A Timeless Romance Anthology: Spring Vacation Collection (4 page)

The night was breezy but warm when Sarah and Clint left for the beach. The half-moon gave everything a shimmery look as the sun disappeared from the sky. Sarah felt like someone from a postcard as she reached down and took off her shoes so she could feel the sand beneath her feet. It felt different than sandbox-sand—softer and finer. Sarah had been to some of the lakes in Nebraska, and some of them had sand on their shorelines, but this was different than that, too.

“I’ve never been to a beach before,” she said when they reached the wet sand. She looked behind her at the near perfect indentation of her footprints and smiled. Someday she needed to bring Rose to a beach like this. She would love playing in the sand and watching her footprints fill up with water. She looked over at Clint walking a few feet away. The wind had messed up his hair just enough to take him from handsome to devastatingly so.
Will he kiss me tonight? Will I
let
him this time?

“You’ve never been to
any
beach, or a Mexican beach?”

“Any beach,” Sarah said, facing forward again. She shook her head, letting the breeze catch her hair and lift it off her neck. “Well, if you don’t count the lakes in Nebraska—I’ve been to a few of those, but they aren’t anything like this.”

“Seriously?”

His comment pulled her back from the moment she was getting lost in. Normal people with normal lives vacationed on beaches sometimes, didn’t they? The reminder that she wasn’t normal raised her insecurity, but she tried to push them away. “But I’ve been to Mount Rushmore about eighty times. That helps make up for it, right?”

Clint laughed, and she relaxed a little. “I love the ocean,” he said, waving his hand at the water, which disappeared on the horizon. “I grew up in Santa Barbara and would love to move back one day—I miss early-morning surfing and taking a boat out to Catalina.”

“No surfing in Washington?”

He looked at her in surprise. “You’ve never been to the Pacific Northwest either, have you?”

“Nope,” she said, her insecurity knocking again. “I’d like to one day, though.”
Maybe to see you
, she added in her mind.

Waves crashed several feet to her right before stretching within a few feet of where they walked, as though each wave were trying to reach her. She veered a little closer to the water so she could walk in the surf, glad her dress only went to her knees.

Clint moved a little closer to the water as well, but he hadn’t taken his shoes off so he didn’t go as close as she did. The next wave washed over Sarah’s toes—the water was warmer than she’d expected. “So basically, you need a man to show you the world,” he said, giving her a coy grin.

Her stomach flipped—this was the first time he’d ever said anything about a possible future between them. Did that mean he liked her? That he could envision them seeing each other after this weekend?

“The world?” she repeated. “I’d be happy to go to Des Moines.”

Clint laughed at that. “You’ll be easy to please.”

 She looked over and smiled; he smiled back and reached for her hand, the one that wasn’t holding her shoes. Whatever she’d been thinking to say completely left her brain as she watched him move closer.
Oh my gosh, he’s going to kiss me! What do I do? Let him? Slap him? Run?

“I’ve really liked getting to know you better here in Cozumel. It’s a perfect romantic getaway, don’t you think?” He ran his thumb across the back of her hand.

Sarah was mesmerized, her head going further back so she could see him as he moved closer. The waves crashed in the background. Music from a restaurant farther up the beach filtered down to them. The breeze blew her hair across her face. He lifted his other hand to brush it away.

Sarah was speechless.
Is this happening? Am I ready?

“I’m a big believer in chemistry,” he said, only inches from her face now. “And you look amazing in that dress, the way it …
what the
—” He looked down, jumped back and dropped her hand.

She looked down too, but couldn’t figure out what he was freaking out about until he said, “My shoes!” and took off running for the softer sand higher up the beach, shaking his shoes as though that could spare them from the salt-water bath they’d just had. The bottom two inches of his pants were soaked.

Sarah hurried up the beach after him.

“Why didn’t you tell me the water was coming so far up the beach?” he snapped when she reached him. He sat on a low cement wall and was pulling off his shoes, scowling.

“I didn’t notice,” she said, tempted to add that she’d been too spellbound by him to keep track of the surf. “I’m so sorry.”

He had both shoes off and lifted them up, dripping. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “They’re ruined; I just bought them.”

“You might be able to save them, at home I always—”

“You’re from Omaha,” he said, making her take a step back as he looked up at her. “I don’t think you’re an expert on how to save shoes from salt water.” A moment later, he softened a little and looked back at his shoes. “I’m sorry. These are just really expensive.”

Sarah swallowed her hurt feelings, justifying his reaction with the fact that he really
had
ruined a pair of brand new shoes. “I might be able to fix them.”

He looked at her skeptically. “Really?”

“I’ve learned a few tricks over the years,” she said, keeping to herself that she’d learned those tricks because Rose absolutely adored jumping in puddles after it rained and had a penchant for dunking stray shoes in toilets.

She put her free hand out. “I’ll take them back to my room and see what I can do tonight.” Sarah smiled in anticipation of him laughing about all of this—it was kind of funny, right? And they’d had such a nice day.

Instead of laughing, he cursed and shook his head before sitting back down and peeling off his wet socks as well. “Awesome,” he said under his breath as he threw the wet socks into the bushes. He took a deep breath and pushed his fingers through his hair.

The briefest thought crossed her mind—what would he do if Rose dumped
his
shoes in the toilet?

“Hey,” she said after a few more seconds. He looked up with an aggravated expression. She held up his shoes. “I’d better take care of these before the leather starts to warp. I’ll call you in the morning and let you know if the shoes work out, okay?”

“Alright,” he said, standing and scowling at his feet covered in sand. “But I doubt you’ll be able to save them. They got completely soaked.”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” she said, still smiling, even though she no longer felt it. He wasn’t going to apologize for making such a big deal about wet shoes? Or thank her for trying to save them?

He did open the door for her when they got back to the hotel, and they hugged—somewhat awkwardly, since she had two pairs of shoes in hand—before parting ways in the lobby. After he disappeared in the direction of the elevators, she went to the front desk and asked for some old newspapers.

Brylee wasn’t in the room when Sarah returned, which didn’t surprise her since she and Clint hadn’t been on the beach very long. Half an hour later, after thoroughly washing the salt from Clint’s shoes, Sarah crumbled up the newspaper and shoved them inside the wet leather, then put the shoes on top of the air conditioning unit, which she turned to FAN ONLY. She hung her dress in the closet, put on her PJs in preparation for an early bedtime, and once in front of the mirror to take off her makeup, dared ask herself a question that had been tapping at her consciousness. Were the interactions she’d had with Clint so far strengthening her feelings toward him?

She closed her eyes against whatever answer might come. She was invested in this weekend. She
wanted
so much for it to work. She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the window. She went to it and looked out over the beach in search of distraction from thoughts she didn’t want to ponder. It had only been two days; she needed to keep an open mind.

The waves crashing onto the beach seemed to be calling to her, calming her, taking away her growing doubts. She was in Cozumel, Mexico, a place she might never see again. What on earth was she doing in her hotel room?

Chapter Seven

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay?” Brylee shouted at Mark, trying to be heard above the thumping music and other screaming patrons at the club.

“I’m sure!” Mark screamed back. “Thanks for inviting me, though. It’s been fun. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Okay!” Brylee gave him a thumbs-up sign.

She melted back onto the dance floor, and Mark headed toward the exit, glad to have stayed long enough to be able to leave without being rude. He’d danced a little at the beginning then hung back by the bar and talked to a few people he knew from the conference. Though he could handle pretty much any kind of setting, he was happy to escape this one.

When he exited the club, the silence was jarring, and he let out a breath of relief amid the ringing in his ears. He headed toward the hotel, but in the space between the buildings caught sight of the moonlit waves. Without any need to contemplate other options, he turned onto the walkway that would take him to the beach. When he reached the sand, he left his shoes on an empty beach chair and rolled up the legs of his pants. A minute later, the warm Caribbean waters washed over his feet, and he smiled as he started walking along the waterline. His feet sank into the sand with every step. He watched the wet sand in front of him while thinking about the evening.

Dinner hadn’t gone as bad as he’d feared it would—Clint hadn’t been all over Sarah this time—but part of him had hoped she’d distance herself after his embarrassing behavior at the bar. Instead, she’d agreed to walk the beach with him, alone. The memory of last night, seeing Clint slobber all over her, was almost more than Mark could bear. The only reason he hadn’t left the table was because he could
feel
her panic rising. He didn’t think he’d ever felt someone
else’s
anxiety in his life. It was a relief when she’d looked to him for help, and it had been all Mark could do to stay calm and reasonable as he helped her get out of there.

Where were Sarah and Clint now? What were they were doing? Mark wasn’t there to help this time if she needed him, and he hoped she wouldn’t get herself into a compromising situation. His impressions of her and Clint’s continued expectations were at such odds with each other, that he couldn’t decide for sure what hers were for this weekend.

After she’d left the bar last night, Clint had told him not to interfere again. “If I don’t get lucky by the end of this trip, I’m blaming you.”

Another wave washed over Mark’s feet. Again, he wondered what could have been if he’d followed up on his interest in Sarah two years ago. “Probably nothing,” he said aloud. Yet what if that had been his opportunity? What if he’d missed his chance? She was attractive, and kind, and she would understand what it meant for him to have Dillon in his life. But she was here with Clint. And Clint planned to get lucky. The thought made Mark take a deep breath and consciously unclench his jaw.

“You are insane,” he said and kicked at the surf, sending foam and water into the air a split second before he heard a startled scream a few feet away. He looked up “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

The woman he’d kicked water at was wiping at her eyes as she hurried up the beach. He ran after her. “I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry. Wait, Sarah? Is that you?”

“Yeah.” She was still blinking quickly and dabbing at her eyes. “I thought that was you. I was coming to say hi.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said for a third time. There was a deck chair a few yards away, set under a light. “You can sit down up there.”

“I, uh, can’t see.”

Mark hesitated a moment before stepping forward and putting one hand around her back and guiding her toward the chair, apologizing for a fourth time. She fit within the length of his arm perfectly, and though he told himself again that he was nuts, he could swear he felt something when he touched her, a whisper of energy he wished he understood.

“It’s okay,” Sarah said.

He relaxed when she didn’t sound mad.

“You were watching the waves.” She was still blinking a hundred miles an hour. “Dang, that salt water really burns. I think it got under my contacts. I should have taken them out before I came down to the beach.”

“What can I do to help? Do you have glasses in your hotel room?”

 “I do.” She stood and started walking toward the hotel, covering one eye and reaching her other hand in front of her like a blind person. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Let me make sure you get to your room.”

“You don’t have to,” Sarah said, still feeling around with her hand. “I think it’s getting better.”

“I insist,” he said and put his arm around her waist this time, guiding her toward the sidewalk. The cool night breeze was suddenly not cool at all. Being this close to her made his heart rate speed up. He hoped she couldn’t tell and that her room was on the far side of the hotel so she’d stay close for as long as possible.

It wasn’t until he opened the side door to the hotel that he realized she was wearing a t-shirt and rolled-up flannel pajama bottoms. And that Clint wasn’t with her. Once inside the building, having his arm around her didn’t feel appropriate anymore—there weren’t any hazards to steer her clear of. He kept pace beside her, with a light hand on her back, mostly because he thought he could get away with it. He was a glutton for punishment. “Where’s Clint?”

“He went back to his room.”

Mark tried to read something into the surprising comment, but she didn’t betray anything in her tone. “Is everything okay?”

Sarah looked at him, still holding her hand over one eye, but blinking the other one. “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. His shoes just got wet.”

“Oh, well, good. I’m glad things are okay between the two of you.”

She nodded and faced forward again. “Where’s Brylee?”

“Back at the club.”

“Guess she didn’t make a club kid out of you after all,” Sarah said with a smirk.