Lady's Man (6 page)

They sat for hours, talking, as the sun retreated to the West, leaving the sky a beautiful blend of dusky hues. It was almost as though someone had taken buckets of red, orange, blue and purple paint and cast them indiscriminately onto the horizon, leaving the sky wildly awash in color … like a Van Gogh canvas yet as intricately detailed as a da Vinci.

“This is the highest point on the beach,” he explained. “From here, we’ll be able to see fireworks downtown as well as those here on Folly.”

“It’s beautiful,” Annie said.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he replied. And without waiting for a response, he asked, “See where that lighthouse is? Right behind it, that’s Morris Island. It used to stand on the middle of three islands. Now it sits about a thousand feet offshore. That’s how gnarly the currents are. Over the years, they’ve entirely changed the landscape of the channel. That’s why you see all these rocks here. To keep the ocean from swallowing up Folly.”

He pointed to an area offshore where waves were breaking, churning up whitecaps. “I’ve always wanted to surf out there—can’t imagine feeling closer to heaven. There’s a fine line between life and death and I think there’s a part of every surfer who wants to own it.”

Annie’s eyes widened. “That sounds so dangerous!”

He chuckled. “Nah … it’s only dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing or you make stupid decisions. It’s guys like the one today who get people in trouble … and those who don’t read signs that say ‘no swimming, dangerous currents.’”

Annie studied him. There were no worry lines etched into his brow—not even faint ones—despite that they were close to the same age. Only a few laugh lines were apparent on his face, and those were etched deeply into his cheeks. His face might even be described as pretty, except that his jaw line was strong and his nose and lips weren’t delicate. There was strength in him that was more than apparent in the depth of his eyes. Annie marveled that he seemed so at ease with himself and his life. “Don’t you ever worry you’ll do … or say the wrong thing?”

He shook his head, not even stopping to consider her question. “Nah. I agree with the idea that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Annie shuddered. “I guess I’m just not that fearless.”

He stared at her curiously. “Of course you are. You made the decision to stay in a house with a strange guy you just met and you don’t bother to lock your door at night. What made you just trust that everything would be OK?”

Annie blinked in surprise. “You tried the door?”

“The first night,” he confessed. “Your dog was whining and I let her out to pee then let her back in.”

Annie’s cheeks warmed a little. She sipped self-consciously at her wine. “That was not smart of me, was it?”

Jamie shrugged. “You’re fine, right? You took a chance and now we’re having fun … and maybe we actually like each other more than a little?”

Annie smiled a little too readily and ducked behind her arms to conceal it, swirling the wine in her goblet. “Maybe.”

He studied her a moment longer and said, “Sometimes we need to stop analyzing the past, stop planning the future, stop figuring out exactly how we feel, stop deciding what we want and just see what happens.”

Annie just stared at him, dumbstruck by the advice. “That’s beautiful.”

“Yeah … well … I can’t take credit for it.”

“Really? Who said it?”

For the first time ever, she watched a blush creep into his cheeks. “I think it might have been Sarah Jessica Parker’s character in
Sex and the City
,” he replied and Annie choked back laughter.

They continued to laugh as they polished off a second bottle of wine between them. Jamie brought grapes and cheese and they munched on finger sandwiches while they waited for the fireworks to start.

Annie laid back on the blankets and stared at the darkening sky, feeling a little guilty for turning this trip into a complete “me fest.” But she couldn’t put off dealing with her grandmother forever. Lying there contemplating where to set her grandmother’s ashes free, she asked, “Do you ever think about what might be out there?”

“Sometimes,” Jamie admitted. “But I’m way more interested in here and now. Although … I do believe we’re all connected somehow … and the Universe is like a perfect machine … every gear working together seamlessly.”

Annie perked. “Like a grand design or a master plan?”

He considered that and gave her a nod. “Maybe … but I don’t know whether I believe in plans or even fate. Maybe it’s more like a little soccer team of atoms all fired up to play the game.”

Annie tried to visualize his concept. She furrowed her brow. “Who’s the coach? And are we all on the same team?”

He ran his fingers through his hair like a little boy faced with an insolvable puzzle. “Damned if I know. But I think if we play together, we win. If we don’t, we lose.”

Annie tried not to laugh. “That’s either the deepest thing I’ve ever heard … or the biggest load of crap …”

He rolled over, looking down at her. “It’s wine-bar bullshit, no doubt. But one thing I do know, Annie …”

“What’s that?” Annie spotted the first of the fireworks go off in the sky above his head, but didn’t say so. If he hadn’t heard it, she didn’t want to spoil the moment.

More than anything, she wanted him to kiss her right now.

Her heart beat so loudly it seemed to drown out the fireworks.

At this moment, she was absolutely certain he’d brought her here to seduce her and she was OK with that. In fact, never in her life had she wanted to feel a man inside her so badly.

“I think loggerhead turtles have exactly the right idea,” he whispered.

Annie’s brows collided.

That wasn’t what she had expected to hear.

“You do?”

“Uh huh. They listen to their inner sonar and it leads them right back home … so they can make babies on this beautiful beach.” And with that, he dropped his head on her breast and went very, very still.

After some time, Annie could hear his smooth easy breathing.

It took her awhile to realize he was sleeping. She didn’t move. She just lay there, feeling his weight with every rise and fall of her breast while spectacular fireworks went off around them, lighting up the sky in a celebration of color.

She slid her hand around his neck and felt the strong pulse of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, and she sighed with the realization that at this moment, there was nowhere on earth she’d rather be.

CHAPTER FIVE

The following morning Annie expected to find Jamie nursing a hangover, but he was gone early. So was his board. She surmised that he was out surfing, hangover and all. He’d drunk more wine than she had by far.

It was the Fourth of July.

The eleventh hour.

As much as she enjoyed Jamie’s company, she was running out of time to do what she’d come to do and she really needed privacy in order to do it. She left Lady in her suite upstairs and wandered out to the dock where the dory remained grounded. It was a small boat, probably easy to handle and the river didn’t look all that scary. It certainly wasn’t deep.

Life is all about risks, Annie.

Her grandmother was worth it.

Making sure the paddles were in the boat, she set the blue velvet satchel safely inside and maneuvered the boat into the water. She found the life jackets exactly where they’d discarded them. Trying to remember how Jamie had strapped her in, she put hers on and then very carefully got into the boat.

Her mistakes were generally few and far between because she didn’t do much of anything without thinking it through, but when she did make them, she learned from them.

Settling herself into the dory, she took the paddles and rowed herself downstream. She was gone maybe an hour and when she returned, she found Jamie pacing the dock.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Annie was startled at how angry he seemed. She didn’t intend to answer so flippantly, but she wasn’t ready to reveal her private affairs. “Sightseeing,” she replied with a smile. “Why?”

“Do you understand how dangerous that was? You have no idea how to handle that boat!”

Annie thought she had handled it just fine.

It took her a little while to get the hang of the oars, but it wasn’t as though she’d had to deal with any real currents. Anytime the boat had begun to veer off course, a gentle shove to the shoreline had straightened her out. While he stood glaring at her, she carefully guided the boat up along side the dock.

He didn’t bother waiting for her to show him how well she could do. He got down on his knees, reached out to grasp the side of the boat and jerked it close enough to strap a mooring line to it. Then he helped her out, yanking her up rather rudely.

Annie clutched the blue satchel close so it wouldn’t fall into the river. “Damn it! Why are you so angry? I thought you were all about taking chances!”

“I’m OK with me taking chances—not you! Does it make any difference to you at all that I’d feel like total shit if you wandered out into the channel and got yourself killed?”

Annie didn’t think his anger was very rational. She raised her voice just a little. “Obviously, it wouldn’t have been your fault!”

“It’s my damned boat, Annie! What the hell were you trying to prove anyway?”

“You can stop talking to me like I am a child!” Annie shouted back at him. “I wasn’t trying to prove anything to you! I was trying to find a place to bury my grandmother!”

His gaze shifted to the satchel in her hand and he took a visible step backward. He ran his hand through his hair in what appeared to be frustration and when he looked at her again the anger had vanished from his expression, replaced with some other emotion. “Jesus … look, I was just worried.”

They stared at each other.

Annie’s eyes stung although she wasn’t sure why. She’d stopped crying about her grandmother a very long time ago. God only knew, she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at her so tenderly.

“Ashes?”

Annie nodded and swallowed hard, fighting back tears.

He held out his arms and she went into them automatically, throwing her arms around him, burying her face into his chest.

He patted her back gently, but that only seemed to make it worse. Annie began to sob in earnest. “I was going to do it right here from the dock! It didn’t feel right! The tide’s too low! I don’t want Gram pooling here! I want her to be free! The house was so perfect with a river view. I didn’t think I needed a boat!”

He stroked her back. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know, Annie.”

Annie held him tighter, grateful for his presence. It seemed every bit of emotion she’d held back since her grandmother’s death suddenly burst forth from some unknown well of sorrow.

“I know a really amazing place,” he told her, stroking her back. “Will you let me share it with you?”

Annie clung to him, soaking the front of his shirt with her tears, not wanting him to see her face. She cried until she couldn’t anymore.

“Annie?”

She nodded and he put a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face, forcing her to look up at him. She knew her nose was red. Her cheek was purple by now and her eyes were probably red as well. He bent to kiss her on her bruised cheek.

“Your grandmother must have been an amazing woman to foster such a caring heart. I’m glad I met you, Annie Franklin.”

Annie forced a smile and hiccupped. “I’m glad I met you too.”

“Get in the boat,” he said.

Tearstains still on her cheeks, Annie got back into the boat and sat patiently with her grandmother’s ashes in her lap while Jamie untied the mooring line and pushed off into the river.

He took her to a beautiful, unspoiled island deep inside Folly’s winding wetlands, a place she would never have found on her own. They dragged the dory ashore and wandered just a short distance inland.

“This way … I want to show you something,” he said, but said little more than that until they reached a little clearing where the view was breathtaking.

Not a single man-made structure was visible on the island, and aside from a few earthwork structures that Jamie explained dated back to the Civil War, there were no signs humans had ever stepped foot here, despite that it was a stone’s throw from Folly.

The first thing he showed her was an unhampered view of the Morris Island Lighthouse in the distance—a panoramic view that couldn’t have looked more postcard worthy if it had been staged.

The second thing he showed her was a small weathered plaque on a nearby tree that wasn’t visible without brushing aside the overgrown grass. About three inches by three inches, it was made of some kind of metal and screwed to the tree. It read simply: James Arthur Heywood Jun 2 1921 - Sep 22 1989.