Barefoot at Sunset (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 1) Page 5

  She caught a whiff of his aftershave, spicy and masculine, giving her an unexpected pull of attraction. “But I’m not lying to you. I can’t do this if we dance around our conversations and tell each other half-truths. It’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth between us.”

  He studied her face for a long time, his expression changing, but she couldn’t quite interpret his thoughts. “All right,” he finally said. “No lies, only truth with us. I promise.”

  And she believed him. Not sure why, but Emma was certain Mark Solomon was a man of his word.

  “Then answer the question,” she said. “Why did you come if you have no friends or acquaintances at this reunion?”

  He turned away, the hint of a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “You’re going to mock me mercilessly.”

  “And you would deny me that opportunity?”

  He smiled at that. And then he reached into his pocket and pulled something out, his fist closed around it. “For sixteen years, I’ve periodically received…guidance from my late wife.”

  “Like messages from the great beyond?” She had to work to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

  “Exactly like that.” He turned his hand over and opened his fingers to reveal what was in his palm. A ring with a bright red stone and writing on the side. A woman’s ring, she realized, with a gold and black ’86 on the side.

  “Her class ring?” she guessed.

  He nodded, his smile wry enough to tell her he saw the humor and irony and maybe a little bit of foolishness. “Lacey contacted me while I was in New Zealand, asked me to come and be here a week early to help with the planning. They were desperate to get men on the planning committee, and no one had said yes yet.”

  “But you did.”

  “Not at first. Hell no. I flat out refused the committee and the event, and not because I think I’m too good or too important or too busy, like a lot of the other men had said.” He gave her a serious look. “I didn’t want to open up wounds that have long closed and healed.”

  “Or at least scarred,” she added, deeply suspecting that his grief wasn’t truly healed yet.

  “Completely scarred and numb,” he agreed. “Anyway, I left Auckland and flew to New York, where I keep a small apartment. I had some papers I had to pick up from my safe-deposit box. When I was in it, I lifted up an envelope, and this ring fell out. I totally forgot I had kept it with some of Julia’s things.”

  He held the ring with two fingers and angled it so they could both see it.

  “And that was the message? Finding her ring?” Bit of a stretch, Emma thought, but hey, she’d never been a widow.

  “I had a flash of a memory from the day the rings arrived and we both put ours on. She was so excited. We were outside eating lunch, and she held the red stone to the sun and said, ‘I’m going to wear mine forever. I’ll be the only person at the high school reunion who still wears her Mimosa High ring.’”

  Emma didn’t say anything, watching his face as he relayed the story. No sorrow or grief, just a look of warm appreciation. Like he was grateful he’d had that moment with her.

  “When Julia suggests something, I usually listen.”

  And maybe he was a total nut job. “How often does she, uh, talk to you?”

  Laughing, he pocketed the ring. “And she mocks.”

  “Not mocking, just…it’s a little out-there, don’t you think?”

  “It is, but it doesn’t happen that often. Once every couple of years, something will hit me hard, especially when I have a decision to make. And if I listen to her advice, my choice usually turns out to be the right one.”

  “When was the first time?” she asked, fascinated by this romantic illusion.

  “When I had the offer to sell Seeking Soulmates, the company we started together. I had no intention of selling, because we were profitable and I enjoyed running the business. Being a workaholic had kept me sane after Julia died, even though I didn’t realize how burned-out I’d become.”

  Emma eyed him, seeing a man in his prime of health and life. She couldn’t even imagine him burned-out. “So how did she deliver that message?”

  “I’d fended off about six offers from larger companies because I just knew she wouldn’t have wanted to sell to a huge conglomerate that would bury or kill the concept, no matter how much they offered. Then, I was approached by LoveInc.com.”

  “Ahh.” She immediately recognized the name of the largest Internet dating site. “The ‘love only happens if you take the chance’ people. Kind of a lame tag line, if you ask me. And they are a huge conglomerate.”

  “Not back then. The owner had vision and millions in stock options before a public offering. The cash wasn’t great, but his ideas for the company were. I was immediately tempted, but uncertain.” He looked out to the water, which had settled into a million shades of twilight blue, but Emma couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “So how’d she convince you to do it?” she asked, guessing that had to be where he was taking this story.

  “I was in midtown, on my way home from a meeting with the LoveInc people, and it started to pour. Cabs were short, but I managed to snag one at the very same moment as a woman. I offered to let her have it, but she asked where I was going, I told her, and our destinations were close. She suggested we share.”

  Of course she did, Emma thought. Who wouldn’t want to climb into a cab with George Clooney’s blue-eyed brother?

  “Her name was Julia,” he said, his voice a little lower. “She looked nothing like my late wife, but she was very excited because she’d just gotten engaged. I asked how she met her fiancé, and she said—”

  “LoveInc.com,” Emma finished.

  “Yep. She said it was the best experience, and if she were going to buy stock in a company, it would be that one. Those were her very words.”

  “Maybe she was an investment banker working on the deal and wanted you to buy in.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “You are a cynic. No, she was just a girl named Julia who needed a cab and unwittingly delivered a message that I should sell the company and take the stock offer. And that decision…”

  “Made you a rich man.”

  “Beyond my wildest expectations,” he confirmed.

  Of course, that probably would have happened if he hadn’t accidentally met a girl named Julia who raved about her online dating experience, but she couldn’t help be charmed by the idea of a man who listened to his wife…even from the grave.

  “So what do you think your late wife would have to say about the whole fake fiancée to fend off offers and questions idea?” Emma asked.

  He thought about the question—really thought about it, she could tell—and then said, “I’m not sure.”

  “Maybe we’ll find some seashells that spell out ‘good idea, Mark’ on the sand.”

  He laughed. “You’re mocking.”

  “Ya think?”

  He put an easy arm around her and guided her toward the villa. “So you’re the fiancée who makes fun of me.”

  “I could be.”

  “I like that.” He tightened his hold, pulling her an inch closer.

  I like that, she thought. The realization made her slow her step, and he matched the timing, looking down at her.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He leaned back and raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t you just set rules for complete honesty? Something is wrong, I can see it.”

  Nothing was wrong, but the reaction in her body when he pulled her closer was…unexpected. And powerful. And stimulating.

  And the last thing she wanted or needed was a man who made her feel stimulated.

  “I don’t know.” She glanced away, his gaze a little too intense for her. “This whole thing is…spontaneous. That’s not how I roll.”

  “You jumped on a plane to go on your honeymoon alone,” he reminded her.

  “And look how well that turned out.”


  “It’s not too bad…” He brushed some hair off her cheek, the graze of his knuckles on her skin just making everything worse. “So far.”

  Her eyes shuttered at the touch and his deep voice.

  “But I promised platonic,” he added. “You have my word on that.”

  Too bad, whispered a devil in her ear. “Still, the whole thing scares me a little,” she admitted.

  “What part?” he asked.

  “The part…” She looked up at him, almost immediately lost in the depths of crystal-blue eyes. “The part when it starts to feel like it’s not pretend.”

  He looked into her eyes for the longest time, saying nothing. She could feel her pulse pound and her breath catch, hear the squawk of a distant gull and the splash of water, smell the spicy, woodsy scent of him and feel his warmth.

  That would be this part, right now, she thought, as every sense was overloaded and time stood still.

  “You know, I have a theory about fear,” he said. “Any fear can be conquered by facing it head on. Just staring it right down and doing what scares you most. Three times.”

  “Three times?” she asked.

  “That’s the magic fear-beating number,” he assured her. “I had to parachute out of planes three times before I could deal with the sheer terror of it. First time I went rock-climbing? Same thing. Anything that comes with inherent risks needs to be faced down three times.”

  “So, how would that work here, exactly?”

  “Depends on what you’re scared of. Telling people a lie? Being trapped in a villa with me? Wanting to—”

  “Kiss you,” she whispered.

  His eyebrows raised. “That’s what you’re afraid of?”

  She swallowed and managed a nod. Afraid to do it…afraid that it might never happen. “I mean, out in public, if we’re going to get people to believe we’re really engaged, then we’ll probably…kiss.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” he agreed. “So you know what we have to do.”

  “Three times?”

  He smiled slowly. “Fast learner. I like that.” He inched closer. “I like that a lot.”

  “On the mouth?”

  “That’s usually where I go first, but we can start with a peck on the cheek and build up, if you like.”

  “Okay…but…wait.” She put a hand on his chest, wishing it weren’t so hard and that she didn’t want to press down so much. “How did you do this? How did you get me from ‘gee, is this the smartest move?’ to mouth-kissing?”

  “I told you, face your fears.” He lowered his face and brought his mouth a slight centimeter from hers.

  She leaned into him and kissed his mouth very softly, barely touching, just the slightest whisper of a kiss, just enough to…melt. And thank God there would be two more after this.

  Chapter Five

  Heat sparked at the mouth-to-mouth contact, shooting a lightning bolt of arousal through Mark, shocking him as if he’d stuck his finger in a live socket.

  What the holy hell was that?

  Besides…nice. He felt his eyes close and his head tip to feel a little more of her lips against his, enjoying the sudden rush of pleasure that rolled through him. He broke the kiss and instantly went for number two, a little deeper and a lot longer.

  Kiss number three included a brush of their tongues, swirling against each other until he felt pressure on his chest.

  That was her hand, slightly fisted, unintentionally grabbing some of the material of his shirt.

  He finally broke the contact, cursing himself for not insisting on five or six, or a dozen, attempts to conquer her fear.

  Emma stayed exactly as she was, in the classic pose of a well-kissed woman, head tilted back, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. All he wanted to do was kiss her again.

  He put his finger on her lips instead of his mouth and went for casual. “Okay, got that out of the way.”

  “Yeah.” When he lifted his finger, she replaced it with her own, lightly touching like a person checks a tender spot for pain. “Out of the way.”

  “So, we’re good now?” he said.

  “Good. Great. Just…” She eased back and looked at him as if her eyes were just focusing. “This is a really, really, really bad idea.”

  “You think?”

  “I know.” Stepping farther away, she shook her head a little. “I don’t want…I can’t…I’m not going to…I just got out of…”

  He smiled. “I get the idea, Emma. I swear I’m not suggesting anything like that.”

  “Like what? Like that kiss? ’Cause, come on. You felt it. I felt it. We both felt the little earthquakes of trouble in that kiss.”

  Not so little, he mused.

  She let out an exasperated breath. “I just wanted a place to stay and lick my wounds, not a man.”

  He laughed softly.

  “I just need to figure out the rest of my life, Mark, and you seemed so nice and like you were in a bind, and I wanted to stay here more than anything, and it all made some sense until…”

  Until that kiss.

  “Look, Emma, if you want to bag this whole idea, that’s fine. You can still stay here in the villa, and I’ll just have a fiancée in the background, or we’ll come clean with Lacey and go our separate ways.” It stank, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to force her into it if she was uncomfortable.

  She nodded, sending a stab of disappointment into his belly. “I really think I should go home tomorrow.” Taking a few steps away, she managed a smile. “You’re really nice, Mark. Like, way too nice. The last thing I need is…kissing.” She started around the pool back into the house. “The last thing.”

  “Mark! Mark Solomon!” A female voice floated up from the beach, a few feet away on the other side of the path. He turned to see a woman he didn’t recognize loping closer. She wore a bright pink beach cover-up, strapless, to the ground, her short dark hair spiking in multiple directions, which was probably not supposed to look like a cat that fell into hair gel, but did. “I missed the meeting today, but I heard you were here.”

  He frowned as she came closer, no name coming to mind, vaguely aware of Emma slipping out of sight.

  “It’s me! Margot Hutchinson!”

  No recollection. None. “Hey, Margot.” He fought the urge to turn to the villa and call Emma back.

  “You do remember me! I thought you might. We had social studies together, though I’m a few years younger than you.”

  She flashed a pretty smile. Not as pretty as the mouth he just kissed, however.

  “How are you?” he asked, hoping he hid the complete lack of interest in his question. Because the only thing he was interested in right now was the woman who disappeared into the villa. He had to convince her leaving was a bad idea.

  “I’m better now that I heard you need a Dance of the Decades partner!” Margot came as close as she could get to the raised pool deck of the villa without actually climbing up to reach him. “You might remember I was the captain of the dance team, and I have my own studio in Tampa now. I’m a ballroom expert and…” She finally stopped and looked up, her smile turning to a serious look of intent. “We could win, Mark, I know we could. And I want to win.”

  “Win,” he said, stealing a glance over his shoulder at the villa. Why did you leave me now, Emma? I need you.

  “Hey, listen, Mark,” the woman continued. “I know it’s been a while, but I was so sorry when I heard about Julia all those years ago.”

  And there it was. Exactly what he wanted to avoid.

  “I think about Julia all the time,” the woman continued. “Every time I hear Like a Virgin. She and I used to have gym class together, and we made up a little dance to it.” She lifted her hands and did a little boogie. “Touched…for the very first time,” she sang. Off-key. “That line always made her blush, and I bet I know why.” She let her voice rise in a little singsong tease.

  Really, Julia? You dropped that ring in my lap to get me here…for this? So he could have inane conversatio
ns with Margot Whoevershewas?

  “I figured you’d be at Lacey’s tonight,” Margot powered on. “But I didn’t want to wait to ask you, because you’ll be in huge demand. I heard Libby Chesterfield making noise about you, but she isn’t a dancer. I’m a professional!” She punctuated that with the widest, whitest smile and outstretched arms. “Mark and Margot, what a team, right? What do you say?”

  “I say…” Shit. That’s what he’d say. Just…shit.

  “Mark? Honey? Are you ready?” Emma’s voice came from inside the house, floating over the pool like a warm, welcome breeze. “Shouldn’t we leave soon?” She came outside, just as fresh and beautiful as the first time, only now, there was a truly conspiratorial spark in her eyes. “Who are you talking to, sweetheart?”

  He turned to the woman on the path, noticing the smile had quickly faded.

  “It’s Margot…from the committee.”

  “Margot Hutchinson,” the woman supplied. “And you are…”

  Emma breezed around the pool, her dark hair fluttering as she walked. “I’m Emma DeWitt, Mark’s fiancée. It’s nice to meet you, Margot.”

  Margot’s jaw dropped a little. “Oh, hi. Emma. Mark’s…wow. I don’t think anyone knew you’d gotten engaged.”

  “It’s a pretty recent development,” he said, sliding an arm around Emma as she got next to him.

  “A month ago,” Emma said. “In Peru. At the Sacred Tigers…monastery…nest. Have you heard of it?”

  Mark bit his lip to keep from laughing.

  “No.” Margot’s gaze slipped over Emma, checking her out. “Um, congratulations,” she added, her bubbly enthusiasm waning.

  He glanced at Emma again, a mix of admiration and sympathy. She didn’t have to do this for him, but every time someone got close to his tender spot, she jumped in for the save.

  “You sure you still want to go tonight?” he asked Emma. “I thought you weren’t…feeling well.”

  “And let you go alone?” She gave a playful nudge. “Not a chance. I just got too much sun. Will we see you at the dinner party, Margot?”

  “Yes, definitely.” The woman took a few steps backward, obviously embarrassed and bewildered. “You’ll be Mark’s dance partner, I take it?”