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I forced myself to step away, fought the desire to stay right where I was, in Hale’s orbit. “I should let you get back to your life, Hale. It’s Saturday. I’m sure you have a million things planned for the weekend.” In my mind I saw him with faceless women, those sable eyes on other faces, those big hands on other shoulders. The image turned my thoughts dark and I took another step away.
Hale laughed, and it was an almost mournful sound. “My weekends are less jam-packed than they used to be. This is the most social I’ve been in a long time.”
He smiled at me, his hand reaching out to catch my waist and those thick fingers sliding down the curve of my back and sending spikes of anticipation through me as they did. I swallowed hard, trying to turn off my reactions to him.
There was a deep sadness in his voice that pulled at my heart, and I wondered how I would feel if I’d found out I was adopted after spending twenty or thirty years with a family I’d believed was my blood. I guess it made sense that Hale was a little off center, but he was a grown man, too. If he was raised in a loving home, why the hell did it matter? This thought flew through my mind and I was close to giving it voice when Hale bent nearer and brushed the lips I’d been staring at for days softly across my forehead, sending my thoughts flying in all directions, scattering into little piles I’d have to sort through later.
His mouth on my forehead was softness and heat, and his hand tightened around my waist and then slid around to press into the small of my back, nudging me toward him and then pulling me against him again.
Without thinking, I leaned my head back and met his eyes. Unspoken words flew between us, and then he dropped his head again, claiming my mouth with his own. Hale’s lips met mine with a fierce intent, and I opened my mouth to him, our tongues sliding together within seconds of beginning the kiss. My entire body lit up in response, and his hand dropped lower, cupping my ass and pulling me against his side tightly. This kiss wasn’t like any other I’d shared. It had alife of its own, and it surged and expanded, sending every nerve cell I had into a furious dance. The soft stubble of his chin and cheeks rubbed against my jaw, chafing, and the sensation created an exquisite ache inside me. I tried to think about what we were doing, whether it made sense, if we should stop—but rational thought was a distant memory as Hale’s mouth commanded my attention.
After a long minute, he pulled back. His dark eyes were cloudy, and his skin was flushed under the scruff of his dark blond beard. He pressed his forehead to mine, as if he needed to regain his breath, and then he pulled back to look at me.
To my surprise, he grinned, and then laughed. And for the first time, Hale’s laugh didn’t sound tinged with sadness.
“What?” I laughed in response. “You better not be laughing at me.” I narrowed my eyes in mock anger.
“No,” he said, his arm still strong around me. “I don’t know why I’m laughing . . . I haven’t felt like laughing in a long time, though, so I’m just going with it.”
“Okay,” I said, my body still vibrating under his touch. It felt natural standing with him in this half-embrace, an easy joviality mixing with the tension flaring between us.
We didn’t discuss it, but together we turned from the railing and made our way back to the foot of the pier, eventually crossing the street and resuming our slow pace down Ocean Avenue. Hale stopped us in front of a bar with tables spilling out onto the sidewalk. “Want to get a drink?”
I loved the idea of sitting at one of the high tables in the sun with Hale, sipping a margarita or a glass of champagne as if I were just a regular girl without a care inthe world and not someone standing on the precipice of the biggest leap of her life. It took me a second too long to reply, and Hale turned back to the street.
“Yeah, I should probably . . .” He let his hand slide off my hip.
I stopped walking, surprised how much I wanted that hand back, wanted his attention focused on me again. I took a breath and let myself leap, only this wasn’t the leap I’d been thinking about seconds ago. This wasn’t my career, my life, my future. This was what I wanted right now, in this moment. Maybe for once it would be okay to let myself have it. “I was just trying to decide between a margarita and a mojito,” I said.
His face cleared, and the eyes danced. “Is that right?” He looked happy, a light dancing through the dark eyes for a brief second.
What could one drink hurt? I had the whole weekend to focus and prepare. I’d say goodbye to Hale after our drink and buckle down to work in my dark, quiet apartment. Alone.
Hale’s hand slipped back around my waist, and he steered me toward a table. He pulled out a chair for me in the corner, and I sat down and ordered a margarita, enjoying a strange sensation that felt like being inside someone else’s dream.
We both watched the crowd around us as we waited for our drinks, but once they arrived, I could feel Hale’s eyes on me.
“To you—to your dreams,” he suggested, holding his beer aloft.
I held up my drink. “To you, for helping me get closer,” I suggested instead.
Our glasses clinked as our eyes met, and I drank a long swallow of tangy sweet margarita and watched Hale’s eyes close against his cheek as he swallowed his beer. His thick lashes were dark on his skin, and the sight made me want to touch his cheek, feel the contrast of his beard to his smooth skin. I swallowed another sip and smiled at my own irrational mind, usually so well contained within my world of plans and constraints, suddenly zinging wildly out of my control.
CHAPTER 11
Oliver
Watching Holland O’Dell lick salt from the edge of her glass was sheer torture. Every single glimpse of her sweet pink tongue had me imagining it on me, her full lips wrapped around me, her big crystal eyes peering up at me. I tried to keep my eyes off her, though that was difficult, too. I was torn between enjoying the show—which she seemed completely oblivious to—and preserving my dignity. Standing up with a raging erection was not on my list of preferred ways to win a girl’s favor.
I drank my beer in long gulps, forcing myself to keep my eyes down as we sat at the corner table inside the little patio. I had to ask myself what exactly I was doing. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted Holland. The question was, for what? It was true she’d single-handedly pried me out of the self-destructive rut I’d been in the last months, and shewasn’t even aware of it. I thought part of the attraction could be the renewed focus on work, one that made me look at my company from a whole different angle, one that had me doing work I was good at, showing me I was actually needed. But my fascination wasn’t held completely by the work. It was her. There was something about Holland that pulled at me, spoke to some part of me that hadn’t heard anything sweet or hopeful in a long time. And that combined with the work? I was becoming addicted.
Despite Holland’s tempting curves, her complete and unfathomable power over me, I wasn’t sure where things could possibly go from here. We might be sitting here having a drink now, but that didn’t change the fact that my life outside this moment was a complete fucking disaster, and I had the mental baggage to prove it. Meeting a beautiful woman wasn’t a solution to having lost track of everything that defined who I was as a person. And burying my dick to the hilt inside her addictive wetness would be an incredible escape from my grief and confusion—but it wouldn’t solve anything, as much as I might like to pretend otherwise.
“You’re thinking deep thoughts again,” she said, her bright eyes on me from across the table.
“All my thoughts are deep,” I quipped.
“Of course they are,” she said, smiling. But her eyes told me she knew I was covering. I wasn’t sure being close to a girl as smart as Holland was a good way to keep secrets. She’d figure them out eventually or convince me to tell her. Speaking of which, I still had to tell her who I was, my involvement with the company. Even though I wasn’t surewhere any of this was heading, being less than honest was beginning to feel more and more like lying.
