Authors: Teresa Reasor
Quinn jerked the railing up and opened the section between the dive platform and the deck. He fought the urge to step out on the metal stand and waited for Logan and Hannah to climb the shallow stairs to the deck. The two waddled to the awning and benches to shed their gear.
Regan yanked her flippers free and struggled to her feet. She grasped the safety rail to climb the three steps to the deck.
His hands shook with the need to touch her. If she didn’t remember him, he could deal with it. He’d do whatever it took to earn her love again. They were meant to be together.
Regan brushed back the hood, and her dark curls sprang free. Her midnight blue gaze rose and fastened on his face. “All you need is a claymore in your hand and a kilt wrapped about you,” she said, her voice breathy.
He knew that tone and his body responded. His voice sounded husky around the pounding of his heart. “I can arrange that, if you like.”
She laughed and extended a hand. Quinn grasped it.
Everything he was feeling was reflected in her eyes, in the way her body swayed toward his. “Quinn— ” The flippers dropped to the deck, and she braced a hand against his chest.
She’d said his name.
He searched her face. “You remember?”
She nodded. Recognition shone from her smile, and the tears that tracked slowly down her face. “Everything. And more. Coira and Braden made it. I know they did.”
Joy, for them and for Braden and Coira, leapt through him, wiping away the lingering ache of loss. A smile sprang across his features.
“Hey, have the two of you met before?” Logan called out.
Quinn’s fingers trembled as he cupped Regan’s cheek. “Aye, you could say that.”
Regan laughed. “Yes. In another life.”