Tags:
Catherine Bybee,
reunited lovers,
small town romance,
Novella,
Hawaii,
past love,
Cindi Madsen,
Marina Adair,
surfer,
famous,
Julia London,
clean,
sweet
Will said with a fiendish smile, releasing his grip. “Let’s go,” he said to Justine, pulling her closer to his side. The sideways glance he gave her accompanied by the smile made her want to do that teenage giggle again.
“Eggs?” she couldn’t help asking as they started off down the path.
“Anton’s family runs a chicken farm in La’ie, five generations. Best eggs on the island. We give each other shit, but he’s like a little brother to me. We have Christmas dinner with them every year.”
Justine stopped walking and stared at him. “I…” she began, but then broke off. This was not an inquisition aimed at Will Davenport, though the more time she spent with him, the more questions she had.
“This way,” he said, waiting for her on a path that didn’t go into the main lobby, but around the side.
“You’re not staying in the hotel?”
“I am, just not in those rooms.”
Justine walked with him through an outside courtyard. The soft air smelled of exotic flowers and the salty sea. Will headed down another path toward a cluster of cabins only steps from the beach.
“After you,” he said, opening the door to the first cabin.
It wasn’t huge, about the same size as a normal hotel room, but the view was absolutely breathtaking. Without thinking, Justine breezed past Will and walked straight through to the lanai.
“My gosh.” She stepped onto the terrace. “It’s stunning.”
“Yes, you are.”
She stopped and turned around. Will was still standing by the open door, his gaze meeting hers from across the room. The expression in his brown eyes made her heart speed up all over again, and her fickle fingers started to twitch.
Chapter Four
He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but any red-blooded man would have said the same thing. There were no two ways about it: Justine was stunning. Though maybe it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say to a woman he hadn’t seen in a year. But again, it was a reflex.
“Well, that was subtle,” he said, going for self-deprecating. “You’ve probably noticed, I’m as smooth as ever.”
Smooth, yeah . He’d felt about as smooth as a damn octopus when he’d grabbed her and kissed her on the beach like that. What had he been thinking?
Hell, he hadn’t been thinking—that was the problem. He’d seen her standing there on the other side of the rope and then he’d followed a physical reflex too strong to fight.
The way she’d responded to his kiss, though, had been a very pleasant shock. He’d felt her surprise, but then she’d held onto him just as tightly as he’d been holding her. If his handler hadn’t tapped his side, Will was certain he would have pulled Justine’s soft body over those ropes and carried her off.
“Got any Justin Beaver on your iPod we could play?” she said, running a hand over one of the patio chairs.
Will laughed. “I do have a line,” he said, finally entering the room and joining her on the patio. “Justin Beaver is way past it. And I think it’s Bieber .”
She tilted her head. “Are you sure?”
He frowned in thought for a moment. “No.”
When Justine burst out in a lilting laugh, powerful heat spread through Will’s chest. He had to take a few steadying breaths, then he folded his arms and gazed down at her.
“What?” she asked, tucking a chunk of hair behind an ear, looking nervous.
No, not nervous, that was just Will’s imagination. She was being careful with him, careful and professional and detached—which was exactly what he deserved. He hadn’t invited her to his room to break through the professional wall between them. Though having her here now, that notion sat squarely at the front of his mind.
“It’s great to see you again,” he finally answered. “I still can’t believe it.”
“It is kind of coincidental.”
Coincidental . He inwardly scoffed. So many times in the past year he’d thought about her and the unfair way he’d ended things. Six months ago—six
Steam Books, Marcus Williams