Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The sunset had long faded into twilight by the time Lily finally emerged from the water.
Alex hadn't meant to watch. He'd been reviewing his field notes on the porch, trying to catalog the day's observations while the last light held.
But movement at the shoreline caught his attention, and once his eyes found her—rising from the waves like some kind of mermaid from a fever dream—he couldn't look away.
She'd stayed in the water for over an hour, swimming with the easy confidence of someone who'd grown up near the ocean. Now she walked up the beach, wringing saltwater from her wild curls, completely unaware of his attention.
He dropped his gaze to his notebook, pretending to be absorbed in data that suddenly looked like gibberish.
"The water's amazing," she called out as she approached the cabin, toweling off her hair. "You should try it sometime. You know, for fun."
"I'm working."
"Shocking." But there was no real bite to it. She actually sounded... content. Relaxed in a way he hadn't seen since she'd arrived.
She disappeared inside, and Alex told himself the tightness in his chest was just the humidity.
Sleep, when it finally came, proved fitful at best.
Alex tossed and turned, listening to the soft sounds filtering through the thin cabin walls. The quiet padding of bare feet across the wooden floor. A soft sigh that could have been contentment or exhaustion—he couldn't tell which, and that uncertainty gnawed at him.
Get a grip, Carmichael. He stared at the ceiling fan's lazy rotation. She went for a swim. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.
But his traitorous mind conjured images anyway—droplets of saltwater tracing paths down sun-kissed skin, those wild brown curls slicked back from her face, the way moonlight would have silvered the curves of her body as she emerged from the ocean.
He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. This was exactly why he avoided people. Especially people like Lily St. John, who seemed designed by some cruel deity to test his resolve.
When dawn finally crept through the shutters, Alex dragged himself from bed with the enthusiasm of a man heading to his own execution. He needed coffee. Strong coffee. And maybe a cold shower.
Lily's evening adventure had left its mark on the main room—a damp pink bikini draped over the back of a chair, sandy footprints now dried leading from the door to her makeshift sleeping area, the faint scent of salt and something distinctly feminine lingering in the air.
Alex focused on the coffee maker, as if the perfect ratio of grounds to water could somehow restore order to his chaotic thoughts.
The familiar routine grounded him—measure, pour, brew.
Simple and reliably mundane. Unlike the woman who had turned his carefully planned research trip into some kind of tropical torture.
"Morning, sunshine."
Her voice, husky with sleep, sent heat straight to his groin. Alex's hand tightened on his coffee mug as he turned, and immediately regretted it.
Oh, good grief.
Lily stood in the doorway of the sleeping area, stretching languidly with her arms raised above her head.
She wore nothing but a thin tank top that rode up to reveal a strip of tanned stomach, and shorts so brief they barely qualified as clothing.
Her brown curls tumbled in wild waves around her shoulders, catching the morning light like burnished copper, and her green eyes were still soft with sleep.
Freckles dusted her nose and cheeks like someone had scattered cinnamon across her skin.
She looked like every forbidden fantasy he'd ever tried to suppress.
"Sleep well?" she asked, seemingly oblivious to his internal combustion as she padded to the kitchen area.
"Fine," he managed, his voice rougher than intended. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Coffee?"
"God, yes." She moved to stand beside him, close enough that he caught the scent of her skin—salt and sunshine and something sweet that quickened his pulse. "I'm not human before caffeine."
You're barely human after it, he wanted to say, but the words died on his tongue as she reached across him for a mug, her breast brushing against his arm in the process.
"Sorry," she murmured, but the smile tugging at her lips suggested she wasn't sorry at all.
Alex stepped back, putting distance between them. "I made extra. Help yourself."
"You're such a gentleman," Lily said, pouring coffee with deliberate slowness. "Even to unwanted houseguests."
"You're not—" He stopped himself before he could finish the sentence.
Unwanted. Because that would be a lie, and Alex didn't lie to himself.
She was unwanted in the sense that she disrupted his plans, his peace, his carefully maintained equilibrium.
But she was very much wanted in other, more primal ways that he refused to acknowledge.
"Not what?" she prompted, taking a sip of coffee and humming with appreciation.
"Nothing. Just... drink your coffee."
They stood in silence for a moment, the morning air thick with unspoken tension. Alex tried to focus on his research notes scattered across the small table, but his peripheral vision kept catching on the way Lily moved—fluid and unconscious, like she was dancing to music only she could hear.
"So," she said eventually, settling onto the couch with her legs curled beneath her. "What's the plan for today, Dr. Carmichael? More fruit gathering? Fish wrestling? Interpretive marine biology dance?"
Despite himself, Alex's mouth twitched. "It's called field research. And trust me, no dancing involved."
"Pity. I bet you have some moves hidden under all that academic stoicism."
You have no idea, he thought, remembering his brief and ill-advised college experiment with salsa dancing. But that was information Lily St. John definitely didn't need.
"I've got work to do," he said instead, moving toward the door. "Important work that actually requires focus and—"
"Sunscreen."
Alex stopped mid-step. "What?"
Lily was already standing, reaching for a bottle of sunscreen from her bag. "Unless you want to spend the next two weeks looking like a lobster, you need protection. This tropical sun—and skin cancer—is no joke."
She squeezed a generous amount onto her palm and began applying it to her arms with determined strokes. Alex watched, hypnotized by the movement of her hands over her skin, the way the lotion gleamed against her tan.
"Could you get my back?" she asked, turning around and lifting her hair off her neck.
Alex's mouth went dry. "Look, I'm sure you can figure it out—"
"Please?" She glanced over her shoulder, and something in her expression—vulnerability mixed with mischief—undid him completely.
This is a bad idea, his rational mind screamed. A very, very bad idea.
But his feet were already carrying him forward, and his hand was already reaching for the sunscreen bottle.
"Just the spots you can't reach," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Of course," she replied, but there was a breathless quality to her voice that made his pulse race.
Alex squeezed sunscreen onto his palm, the mundane action suddenly charged with meaning. He hesitated for a moment, his hands hovering just above her shoulders.
"Alex?" Lily's voice was soft, questioning.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, and the contact sent electricity shooting up his arms. Her skin felt warm and smooth beneath his palms, and he had to bite back a groan as he began spreading the lotion in careful, clinical strokes.
Think about jellyfish, he commanded himself. Think about marine parasites. Think about anything except how good she feels.
But it was impossible to ignore the way she shivered slightly under his touch, or the soft sigh that escaped her lips when his thumbs traced the curve of her shoulder blades.
"You have good hands," she murmured, and Alex nearly dropped the bottle.
"It's just sunscreen," he said, but his voice sounded strained even to his own ears.
"Mmm." She leaned back slightly, and Alex realized he'd been massaging rather than simply applying lotion. His hands stilled.
"That should do it," he said, stepping back quickly.
Lily turned to face him, and the space between them suddenly felt electric with possibility. Her green eyes were darker than usual, pupils dilated, and her lips were slightly parted.
"Thank you," she said softly. "Want me to do you?”
"I—what?" He nearly choked, his cheeks heating as a desperately X-rated image of Lily's hands sliding across his bare skin blotted out logical thought.
They stood frozen for a moment that stretched like taffy, the air between them humming with tension.
Alex was acutely aware of everything—the way morning light caught the gold flecks in her eyes, the barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest, the constellation of freckles across her nose that he wanted to trace with his fingertip.
Kiss her, some primal part of his brain demanded. Stop thinking and just—
"I should..." Alex took another step back, nearly colliding with the kitchen counter. "Research. I've got research to do."
The spell broke, and Lily blinked as if coming out of a trance. "Right. Research. Very important."
"Very important," he echoed, grabbing his field notes with more force than necessary.
He made it exactly three steps toward the door before disaster struck.
Lily had turned to reach for something on the high shelf—another bottle of something from her bag—just as Alex pivoted to grab his hat from the hook by the door. The small cabin that had seemed perfectly adequate for one person suddenly felt microscopic as their bodies collided.
Alex's chest pressed against Lily's back, his arms instinctively coming up to steady her as she lost her balance. She gasped, her hands flying out to brace herself against the wall, which only served to press her more firmly against him.