Her Rugged Rancher (23 page)

“Shall we?” He gestured for her to pass, and she padded down the sandy wooden steps, the boards still warm from the heat of the day. Summer had barely started, but the temperatures were already in the eighties. At the bottom she paused for him to take off his shoes; she'd stashed hers in her backpack when she changed.

“You can just leave your shoes next to the steps. No one will touch them.”

He didn't argue, and she gave him a mental bonus point. Not all guys tolerated being told what to do. The sand was hot under their feet, but when they neared the water it phased it out. “Just so you know, the water is still pretty cold this early in the year. By August it will be like bathwater, but for now it's a bit bracing.” Then, grabbing his hand, she pulled him in with her.

“Whoa, you weren't kidding. This is freezing.” He stopped her when they were about chest deep. Well, chest deep for her; he was significantly taller.

“You'll get used to it.” She released his hand and leaned back to let herself float, her body rocked by the calm swells. Nothing was better than this. It was that magical time of evening when the day was over but night hadn't quite taken hold yet. The sky was an abstract ballet of colors dancing in the light, changing minute by minute as the sun dropped. If she had to be stuck in one place forever, Paradise Isle wasn't a bad choice. But she didn't plan on staying stuck.

Turning her head, she could see Noah floating beside her, as mesmerized by the view as she was. Moving on instinct, she reached out and took his hand, sucking in a breath at the buzz of attraction that sparked between them. She'd meant to show him a bit of the peace that Paradise had to offer. Instead, he was creating his own version of chaos in her world.

* * *

The cold Atlantic water had washed away the last lingering effects of the alcohol, leaving Noah feeling more clear-headed than he had in days. Maybe longer. Everything had gone haywire the minute he'd met Angela. At first her need for excitement had been fun, the constant parties a way to let loose after the months of work he'd put into his latest project. But then the drama started. Late-night fights over nothing, constant demands for attention. She thought that a man of his fame, who had been touted as one of Atlanta's most eligible bachelors, would live an extravagant life and spend lots of money, preferably on her. His modest lifestyle had been a shock, and any attraction had faded quickly, on both their parts. But the drama had lingered until the final day, with fights over everything from what car he drove to where they were going to live.

Mollie tugged at his hand. “You aren't brooding over there, are you?”

“Are you kidding? I'm literally in Paradise, hanging out with a beautiful woman, watching the sun set. What do I have to brood about?”

She blushed at his compliment, a faint pink creeping across her face. He liked that behind her boldness, there was an innocence about her, too. There was no cunning or guile with her. “How long have you lived here?”

“All my life,” she answered easily. “Actually, I was born on the mainland, at Palmetto Hospital, but only because the Paradise Medical Center wasn't built yet. I've been an islander since I was a few days old.”

“Seriously?” He couldn't imagine living in one place your whole life.

“Yeah, I'm a native. How about you—where are you from?”

He never knew how to answer that question. “Everywhere. Nowhere.”

She stood, wiping at the water dripping down her face. “That's not an answer.”

He stood, too, a full head above her. “I'm not trying to be evasive. I just don't have a good answer. I was born in Colorado, but I've lived in more places than I can remember. Dad's army, so we moved every few years. I think the longest I stayed in one place was four years, and that was in college.”

She tilted her head, considering him with those big brown eyes that seemed to see more than they should. “Was it hard? Moving all the time?”

A dozen different goodbyes flashed through his head. “Yeah. It was hard.”

She ran a hand up his arm, her fingers leaving a trail of saltwater and awareness. “I'm sorry.” Her voice was as warm as her touch, drawing him in.

“Don't be. I had just as many hellos as goodbyes.” He moved closer until he could feel her slick skin pressed against him.

She tipped her chin up, her gaze locked on his. “Well then, I guess we could consider this a hello.”

He could make a joke, laugh it off and swim back. He probably should. He hadn't so much as looked at another woman since he met Angela, even though they'd had separate bedrooms for the past six months. But there was a single drop of water clinging to Mollie's lip and he just had to have a taste.

Slowly, giving her time to stop him, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She tasted of salt water and sweetness, like the taffy he'd had at a carnival as a kid. She floated in his arms as they kissed, the waves washing against them while he feasted on her mouth. He wanted more, to take her right there, to feel her from the inside out while the first stars of the night peaked through the sky.

Mollie pulled away, leaving him with her taste clinging to his lips. “This is crazy.”

“It doesn't feel crazy.” It felt incredible.

“Despite the fact that you're on the rebound and I don't date?”

“Well, yeah, aside from that. Are you sure you don't date?” She was pretty and fun and could have her pick of guys. So why was she off the market?

She nodded, bobbing in the water. “Very sure. No offense, but men have a way of getting in a woman's way when it comes to a career. I've got too much I want to do to risk getting distracted by a relationship.”

She had a good point, but something in him wanted to try to change her mind. Maybe it was the months of celibacy talking or the need to forget all the crazy parts of his life, at least for a few minutes. Whatever it was, he didn't want to say goodbye, not yet. “I don't know, distractions can be fun.”

She shivered. The sun had fully set now, and the air was no longer warm enough to make up for the cold water. “Nice try, but I don't even know you.”

“Sure you do. You know I'm a military brat, my parents are crazy, and I can't hold my liquor. What more is there?”

She splashed him. “I mean, I don't know where you live, what you do for a living, if you have any pets, that kind of thing.”

“To be fair, I don't know any of that about you, either. But I'm willing to keep making out anyway.” His body didn't care about any of that stuff. And the rest of him was too spellbound to think straight.

“How very generous of you.” She was shivering again.

Taking her hand again, he waded up to the shore. He wrapped her in one of the soft, oversize towels they had left there and then rubbed himself down.

“You're like ice. We need to get you into some dry clothes.”

She rolled her eyes. “One minute you're acting like you want me out of my clothes, the next you want me to put more on. I can't win with you.”

“Very funny. Come on.” He led the way to the steps and onto the deck, then held the door for her to go inside.”

She hesitated. “I'm not going up to your room with you.”

He hadn't expected she would. But he wasn't ready to let her walk out of his life yet, either. “Mollie—”

“No, wait, I've been thinking. You said you want to get your mind off things while you're here, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. But that doesn't mean I expect you to—”

She smacked him. “Get your mind out of the gutter. No, I was going to say, why don't you let me show you around while you're here, be your personal vacation guide?”

Was she serious? “What about your work, or whatever?” He didn't know what she did, but she must have some kind of responsibilities.

“I've actually already got the week off from school and work.”

“School?” He'd thought she was in her midtwenties, just a bit younger than him.

She shrugged. “I take college classes at night, and I arranged my vacation hours at work to match up with the break between the fall and summer semesters. So I've got the time.” She blinked those big eyes at him. “I'm not suggesting anything, well, romantic—I'm not looking for a relationship, and I don't do one-night stands. But I'd like to be your friend while you're here. If you're interested.”

Interested in spending a week in Paradise in the company of a beautiful woman? “I can't think of anything I'd like better.”

* * *

Mollie sipped her coffee and checked the kitschy black-and-white cat clock hanging on her living room wall. It was almost nine o'clock; Noah should be there any minute. As if on cue, she heard a car pull into the driveway. Nerves flopping in her stomach, she quickly smeared on some tinted lip gloss. Makeup so wasn't her thing, but after that kiss last night, soft lips seemed more of a priority than they had before. Not that she was planning to kiss him again. Still, better safe than sorry.

She opened the door before he could knock and was struck again by that feeling of awareness that had tickled her senses from the first time she saw him. It was a bit like the tingle before a lightning storm, a warning of the heat and power to come.

He was dressed casually, in a pair of cargo shorts and a gray army T-shirt, and had a bag from Sandcastle Bakery in his hand. “Ooh, breakfast?”

“If you consider a variety of sugary pastries breakfast, then yes. I had the cabdriver stop on the way here.”

“That's the very best kind of breakfast. Let me get some plates.” She led him into her tiny kitchen and handed him the plates. “Do you want coffee or orange juice?”

“As a Florida tourist, I think I'm required to at least try the orange juice.”

“Good point.” She poured a glass for him, and then motioned to the back door. “We can eat on the patio.”

He reached the door before she did and started to open it, only to slam it closed again.

That was odd. “What are you doing?”

He swallowed hard. “This is going to sound crazy, but do you have bears around here?”

“What? No way. They see them over near Orlando and Ocala, but we don't have bears on the island.” A thought occurred to her. “Wait, you haven't been drinking again, have you?” If he had some kind of problem, she needed to know now.

“No, I'm telling you, there's something out there in the bushes. Something big.”

Realization dawned. Oops.

“Yeah, about that...” She pushed past him and opened the door, letting out a whistle.

“Are you crazy?”

“Hey, I'm not the one seeing imaginary bears.” She pointed and he peered around her. Out of the bushes came her large, but not quite bear-sized, dog.

“Holy cow, what is that? And why does he only have three legs?”

“That's Baby, and you be nice to him. He might be big, but he's sensitive.”

Noah's eyes widened. “He's yours?”

“It's more that I'm his. But don't worry. He's a total sweetie. He just looks intimidating, right, boy?” The massive dog trotted over on and sniffed the bakery bag.

“If I give him the donuts, will it keep him from eating me?” To his credit, Noah hadn't retreated back into the house, but his color looked a bit pale.

“He's not going to eat you. And he's not allowed any donuts. He's on a diet.”

“So you're saying he's hungry? Great. That's just great.”

She shook her head. “I can't believe you're afraid of dogs.”

“That's not a dog,” he protested. “Beagles are dogs. Cocker spaniels are dogs. That's a—”

“Mastiff. An English mastiff, to be exact. And he wouldn't hurt a fly, so stop acting like he's the big bad wolf. You're going to hurt his feelings.” She rubbed the big dog's head and took the pastries from Noah. Immediately, the dog left him and followed her, nosing hopefully at the bag. “I said no. You already had your breakfast, and Cassie says if you don't lose weight you're going to end up with arthritis. Go lie down.”

Chastised, the oversize canine shambled off to lie in the grass. She put the bag on the bright blue picnic table and sat in one of the mismatched chairs. Noah cautiously joined her, keeping his attention on the now-snoozing beast. “So, what happened to his other leg? And who is Cassie, some kind of doggie-diet guru?”

“Cassie's my boss. She's a veterinarian. She and her father own the clinic I work at. As for Baby, a rescue group we work with brought him in when he was just a puppy. He'd been hit by a car over in Cocoa Beach and one of the volunteers found him. We fixed him up, and when no one claimed him I got to bring him home.”

“So you work at a veterinary clinic? Are you some kind of animal nurse or something?”

She finished the bite of donut she was chewing. “No, that would be Jillian. She's the veterinary technician. I'm the receptionist. Oh, and I teach obedience classes on the weekends.”

“Is that what you always wanted to do, work with animals?”

“Not as a career, no. I do like the dog-training part of it—I don't want to give that up. But working in an office, any office, for the rest of my life would suffocate me eventually.”

“Well, what are you going to school for?”

“I'm only going part-time, but I'm a photography major, much to my parents' disappointment.” She grimaced. “They're glad I finally went back to school, but they think I should do something practical, like accounting.”

“But that puts you right back in the office all day.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so forget them. What do you want to do?”

Right this second, what she wanted to do was to lick the powdered sugar off his lips. But that probably wasn't the answer he was looking for. “What I'd love to do is travel, take pictures, maybe work for a magazine. I want to make a name for myself as a nature photographer. But as my parents have repeatedly pointed out, art isn't exactly a practical career choice.”