No Sunshine When She's Gone (17 page)

Aidan was competitive. He played hard for a big man on a miniature golf course. He got frustrated when he missed a shot. He had a few choice words for his putter. She laughed at him often. He was down by three by the time they reached the tenth hole. Jill was even par.

“I built this course, you’d think I’d play better,” he said at the twelfth hole.

“You’d think so.” She grinned at him.

“Smart mouth,” he said, just before he leaned in and kissed her, a soft, light kiss that surprised her. She lost her concentration. His kiss had thrown off her game. It took eight strokes to sink the next putt on the thirteenth hole. Aidan managed to land the ball in the cup in three. He was quite pleased with himself.

They faced a robotic mermaid sitting on an enormous boulder on fourteen. Her long silver tail swung like a pendulum, making it difficult for the ball to pass through a hole in the rock. Jill successfully beat Aidan by one stroke.

“Ariel let you win the hole,” he said.

“Us girls need to stick together,” said Jill.

Jill liked the sixteenth hole best. It offered a long pier that resembled the one at the beach. Navigating around tourists and fishermen was a difficult task. Jill jerked and ducked when a robot fisherman cast his line. Her ball went over the side of the pier and landed in a water hazard. Aidan retrieved it with a small fishing net. She was penalized a stroke.

The eighteenth was the toughest. They faced a stand of flamingos, hot pink and long-legged. The first stroke set the birds in motion, and their webbed feet began to shift.

“A flamingo shuffle,” Jill said, amazed by the intricate mechanisms. It took her forever to shoot between their feet. She lost count of her strokes. “Five or six?” she asked Aidan.

“Nine.”

She finally closed her eyes and putted blind. She squinted to see if the ball had rolled back to her. To her surprise, it shot between the shuffling flamingos and landed in the cup.

Aidan fared better. His brow creased with concentration. His focus got him a hole in one. He won the round.

Jill had been so absorbed in mini-golf, she’d been distracted from her sunburned feet. Now, at the end of the course, she realized how much they hurt her. They felt on fire. She needed to return to the houseboat.

Aidan sensed her pain. “Let’s grab a soda from the vending machine and head back to the Horizon,” he suggested. “Miniature golf tired me.”

He didn’t appear tired, Jill noted. He looked big, and strong, and ready to go another eighteen holes. Easily. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“Nora and I have an early morning conference call with James Lawless and Risk Kincaid,” he told her. “We’re still ironing out a few kinks in the stadium design.”

Jill believed he had a call coming in, but she wondered what he considered early. She knew James seldom got to the office before ten a.m. The team owner spent mornings with his grandfather. Heir to a hotel chain, James did his best to keep his finger on the pulse of his inheritance as well as the team. She suspected that Aidan had fibbed to make her feel better.

Jill was limping by the time they returned their equipment to the entrance booth. Aidan offered his arm and she leaned on him heavily. Each step was excruciatingly painful.

She sighed with relief when they reached the houseboat. Once inside, she removed her slippers and socks. No lotion remained. Her feet were beet-red and swollen. She looked around for her bottle of Vaseline Intensive Care. Aidan stopped her before she could reapply it.

“My grandmother had a remedy for sunburn,” he told her. “Let’s give it a try. Do you have a washcloth?”

“There’s one in the bathroom cabinet.”

He retrieved two, and dampened them both. “Tap water, so the cloths aren’t cold,” he told her. He knelt before her then, settled both her feet on his thigh, and laid the washcloths across them.

Relief was immediate. “Bless your grandmother,” she said.

Aidan set her feet off his leg; went to wet the cloths once again. He repeated the process a dozen times, until the swelling lessened.

“How is that?” he asked.

She was so taken by his kindness she could barely speak. “I’m feeling much better, thanks,” she managed around the tightness in her throat.

“I’d do anything for someone who liked me.”

She liked him more the longer she knew him.

“You need to rest,” he said. “Apply the cloths a few more times before you go to bed. You should be fine in the morning, although it’s going to take a few days for the sunburn to fade.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to put sunscreen on my feet,” she said with a sigh.

“Live and learn, babe.”

He rose then, stood over her. “We’ve both got busy schedules the rest of this week and next,” he said. “I’ll attend slow-pitch practice; that will burn my free time.”

She would miss seeing him, but she understood. “I won’t be at practice, since I’m playing for the Rogues. Carrie wants to keep the team’s tactics a secret.”

Aidan smiled and said, “We’ll take our turn at bat, we’ll play the field, that’s the extent of our performance.”

“It will be a fun day.”

He stared down at her, indecision in his gaze. “I’ll be in touch,” he finally said. “Take care of yourself.”

He gave her a good-night kiss.

One that was far too short.

Corner to corner, he brushed his lips across hers.

His kiss was gentle, yet unsettling.

Arousing, yet soothing.

He left her wanting more, a whole lot more.

She had a restless night, not from her sore feet, but from wanting Aidan Cates. In her bed and under the sea.

C
arrie Waters was headed to bed. It was only ten p.m., but her silk sheets called to her. She turned off the television and left the couch. She blew out the pillar candle she’d purchased that afternoon. The summer breeze fragrance filled the living room. She couldn’t look at the candleholder without thinking of Mike Burke. He had invaded her life.

She stretched and smiled to herself. She loved living at the penthouse. Her life couldn’t get any better.

But it could get worse, she realized, when someone pounded on the front door. Her heart quickened. Her gut told her it was Mike. At least he had the courtesy not to barge in on her as he’d done the previous night.

Her feet sank into the carpet as she moved to the entryway. Her toes got lost in the deep pile. She looked through the peephole. There stood Mike, looking tough and tired and in need of her, she thought. She cautiously opened the door.

“You knocked,” she said.

“I wanted you to invite me in.”

“If I didn’t?” she asked.

“There’s always the hall.”

She stepped back, let him pass.

He carried an athletic bag and a designer box from Dreams. The man had brought his own sheets. Somehow that didn’t surprise her at all. He liked his silk.

He walked through to the living room. She followed him. He set the bag and box on one end of the sofa. Dead on his feet, he dropped down, ran his hands through his hair. It spiked. He palmed his eyes, as if trying to focus. “One more night?” His voice was hoarse.

She figured he’d inhaled a lot of dust on the job site as he’d shouted to be heard over the roar of heavy equipment. “Will that lead to a week or a month?” she asked, wanting him to be honest.

“However long you’ll have me,” he said.

“I’m here for a year.”

“Not sure we’ll make it twelve months.”

She doubted it, too. They were too different.

“Let’s get through tonight,” he suggested. “We can discuss this further in the morning.”

That she could do.

“I hate to cut this conversation short, but I could use a shower,” came next.

She wrinkled her nose. “You smell.” Dark and musky, but not really offensive.

He slowly rose, and stood within a foot of her. “Man sweat, babe, from physical labor.”

“I thought you were the superintendent.”

“I do whatever needs to be done.”

“Feel free to shower.”

“I was thinking Jacuzzi tonight.”

She shook her head. “Think again. My bath connects to the master bedroom, and I’m about to tuck in.”

“I could be quiet.”

“Don’t push me.”

“I’d tiptoe—”

“I would still hear you.” She’d sense his presence, even if he were as quiet as prayer in church.

“Difficult woman.”

“Irritating man.”

He blew out a breath. “Fine, have it your way.” He hefted his athletic bag onto his shoulder, then picked up the box. “Are you sleeping skin to silk?” he asked as he stepped around her.

Her cheeks heated. “That’s none of your business.”

“Your blush says yes.” His grin was wicked.

He walked off, and she stared after him. Mike Burke was built. He had the swagger of ten men. He was difficult and moody with sinfully good looks. His sarcasm put her off, but not as much now as when she’d first met him. She’d have her hands full with him living here. She sensed he was here to stay. That didn’t bother her as much as it should.

Tomorrow they would make a list of rules. Abide by them. Or so she hoped. She would sleep on it.

Morning came too soon. Dawn peeked through the blinds. Carrie slid her body across the silk sheets, feeling cool and comfortable. She’d fallen in love with Pratesi.

She jerked when Mike banged on her bedroom door. The man had no respect for her space. Or the fact she might still be sleeping. It was six a.m.

“What do you want?” She sounded grumpy.

He cracked the door, but didn’t look in. “Can I have one of your bagels?” he asked.

“You bought them yesterday,” she reminded him. “They’re as much yours as they are mine.”

“I didn’t want to take any food without asking.”

That was a first. Boundaries were good. “Help yourself,” she said.

“Can I bring you breakfast in bed?”

“No.”

“Come join me then.”

The man wanted company? That surprised her. “Let me get dressed.”

“I have an hour before I have to be on-site.” He closed the door.

She purposely took thirty minutes. Ten, and she’d slipped on a floral-print blouse and white jeans. She sat the remaining twenty on the end of her bed. She didn’t want to appear anxious to see him.

She strolled into the kitchen and found him standing by the kitchen counter, buttering a blueberry muffin. He narrowed his gaze, gave her the once-over, and then looked away. Pouring himself a second cup of coffee seemed more important than her appearance. Maybe she should’ve combed her hair. Put on mascara. It was too late for that now. She settled on a swivel stool.

He passed her several ziplock bags. The man had eaten two muffins and a bagel, she noted. He’d left her the plain cake doughnut. He filled her coffee mug. The brew was dark and strong. She was wide awake after her second sip.

She glanced toward the door. No athletic bag. No designer box with sheets. Apparently he wasn’t leaving. She cleared her throat. “We need to set some house rules if you stay,” she dared to say.

His gaze sharpened. “Are you laying down the law, Vanilla?”

“There’s always flexibility,” she said, trying to be fair. She sensed he’d break whatever rules she set anyway. But she had to start somewhere. She needed to be firm.

“I’m listening, let’s hear them,” he said.

“I’d rather write them down.”

“Why do that?”

“You won’t remember, and I want them listed.”

He pulled a face and made a rude noise. “You haven’t lived with a man before, have you?” he asked.

“No, why?”

“It’s evident. Roommates are give and take.”

“I won’t let you take advantage of me.”

“I’ve no plans to do so.”

She snagged a sheet of paper off the notepad near the portable phone. A pen was at arm’s reach. She tapped it on the counter, contemplating. “The penthouse is beautifully furnished,” she said. “There should be no new items brought in unless we both approve.”

“Guess I’d better cancel my pool table and beer keg.”

He was pushing her buttons. “You need to respect my space.” She jotted down. “No poking your head in my bedroom unannounced.”

“You’re welcome in my room any time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thank you, but no.”

“Can I schedule time in your Jacuzzi?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Not even when you’re not home?”

“Not a chance.”

“Damn, you don’t share well.”

“I have seniority, Mike,” she said, reminding him that she’d been there first. This was officially her place. “The master bedroom and bath are off-limits.”

“Not set in stone,” he grumbled.

“I’m chiseling it in now.”

“You could make me feel more welcome.”

“You were never
invited
. You showed up and stayed.”

“You’d rather I leave?”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Your silence says everything.”

“I’m nervous and worried,” she admitted. “I have no idea how this will work out.”

“We won’t know until we give it a try, will we?”

“I guess we won’t.”

“What’s next?” he asked.

“We buy our own groceries and paper products.”

“I can live with that,” he agreed. “I’ll leave an IOU if I borrow a roll of toilet paper.”

“No borrowing.”

“I’d repay you. Charmin two-ply.”

She moved forward. “Cleaning the apartment,” came next.

“Define
clean
.”

“Spotless. You vacuum on Monday, and I’ll dust on Tuesday. You wipe down the appliances on Wednesday. I’ll—”

He held up his hand. “Slow down, Vanilla, you’re a neat freak and I drop-kick my clothes. Let’s consider a cleaning service.”

“It’s not within my budget.”

“I’ll pay the bill,” he said.

“You don’t take pride in mopping and polishing?”

“Not after putting in an eighteen-hour day.”

She shrugged. “Do what you want then.”

“That I will.”

She cleared her throat. “No parties.”

“Here I’d planned to bring my crew home tonight to play poker and pop a few cold ones.”

She ignored him.

He pursed his lips, serious. “My life is all about building the spring-training facility. Aidan will throw a blowout party once the stadium is finished. I can wait.”

“Remain fully clothed in shared areas.” She added to her list. “No walking around naked.”

“You can if you want.”

“Dating?” she broached, holding her breath.

“I won’t bring a woman here. I’ll have sex at her place.”

He was a red-blooded male. A fact she couldn’t deny. Celibacy wasn’t in his vocabulary. The thought of him with another female left her chest unexpectedly tight.

“Our arrangement remains secret,” she added.

“We agreed to that yesterday.”

Still, she wrote it down. She hopped off her breakfast stool and located a pineapple magnet in the silverware drawer. She posted their rules on the front of the refrigerator. A short, but satisfying list, she thought as she read them over.

She hoped Mike would keep his word and abide by a few. She knew in her heart he wouldn’t follow them all. She expected him to sneak into her Jacuzzi and possibly parade around naked. It was who he was: arrogant, a law unto himself. He took what he wanted. Did as he pleased. He would step on her toes. Hard.

“You done here?” he asked, washing his coffee mug in the sink. He then tossed his paper plate in the trash. “See, I cleaned up after myself.” He seemed proud of it.

“Be safe and have a good day,” she called after him.

He paused at the door, glanced at her over his shoulder. He appeared surprised by her comment. Had no one ever wished him well? “Yeah, you, too.” And he was gone.

Carrie was a list person. She decided to map out her day. She returned to the counter and ran her finger along the border of the notepad. She needed to contact Shaye Cates. The slow-pitch softball game was rapidly approaching. Team Barefoot William had four players. They needed eleven total. Nine on the field and two alternates. Just in case someone got hurt. She hoped Shaye could suggest additional people.

She also wanted to catch up with Jill; see how her date with Aidan had gone. She just might drop by the houseboat. They could set beach chairs on the dock, so she wouldn’t have to board the Horizon.

Tomorrow they would take over their boardwalk shop. Today was all hers. She’d make the most of it.

Carrie had a productive day, better than she’d expected. Shaye had offered to meet her at Molly Malone’s so they could discuss the team. Shaye had given her a list of names. At the top were the local athletes; the bottom consisted of those who could stand on a baseball field and not fall down.

Shaye had then taken her around town and introduced her to possible players. Their team had been formed by noon. They’d added Violet and Brad Davis, owners of the diner. Also Dune Cates and Mac James; both had played professional volleyball. Kai Cates, the resident boardwalk handyman, elected to play. An additional Cates cousin signed on. There was one spot left to fill. Preparation was key. The team agreed to three practice times before the big game.

Carrie had suffered right along with Jill when she saw her friend’s sunburned feet. Jill wasn’t moving very fast or very far. They talked business on the dock in the shade of a coconut palm. There were immediate concerns: setting up the Rogues’ store, the ground-breaking ceremony, and the community softball game. They couldn’t wait for the Rogues to arrive in Barefoot William.

Now, back at the penthouse, she exhaled, relaxed. It was seven p.m., and the apartment seemed inordinately quiet without Mike. She set her purse on the kitchen counter and walked into the living room. She could feel the man. He was everywhere. How had he taken up so much space in such a short time?

She glanced down the hallway and had the unexpected urge to look in his bedroom. He wouldn’t be home for several hours. He would never know she’d checked him out. So why not? Her curiosity got the better of her. She cautiously walked down the hall.

She made it to his bedroom door; her heart was pounding so hard she could barely catch her breath. She was snooping. And she wasn’t good at it. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure she was still alone. It would be just her luck to be standing by his bed should he arrive home early. She crossed her fingers. That wasn’t going to happen.

Still, she called out his name before she entered his room. No answer. What had she expected? She turned the knob, stole inside. She could tell a lot about a person by his belongings, yet Mike had so few. She already knew he had silk sheets; his alarm clock was basic Big Ben.

She peeked into his top dresser drawer. There were several folded T-shirts in basic colors. His jeans were in the second drawer. Three button-down shirts and four pullovers hung in his closet, along with one pair of dark dress slacks. He had no shortage of tennis shoes or work boots.