“So,” he said, offering his hand, “truce?”
She took it, her much smaller hand swallowed by his. Again, there was that delicious flash of heat that seemed to zip directly from his hand into the center of her chest. But ignoring that heat was the only way to deal with it, so she did. “Truce.”
“Excellent!” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, slapped his glasses back on then turned, put on his seat belt and told her, “Buckle up.”
He put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot, waving to the people at the produce stand as he went. Out on the coast road, the wind slapped at them, but Melinda loved it. Her hair whipped into her eyes, so she gathered it up in one fist and held it at the nape of her neck. She turned her face into the wind and inhaled the salty sea air and the thick, intoxicating scent of the flowering vines along the road. Pink and white and deep red flowers burst from a wall of greenery so thick you could hardly see past them to the hills beyond.
But she didn’t need to see it to know what was there. Acres of farmland followed by miles of green, stands of ancient trees and, farther inland, waterfalls. This was her place in the world, and she knew every square inch of it.
Now that she and her husband had a new understanding, the weight of worry and anxiety slid off her shoulders and Melinda felt the best she had since the wedding. She turned her head to glance at him. Even in profile, Sean King looked amazing.
“I took a drive by the site last week,” he shouted, to be heard over the wind, “but haven’t had a chance to really check it out in person.”
“What have you been doing all week?” she asked, and thought how odd it was that she didn’t already know the answer to that question. But since they’d been avoiding each other, it wasn’t all that surprising, was it?
He glanced at her. “Mostly I’ve been setting up an office at the hotel. I’m using one of the suites for now. When construction starts, I’ll find something more permanent.”
The car followed the curve of the road and as they came up from behind a row of vine-covered hedges, a spectacular view of the ocean spread out in front of them. Whitecaps danced on the surface and, in the distance, a lone sailboat skimmed over the water.
“It really is beautiful here,” he said.
“It is,” she agreed, then turned to look at him. “But you live at the beach in California, don’t you? You’re used to views like this.”
Sean smiled as he glanced from the view to the woman beside him and back to the road. “I live in Sunset Beach. Not far from Long Beach where my brothers live.”
“Is it nice?”
He thought about that for a minute. He’d always liked his place, loved the beach community and the easygoing pace of life. And he had always believed that the view from his house couldn’t be beat. Until he’d come here.
“Yeah, it is,” he said, slowing the car down so he didn’t have to shout to be heard. “Used to think that I had the best view in the world.” He grinned and added, “You already know I live in a rehabbed water tower. It’s so much higher than any of my neighbors, I can see for miles in any direction. The ocean at home, it’s…tamer than here. With the jetties and the piers, by the time the water hits shore at home, all of the temper’s been taken out of it. It just sort of whimpers ashore—except during a storm, of course.”
She smiled at his description.
Sean shrugged and said, “Never bothered me before really, but seeing the ocean here…waves crashing. That color. Not really blue, not really green. And so damn clear.” He shook his head. “Have to say, your view beats mine.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
He glanced at her again and smiled. “Still, can’t get decent Thai food here at one in the morning.”
“True,” she said, glancing out at the ocean. “But there are compensations.”
“Good point.” And not all of the compensations were centered on the lush beauty of the island. Melinda Stanford herself was pretty damned intriguing whether he wanted her to be or not. Sean shifted a quick look at her and his insides stirred again. Probably not a good thing, but there didn’t seem to be much he could do about it.
His hands fisted on the steering wheel as he gave himself a stern talking-to. He had no intention of getting involved with Melinda. There was no future here. There was nothing beyond the duration of their two-month deal. Best to keep that thought uppermost in his mind.
But then, his mind wasn’t giving him problems. His body, on the other hand, seemed to be in a constant state of painful frustration.
“Have you talked to your brothers since the wedding?”
His thoughts splintered at the sound of her voice, and he was grateful for the reprieve. And he wasn’t an idiot, either. He heard the unspoken subtext all too clearly. She was wondering if he had told his brothers about what had happened between them. About the aborted wedding night. About the kiss that had been driving him nuts for days and the fact that they hadn’t even been speaking since that night.
Right. Just the thought of telling his brothers any of what was really going on made him cringe. Rafe and Lucas had given him so much grief over getting married in the first place, the last thing he wanted to do was give them more ammunition to use to hammer at him.
Besides, Sean had had an epiphany late last night. Easy to do lots of thinking when you were trying to sleep on a torture rack called a couch. Damn thing was so short for him, the backs of his knees had permanent dents from hanging over the arm for hours at a stretch. But thinking time had helped him come to a decision about this temporary marriage.
He’d been married before, and it was a nightmare. His ex-wife had lied to him, used him, then walked off and, he told himself, good riddance. So Sean knew the whole love and happily ever after thing was a crock told to fools to give them something to cling to on lonely nights.
Melinda hadn’t learned that.
Hell, she’d grown up in Brigadoon. Sunshiny, happy people living in a world filled with glorious sunsets, warm water and sweet-smelling flowers. Of course she’d believe that the late, lamented Steven was a saint. The man hadn’t lived long enough to disabuse her of the notion. He hadn’t been around to disappoint her. Or hurt her. He hadn’t lived long enough for Melinda to learn the cold, hard truth.
There was no such thing as love.
Happily ever after only existed in books.
Instead, Melinda had been left behind holding onto memories that no doubt got prettier and prettier with the passage of time. She was being romantic and female, insisting on tucking her emotions away and burying them with Steven.