Utterly mesmerizing.
His pulse skipped a beat, and his dick, randy little bastard that it was, sprang to life, the memory of her snug warmth all too keen.
She turned her face toward him, as if she’d heard the silent call echoing in his mind. Could she feel it too? The invisible line stretched taut between them, reeling her in?
His jealous ramblings from earlier dissolved. No. That woman wouldn’t toy with him. And she’d never betray another man either.
An errant wave crept higher than the rest, swirling around her ankles. She gave a startled laugh, tried to step back. But her skirt tangled around her legs, and in an instant, she stumbled and landed squarely on her backside with an undignified splash.
Justin didn’t think. He raced down the staircase to the lower-level veranda and vaulted the railing, feet hitting the sand hard, and charged down the dune, dodging clumps offynbos, heart pounding, torn between laughter and concern.
Suzette was already on her feet when he reached her, brushing sand from her skirt before stooping to lift her fallen pashmina from the surf.
“You hurt?” he asked, his breath still uneven from the sprint.
“Just my ego,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “It was silly of me to walk this close to the waves. Iknowthe tide’s coming in.”
She looked radiant in the fading light — cheeks flushed, eyes bright with amusement. A bead of seawater slipped down the curve of her neck, glinting like liquid fire against the swell of her breast before disappearing beneath the lace edge of her top.
He swallowed hard, dragging his gaze back to her face. “You gave me a scare,” he managed, voice rougher than he intended. “One minute you were upright, the next—”
“Flat on my backside?” she teased, lips curving.
He laughed, reaching for the sandals and wine bag she was still clutching after her fall. “Something like that.”
For a moment, they simply stood there, the water swirling around their ankles, the breeze stirring loosened tendrils of hair around her face, silence stretching between them. The air was cooling, tinged with salt and spray.
Then she looked down, brushing at the wet fabric clinging to her legs. “Unfortunately, I need to go home. I’m soaked to the skin. Maybe we should cancel?”
Cancel? Not a chance.
“Absolutely not,” he said, taking the sodden pashmina gently from her hands and draping it over the hand holding her sandals. “I can rustle up something for you to wear.”
“Justin …”
No way was he letting her out of his sight. “Come. Can’t let the food I cooked go to waste.”
Her mouth fell open. “Youcooked?”
“Why so surprised?”
“The great JK Kenzie cooked. For me?”
He smiled, eyes warm despite the niggle of irritation. “You forget, Suzette. With you, I’m just Justin.”
He reached for her hand, his fingers sliding easily around hers, still damp and cool from the sea.
They stopped once for her to gather up the wet skirt to ease her walking. Seeing her exposed knees —knees, for goodness’sake — just about sent him to the ground before her. He bit back a groan, grateful for the dusk that hid the color rising in his face, and the swelling in his groin.
And when her hand reached for his again, something inside him shifted. A rightness settled in his soul — steady and deep.
This.
Them.
Walking side by side, hand in hand, the ocean murmuring its slow rhythm beside them.
It was everything.
