Ex on the Beach (10 page)

Before she could come up with an appropriate reply — and aware she had to word any comment very carefully, as she didn’t think it beneath Robert to convince the new daddy-in-law not to hand over the bonus — she realized almost everyone in the group was watching, waiting for them to board so the tour could begin.

So she mustered up her professionalism, imagining steel running the length of her spine, and didn’t give Robert the benefit of looking him in the eyes. She’d gotten more than enough of this man four years ago. He could not bother her anymore.

She nodded to the driver and tour guide. “Looks like we have everyone here. Shall we go?”

CHAPTER SIX

T
he sun greeted Mark as he hopped out of his four-door rental and loped up the steps of Whitmore Mansion. It was going on noon, so the group should be well on its way with the tour, which meant Andie would be out of the house.

Mark had been at his desk since daylight, yet he’d found that no matter how hard he’d tried he’d been unable to concentrate on the work he needed to get done.

He was blaming the situation on lack of food.

Sure, the hotel had a perfectly nice restaurant and even room service, if that was what he wanted. But it wasn’t. What he wanted was to see Andie again.

Since he’d made sure that wasn’t going to happen, he’d take the next best thing. Aunt Ginny. And possibly he could talk her into lunch. He’d overheard her at dinner the night before, mentioning that she was making her famous chicken salad for lunch. For the people who’d gone on the tour. But surely she had leftovers.

The front doors to the house were wide and welcoming, with dark wood trim and clear glass panels, but when he stepped inside, the massive foyer and its attached living room were silent. Walking through the space, he admired the soft hues and the overall comfortable feeling. There were two sitting areas in the living room. One in a semicircle with four cushioned chairs and a small round coffee table. The other was more spread out, with a couple couches and additional chairs grouped around a marble fireplace. Both areas were set up to afford a view through the massive back panel of windows that stretched from one end of the room to the other. The area was inviting and relaxed, yet elegant enough to entertain the top level of guest.

Mark let the view beyond the wraparound deck wash over him. The ocean gleaming in the sun was almost magical. It looked like rippled glass, waiting patiently for some action to disrupt it.

Sounds from the kitchen caught his attention, so he headed that way. He’d checked out the first floor the day before and had gotten the lay of the place. Before he’d been kicked out and sent over to the hotel.

Not that he minded staying over there. He had a lot of work to do, so the added privacy would allow it to happen.

Should
allow it to happen, anyway. This morning notwithstanding.

But what Mark wanted was to be
here.
In the middle of everything. And under the same roof as Andie.

And how stupid was that? She’d made it more than clear last night that she didn’t have time for him. Not that he would expect her to drop everything and play it’s-been-a-long-time-and-we-sure-do-know-how-to-heat-up-the-sheets, or that he would shortchange a major project himself for a night or two with her.

Liar. He’d go without sleep for a week for a night or two with her.

And talk about stupid.

But that’s what he’d learned about himself last night as he’d sat in the sand looking out over the ocean and listening to Andie catch her breath. He wanted her back in his bed, if only for two weeks. Hell, if only for a night. But she’d wanted a good-bye kiss. And that was all.

Bullshit.

She wanted a hell of a lot more than that. She had been no more immune to the situation than he had been. She simply had more sense than him and wasn’t planning to do anything about it. He should learn a thing or two from her.

The last thing he needed to come from this trip was to return home with his head even more screwed up because of her. But sweet Jesus, she tasted good. And she felt good. And she’d wrapped her legs around him like she’d been waiting to do that for years.

Good Lord, he was going to make himself hard just thinking about her.

“Morning, Mark.”

He jerked to a stop and lifted his head, not realizing he’d landed in the kitchen. Ginny stood on the other side of the counter at the sink, her back to him, her face peeking back over one shoulder. Her green eyes watched him carefully.

She held her curls back out of her face with a long blue-and-yellow scarf. It was tied like a headband around the top of her head, with the ends floating out beneath the hair in back, and something about the simple, understated smile she gave him made him think of Andie. Ginny was only her aunt, but if he didn’t know better he’d swear she was her mother. They had many of the same mannerisms and, from what he’d seen, the same gentle nature — both with a hint of fire underneath.

“Morning, Genevieve. How are you?” He went for his best courtroom voice, knowing the woman likely still wanted to string him up by his balls.

She shot him a squinty-eyed look, letting him know that she was already on to him. He was clearly up to no good.

And wasn’t
that
the truth?

He wanted her niece hot and naked underneath him, and he feared that if someone didn’t knock some sense into him soon, he was going to make a play for exactly that. Didn’t matter that her job was still more important than him — he didn’t care. He only wanted her for sex.

Which made the fact that he was still angry that she’d been planning to marry him for name only inconsequential. He wasn’t planning to propose marriage, anyway. Simply a couple weeks of fun.

Ginny reached into a bowl on the counter beside her, picked up an apple, and tossed it to him. He caught it, eyeing the bowl it had come from. It was a woven pattern, made from what appeared to be some kind of vine. And if he were to guess, it was handmade. Very nice.

“Thanks, G.,” he said. Her eyes widened at the shortened use of her name, but he just smiled at her, giving her his best innocent expression. When she didn’t chunk another apple at him, this time at his head, he continued. “Any chance I might talk you out of some of that chicken salad you had us all salivating over last night?”

She made a
hmph
sound but headed to the refrigerator, wiping her hands on her apron. He grinned wide behind her. He liked her. Mostly because she hadn’t castrated him four years ago, but also because he could see Andie in her. It was kind of like seeing what Andie would be like in thirty years.

“Don’t smile like you think you’ve gotten away with something, boy.”

He arrowed his gaze at the back of her head — how did she know he was smiling? — and wiped the grin from his face. When he didn’t say anything, she turned, a heavy bowl in hand, and shot him “the look.” He ducked his head and mumbled, “Sorry.”

Damn, how did she manage to make him feel about twelve every time she spoke to him?

“Some reason you skipped out on the tour today?” she asked.

He lifted a shoulder. “Had work to do.”

“Yet here you sit. You bring it over with you?”

“No.” He shot her a look of his own. “I decided to take a break for lunch. If that’s okay with you.” Geez, could he not take a simple break?

“They don’t have lunch at the hotel?” She plopped a plate down on the counter before him, and his mouth watered at the sight of the buttery croissant with the thick, moist chicken squishing out the sides. A pickle spear rested on the plate alongside it, along with cut strawberries and thick kettle chips. His stomach growled in anticipation.

She slid him a soft drink and pointed to a bar stool. He sat. “Something tells me I couldn’t have gotten anything at the hotel that would be near as good as this is going to be.”

“Well, at least you have half a brain.”

He bit into the sandwich, ignoring her jab, then moaned out loud at the crisp mix of flavors hitting his taste buds. “Genevieve, you sure do know your stuff.”

“Hmph,”
she muttered again, then went back to washing the vegetables piled beside the sink. She had her back to him, so he almost missed it when she said, “I hear Andie had her closure last night. She’s ready to move on. About time.”

A bite of chicken stuck in his throat. After several seconds of choking — during which Ginny made not the slightest effort to help — he picked up the soda, his eyes watering, and took several gulps. When he had cleared his airway, he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand and looked over at her. She’d finished with the vegetables and was facing him.

“She tell you about last night?” he asked. Hoping Andie hadn’t mentioned that he’d had his tongue down her throat and his hand quickly heading to heaven.

She arched her brows. “Told me you talked. Something else you want to share?”

“No.” The word came out too fast. “Just that we talked. And then she threw my shoes in the ocean.”

Laughter rang from Ginny as the stern expression she’d been going for vanished. Her eyes brightened and her face creased with slight lines. It was a sight to see. But when she bent over at the waist, holding her stomach and still guffawing, he decided it hadn’t been that damned funny. He muttered, “They cost me a thousand dollars,” which only made her laugh louder.

With nothing to do but wait for her to calm down, he returned to his sandwich. Cooking was one thing Andie hadn’t picked up from her aunt. She could barely scoop store-bought chicken salad onto a piece of bread and make it edible. Maybe she’d gotten that “ability” from her mother.

Not that he had any real idea. She’d never said much more than the basics about either her mother or her stepfather. He hadn’t realized this until after they were engaged, because they’d moved so fast and run so hot. And by the time he’d begun to push for more details, they were already arguing about other things.

Such as her working so many hours.

He still didn’t understand why she’d suddenly turned into a crazed workaholic. She’d been fairly normal the first six months of the job. Stressed occasionally, yes, and working the occasional late night. But not putting the job before everything else in her life.

But something had changed her. She’d gone from the happy, gentle girl with the sneaky, mischievous eyes — the girl who’d liked to snuggle with him in the moonlight and dance in the snow — to a singly focused workaholic who barely remembered that he existed. And he’d never been able to get her back. It still hurt that they’d lost what they’d once had, but it had been better to figure that out before it was too late.

Saved each of them from having to hurt the other even worse down the road.

Ginny finally straightened up and swiped fat, dripping tears from her eyes. The smile covering her face pulled at him, and he chuckled lightly along with her, shaking his head at how funny things must look from her point of view.

“She told you about that, too, didn’t she?” he asked. “I could see it in your eyes the instant I blurted it out.”

He couldn’t read her as easily as he could Andie, but easy enough.

Ginny nodded. “She told me that she’d done it, but I don’t know more than that. I feel like I should offer some restitution for her misbehavior, maybe offer to pay for them, but I’m not going to.”

Mark gave her a droll look. “And I wouldn’t let you even if you tried. I probably deserved it, anyway.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “You probably did.” She pulled out several jars, some oil, and a mix of spices, then set to work tossing together what looked to be a marinade. “She didn’t say how it came about, though. Did you make a move on her? Is that what happened?”

A blush he hadn’t anticipated swept over him and her eyes grew wide.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” he ground out. He could see that she was about to. The danged woman should be mad he’d put the moves on her niece, and instead she was going to laugh in his face. “She …”

He stopped, unsure what to say, and let out a frustrated sigh. He couldn’t very well tell the woman that Andie drove him insane with hunger while at the same time making him want to shake some sense into her.

“She still gets to you, doesn’t she?”

The potato chip he’d put in his mouth lay salty against his tongue as he eyed her. He slowly chewed until the chip was nothing but mush, then swallowed. This was what he remembered about Ginny from her trip to his apartment. It had been only days after the wedding, and he’d been hoping that Andie would eventually show up so he could apologize. Instead, Ginny had knocked on his door, there to collect Andie’s things.

She had been furious with him, ready to rip him a new one. Yet before she’d left she’d also looked at him as if she’d understood that he was hurting as bad as Andie. Maybe worse. There had been no victorious gleam from her over this fact, merely acknowledgment and acceptance.

He hadn’t walked away from Andie easily, and Ginny had known it.

He nodded, not saying a word. Hell yes, Andie still got to him. And how could that be?

It had been four years! He’d had numerous women since. He’d been engaged to be married.

But one look at Andie standing on the beach last night, anger radiating off her at the same time he made out the tender vulnerability he’d always known she held in check, and he’d wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Ginny. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She dumped the vegetables in a bag with the marinade and shook the whole mess. “I think you might figure it out if you let yourself.”

He thought he might go insane via a slow burn. He should have moved on years ago, but he found he wanted Andie as much today as the first night he’d gone home with her.

And she wanted closure.

These next couple weeks were going to be heavy on frustration.

Kayla came in through the outside door carrying a large empty box, and Ginny patted Mark’s hand.

“Did you get it there in time?” Ginny asked, heading over to take the box from Kayla.