This was…weird.
“We’re friends, right?” he said.
“Of course.”
“Just friends.”
Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
Smiling a little, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Are you sure?” she whispered, touching her lips to his ear.
He would have backed up, but they were at the edge of the cliffs, and there was nowhere to go but down. “I’m sure,” he said, turning his head to one side.
Undeterred by his insistence, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed kisses along his jaw.
Although he was more annoyed than interested, he allowed her to continue. He hadn’t received this kind of attention from a woman in years. Ironically, Daniela’s arrival made him susceptible to Taryn’s wiles. After spending most of the afternoon with his lovely ex-wife, he was very aware of his physical needs.
She slid her hand over the front of his pants, testing his resolve.
Sean knew a moment of male weakness. Taryn wasn’t the one he wanted, but she was hot and willing. More than willing. Unlike Daniela, she wouldn’t push him away. In fact, he was pretty certain she’d do anything he liked.
That was tempting.
“Let’s go up to the tower,” she said, breathless. Her tongue touched his earlobe as her fingers clenched around him.
Gritting his teeth, he removed her hand. “No.”
Startled by his vehemence, she stumbled back a step, and he used that opportunity to put some space between them. He turned to face the Pacific, focusing on the crashing waves, feeling the cold wind on his face.
“Is it because she’s here?”
“No,” he said, and it was the truth. Daniela’s presence made this scene twice as tawdry, but he wouldn’t have slept with Taryn under different circumstances. Not with a committed relationship in mind, anyway. She was too young, too easy, too…uncomplicated.
They didn’t have anything in common.
“Are you still in love with her?”
He sighed, shaking his head. It was more avoidance than denial.
“You’re a fool,” she decided, her voice gritty with emotion. “She’ll only hurt you.”
He glanced at her sideways, wondering if he’d underestimated her capacity for being vindictive, along with her amorous intentions. Daniela didn’t need any more grief from Taryn. Tomorrow, he’d talk to Dani about leaving again.
“I can’t have you making trouble for Daniela,” he said. “Touching me in front of her, or acting…too familiar.”
She let out a frustrated breath, visible in the night air. “It’s okay for you to put your hands all over me, playing football or whatever, but I can’t give you a hug?”
Sean hadn’t realized that she’d misinterpreted the physical contact. If he’d known she had a crush on him, he wouldn’t have roughhoused with her. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”
“We’ve had a connection from the start.”
His gut clenched with apprehension. “What do you mean?”
“Even before Daniela’s accident, I felt it. I know you felt it, too.”
“I was
married.
”
“That’s why I didn’t do anything about it.”
“Taryn, I would never have touched you back then. The only connection we’ve ever had is friendship.”
Her face went slack with shock. “Fine,” she said, her lips trembling. “I really thought— I mean, I was sure you—never mind.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, knowing he’d hurt her. “It’s not that I don’t find you attractive. Obviously, I do. You’re a beautiful girl, and I like you as a friend. But I wouldn’t choose to take it further.”
She gave him a brittle smile. “Gotcha.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling like an asshole. That was what he should have said
before
she started kissing him.
“You go on ahead,” she said, nodding toward the front door. “I just need a minute.”
At that moment, Brent came outside to smoke. He didn’t glance in their direction as he shut the door behind him. Minding his own business, he leaned against the side of the house, cupped a hand around his face to block the wind and lit up.
Sean wondered at his timing. For a guy who was supposedly here to shoot a scientific documentary, he sure had a nose for drama.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he muttered to Brent, trying to roll the tension out of his shoulders as he walked back inside the house. Over the past few hours, he’d crushed Taryn’s ego, put Dani through hell and upset Elizabeth.
Time to call it a day, before he did any more damage.
Chapter 9
D
aniela stayed awake late, torturing herself with images of Sean and Taryn, writhing all over each other. She must have drifted off in the wee hours of the morning, because she didn’t remember hearing the girl come in.
As Daniela opened her eyes, Taryn was sitting in the chair across from the bed, brushing her damp hair. Her eyes were puffy and her mouth drawn. The room smelled like honeysuckle.
Daniela sat up in bed, blinking groggily.
Taryn placed the brush on the surface of the desk with a quiet click. “Yesterday, when I said you should leave, I was out of line. I apologize.”
“Apology accepted,” she said, surprised.
“That was unprofessional, not to mention unkind. It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she murmured.
With a stiff nod, Taryn rose from the chair, turning her attention to the oval mirror on the wall behind the desk. She looked tanned and trim in low-rise jeans and a fitted sweater that left a few inches of her flat belly exposed. Frowning at her reflection, she parted her hair into two sections and began to braid it.
Taryn had the kind of figure Daniela had always envied. Long legs, slender proportions and a lithe upper body. She could probably buy any shirt off the rack and have it fit. By the looks of it, she didn’t even need to wear a bra.
Daniela hadn’t been able to get away with that since the sixth grade.
Annoyed by Taryn’s youthful perkiness, she wrestled out of her sleeping bag. After leaving the warmth of her bed, she changed her clothes in a hurry, shivering from cold. The jeans she chose were old and comfortable, but the long-sleeved top must have shrunk in the wash, because it fit too snugly across the chest. A small row of buttons, halfway down the front, strained to hold in her assets.
Sighing, she rummaged through the rest of her clothes. Luckily, she’d brought a striped scarf. She’d be wearing her jacket all day, anyway, but the scarf would keep her modestly covered until she went outside.
As she draped the scarf around her neck, she noticed Taryn watching her out of the corner of her eye. Her expression wasn’t smug and sultry, like last night. Nor did she seem satisfied about her tryst with Sean.
Instead, she appeared to be burning with resentment. Had he asked her to apologize?
Downstairs, the mood was equally forced. Taryn ignored Daniela and avoided Sean. Elizabeth was more aloof than ever. Even Jason seemed tense.
“Looks like rain,” Brent commented, staring out the front window.
“We have to scrub the catchment pad today,” Jason said. He glanced around the room, as if expecting a chorus of groans. No one said a word.
Brent seemed amused by the strained atmosphere. “I’ll help,” he said. “Unless you want me to do shark watch.”
“No. It’s a labor-intensive job, and we could use the extra muscle.”
“I can’t promise much of that, being more brains than brawn.” He cast a sideways glance at Sean and smiled.
Obviously, Sean had plenty of both.
Daniela pictured him climbing out of the surf yesterday, his chest bare and his pants wet. Although he was comfortable with his body, he’d always been dismissive—even embarrassed—about his good looks. He was probably horrified by the fact that Brent had made the footage of him look like a cologne commercial.
Clearing his throat, he left the table.
After the breakfast dishes were done, they grabbed a few buckets and some wire-bristled brushes out of the supply closet. The cement catchment pad was only a few hundred yards from the house. Apparently, gulls used it as roosting grounds during the summer. It was covered with feathers and filth.
Southeast Farallon Island was a “green” research facility, powered by solar energy, environmentally friendly and self-sufficient in many ways. Accordingly, all of the water they used for drinking and washing was collected on the catchment pad during heavy rains. The water was filtered and stored in an aboveground cistern, but it wasn’t treated or purified.
Cleaning the catchment pad before the first big rain was essential.
And, judging by the sky, a serious storm was coming. Bruised clouds crept in from the Pacific, darkening the edges of the horizon.
Daniela knew that the island was infamous for extreme weather. During a really powerful storm, charter boats couldn’t bring supplies in from the mainland—or take anyone back. This might be her last chance to chicken out.
“When do you think it will hit?” Brent asked Sean, looking up at the sky.
“Tonight, maybe. Sometimes they pass on by, this early in the season.”
Jason was right about the catchment pad; it was a dirty job, and scrubbing the cement required a lot of upper body strength. The gunk on the surface looked nasty, smelled bad and had the consistency of dried plaster.
After less than thirty minutes, Daniela was sweating. The men had already stripped down to their T-shirts, and there was a pile of discarded jackets next to the catchment pad. Finally, she took off her jacket
and
her wool scarf, both of which kept getting in the way.
Jason and Sean worked tirelessly, covering twice as much area as the rest of them combined. The girls slowed down a bit, but they didn’t complain. Although her biceps felt sore from yesterday’s tug on the rope, Daniela was determined to do her part. She continued scrubbing, her eyes downcast.
An hour later, Sean broke the silence. “If you’re going to point the camera down Daniela’s shirt, you could at least ask her permission first.”
She looked up, startled. Brent had taken a break, and turned on his ubiquitous camera.
“I was filming Taryn, not Daniela,” he explained.
Taryn was on her hands and knees, with her back to the camera. Her taut backside was barely covered by her low-rise jeans, and Brent had taken advantage of that photo op. She glanced over her shoulder, arching a brow at Sean. “I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do,” Elizabeth said, giving him a cold stare. “Are you shooting for a wildlife documentary or a Calvin Klein ad?”
Brent laughed, turning his attention from Taryn’s bottom to Daniela’s top. “Who says science can’t be sexy?”
Scowling, Sean walked across the pad and picked up his bottled water, his throat working as he swallowed. Daniela stared after him, wondering why he seemed so affronted. It wasn’t as though her breasts were falling out. Taryn was showing a lot more skin.
And yet, Sean was bothered by the idea of Brent filming
her.
Out of the corner of her eye she watched him take a long drink. Knowing his gaze had been on her, she was intensely aware of the cool morning air against her heated flesh. A bead of sweat dripped down her chest, into the hollow between her breasts.
He slammed the bottle down and she snapped out of her stupor, jerking her attention from Sean to Brent. Of course, he’d caught the moment on film, and captured something far more intimate than a flash of skin.
Perhaps that had been his intention all along.
Brent moved the lens away from her, switching directions with ease. “Tell me why you chose this line of work, Taryn. Sean has a shark story. Jason’s friend drowned. Daniela’s father was a fisherman, and he used to call her—what was it?”
“Foquita,”
Sean supplied.
“Yeah. Little seal. Do you have a dolphin story?”
Taryn sat down on a clean section of cement, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “I suppose I do.”
By tacit agreement, they all paused to listen. Even Elizabeth.
“I was born in Palos Verdes. Grew up in a house with a private beach.”
Jason let out a low whistle. That was some prime real estate.
“My parents traveled a lot, and I was homeschooled. Nannies and tutors. You know how it is.”
“No,” Brent said wryly. “We don’t.”
“Well, it wasn’t much fun, to be honest. I had everything money could buy, but I didn’t care about material things. I hated my huge, empty house and frilly pink room. I wanted to spend all my time at the beach.”
“Why?”
“My main caretaker, Ana, was very strict. She was always telling me to do this or that. But she wouldn’t go near the water. So I’d swim really far out, where I couldn’t hear her. I’d float on my back, pretend to be a mermaid. Stuff like that.”
Brent nodded for her to continue.
“I saw dolphins a lot. They play in the surf. I was always trying to catch one to ride it. Of course, I never did.” She shrugged, twisting her hands in her lap. “Even so, I considered them my friends. My only friends.”
Against her will, Daniela felt a surge of empathy for Taryn. Her own mother had been strict and undemonstrative. As a direct result, Daniela hadn’t wanted children. They were such an immense responsibility, and far too easy to let down.
Then she’d gotten pregnant—surprise. She’d never thought maternal instincts would blindside her, but they had. Sean, who rarely got sentimental, had also been caught off-guard by strong feelings during her pregnancy. He was enamored with her curvy body, devoted to her health and comfort, and not-so-secretly proud of their growing baby.
They’d never been closer.
“We’re a maudlin bunch,” Jason mused, interrupting her thoughts. “I didn’t expect it from Taryn.”
Daniela hadn’t expected it, either, although she’d seen a hint of Taryn’s darker side. Maybe her sunny perfection was just a facade.
“What about you, Liz? Surely you have a more uplifting story.”
Elizabeth picked up her brush and resumed scrubbing. “I don’t have a story. I like birds. That’s all.”
Brent sharpened his focus on her. “What about birds do you admire?”
She glanced up at the sky. “Their freedom, I guess. Their ease of movement and effortless grace.” After a moment, she added, “I’m interested in the behavioral stuff, too. Some birds mate for life. Many species are monogamous, actually.”
“Are your parents divorced?”
She gave him a dirty look. “No. And now I’m convinced you’re filming a reality show.
Mad Scientists.
”
Brent turned the camera toward Jason. “Your parents still together?”
He smiled at Elizabeth. “Yes.”
“Daniela?”
“Yes.” Physically, anyway.
“Taryn?”
“No. They’re both remarried. And desperately unhappy.”
“Sean?”
He shook his head. Daniela knew Sean had taken his parents’ divorce hard. He’d once told her that his greatest fear in life was turning out like his father. Angry and bitter and very much alone.
Brent turned off his camera. “Mine are also divorced. That’s three against three.”
Considering Sean and Daniela’s failed marriage, the odds favored divorce. Another depressing topic.
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her brush and went back to work, scrubbing at the debris in a steady, circular motion. If only she could erase all of the terrible things she’d said and done to Sean the same way.
She’d wash off the painful memories, and start fresh again.