She watched him as he expertly steered the ship into a tree-shaded cove on the far side of the island. He cut the engine and hit the button that dropped the anchor. A series of metallic clangs echoed briefly in the air as it dropped to the ocean floor.
When it was quiet again, the only sound the sigh of the water against the hull and birds in the nearby trees chirping crazily, she asked, “You’re really good at handling boats. I know you said you live at the beach now, but did you grow up around the water too?”
He snorted. “Hardly. I grew up in Vegas.” He turned toward her and leaned one hip against the wheel. “My mom was a showgirl at the Tropicana when my dad met her. For me, it was desert heat, the glow of neon and the sense of quiet desperation that hangs over the strip.”
Surprised, she sat on a stool right beside him. The gentle rocking motion of the boat was a sensual motion that made her think of other, more primal rhythms. She cleared her mind and told herself to focus. “Funny, I never really thought of Las Vegas as anybody’s home.”
“It wasn’t,” he muttered, shifting his gaze to the trees beyond the boat. “I just lived there. Until I was sixteen, anyway.”
“Sixteen?”
“Had to leave,” he said shortly. “Went and lived with my father until I left there for college and—”
“What?” She was watching him, waiting for him to finish his story, but his lips were clamped tightly together as if he were forcibly keeping the words from coming out. The sun pushed its way through the canopy of trees, tossing dappled shade across his face.
Finally, he blew out an exasperated breath and asked, “Why is it I find myself telling you things that I’ve never told anyone else?”
“Easier to talk to a stranger?”
One corner of his mouth went up. “We’re not strangers, Melinda.”
“I guess not,” she said, realizing that she probably knew Sean better right now than she had known Steven. Though she’d promised to love him, forever. But then, time had nothing to do with feelings, did it? You could know someone for years and never really know them. Or, as with Sean, feel that instant attraction—that magnetic pull of one soul to another and—oh God, she was getting worse and worse.
“Maybe I’ve just got a friendly face?” Her quip was lighter than she felt, but she was trying to ease the tension within. It wasn’t helping.
He just stared at her for several long, heart-stopping seconds. “You’ve got a gorgeous face. So, yeah. Maybe that’s why. Maybe I’m just a sucker for a pretty face.”
Now Melinda laughed. “I can’t see you being a ‘sucker’ for anyone.”
He snorted a humorless laugh. “You couldn’t be more wrong, babe.”
There was a world of old pain in those words. Shadows flickered in his eyes, and, instinctively, Melinda reached out for him, laying one hand on his forearm. He was always smiling. Always seemed so easygoing, that knowing something was haunting him bothered Melinda more than she would have cared to admit. “Sean? What is it?”
He glanced down at her hand on his arm, then frowned and took her hand in his. “Never mind me. What’s this?”
The abrupt change in topic threw her for a minute. Her gaze fell to where his thumb was rubbing gently back and forth across a red mark on the back of her hand. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little burn.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “How’d you burn yourself?”
She shrugged. She hadn’t even given that minor burn a thought. “Would you believe a soldering iron?”
“Not what I expected,” he admitted, then softly drew his fingertips across the raised, red ridge.
It’s just sensitive, Melinda assured herself silently. That’s why Sean’s touch was giving her goose bumps. It had nothing to do with Sean himself. Nothing at all to do with the swirl of heat mounting inside her. But even she didn’t believe that.
“What were you soldering?”
She forced a smile and tugged her hand free of his. Every time he touched her, her brain seemed to go on vacation. And since they were alone together, Melinda needed every scrap of willpower she could command. And truth to tell, she didn’t have much left when it came to Sean King.
Over the last week or so, he’d worn away most of her defenses as relentlessly as water on stone. She was hanging on by a thread and only her memories of Steven were keeping her from giving in to what her body was demanding.
Even now, her skin hummed with electricity from Sean’s touch. Ignoring that buzz of sensation, she said lightly, “If you can keep secrets, so can I.”
He nodded, as if accepting her at her word. “Okay, but I’ve also spilled a couple of secrets, too. So, I’m thinking you owe me one, and I’d really like to know how you hurt yourself.”
His eyes were bright again. No hint of shadows as he looked at her. Just the banked desire that was always there, just beneath the surface. She was glad for it, but at the same time, she felt that dangerous quickening happening between them again. How was it possible to want someone and not want to want them all at once?
A question for the ages, she mused. And not one that was going to be answered anytime soon.
“When we get back to the hotel,” she said, taking a step away, just for safety’s sake, “I’ll show you.”
“Show me?” He closed the distance between them again and cupped her chin as he rubbed the pad of his thumb across her skin. “Nothing I like better than a good game of Show and Tell.”
“I’ll bet,” she murmured and he must have heard her because his smile widened and he winked at her.
Oh, boy. She was in some very deep trouble here.
And Sean looked as if he was enjoying her nervousness. Though what man wouldn’t? But instead of pushing her, crowding her, he backed off and a part of her wanted to whimper. Which was irritating as hell, Melinda thought. Was her body just refusing to get the message her mind kept sending?
“So,” he said, heading for the steps, “good place for our picnic.”
She watched him go. “Picnic? I thought we were out for a ride.”
He paused on the steps, hands gripping the rails. A capricious wind caught his hair and tossed it into his eyes. He whipped his head back to clear his vision and his blue gaze locked with hers. “Nope. A nice picnic and I’m thinking maybe a swim.”
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
“Clothing optional,” he said with another wink.