose and tightened. “Please—”

“Emma!” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Of course I’m not married. I’m one hundred percent single and free to do this. Put that out of your mind.”

“Whew. Okay. ’Cause, whoa, liars and cheats. I can’t take them.”

Shit. Double shit. Son of a bitch shit, he was about to hurt her with the truth about her ex.

“Okay,” she said, sounding lighter. “Go start the pasta water, and I’ll shower off the suds and be with you in a few minutes.”

He took her chin in his hand and leaned over, planting a kiss on her mouth. “Take your time,” he said, and meant it. He’d need a few minutes to come up with how to tell her in a way that wouldn’t completely destroy her heart.

How had he started caring about her so fast, he wondered as he filled a pot with water. It had been only a couple of days. A crazy charade, a walk on the beach, a few good car rides, some dancing…and one mind-blowing afternoon in bed.

But the thought of seeing her hurt tore him to shreds. He put the pot on a back burner and closed his eyes with a sigh.

“I know what it is.”

At Emma’s words, he turned to find her on a barstool, facing the kitchen. She wore a loose-fitting beach cover-up with no bra, the shapes of her breasts and points of her nipples evident enough to make his mouth water with the memory of tasting them.

“What
what
is?” he asked.

“What you want to tell me.”

No, she didn’t. She couldn’t. She’d brought the half bottle of champagne they’d been drinking to the counter, and he nodded to it. “Can I get you a fresh glass? No plastic this time.”

She rested her chin on the heel of her hand as she studied him, ignoring his question. “You don’t want to tell me,” she said. “Why is that?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“In fact, you’ve gone to great lengths so that I don’t find out.” She angled her head. “Why?”

He swallowed and braced himself on the counter, facing her. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She frowned, drawing back. “I’d be hurt if I knew where you went this afternoon?”

That’s what she thought he was holding back?

“Is that why you never answered me when I asked you where you went?” she asked. When he frowned, she said, “Remember when we were leaving the spa, and I asked you where you’d been? You changed the subject.”

He actually had no memory of that and hadn’t changed the subject on purpose, but slowly, the possibility of telling her something that
wouldn’t
hurt her formed in his mind.

Was it wrong? Was it too easy?

“I thought you might…” As he played with the words, he looked at her, seeing the flush of sex still on her cheeks, the light that never quite dimmed in her eyes even when she’d struggled with the aftereffects of amazing sex.

He’d steal that light and drain those cheeks of color if he told her the truth about Kyle.

He clenched his jaw and made the decision. He wouldn’t hurt her. He just wouldn’t. To what end? His first instinct on the matter was right, as usual.

She’d find out soon enough when word got out of her boss’s new girlfriend, and he’d be…wherever he was going next. She’d never know that he’d had that conversation with Kyle and knew the truth.

“I thought you might laugh at me,” he finally said.

Her lips lifted in a half smile. “My favorite pastime.”

He chuckled, turning to the cabinet to get them fresh glasses for a hearty red wine he’d opened to go with their pasta.

“I will tell you where I went and why,” he said. “But keep your mockery to a minimum, because I got the answers I was looking for.”

Silent, she watched him, finally taking the bistro glass of Chianti he’d poured and raising it to him. “Here’s to honesty,” she said.

Right
. “To happiness,” he countered. He tapped her glass with his, the thin crystal rims dinging the start of a round. A round she’d lose if he were perfectly honest, so he opted for a completely different kind of honesty.

“I went to the high school after all.”

She sat up a little straighter. “You faced a fear without me? I mean, if you’re now willing to admit it
was
a fear.”

“It was,” he conceded.

“What changed your mind?”

“I went looking for advice from Julia,” he said after taking a sip.

Emma’s hand froze midair, the glass inches from her mouth. “Really?”

“Really. And, believe it or not, I got that advice.”

“From Julia.” She couldn’t hide the skepticism in her voice.

“Sort of. And from Principal Wigglesworth.”

She leaned against the back of the barstool and finally took her drink. “The ninety-year-old guy who was at Lacey’s party?”

“Ninety-six.” He checked the water to be sure it wasn’t close to boiling and came around to get next to her, ready to tell her this particular confession. Her past relationship had no bearing on their future. But his did. And he wanted her to know he realized that.

She looked a little confused and uncertain. “How is that advice from Julia?”

He let out a breath. “She was there.”

She gave him a look of sheer incredulity.

He laughed softly. “We were at the trophy cases and her picture was there, but…I feel like it was a legitimate message just the same.”

She searched his eyes and put the wine glass down, using her free hand to touch his face. “Why are you telling me this?”

He looked back at her, searching his heart for the truth. “It was why I was able to make love to you today with so much…feeling.”

He could see her swallow hard, but she didn’t say a word.

“Normally, I…”

“Don’t have feelings?” she guessed.

“I avoid them and escape with the next high-adventure vacation,” he admitted. Then he smiled and looked down at his wine. “So you were right about that, too.”

She took his chin and forced his face up. “What was this message from Julia?” she asked, her voice tight. “What did she say?”

“Nothing. It came from the ninety-six-year-old principal. He said his biggest regret in life was not pursuing another woman after his wife died forty-five years ago,” Mark said, turning the barstool so Emma was facing him. “He stayed alone.”

Her dark eyes flashed for a second, then dimmed. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you have to say is ‘okay’?”

“Well, what do you want me to say, Mark? Hallelujah, I have a chance?”

“What do you mean, you have a chance?”

“Against the memory of your one and only soul mate?” She shook her head, hard. “I don’t want to fight that memory. I don’t want to take her place. I really, really want to have sex and have fun and have my week in paradise like you promised me. But anything more?”

“Would be bad?” he guessed.

“Would be impossible.”

Would it? Was he still that mired in the past? Did he have to face more fears in order to free himself for someone as extraordinary as Emma?

“Look,” she said. “I think it’s very sweet that I mean enough to you in this short time to want that…that approval. But you don’t need it, Mark. This is just…a ruse. Remember?”

He’d completely forgotten.

“Hey.” She pointed to the stove. “Your water is boiling.”

And so were his nerves.

Without a word, he scooted around the counter to turn off the burner. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said casually and quickly. “But it was fun to see the old school.”

“So what other places are you trying to avoid? If you tell me, I will drag you to them right this very minute.”

“Okay.” He turned and gave her a look. If this was just physical for her, then…so be it. “Bed,” he said. “I’m terrified of it.”

She frowned, confusion darkening her eyes until she saw him smile. “You are?”

“Petrified. So, please, Emma DeWitt, drag me back to bed right this very minute.”

She slid off her stool and crooked her finger. “Follow me.”

He followed, of course. To paradise. To pleasure. To yet another thrill.

Or was it just another form of escape? It was…for her. And he wasn’t sure why that bothered him, but it did.

Chapter Twenty

Jasper eyed one, then the other, his hands on his hips, his platinum rooster tail pointing to the unforgiving overhead studio lights. “So what
happened
with you two?” His voice rose with playful, unambiguous intention.

Emma looked at Mark, seeing his chest rising and falling from the light exertion of
The Power of Love
dance. He lifted a shoulder, as confused by the question as she was.

“I thought we nailed it,” Mark said.

“Oh, you nailed
something
,” Jasper said. “Each other for the past twenty-four hours, is my guess.”

Emma felt heat crawl up her neck. Was it that obvious? Jasper was right, of course. Sex happened…and quite a bit of it.

Dinnertime sex, followed by before-sleep sex—though that was really more of Emma as dessert sex. They’d stumbled through the day yesterday, attended one subcommittee meeting, sneaked in a meal somewhere, and spent the rest of the time in bed, in the pool, on the sofa…

And today there was blissful, crazy, triple-o-time morning sex. And a whole heck of a lot of soaping each other down in the shower.

When she said “just sex” to Mark, Emma was pretty sure he’d interpreted that as
only
sex. Oh, they talked, if breezy banter counted as talking, but their short-term relationship had definitely taken a turn for the physical.

“Are we dancing differently?” Emma asked tentatively.

“You’re dancing like two people on fire.”

“To win this competition,” Emma added, unable to ignore Mark’s somewhat satisfied smirk.

“Then I hope you’ve picked out the perfect costumes.”

“Uh, costumes?” Satisfaction disappeared as Mark’s face registered horror. “We’re not wearing costumes.”

“Then you’re not winning,” Jasper replied. “Find yourself something suitably eighties. Emma, rip a T-shirt and find some leg warmers to wear over black tights. Mark, surely you’ve got something around. A nice white Miami Vice linen jacket and a skinny tie will do the trick. Loafers with no socks. And, for the love of Pete,
practice
at home. Standing up this time. Especially that free-for-all at the end. It’s sloppy.”

He clapped three times, signaling the end of their lesson, and packed up his things.

A few minutes later, at the Porsche parked on the street, Mark reached into his pocket.

“Tails,” Emma said, knowing the ritual already.

He flipped a quarter, caught it on the back of his hand, peeked, and grinned at her.

“You’re cheating,” she accused.

“I’m just lucky. And I’m driving.” He gave her a quick kiss and opened the passenger door. “Let’s go back to Heaven’s Helper. Mrs. Reinhardt has a ton of clothes in her thrift shop. Maybe something will work for our costumes so Jasper doesn’t completely disown us.”

“I know, right? Complaining about our dancing.” She slipped into the seat and looked up at him. “I thought we were amazing.”

He grinned at her. “I don’t think we washed all the pheromones off in the shower.”

“I don’t know how that happened. We did everything else possible in that shower.”

They took the long way—since Mark wanted extra driving time, Emma suspected—but found Carla Reinhardt behind her counter when they arrived back at the Heaven’s Helper.

“Well, speak of the devil!” she cried out when they walked in.

“Someone’s talking about us?” Mark asked.