Chapter 4 #2
She slumped her shoulders as she grappled with her regrets over the night.
“How are you going to reclaim his trust? He’s a military guy. I don’t see this ending well,” Emily said while Sam swiped rose blush on her cheekbones.
“I can be persuasive.” She was her father’s daughter, after all. She’d managed to get nearly half of D.C. to agree to her proposal—still one man short, though.
And maybe she shouldn’t have been in Mexico when she needed to be on a plane to Russia Tuesday, but her father promised her he’d handle Senator Abrams, and so . . . she needed to handle this situation.
Of course, if her dad knew where she was right now, and more importantly why she was there, he’d have a heart attack.
She grabbed the phone and left the en-suite and went out on the terrace off the bedroom. She stared at the cabanas dotting the white sand; the waves slowly rolled in and receded. “We’re going sailing today. I’m going to talk to Owen on the boat.”
“What are you wearing?” Emily cocked her head. “Hold the phone out.”
“Why does it matter?”
“You need to look hot, or he might just toss your ass overboard when he learns the truth.”
“Funny.” She huffed but lifted her pink halter to show a black eyelet bikini top.
She nodded. “Sexy enough.”
“Glad you approve. Anyway, I gotta go, or I’ll be late. Say hi to Blane.” She waved goodbye and ended the call before her best friend could give her any more grief.
She grabbed her belongings and then headed to the lobby, her nerves twisting as she played in her head what she’d say to him and how she’d lay the truth out between them.
I can do this, she thought when she caught sight of him talking to some guy who was maybe two inches taller than Owen’s already tall frame.
Owen looked casually sexy in a white tee, navy blue swim trunks, and wide-strapped flip-flops. It was obvious he still kept up his SEAL exercise routine to some extent based on the rippled tone of his flesh.
She inwardly groaned at her thoughts. She needed to focus.
But when Owen pivoted, catching her gaze, his eyes narrowed, and his lips became tight. There was something there, something between them entirely too strong she wasn’t sure how she’d ignore. She’d have to find a way, though.
“Who’s this beauty?” Owen’s friend asked when noticing her.
“Sam.” She smiled and shook the guy’s hand.
“I’m Asher.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Owen asked, and Asher dropped his hold of her palm.
“Nah, man. Maybe we’ll meet up in San Lucas tonight, though?” He slapped him on the shoulder. “You two have fun.” Asher winked at Sam then walked off.
“He’s a bit—”
“Of a pain in the ass.”
“I was going to go with intimidating looking.”
“Nah, he’s a teddy bear; just don’t tell him I said that.” He reached for her bag like a gentleman.
The sweet gesture made her feel even worse. How could she tell him: I knew your brother? “I’m excited about the boat.”
“Good. How’s the headache?”
She touched her temple and shrugged. “Already forgot about it. Thank you.”
He nodded. “So, you ready to go?”
As ready as I’ll ever be. She slipped on her sunglasses once they were outside and nervously tucked her hands into her pockets as they walked away from the hotel and to the marina nearby.
“Do you remember anything else from last night?” He tossed the strap of her beach bag over his shoulder without the least bit of shame at carrying a woman’s pink bag.
“Nothing after the dance floor.” She didn’t feel like mentioning their first kiss had played on repeat for the last hour.
“I think this is our ride,” he said once they were in front of a sailboat. “Sixty-five-footer.” The mast and two sails were fairly calm, only flapping a little in the gentle breeze. “Let me check with the captain.”
The way he said captain rolled off his tongue like a form of respect. His words were firm and a little hard around the edges.
Military, she reminded herself. She’d been around generals and other distinguished servicemen in her line of work, but she’d never again dated anyone who’d donned the uniform. She couldn’t bring herself to do it after having lost Brad.
She turned and observed the hotel behind them. The desert served as a backdrop to the resort that was tucked into craggy cliffs along the Baja Peninsula, nestled by the Sea of Cortez and the coastline of the Pacific.
Why haven’t I been here before? Most places she’d visited in the last five years had been war-torn areas related to her work.
“You ready?” At the sound of his voice, she faced him. He’d dropped her bag on the boat deck and was holding his hand out for her.
Once on board, his palms landed on her hips, and she lifted her chin. Her lips parted, and she was thankful they were both masking their eyes with glasses.
She’d prefer to hide her emotions for as long as possible.
“Are you folks ready?” The captain was American and probably in his late fifties. He tipped his hat in greeting and then started toward the dock, probably to untie the boat.
“So, are you thinking about letting me go at some point?”
He smiled and released his hold, but then reached for her hand and guided her to a seating area.
“I’m probably not going to drink champagne right now,” she said while eying the uncorked bottle on ice. “But the cheese and crackers look perfect.”
“Yeah, I’m in the same boat,” he deadpanned, and it had her cracking another broad smile as he helped her take a seat.
“Do you know much about boats?” She dropped her head back to feel the rays of the sun pour over her, hoping it’d cleanse her of her sins.
“A little.”
Why’d I ask that? She couldn’t keep up the act of being ignorant about who he was for much longer, and any more questions like that would only make it worse. She also couldn’t bring herself to spill the truth. Not yet, at least.
But—she was running out of time. Someone had sent her that photo for a reason, and she wouldn’t be able to move on until she got to the bottom of it.
She sat upright as he removed his tee. He crossed his arms and leaned back as if he wanted to bake in the sun as well.
Of course, the sight of him was much more distracting than the scenery, even if she wasn’t supposed to let her mind wander to thoughts of his body.
Her fingers skated across her collarbone as she guiltily continued to observe him, noticing the strength of his forearms and the overall hardness of every inch of him.
“Do you have a swimsuit on under your top?” He interrupted her thoughts, and she jerked her attention back to the ocean and away from his golden body.
“Um, yeah.” She lifted the hem of her halter and peeled it off. He’d already seen her naked, so what was the big deal about a bikini top?
“So, tell me the craziest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Sleep naked with you,” she blurted, which had him looking her way. “But I’m betting my crazy is like a standard day for you.”
He laughed. “Favorite childhood memory?”
“Are we playing rapid questions again?”
“I’m trying to learn more about you.”
“Well, whatever perception you already have of me is probably pretty off base. I wasn’t exactly myself last night.”
“So, who are you really, then?”
Good question. But the words dried up in her throat, and she reached for a bottle of water from the cooler at her feet to buy time. “I’m the daughter of a senator. I work with my dad.”
“Hm. And this means what, exactly?”
She wished she could see his eyes, but then again, she’d probably simply get lost in the color. “It means I have a certain reputation I’m supposed to maintain.”
“And getting drunk and naked with a stranger isn’t on the list of things to do, huh?” His arm fell between them, and his fingers drummed the faded blue material of the seat.
“Not exactly.” Lying again. Great. “But my dad acts like I have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.”
“And do you?” His lips became a line as if he were considering her admission.
She thought about the benefit next week, and how damn important it was. And yet, here she was . . . “I guess I try.” She half-shrugged and then felt the need to lighten the mood, so she joked, “But I think it’s giving me serious spine problems. Probably should see a chiropractor.”
He was quiet for a moment, before he asked in a deeper voice, “Do you ever wish you were someone else?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She gulped. “But I wish I could change the past.” She had to tell him the truth. She owed it to not only him, but Brad. “Listen, I—”
The feel of his hand atop hers cut her off. And the way he caressed her skin with the pad of his thumb had her swallowing back every possible word that would kill the moment, a moment she couldn’t possibly have.
He reached for her glasses with his free hand and removed them. “There’s something in your eyes that tells me you know how I . . .”
Oh, God. Do you remember? Why didn’t he finish his line of thought?
He heaved out a deep breath and placed her glasses back on before standing. He moved over to the railing and braced against it, his hair catching in the wind as they sailed, and she stood alongside him.
She found herself whispering, “I lost someone I cared about when I was younger.” Her stomach roiled as she’d dropped her words into the ocean air. “I still have trouble allowing myself to be happy sometimes.”
She had wanted to see a therapist back when times had been the toughest, but her father had concerns about it getting leaked to the press—had to maintain the McCarthy image, he’d said.
“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life.” His mouth tightened as if pain spiraled around every one of his limbs, and he recalled a play-by-play of when someone died.
Tomorrow was the anniversary of Brad’s and Jason’s deaths. They shared the miserable day, and he didn’t even know it.
Two hard knocks on the door.
A man in dress blues.
A letter in hand.
A dark, haunted look on his face.
He’d been the man to deliver her the harshest blow of her life.