The group minus Paul. Paul was not on the island because Paul had gone to the mainland to pick up Kevin.
Eek!
Addie was as light as the champagne, as bubbly as the...champagne, as fizzy as the...um, well...champagne. And clearly not big on similes.
Paul had been gone over an hour, which meant any minute he’d be back. Addie had come down by the cliff here, hoping to catch the first glance of Lucky’s approach, so she would know exactly when to start freaking out.
Or she could get a head start and do it now.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, fighting a sudden deep desire to be home organizing Great-Aunt Grace’s papers. So easy. So uncomplicated. This paper goes in this pile. That goes in that one.
“Hello, Addie.”
She started at the sound of Derek’s voice, luckily not standing close enough to the edge to pitch over. She immediately had to put the brakes on a fantasy of Derek saving her from certain death by hauling her back into his arms.
Honestly. Addie pulled herself together. “Hey, there, Derek.”
Then she made a fatal error. She turned to look at him.
He was breathtaking. A touch more sun on his cheeks made the contrast even sexier between golden skin and his white shirt, and made his vivid eyes practically jump out of his face.
No, no, Kevin was coming soon. Once glance at him and everything she’d ever felt for him over so many years would come rushing back again, and this Derek guy would be forgotten.
“Enjoying the view?”
“I am.” She put on a casual smile—ho-hum, nice to see you—and concentrated on the view, which she’d just been pretending to look at before. Yes, it was lovely. A sailboat was cruising in toward the bay, sails crisp white in the sunshine. A lobsterman was hauling traps just beyond the next island, his white and green boat bobbing gently in the waves. Breezes ruffled her hair; the air was sweet enough to drink. Why hadn’t she been enjoying this all along? “I don’t think I’d ever get tired of this view. The sea is always changing, the light, the birds, the boats...”
Derek chuckled. “Well, Ms. Manhattan. You’re describing the view I see pretty much every day. Maybe you need to give that life a try.”
She snorted, having to suppress yet another picture, this one of herself sunbathing on the deck of his yacht. “Do they pay full-time salary and benefits for someone to project the odds of running aground or sinking?”
“Um...” He tapped a finger on his very sexy lips as if trying to remember. “Not really, no. But I have an onboard bookkeeping position opening up in a few weeks. Are you interested?”
“Don’t think so, but thanks.” Addie made another serious mistake. She smiled at him. Then he smiled at her, and it was as if the scene around them wrapped itself up neatly and disappeared, the way backgrounds did sometimes in cartoons, leaving the two of them alone in nothingness.
Worse than how she’d felt the night before when she’d had to force herself to watch one of the most magnificent sunsets she’d ever seen. All she’d wanted to do was gaze into those cinnamon-brown eyes and drool.
Okay, Addie. Engage rational superpowers immediately. Like this: fine to look, fine to appreciate, but no touching.
An upswell of voices by the house made her turn to see what was happening.
Kevin was happening. Somehow she’d missed being first to see the boat, hadn’t heard it, either, and now he was right here, standing on the front porch, being hugged by Ellen, two or three others crowding around for their turns, grinning that old familiar straight-toothed grin that could still knock her for a loop.
And just like that, as if she’d been released from a sorcerer’s spell, Addie was able to move again, to walk away from the awesome but evil power that was Derek, and into the pure heavenly light of Kevin.
“Ad-die.” The last syllable of her name came out on a shout. She’d forgotten the special way he said it, and the memory made her legs move even faster. And there he was, disentangling himself from the other woman and sailing down the steps on his strong runner’s legs to grab and whirl her around in a joyous embrace that made her laugh and gasp for breath and nearly spill her punch.
Kevin Ames.