Summer on Lovers' Island (25 page)

They skimmed over the waves and the shape of the island appeared, hazy at first and then clearer until he could see the outline of the dock, the view of it almost like a type of foreplay. Lizzie came over, slid onto his lap so that he had to look over her shoulder to see where he was going. She twined her fingers through the hair over his right ear and his breath shuddered through him. She was killing him here.…

Afraid of keeping up the speed when he was so distracted, he throttled down until they were barely moving. Particularly when Lizzie leaned forward and was scraping her teeth down the side of his neck.

He cursed under his breath and gripped the wheel for dear life.

“I can't dock like this,” he growled, “and I don't want to start drifting and risk you getting sick. Three minutes, Liz. Three and I'll have us there.”

She sucked his earlobe into her mouth and his eyes rolled back into his head. Lizzie Howard was going to be the end of him; he was sure of it.

“Three minutes,” she whispered, and he ached with the feel of her hips pressed against his. “Three minutes and one second and I start taking my clothes off.”

Holy hell.

She slid off his lap and back to her seat while he pushed the throttle. The boat hit the tops of the crests, skimming over the tops until he had to slow down to approach the dock. Even then he was more reckless than usual, coming in hot and without his usual care. “Make sure we don't bump,” he commanded, and she obeyed, leaning over her side and keeping the side of the boat off the dock. He looked at his watch. Two minutes and thirty-five seconds. He'd gotten here with time to spare. Not that her clothes weren't going to come off … they were. But not here. Not yet.

He took precious seconds to reach into a storage bin and grab an emergency blanket. It was dull and slightly musty smelling, but he doubted either of them cared at this moment. Lizzie was already out of the boat waiting for him, and with his heart racing he hopped out, took her hand, and led her up the wharf to the path.

There was only one place to be right now. And that was at the very top of the island. At the top of the world, with the sea all around them and not another soul for miles and miles. God, he felt about eighteen again, and full of testosterone and invincibility and the rash innocence that he was untouchable by consequence. But just in case he was wrong, he dropped his hand to his back pocket briefly, making sure his wallet was still there. He'd taken three condoms with him the night he'd been at Lizzie's, and they'd used two. There was still one left.

At the summit they stopped. Up until this second, neither of them had spoken. It had been all about the urgency. But now, with them face-to-face, the moment had arrived. Josh unfolded the blanket and spread it out on the thin grass, not caring too much if it was even or not. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice rough with impatience and desire. “Your three minutes are up.”

Her eyes sparked as she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head.

He swallowed tightly, clenching his hands at his sides. He would not be a barbarian. He'd remain in complete control. Even if the rest of his damned brain went into a complete meltdown.

Next went the bra, dropped on the corner of the blanket. Her pale breasts were exposed to the sun and he longed to touch them, kiss them. Was dying to just lose himself inside her. And still he waited.

Her jeans were more of a struggle because they were tight, but being the efficient type, she skimmed her panties down with them so that when she stepped free of the denim she was completely naked. There was something so basic, so elemental, about being naked in nature that felt Garden of Eden–ish to him. And still, he waited. Waited for her to say the words. Besides, despite the uncomfortableness of the situation, he was enjoying, savoring, the moment. The sight of her, the freedom of it, the confidence. Damn, she was beautiful.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

There it was. He stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it on top of her pile of clothing. Then he reached for his wallet, took out the condom, and tossed it to her, then unbuttoned his shorts, slipped both them and his underwear off, and they joined the other articles. Now he and Lizzie were both stark naked with no sound but the waves on the rocks below and the wind whistling through the grass and shrubs.

The only two people in the world, with everything left behind them.

Josh stepped forward and took her in his arms, reveling in the feel of her skin pressed against his—breasts, pelvis, thighs, toes. Her arms looped around his neck as they kissed, long and deep.

“I wasn't sure you wanted this again,” he uttered, filling his hand with her breast, watching with pleasure as she tipped her head back.

“Wanting it was never the problem,” she replied, the last word coming out on a sweet breath.

Their coming together was urgent and yet not rushed. Josh lost himself in the feel of her surrounding him, made sure she reached her own measure of satisfaction before letting himself go. Gulls screamed overhead, Lizzie's cries echoing on the wind with them, and Josh covered her mouth with his as he found his own release. Nothing had ever been this wild, this sweet, this satisfying. His heart pounded and his ribs rose and fell with his breathing as he braced himself on his elbows and looked down into her face.

He was falling in love with her. He hadn't wanted to, and God knew she didn't want that from him, either. But it was there just the same. When they were together something just clicked into place. He'd thought he'd be able to keep it light. Noncommittal. But he really should have known better. He wasn't built that way. It went beyond attraction. It went beyond their differences—those were still there and they'd be foolish to ignore them. But deep down, right in the heart of things, he understood her. And he got the feeling that she understood him, too.

But he wouldn't say the words. Not now, perhaps not ever. Because if he'd learned anything from his marriage, it was that sometimes love simply wasn't enough.

“Josh?”

He blinked. Kissed her lightly and slid out of her body. But when he looked down, momentary panic froze his chest.

“What is it?” she asked, rising up to her elbows.

“The condom broke,” he said tightly. “Shit. Lizzie, I'm sorry.”

She looked up at him. “Not your fault. Don't freak out.” She slid up the blanket and pushed her hair away from her face. “I can always Plan B it.”

Of course she could. And probably should. Neither of them wanted her to get pregnant, did they? And yet the straightforward way she said it left a bitter taste in his mouth. She wasn't Erin, for God's sake, and he knew that. And Erin had deliberately let him believe she wanted his babies when she hadn't at all. Still, it stung that once again his genetic material was unquestionably undesirable.

Five minutes ago he'd been thinking he was falling in love with Lizzie and now he was faced with the knowledge that he still had way too much baggage to bring to a relationship.

“We kind of let our hormones get away with us, didn't we?” he asked, trying to ease the mood a little. He reached for his shorts and handed over her jeans and panties.

“I needed the outlet,” she admitted, squirming into her panties and then reaching for her bra. She flashed him a smile, but it wasn't the intimate, slightly emotional smile of earlier. “Josh, really, it's going to be okay. We're not going to end up accidental parents or something.”

“I know,” he answered. “I just…” But he didn't know what he wanted to say. He didn't want to bring his past failures into the conversation.

She'd fastened her bra and pulled her shirt back on. “We probably should talk about what's happening between us. What this is going to look like, you know?”

He laughed a little. “It looks like we're a couple of horny teenagers.”

She smiled, just a little bit, but some of the tension eased. “I know. Ever since that first day on the beach, I can't stop thinking about it. But it's physical, right? And I think we should make definite rules so that neither of us gets hurt down the road.”

Ah, the rules. Rules according to Lizzie, no doubt.
But he'd hear her out, because he wasn't at all comfortable with the direction his thoughts had gone this afternoon.

“Okay. What's the first rule?” he asked. He grabbed his shirt from the blanket and pulled it over his head.

“Rule number one: either of us can call it off at any time, no hard feelings.”

“Ouch.”

She frowned. “Josh, we both know I'm not staying in Jewell Cove. Charlie's going to want her job back. Therefore, this is a short-term thing. If it gets to be too much, I think we both need to know we can exit gracefully without a lot of drama.”

This was sounding more like a business negotiation than a relationship. Maybe he should be happy about that.

Then why wasn't he?

“Okay,” he agreed. “There's an opt-out feature. Got it.”

“Rule number two.” She ticked it off on her finger. “Our physical relationship can't bleed over into our working relationship. We have to be discreet.”

“It doesn't get more discreet than an island in the middle of the ocean,” he replied, starting to get annoyed at her rules. So far it was sex without consequences. Well, other than the broken rubber. And that annoyed him as well.

“Right,” she agreed.

“And what about number three?” he asked.

“Number three?”

He regarded her steadily. “Sure, isn't there a number three to round things out?”

“Oh. Well, um…” She seemed momentarily flustered, and then she smiled at him again. “Let's leave number three open. Either of us has the right to institute a new rule as we feel is necessary.”

Wow, this whole thing was sucking the romance out of the situation at a really quick rate. “So what you're saying is, we're having a secret fling that'll be over the minute Charlie's mat leave is done and we're going to amicably go our separate ways.”

“Exactly!”

He started to laugh. “Do you really think that's possible? We're people. I mean, this sounds perfect in theory…” Actually, it didn't sound all that perfect at all. It sounded cold, calculated. Sexual satisfaction without any emotion or feeling. “But I'm not sure of the practicality of it.”

“Loads of people have done friends with benefits before.”

He leaned forward a little. “I'm not loads of people, Lizzie. I care about you. I couldn't make love to you otherwise.”

Her face changed. He couldn't really say how, except that it was like a mask fell over her expression, shutting him out.

“You don't like me calling it ‘making love,' do you?”

“Come on, Josh. It's not. It's sex. It's scratching an itch. We both know that.”

He felt like his heart was in his throat when he responded, “What if it's not?”

She scrambled up from the blanket. “Don't be ridiculous. Of course that's all this is. Jeez, Josh.”

When he got up, she took the opportunity to snatch the blanket up from the ground and start folding it.

“Would it be so bad?” he asked, his insides trembling. Did she think she was the only one who was scared? “Caring for someone?”

She held the blanket close to her chest. “I do care for you.” For a moment her face softened. “Please don't think I don't. But you're talking about love. And that's impossible.”

Right.
Because he was so goddamned unlovable, though he really didn't understand why. Or maybe he just kept picking the wrong kind of woman. He should have listened to the voice in his head that said right from the beginning that Lizzie was too big for this small town. All he'd really wanted was a family of his own, the chance to practice medicine, and a little downtime on the water. A simple life. And the women he got involved with all wanted more.

He was tired of not being good enough.

“We should go,” he said.

There was quiet for a few minutes, an awkward silence as they both absorbed what those three words meant. A refusal of her offer.

She looked down at a spot by his foot and her cheeks stained pink. “Um, shouldn't we, uh, dispose of that somehow?”

“I guess.”

“There's not exactly a trash can nearby.”

He wanted to laugh at her tart expression. The whole thing felt ridiculously surreal. “Can't we just throw it into the grass or something?”

At any other moment it would have been funny. Instead it was just uncomfortable. Lizzie reached into her bag. “Gross. Here,” she said, digging around and coming up with a small paper bag from the pharmacy. “Put it in here until we can get to a garbage can.”

He picked up the condom by his fingertips and dropped it into the bag. “Just like we were never here, huh?”

She sighed. “Josh—”

“No, I get it. And I even understand your rules, Lizzie.” He took a breath. “But I can't abide by them. It's not who I am. I thought it was for a little while. I honestly thought I could do this. Being with you was exciting and a rush. But I care for you. And if I'm going to be with someone … I think I really have to be with her, you know?” He looked at her, felt the first stabs of regret. “I don't know how to do sex for fun. I tried, but I guess I'm just not built that way.”

“I don't have anything more to offer you.” She met his gaze. “It wouldn't be fair of me to pretend I do.”

He could appreciate that she was being brutally honest, but it didn't mean he had to like it. “You sell yourself short, but that's your problem, not mine,” he replied. “You won't have to worry about being discreet from now on, okay? We'll dial it back, keep it strictly professional. No hard feelings.”

“If that's what you want.”

What he wanted was some emotion out of her. Something that said she was sorry their brief affair was over. That this wasn't so damned … easy for her. He thought of the night he found her crying on the beach. Mess and all, that was the Lizzie he really liked. But she didn't want to let herself be vulnerable, he realized. And when she was, she acted like she did today. By taking charge, taking risks. Not by letting someone in.