him on to think he could return with news of a diary. That he could give Liv the one thing she always wanted: to know what really happened to Theodosia.
Challengeâhot and ferociousâcharges through him; memories spill like water from an overturned glass.
Sam could wait to call them back, he supposes as he picks up his phone and retrieves Whitâs number. Make them wonder, maybe even make them sweatâbut itâs a waste of time.
Already he can see the flash of excitement in Livâs eyes when he tells her about Theodosiaâs diary, the grateful wash of salmon that will flood her cheeks, swallowing the starry map of her freckles.
He closes his eyes and pulls in a hard breath.
Already he can feel the heat of her body underhis.
2
TOPSAIL ISLAND, NORTH CAROLINA
Two weeks later
Tuesday
W hen Whit turns the van into the driveway of the three-story Caribbean-style castle just before noon, Liv is certain it is the largest, most ostentatious house she has ever seen. Palms flank the arched entryway like palace guards, bright blue hurricane shutters swing out, and decks wrap around all three floors, not including the top story, which appears to be made entirely of glass.
âNow, I know we said we wouldnât go crazy this mission, Redââ
âWe?â She spins in her seat. âYou promised me something cozy, something
small
.â
âThis is small . . .
ish
.â
âCompared to what? Buckingham Palace?â
âExactly.â Two weeks after his row, the curl of navy and purple that circled his right eye has finally softened to a yellowish green. He gives her his very best smoldering smile, which he knows damn well can absolve him of practically anything, short of murderâand very well maybe that too, though she hopes they never have to find outâbut today sheâs determined not to give in to his charms.
âMaybe it only looks big on the outside,â he says.
She closes her eyes.
âWeâve got a crew of eleven, Red. Did you think weâd all share one big bed?â His grin widens. âKinky girl.â
He reaches across the seat to grab her thigh, but she twists away from him, not yet ready to let him off the hook.
A warm breeze drifts through the window, salted and feathery and so achingly familiar she thinks she could cry. Itâs been almost a decade since she left North Carolina. Standing at the rental car counter at the Wilmington Airport that morning, she waited for the sensation of her return to settle into her bones, sure it would the minute she and Whit stepped off the plane or walked through the sliding doors to find their shuttleâit didnât. And now she understands why.
Until she arrived at the waterâs edge, she wasnât yet back.
Whit rubs his jaw. âOkay, maybe the elevator is a little over-the-top.â
âThereâs an
elevator
?â
He leans over and kisses her hard on her gaping mouth, the way he always does when he knows he canât win an argument or change her mind and he is simply too impatient to keep trying.
Then he yanks the handle and kicks open the door. âLast one in has to scrub all six heads.â
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
E ight, actually. Counting the two outdoor showers, which Liv does as she tours the three floors, finding a view of the Atlantic in nearly every room, and decks scaled for cruise ships, which makes perfect sense, really, when the polished wooden ceilings look like upside-down ships, their laminated beams curved like ribs. Madness.
The first crew members arrive shortly after one. Four men in their twenties climb out of an enormous white truckâone with a completely shaved head and sleeves of tattoos, another with a ponytail, all with deep, even tans. They unload their gear and a ridiculous amount of beer. Whit has promised not to partake, but Liv isnât holding her breath. She knows how the spell of preproject