Barefoot at Sunset (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 1) (22 page)

He laughed into a kiss against her throat. “I know you like to sleep in, Em, but it’s almost three in the afternoon.”

“I have an appointment at three in the spa.” She gave him a nudge, freeing her to pop off the counter. “It won’t stop until I turn it off.”

“Neither will I.” He reached for her, turning her and bringing her back into him for another kiss. “Cancel the spa and come to bed with me.”

He actually felt her dip as though he’d weakened her knees. “I…I can’t. Lacey’s treating me to an Ayurvedic massage. She insisted I go.”

“Go tomorrow.”

She shimmied away, slowly enough for him to know she was fighting the temptation to stay. “It would not look good if I canceled now, and I really do need to experience the spa firsthand.”

“Experience me.” He slipped his fingers into the vee of her top, grazing the soft rise of her breast. “And this hand.”

With a soft whimper, she fisted his shirt. “I want to…”

“To the bedroom, Em.” He slid his hand lower, caressing her nipple.

“Ohhh.” She dropped her head back, then took a deep breath, obviously digging for strength. “Can we go there right after my massage, oil treatment, and herbal scrub?”

He grazed the hardened peak, adding pressure against her hips. “I can do all that for you here.”

“Mark…please…I
have
to go.” Somehow, she managed to escape his touch, making him release a frustrated laugh.

“I created a
carpe diem
monster and am now paying the price.”

She patted his chest, pressed harder, and dragged her fingers over his pec with a sigh. “I’ll be back in two hours,” she promised. “Chill the champagne. Turn down the bed.” She added a quick kiss. “Release the Kraken.”

He gave a hearty laugh. “You are such a copywriter.”

She escaped him completely, grabbed her bag, and darted toward the door. “Not for long,” she said in a singsong voice. “Soon, I will be…” Her eyes grew wide. “Marketing VP? Do you think it’s even possible to dream that big?”

“I think it’s impossible
not
to dream that big.”

She grinned and blew him a kiss. “See you soon, Magic Mark.” And she was gone and out the door before he knew what hit him.

He closed his eyes, his blood and breathing getting normal again, his body returning to its usual state of calm and control.

The intense silence of the villa pressed down, making him keenly aware of how empty it was without the funny, lively, electrifying woman who’d changed this dreaded week of things to avoid into six days to cherish, with the potential for…sex.

But not just sex, he mused as he walked toward the champagne she’d left on the counter and put it back in the fridge to chill. More than sex.

He froze mid-movement, blinking, thinking, and letting out a little grunt.

He’d never thought anything with another woman would ever be more than just a physical release and a good time, needs met. But this was.

Holy crap, this
was
.

Was that right?

He stayed stone still, a familiar need starting a slow burn in his gut. A different need than the one his body was battling. He tensed, listening, searching, hoping for something—someone—to answer him. But there was nothing but quiet in the villa and the distant call of a gull.

“Julia,” he whispered. “Can I do this?”

Dead silence.

And suddenly he knew exactly how he wanted to spend the next two hours. He wanted an answer, a direction, and maybe, permission to proceed without caution.

Which meant he had to go face down a fear…all by himself.

* * *

When Mark drove past the front of Mimosa High, a few teenage boys hanging out on the steps gave the Porsche a thumbs-up.

“Nice whip, old dude!”

Old
? And what the hell was a whip?

He revved the engine and flew around the south corner that faced the cafeteria parking lot, just to show those kids what’s what.

There were more packs of teenagers back there, filing toward their cars and bikes, since school had ended at three.

He cruised passed the lot toward the auditorium where a few buses lined up. Since when did the island kids take buses? He drove on and looked out at the football field where he’d had so many great moments of glory. Well, junior year. Senior year was just moments of fun, and that miserable season hadn’t mattered because…because he was so in love.

He stared at the field, which actually wasn’t a field anymore. It was a small stadium, and about forty young men were practicing with sticks and visors. Lacrosse? When the hell had they gotten a lacrosse team?

Probably sometime in the last thirty years, old dude.

He stopped the car for a few kids cutting in front of him, watching a couple walking arm in arm, pausing to kiss as they crossed.

They were freaking
babies
, he thought with a jolt. And yet, he and Julia set their course together when they were that very age. What the hell did they know?

They knew they were in love. And convinced it could never happen again with anyone else.

Reminded of his original mission, he waited until the road was clear and drove down along the side of the band room where he had always parked.

The lot had been full of Toyota Corollas and Nissan Maximas as the early eighties had ushered in the rise of the affordable Japanese compacts. Now there were SUVs, hatchbacks, and no small amount of pickups pulling out of spots, all full of kids anxious to get as far away from school as they could.

He parked in one of his favorite spots, right under the giant Scorpion painted on the doors to the gymnasium. Getting out, he pocketed the key fob and walked toward those doors, knowing exactly what he’d find on the other side.

Kids practicing, no doubt. Maybe the cheerleaders running through a routine; he sure had loitered there long enough waiting for Julia after school. The walls would be white, the bleachers faded wood, and more animated scorpions to celebrate the school’s mascot.

The door opened, and he took a steadying breath, ready for whatever message Julia would send him.

Then he stared into the gym and wondered where the hell he was. The wooden bleachers were red and white plastic. The two-story concrete brick walls were gone, replaced by massive sections of glass block that let in streams of sunlight that bounced off the shiny wood floor and highlighted the oversize MHS in the middle with another scorpion over it.

Everything was new, glossy, gleaming, and different.

Center court, there was no basketball practice. About fifteen kids sat at two cafeteria tables facing each other, a woman in her forties between them with a clipboard in one hand and a stopwatch in another. As he stepped closer, the kids all turned, and the teacher looked at him.

“Can I help you?” she asked, walking closer. Then, to the kids, “Solve for the real root, Team A.” She held the clipboard to her chest, frowning as she approached him. “Are you looking for your son or daughter?”

“No, I was looking for…”
My past.
“Someone.”

Her frown grew distrustful as she squared her shoulders. “Did you check in at the office? All guests are required to sign in and be badged.”

Since when? Since…the last millennium, likely. “I’ll go there now,” he said, turning away.

“Would you like me to take you there?” she said, just a little edge in her voice.

“Actually, I know where it is. I graduated from here in 1986.”

Her face brightened and relaxed. “Really? I graduated in 1989. Oh, you must be with the reunion-planning people. They’ve been stopping by this week.”

“I am,” he said, happy she was no longer considering him a criminal. He reached his hand out. “I’m Mark—”

“Solomon!” she finished. “I was a freshman when you were a senior. Michelle McGrath.” She shook his hand. “Well, Michelle Hutchinson now. But, oh my God, Mark, you look fantastic.”

“I’m sorry I don’t remember you, Michelle.”

“It’s okay. You wouldn’t have noticed me unless you looked up at the junior varsity cheerleader section and saw the row of fourteen-year-olds with braces on their teeth and longing in their eyes. I was the captain of the Mark Solomon Crush Team.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t know there was such a squad.”

“Of course not,” she said. “You never had much of an ego, which only made you more attractive to the freshman girls. But you only had eyes for Julia Coulter.”

He sure had. But, wait. Was that the answer he was searching for when he left the villa?
He only had eyes for Julia Coulter.

The woman’s expression changed instantly. “Oh, Mark, I know she passed away years ago and that you two were married. Is it too late to offer my sympathies?”

“No, of course not. Thank you, Michelle.”

“There must be so many memories for you here.”

He glanced toward the gymnasium. “To be honest, it’s like a different school. Everything’s changed a lot,” he noted.

“Well, the school’s a magnet now for STEM programs, so we’ve had a huge influx of cash the last ten years.”

“So, science and tech?”

“And engineering and…” She pointed her clipboard toward the center court with pride. “Math, in which we hold the state championship, I’ll have you know. Kids come here from all over Lee and Collier counties.”

Which explained the buses. “That’s fantastic,” he said. “Good to see this place thrive and grow.”

She nodded with pride and enthusiasm. “Anyway, I better go, but I’ll see you Saturday at the reunion, right?” She took a few steps back to her students.

“Yes, of course. That’s why I’m here.”

“Wonderful. I’ll introduce you to my husband. And what about you? Remarried, I assume.”

The first time he was anywhere without Emma, and the question, of course, came up. “Engaged,” he said, the lie sliding off his lips a little too easily now.

She beamed at him. “Congratulations! If you are going to the office, you should go out that door and pass the new trophy hall. It’s really impressive.”

He thanked her and followed the directions, not sure he really wanted to stare at trophies from days gone by. Not only would his be there—regionals in football his junior year—but for two years, Julia’s squad had taken awards at most cheerleading competitions.

Maybe that was where he’d find his message. A picture of his late wife shaking her pom-poms.

Go, team, go! Go all the way!

He smiled at the memory, turning a corner and stopping for a moment to get his bearings when he wandered into a wide hall lined with massive glass trophy cases.

He paused in front of the first case, frowning at the trophy of a Greek orator. The Debate Team. The next one was for the Rocket Club, the three-foot-high award topped with a golden missile. To the right, the case was dominated by those mathletes he’d just seen and, no surprise, the Chess Club.

Finally, at the very end, a few awards for the lacrosse team and a nod to the football teams of the last few years. It seemed sports was no longer king of this school.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

Mark turned at the gravelly voice, his smile pulling at the sight of a very old man shuffling into the hall using a cane. Good God, it was Wigglesworth. The former principal had stayed at Lacey’s party for only a few minutes, taken by his daughter back to his home.

“Hello, Mr. Wigglesworth,” he said, approaching the man. “We didn’t get to talk the other night, but I’m Mark Solomon. Class of ’86. Do you remember me?”

White brows creased a face that already looked like an ancient parchment map. “I ran this school from the day it was one room for a few kids of the island founders to the day I retired fifty years later. Been back every week since then. Bet I’ve met more teenagers than the law allows.”

“Of course,” Mark said, feeling a little ridiculous for thinking he’d be remembered. “But I certainly remember you, Mr. W.”

He leaned forward on his cane, narrowing watery gray eyes behind thick bifocals. “Mark Solomon. Quarterback. Smart kid. Stayed out of trouble, if I recall, and had a pretty steady girl.”

Mark drew back, stunned. “I’m impressed. And honored, sir.”

He laughed, which caused him to cough a little. Mark waited while the man caught his breath. “Don’t expect me to know what day it is or what I had for breakfast, though,” he finally said.

“Still, that’s quite a memory.”

“And that’s what you’re doing here?” He waved his cane. “Looking for
your
memories?”

“Something like that.”

“These trophies?” He snorted indelicately. “All that talking and adding and subtracting. School’s become a breeding ground for sissies.”

“And millionaires,” Mark couldn’t resist adding. “I’m a tech guy myself, or I was.”

“Well, good for you. Come with me. I’ve got something to show you.”

No one ignored a Wigglesworth command, so Mark followed, moving at a snail’s pace to keep up with him. They walked down a short corridor and reached a metal door that Mark guessed led to the janitorial break room.