Dream of Me (5 page)

She shook her head and reached for the mug. “This is fine.” She took a sip and groaned. The coffee wasn’t Café-du-Monde-to-die-for, but it was hot.

He stood staring out the window at the surf, one hand curved on his hip, the other holding his mug. “If we’re lucky, we’ll have fresh fish for breakfast.”

She tried not to ogle the lovely curve of his chest or the ripped abdomen beneath his tee. But failed. “I have to warn you, I’ve only held a pole once. And all I caught was a tiny crappie.”

He grinned over his own mug. “Nothing to it. Once you’ve learned to cast, you just need to watch the fish. And I already handled catching baitfish.”

She grimaced. “You get to bait the hook.”

“Deal.” He nodded. “Having company will be nice. I usually do my shore fishing alone. But come on. Let’s sit on the porch while we finish our coffee.”

Oh no. Her breath caught in her throat. Did he want to chitchat? She followed him, her reluctant steps scuffing the floor. She didn’t think he’d ask her about Marc, but she didn’t want to talk about anything related to her life in New Orleans. Here on this island, she wanted to forget everything. Be in the moment. Now was far less painful if she could manage not to think constantly about her past.

The change of scenery would certainly help, was her first thought when she stepped outside and gawked at the deep blue sky and the gorgeous strip of beach curving around the inlet. “Do you know how lucky you are?” she asked, gazing out at the sea, watching as birds she couldn’t name hopped and ran along the beach, following the retreating edge of the sea to peck into the damp sand.

“I do. I’m originally from Oklahoma,” he said, his gaze also on the sea. “As landlocked as you can get.”

That statement produced a smile. “Did you always want to live near the ocean?”

“Never thought about it much. But when I graduated from high school, I knew college didn’t appeal. I wanted an excuse to put it off for a while. I went to the nearest recruiting station, and the Navy recruiter had the best pitch. Talked me into going for SEAL.” He wrinkled his nose. “I lettered in football and track in high school. Thought I was hot stuff. He showed me movies of the training, and I was hooked.”

Sam’s story was familiar. She wondered if all the SEALs had similar backgrounds. “Marc grew up in New Orleans. The Navy was a natural choice.” She took another sip of coffee. Was that the first time she’d talked about him without choking back tears?

“I remember him talking about
’Nawlins
. He loved the place. Wasn’t surprised when he left the SEALs after his enlistment was up.”

“But you stayed.”

“For a while. Yeah.” He gave her a tight smile. “Marc was a good man. Saved my life.”

Saved hers, too. But she couldn’t think about that now. She darted a glance his way. “He didn’t talk about it much. The deployments anyway. He liked to talk about the funny incidents that happened when he was in BUD/s.”

“I went through training after him. Didn’t meet him until I was assigned to DEVGRU.”

She nodded, glad she knew enough of the terminology from listening to Marc, to know he was talking about SEAL Team 6. “Were you part of the team…?”

“That tapped Bin Laden?” His gaze narrowed, and he shook his head. “No. But I saw plenty of action. We all did.” He set his cup on the bistro table and pointed toward two poles and a bucket standing beside her front door. “Let’s fish. I’ll teach you how to tease a pretty barjack onto a hook.”

“Barjack’s a fish, huh?” she said, grimacing.

He shook his head and laughed. “Guess I have my work cut out for me.”

Sam suppressed a
smile as he watched Ash cast her line. The look of intense concentration on her face fascinated him. Her brows were lowered, her lips pursed. She’d had trouble, at first, coordinating casting while controlling the reel. He guessed she was anything but relaxed, but maybe she needed this type of challenge to focus on.

As he watched, he recalled her therapist’s notes. She was obsessed with Marc’s death. Reliving it in her mind, in her dreams. He doubted she’d thought about him since their short conversation on the porch. Progress.

His own concentration for anything but her was shot. She was lovely. Not the most graceful, but athletic and lithe. He liked watching the way her arms arced, and how she went up on her toes when she cast the line into the depths. Her calves flexed, her thighs firmed. Even her small round ass got into the action. If she was anyone else but Marc’s girl, he’d be moving in and getting closer.

She stood still now, staring into the water lapping in front of her.

“Do you have one?” he asked.

“Shhhh. It’s right there.

He peered into the water, spotted the neon-blue stripe that ran down the back of the barjack. “Jerk your line just a bit. Tease him.”

Her frown deepened, but she jerked her pole upward then held still. A moment later, her eyes widened. The line drew taut. “I have it!”

“Great. One of us has to catch breakfast.” He reached for the net from the rock beside him then waded toward her as her line continued whirling. “Give it a little line, then stop and pull back. Don’t jerk it, just ease slowly back.”

“The fish feels heavy; it’ll break the line.”

He heard the worry in her voice and smiled. “The line’s strong. When you feel it give a bit, reel it in. Bring the fish closer.” He beckoned with one hand. “I’ll catch it in my net.”

The next five minutes were interesting to Sam for reasons he hadn’t anticipated. Pink filled her cheeks as she concentrated, the first color he’d noticed in her skin since he’d met her. He doubted that she even realized she was enjoying herself.

Her intensity as she continued to reel in the fish sparkled in her eyes and kept her mouth pursed. Damn, he wished he could look away, but she was beautiful—in ways he’d never have described another woman.

Lean and long. Dark and light. Full of spirit and determination. He had a hard time not thinking about what she’d bring to a man’s bed. No wonder Marc had been head over heels in love.

At last, she pulled back. The fish dangled from the line, just above the water.

Sam waded toward her and swept the net beneath the barjack, capturing it, then quickly pulled the hook from its mouth.

Ash stood beside him, staring down into the net. Her smile dimmed.

“Want me to let it go?” he asked softly.

“I’ve never met my meal before. And it’s beautiful.” She bit her lip then looked upward, connecting with his gaze. “Would you mind?”

He chuckled and lowered the net into the water, pushing at the bottom to help the barjack free itself of netting. They watched as the neon stripe disappeared into deeper waters.

“Thank you,” she said, and then grimaced. “Do you think I’m a wuss?”

“Do you care what I think?”

Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I think I do.”

“Then no. I don’t think you’re a wuss. Not even a little bit.” He held out a hand palm up and shrugged. “And who eats fish for breakfast anyway?”

Laughing, she held out her pole. “I think I learned my lesson. Shall we swim instead?”

Sam stood with the waves lapping gently around his calves and watched as she ran deeper into the sea. After the past hour, he understood her a little better. She was still fragile, but fighting back. Brave in ways he understood all too well.

He set the pole and the net on the sand, stripped off his tee and followed her into the morning surf. His strokes were stronger and brought him abreast of her position quickly. Together, their strokes chopped the clear blue surface as they headed toward the open ocean.

“I wish we had snorkels,” she said, peering down into the water.

Beneath them, as he treaded water, Sam noted snapper and more barjack, then a more ominous barracuda swishing its tail slowly as it followed a school of smaller fish.

“He has a lot of teeth,” she said, her strokes slowing.

“They have been known to bite.” He laughed when she shot him a startled stare. “We’re not part of their food chain. We’re safe enough. Just keep those toes out his way.” He couldn’t help teasing her and laughed again, when she raised her knees to keep her feet far above the toothy barracuda.

“Don’t know why you’re so worried about a fish. Marc said you swam in Lake Charles.” He watched her face for a reaction to the name. “Weren’t you scared of alligators?”

She snorted. “I never swim close to shore. That’s where they hunt.”

“Still, the water’s murky. Aren’t you more afraid of what you can’t see?”

“I never worry about it. When I’m at the lake, I usually dive off a pontoon. Engine motor makes enough noise to scare away anything that might take a nibble.” Her grin was carefree.

For the first time, he noted an imperfection in her smile—a slight gap between her two front teeth, which somehow made her appear younger than her twenty-nine years. He’d bet anything Marc loved sliding his tongue along that space when he kissed her…

“You like breakfast tacos?” He needed to change the subject because he was growing aroused.

Her nose crinkled. “You don’t have to feed me.”

A fact he well knew, but he didn’t want their time together to end. “I promised you breakfast.”

“Disappointed we’re not eating fish?”

He shook his head and smiled. “Like I said, who eats fish for breakfast?”

‡

B
y her third
day on the island, Ash had grown accustomed to Sam knocking on her door at all hours. They rode bicycles around the island and drove jet skis along the shore line. Today, she sat on the sofa, tying her sneakers because they’d be jogging—an activity she knew would be tough since she hadn’t run or overly exerted herself in months. She flexed the toe she’d stubbed, but it felt fine. Sam said he’d take it easy on her, seeing as she wasn’t used to running in sand. But the twinkle in his eyes when he’d made the statement indicated he knew she didn’t back down from challenges. She planned to smoke his ass—even if the exertion killed her.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and as had become his habit, he let himself in. Her breath caught because he was shirtless above his running shorts, and his sculpted chest was magnificent. So were his arms, his thighs, that tight ass she knew was rock hard just from looking at it.

Stop that!
How horrible would she be to repay his many kindnesses by drooling all over his body?

And while she admitted to herself she grew more attracted to her host every day, she didn’t dare act on that awareness. Not because she’d feel guilt over betraying Marc’s memory—she knew he’d be happy if she grabbed for a little carnal comfort—she was afraid Sam might be shocked. That their new friendship would be lost, and right now, she needed a friend. So many times over the past days she’d found herself talking about Marc, naturally, in the course of their conversations—without tears, but
with smiles
. Sam made her feel safe enough to ease open the floodgate of her memories.

A thought held her still, and she again fiddled with her shoelaces. Did she talk too much about Marc? About herself? Was she imposing? Sam had offered to honor Marc’s arrangement as a way to help her over her grief, but was she taking him from activities he ought to be doing? Glancing up, she gave him a quick, tight smile. “You know, you don’t have to run with me. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going, even if you don’t.”

“You don’t think I need to work out?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his perfect abs.

“What?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You need more muscle on top of your muscle?”

“Ah, you noticed I’m ripped,” he said, standing sideways to her and flexing a bicep.

Shaking her head, she muttered, “You’re one of those pretty boys who works out in front of a mirror to admire yourself, aren’t you?”

“If I work out in front of a mirror, the only reason is to catch someone else admiring me,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Now, come on. I have calories to expend.” He hitched a thumb into the waistband of his shorts. “These get any tighter I’ll be singing soprano.”

“Vanity, your name is Sam.” She tossed her keys at him. “I knew you were too good to be true.”

He tucked them into his shorts pocket and gave her a crooked smile. “Baby, you have no clue how good I can be.”

Those words, that tone. She felt an interior tug inside her core, felt wetness ooze into her panties.
He did not just flirt with me.
“Guess you’ll just have to keep me wonderin’,” she drawled and sauntered past him, doing her best to hide how shocked she was at her reactions.

Outside, she made a show of stretching her limbs. Anything to keep from meeting his gaze, which was narrowed on her face at the moment. A look that only made him sexier. In direct sunlight, his eyes appeared more blue than green. And, until this moment, she’d never really paid much attention to his mouth. His lips were firm, but looked soft and smooth. When her nipples began to tingle, she turned away and bent at the waist to press her fingertips against the deck to stretch the backs of her thighs.

She heard a soft curse and sprang up to give him a glance over her shoulder. “You all right? Strain something?”