“It’s possible. Seems somewhat of a delayed reaction, though, doesn’t it? If it had happened the day after I moved out or something, yes. But two weeks later? Maybe this really was just a standard case of teenage vandalism.”
“Or he’s venting his frustration at not being able to get near you. You always have someone with you nowadays. Maybe he arrogantly figured he could find a way to bypass my security. Now that he’s realized he can’t, he’s pissed.” Blake tucked my hair behind my ear. “He can’t call you, since you changed your number. I don’t know how he got a hold of your last number, but he clearly hasn’t been able to repeat the process this time. He could have emailed you again, though. Odd that he hasn’t.”
I cocked my head as something occurred to me. “Can Emma track IP addresses? I still have the email he sent me. Could she find him through that?”
“Possibly. I’ll give you her email address and you can forward his email to her.”
“Whoever Smith is, he’s been very clever. Sneaky. I mean, even if I wanted to tell the police about him, what would be the point? His games are so petty that it doesn’t seem like I’m in any danger. Aside from breaking into my apartment—and there was no proof that anyone had—he hasn’t done anything illegal. Writing a story, taking pictures and a video with my cell phone, sending me photos of you, calling me to say that my boyfriend isn’t good for me … None of it is threatening behavior. On the surface, it seems stupid.” But when you were living with it, when it was happening to you, it was a whole other matter.
“Yes, he has been clever,” Blake agreed. “He hasn’t done anything that would really be taken seriously. Doesn’t seem to tail you. Doesn’t harass you. Doesn’t send you threatening letters or emails. Doesn’t damage your property. And I suspect that it’s not because he doesn’t want to, it’s because it means you’re unlikely to get the backup and help you need from the police. And he can play with you for as long as he likes, because no one will be looking for him. Or, at least, that was probably his plan. But I’m a figurative spanner in the works. You have me, which means you also have Emma’s services. Nothing this guy has done so far has worked the way he’d hoped, so it’s only natural that he’d vent somehow. What worries me is that it might be you he wants to vent on next time.”
I was thinking the same thing. “I’m so glad we’re jetting off to Mexico tomorrow.”
His mouth curved. “You all packed?”
“Yep.”
“Good. This time tomorrow, you’ll be on the beach.”
“Not a fan of sand, but I won’t mind lazing on a sun lounger while reading my Kindle.”
He brushed his knuckles down the column of my throat. “If that’s what will make you relax, do it.”
“And you won’t feel neglected? Because you have a habit of suddenly wanting my attention whenever it’s elsewhere.”
He smiled. “I won’t feel neglected.”
Lying on my stomach, I sighed at the forked slice of mango that was held near my lips. “You said you wouldn’t feel neglected.” Propping myself up on my elbows, I obligingly opened my mouth and accepted the fruit.
Perched on the edge of the waterproof upholstered bed on which I was lying, Blake shrugged, looking innocent. “I just want to feed you.”
I snorted and pushed aside my Kindle. I’d spent a little time soaking up the sun on the deck of our very spacious beach cabana, but it was just too freaking hot. The breeze wasn’t cool enough to offer any real reprieve from the prickling heat, and my eyes had hurt from the sun glittering off the rippling water—even with my sunglasses. Shade was my friend right now.
The air inside might have felt stuffy and humid if it weren’t for the blessed ceiling fan. Like most cabanas, it had a thatched roof and privacy curtains. But it didn’t just have the basics of rattan chairs, a dining table, and some recliners. No, it was hedonistic to its core. There was a widescreen T.V., minibar, bean bags, digital safe, music system, waterproof bed with pillows, and even an honest-to-God misting system. We also had our very own butler, who regularly brought us chilled towels, fruit platters, and all manner of snacks.
As I chewed the mango, I stared out at the frothy sea-green water, watching the waves roll inland, dissolve into foam, and sweep ashore. Blake was making use of the music system, but it wasn’t so loud that I couldn’t enjoy the sounds of the water lapping at the shore or the waves crashing against rocks, tossing up spray.
A row of similar cabanas dotted the uneven shoreline that was strewn with shells, bits of seaweed, footprints, and the occasional surfboard. The beach was private and relatively quiet. The large, swanky resort had just about everything, including a golf course and enough thrill-seeking activities to keep any adrenaline junkie content.
Blake leaned in and breathed deep. “I love the smell of your sunscreen.”
The coconut-scent mingled nicely with the other scents of tangy fruits, briny sea air, and salty water.
“And I really love this bikini.” He traced the lime-green strap all the way to where it knotted with the other strap at my nape. “It’s both pleasure and torture to know that with just one tug, I can have you half-naked.” He planted a soft kiss on my shoulder. “You’re roasting.”
Yeah, the telling tingle on my shoulders and forehead told me I’d burned a little.
“Want to go back in the water to cool down?”
“Nah.” Feeling the cool water lap against my skin had been heavenly. For the first twenty minutes. Then the gritty sand had made its way into my bikini—chafing sensitive places—and, yeah, things had changed. Still, we’d spent a fair amount of time in the sea. Now, though, I just wanted to relax. “But you go right ahead and take a dip.”
It was truly a treat to watch him emerge from the sea and all that water pour off his head and down his hard body. Of course, I wasn’t the only woman who enjoyed that treat, so maybe it was a good idea for him to stay exactly where he was.
“Nah,” he said, feeding me a cube of melon. “I’m staying with my baby.”
As the drapes flapped in the light breeze, I frowned. “Why did you close the privacy curtains?”
“I was getting damn fucking tired of that teenager in the next cabana perving at you. Maybe we should have gone somewhere cold, where you’d have had to layer up,” he grumbled.
I rolled my eyes. “He’s just a kid.”
“Baby, he’s not the only one who couldn’t take his eyes off you. I’m used to guys looking at you, I’m just not used to most of your body being on display while they’re looking. It’s pissing me off more than I thought it would. And if that fucking lifeguard stares at you one more time, I’m going to break his ribs.”
“How many?”
“What?”
“How many ribs?”
One side of his mouth curled. “Five. That’s for every time he’s gazed at your tits. They’re mine.”
“The guy works on a beach, he sees women in bikinis all the freaking time—he’s got to be relatively immune to the sight at this point.” But Blake shook his head. I sighed, exasperated. “It could be that he’s looking at the bites you left on them. In which case, it would be your fault.”