Chapter 11

She was an absolute joy to watch.

Abby positioned herself on the slick rock below him, capturing shots of the liquid savagery that broke on every side around her. The fury of Devil’s Taunt crashed around her as the rock formation fought the encroachment of the ocean onto Chandelle’s verdant shores in an age-old battle.

Abby Haines was in her element.

The surf hurled droplets of seawater in his face as he squatted on the rock above her, his shirt tied around his waist, the sun soaking into his shoulders and back. The walk through the path had been incredibly tense, but they’d made it.

She’d been hanging onto him so hard at one point that her nail marks were still red indents in his forearm. He thought she’d drawn blood, but he’d gritted his teeth and taken it.

He marveled at how once Abby set out on that damn hunk of dirt more or less in the sky, she’d just kept moving. She’d summoned up the balls so she didn’t lose her balance, teeter, and fall over the edge.

And now she was good. It was treacherous down there, but with her specialty lenses, she didn’t have to delve into the reaches of Devil’s Taunt that even the scientists had avoided to get the shots she wanted.

He cast a last look behind him at the crazy path they’d just traversed and let out a long, lingering sigh.

Today, she’d put her trust in him. It had felt welcome and really good. Like a piece of him had come home again.

Caught again by the spray, the cold water coated his face and ran down into his mouth. Salty. He shifted his body farther from the pounding waves and fastened his gaze on her again.

He opened his mouth to call a good-natured tease to her, and then everything halted.

God. Look at her.

His eyes roamed over the sexy sight. Her shorts rode up, revealing her ass cheeks as she crouched. She held the camera gracefully, her tank gaped at the front as she leaned forward, her breasts pushing the thin cotton fabric into a soft mound.

His cock strained against his jeans.

Lust intermingling with admiration. He loved how she worked, how she’d married her natural abilities with knowledge, with the technical aspects of digital photography.

Shit. He plain admired the hell out of what she created and how she did it. The woman was a stunning bundle of elegant movements teamed with an economy of motion as she keenly measured the setup of shots, adjusted her body, and squatted on the rock—all for the shot. It was king. Propping one leg out in front of her to hold herself in the right position, she was as unmoving as a stone figure to get the exact still she wanted.

And he knew what he’d see when he looked at the proof later, on her camera’s view screen, or in a national magazine.

Magic.

Abby had a knack for capturing the everyday magic of life. Hell. She was magic.

And she’d been his, many long years ago, it seemed.

But she was here now. He was here. Once again, they were together.

He’d almost think it was fate. Except…

He shielded his eyes with the back of his hand to keep the wildly flying spray out of them. Things had changed. He had responsibilities. There were things he’d agreed to.

Abby had a career she’d, well…that she’d literally go out on a limb for. Go through hell or high water for. She’d proven that today.

And so did he.

He eased himself down onto the rock, wrapped his arms loosely around his knees. His company was important because it provided for his abandoned mother, and for a bunch of amazing guys.

The business, Logan’s Renovations, was his baby. He’d taken the time, the care, insisted on solid, above-code workmanship by his small crew, and built it to be a solvent, in-the-black enterprise.

Hypothetically, he could take care of it all and Abby as well, if she’d…if they…hell.

If he could convince her to come back to him. But that thought. Convincing her…

A flashback to her telling him she was leaving. Both of them angry. He’d hung on to the fact that she wasn’t leaving for a few more days. There was time to wade through the emotions, the anger. And there’d been so much of it.

All jumbled up with the ominous threat that Abby was really leaving, not for an internship, but for wildly greener pastures than he could ever offer her.

And even though he was mad as hell, he’d known, somehow…they’d sort it out.

But she didn’t come home for the supper he’d intended to surprise her with that night. Or after. And then he’d heard, through the grapevine, that she’d grabbed an earlier flight and was gone.

Gone.

He’d been pissed, but amidst the anger clawing through his system was the worry that he’d pushed her too hard.

And maybe… acted like her parents. Judging her, trying to force her into a prefabricated mold, into who he wanted her to be. Trying to make her be satisfied with the only thing he could provide for her—a way lower-class lifestyle than she was used to, despite her protests.

And that was the nameless fear he’d always fought. He’d pummeled it back, as this bright star hovered around him, lighting his life up like no one else ever had.

It wasn’t about the money she was connected to, or could possibly provide down the road. He’d have wanted her if he’d met her in disheveled rags holding a bowl out for food while he was volunteering at a soup kitchen. She was that bright, had hooked his heart inexplicably.

Her. Just her.

He hadn’t shared the fear with anyone.

Then, she was gone. The apartment was deathly quiet.

Hell, he’d still been mad, scraping burnt onions off the pan as he dumped the let’s-make-up T-bone into the plastic container for a cold lunch the next day. But one thought wouldn’t leave him be, though he tried to push it away.

The worry that he’d lost her.

She didn’t need him, the little voice inside him shouted. She had money, and now, a shot at a career she was passionate about.

What the hell did she need him for?

A week passed, and he still hadn’t heard from her. He’d finally shown up at her parent’s house to beg. To find out where she was and how the hell he could get in touch with her.

He’d never been very good at begging, but the option was find Abby or quit breathing.

Her parents were haughty, presenting a united front with a clear message. If he loved her, he wouldn’t interfere, or make her feel self-conscious about her decision. He’d set her free.

And they hadn’t bothered hiding their disdain.

As her father told him when he confronted him in a surprise meeting in the living room of his tiny house the next day—if she loved him—she’d be in touch.

‘Wouldn’t she, son? Now, come on. Have you ever known Abby not to do exactly what she wants? Son, that girl can no more rein in her emotions than my wife can buy off the rack. Are we on the same page here, Logan? Am I describing Abby, or am I describing Abby? That girl is one huge bundle of emotion, and no one can stop her. Heaven help those who try.’

He’d had to admit it, later, when he’d gotten the rock out of his throat. Eugene Haines had been describing the woman he was crazily, for better-or-for worse in love with. What her snotty parents said had the ring of truth, despite their motives. And sensible as he was, he couldn’t ignore that.

His solution? He’d gotten shit-faced drunk, and Mandy? Bambi? someone at the local bar had been all too happy to collapse into bed with him.

A few weeks later, his exams were finished. He’d finally copped the address where she was working from one of her girlfriends, grabbed an early morning flight from Pearson, shown up at her fancy New York office and…she’d blown him off. Even though he knew she didn’t need him, it’d been a shock. She’d let him know in no uncertain terms she was not interested, in front of the fancy receptionist.

The sharp slice cut through his gut right now just as it had that day.

He’d returned home numb. Flat and bloodless for two years, despite the well-meaning efforts of his buddies to hook him up with women. Lively women, shy women, kind women, interesting women.

The truth would seep through him during those meets, in the middle of one at a coffee shop, or bumping into his date roller-skating. Curvy women letting him know they were available…if he was interested.

But all he could think of at those moments was the frigid truth—him and Abby—no longer them anymore.

Now, though, he knew he’d been wrong. The look on her face earlier—that was totally-stricken Abby. Even after all these years. It had jolted through his consciousness, raised questions he’d learned previously were better left unasked unless he deliberately wanted to pop open veins all over his body to bleed just as sure as if he’d taken his switchblade, laid metal to skin, and pressed. Through the protective layer, down to where the pale lymph rested, through to the crimson underneath where, barriers gone, fluid flowed, would exit into the air, pull the will and ability to live out of his body.

The questions had floated in him, always there. Risen to screaming levels through the nights, been dulled, brushed aside by the tasks of each morning’s work.

But now—after he saw that look—he knew she’d been stricken too.

A person didn’t look at you like that after three years unless the wound was still…a wound.

Damn. He smoothed his hair back, wet now, aware of the droplets of ocean water that snaked, cold, down his neck, tracking lower, skimming across his shoulders and down his back.

She’d cared.

And now, when maybe they could get together—he’d never stopped thinking about her, hell, needing her…

The timing couldn’t be shittier.

His business loan was due. He’d missed a payment on the home his Mom was in, too. And though he’d been doing his best, it wasn’t near enough. He now had to fight to make sure the business stayed intact. It was important, not only for his mom, but also for a bunch of other VIP reasons—the men in his crew.

The guys were mostly soldiers who’d served in the military with him. Once the men came back, if they didn’t have a job or something strong to navigate to, they seemed to end up with him. He couldn’t tell them to go elsewhere. They were depending on him. All of them.

Sam Brisbane, the guy with the quick wit, and an ever longer string of women, was rock solid. Always there for his buddies. Luke James who’d had a rough life but had turned it around, fighting huge odds.

And Jacob West—young but with a passion for creating something big, though he didn’t know what—that dude was definitely meant for bigger things. Though he hadn’t nailed his passion down yet and until then was definitely a force to be reckoned with, in his own quiet way.

Then there was Nathan, of course. The outlier, a bit of a mess. He’d hired Nathan against everyone’s recommendations because he didn’t agree with their assessments. Even though they’d served at different times in Delta North, he’d seen something in him, and he was a home boy, too. If Dare had to say, he’d say the man was deep, with secrets he wouldn’t share and the predilection to drink too much when things went haywire. But Dare also sensed he needed a hand, and with that hand given, could be solid.

Yeah. He couldn’t imagine letting any of those guys down. His crew. When a man decided to step up and act responsibly, his life tangled with so many other people’s lives.

He watched Abby down there now, intent on another shot. Leaping on the rocks, taking advantage of the huge, flat stones amidst the craggy boulders.

He wished with all his heart that their time together didn’t have a cutoff. He couldn’t think of how it would feel to leave her this time, if his carefully laid business plans bore fruit. Hell, he didn’t even know if she wanted a relationship or—uncertainty niggled at him—if she had her eye on some other guy somewhere. The woman was surrounded by models, for crap’s sake.

She may have only hugged him for old times. The kiss earlier could have been him catching her off guard, both of them sliding into a moment based on the past.

The past that was now done. Over.

The thought sent a flare of dissatisfaction through him.

“You doing The Thinker up there, Dare?” The laughing comment shouted at him from the rocks below broke into his reverie. Abby was standing now, feet planted wide, steadying herself on the slippery surface.

Happy. In her element.

“Well, someone has to do the thinking around here.” He straightened, brushed the droplets of spray beading on his jeans off. “You’re the artsy one. I’m the practical one. So, how are they?” He jerked his head at the camera bobbing around her neck.

Beaming, she gave him a high five and laughed again. Lust licked through him. Her cotton top, wet from the spray, molded to her like a damp veil. The drenched fabric clung to the top of her breasts, revealing the pink skin right down to the rosy hue of her nipples. She must have been wearing the thinnest bra in the universe. God.

She stood, her graceful limbs backlit by the sun, a disarming grin on her face, the South Pacific ocean throwing screaming fits all around her.

His cock gave another jerk against the restrictions of his jeans as he pictured her naked down by the bursting spray.

The movie played in his mind, and he couldn’t stop it. Abby peeling off her top, flinging it onto the wet rock. Standing there, water slicking over her breasts, little rivulets snaking down her skin, over the button of her nipple, dripping down her to the rock. Abby tossing her head back with those crazy corkscrew curls, waiting for him.

Hitching a finger in her shorts and rolling them down to her ankles. Doing a wiggle-them-off dance as her panties shimmied off her rounded hips and pooled around her feet. Kicking them away, until she stood there, gloriously naked in the sun and crashing surf.

A ridiculous desire tore through him.

“I’m so wet.” Abby inspected her clothes, whisked at her shorts in an attempt to flick away some of the ocean brine that soaked her. She trained an eye up at him. “Are you gonna come down here and help me?”

He blinked. And then he slapped himself. Mentally, but hard. What she’d probably meant was help me get back up there.

The sun must be frying his brain.

“Are you coming?” Hands on hips, demanding. Shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him.

Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Did she have to go and invite him?

He just went with it. It wasn’t a porn flick but it was his mental reel. And she was all the porn he’d ever needed.

As if to prove his point, she actually started playing the lead role in his fantasy in earnest.

“Fine. If you’re not coming down, I’m taking a break.”

She turned her back to the spray, but it drizzled over her. A convulsion jerked through his cock as she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the moment. Shaking her damp hair about her, she looked wetter and sexier than ever. Her lush curves swayed as she danced the ocean spray out of her hair.

Leaning forward, she planted her hands on her knees, tossed that glorious mane over, then threw him a sideways glance through the wet curls. “I’m going to rest for a couple of mins before I come up. Get ready for you know what.” Her eyes flicked up past him, to the crazy road they had to traverse on the way back.

And then she plopped down, leaned back on her elbows and laid her head on the rock behind her, closing her eyes as waves broke around her.

An avaricious greed for Abby Haines spiked through him.

In his mind’s eyes, she was naked. Stretched out on that rock for the brilliant sun rays to dance over, her pussy damp from the salt spray. Her hand sliding slowly down and alighting on her mound.

Yeah.

He swallowed hard, because, shit. He could see her hand starting to move, dipping between her legs. All as a tease for him.

And he’d be there. Leaping the rocks to be beside her, he’d lean over her and bend to taste that spicy pussy, her taste slicking his lips. Swooping in for more as her knees fell apart…

Just like she’d done their first year together out in the woods on a camping trip, on a deserted beach after sunset.

They’d had sex in the open a few times, in fact. Abby approached sex the way she approached everything else—like a powerhouse. She’d loosened him up too, in spite of the fact that he’d been intensely serious and determined not to get caught, or to set a bad example for any kids that might happen by. Responsible, and all that.

But she’d cajoled and teased until…

Hell. How many minutes had gone by? Abby was getting up, her brief rest done.

“Okay,” he yelled. “I’m on my way.”

Negotiating the path of rocks, it took only a few movements and he was there, in front of her. He caught her quick glance as she skimmed him from head to toe, snagging on his bare chest for a scant, and then she hurriedly bent down, grabbed her camera, and started flicking through the pictures that were visible in the viewfinder.

He covered his sudden satisfaction at her snag on his chest with a question. “How’re the shots?”

She didn’t look up. “Just checking, but they look good.”

“Well, lemme see.” Thought he’d level a tease. “Or maybe you can’t share them? More work to be done to bring them up to par?”

Suddenly, he was practically bowled over as she launched herself into his arms, exuberant. His fingers closed instinctively around her shoulders as he caught his breath, and blinked.

Sun and spray-drenched woman in his grasp, against his bare chest.

Nothing had ever felt as good. Ever.

Her lips moved against his ear, her wet cheek cooling his flushed face. “There are a couple of amazing ones! And the rest, they’re good too. Gorgeous, in fact. McMaster’ll love them!”

His hands slid down her arms, jumped the distance to her middle back, then continued downward toward her soaked ass and drew her close.

A tiny, soft bump, and she was against him.

God. He’d missed this. Her weight, in his arms.

His.

And arousing as hell.

The kaleidoscope of emotions was fierce, ever shifting.

“That’s you, Abby. Gorgeous.” He murmured the words into her hair, her scent surrounding him, and the cold spray snatched them into the ether.

She jerked back, surprise written all over her face.

Soft flesh played against his fingertips as he held her a bit tighter. No. He couldn’t bear her pulling away. His lips moved, forming her name, but no sound came. His blood pounded in his head. He gazed at her, intent.

Her lips were parted, disbelief still glazing her eyes, but deep in them he swore he saw that part of her he’d always cherished, still alive. The part that thought they were magic—that couldn’t quite believe they’d found each other.

Maybe just a speck…but it was still there.

The sea spray flew around them as he leaned into her slowly. He saw the worry in her eyes, the sharp edge of apprehension that met his sudden advance, but she didn’t pull away, and he watched the questioning look blur into something very different as he drew closer.

Then they were cheek to cheek and he could no longer read her gaze or note her reactions. Just feel her.

He clenched his eyes shut. If only he had the power to freeze the moment, shut reality out. Halt the inevitable, damn it. There was nothing about Abby Haines that was his.

But instead of the familiar dark greeting him, something else played against his eyelids. Honeyed light, flecks of colour, swirls of fantasy.

A soft moan sounded in his ear.

He turned his head, seeking her mouth. The heat of her skin against his telescoped reality. His lips brushed against her upper lip and he swept into position, ready to taste it, along with that swollen, petulant bottom lip. Thoroughly.

And then as he laid his lips against hers, ever so lightly, he stopped, unable to move further.

The simple touch. The soft yielding of her mouth.

It mesmerized him.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t enter into a kiss as he held his lips softly against hers.

A second. Two.

And as she allowed the contact, joy flew through him. A miracle. Abby Haines didn’t kick him in the balls, and she didn’t shove him off the rocks into the depths below.

He stood there, alive for the first time in years. The warmth of her lips welcomed him and he slid his mouth, the beginnings of a kiss, over hers. Entangled in the softness. Sweet, salty, the ocean on her. She was all that and she was heaven.

In that moment, all of it—Abby, the sea, the sun—this was life and he was really living it.

And then a huge wave slammed into them, completely drenching them in icy seawater.

“Whoa!” Abby exclaimed and jumped, away from the slick, cold embrace of the ocean as he held her tighter, out of instinct, so she wouldn’t slip and fall.

But after a moment she laughed and tugged away completely.

Blinking, averting her eyes, she bent to pick up her camera, safe in its waterproof case in the natural dip in the rocks she’d placed it in. Looping the lanyard over her head, it rested back on her chest, protected. She jerked her chin upwards towards the demon pathway, but he still saw remnants of softness, a yielding on her face. “Break is done. Time to go.”

“One sec.” Before she could protest, Dare tucked her face between his palms, stared into gorgeous widened cinnamon eyes, gave her a quick kiss on the nose, and released her. He smiled at her and then deliberately yanked his feelings away from the respite they’d been enjoying. He turned his expression serious. “So—you okay to do this again?”

She shrugged, but straightened her shoulders as she flicked a grin at him. His heart caught it and soared. “It’s still the only way out of here. Let’s go. I’m ready.”

The ring of his cell phone trilled through the air. “I have to get this.” Placing it to his ear to drown out the crashing surf, a dull series of beeps greeted him.

Voicemail, already? He’d just heard the ring.

He tapped a few more buttons, listened to the beep. And the message he’d been waiting for, hoping for, practically praying for, for two long months was there.

The message that now seemed like the worst news possible.

And suddenly, there was no time to lose.

With a slash of anger that cut right to the bone, he understood what stupid jerk philosophers meant when they said be careful what you wish for. He needed this client, but it affected much more now than it would have even a day ago. Displeasure grew and he crushed it, forced it into a tiny part of his gut.

There was no backing down. Even if the news shredded the part of his life he’d just rediscovered.

He squared his shoulders, ready to do what needed to be done.

Abby’s teasing voice interrupted the dull thud of his heart and the place his mind had flown. “I said—we’ve got to get going. Or do you want to stay here all day?”

She was right. Irritation snarled through him as he shoved his dreams down yet once again, ripped himself from what could have been.

Because he had no choice. None. “You’re right. We need to get going.”

At her quizzical look, he shook his head and jerked his head toward the higher ground. As he followed her through the rocks, over little ocean eddies pooling between the granite boulders, he prepared to help her do the walk of hell again.

And calculated just how fast he could get off this damn island.