Chapter Four
The sunset had long faded into twilight by the time Lily finally emerged from the water.
Alex hadn't meant to watch. He'd been reviewing his field notes on the porch, trying to catalog the day's observations while the last light held. But movement at the shoreline caught his attention, and once his eyes found her—rising from the waves like some kind of mermaid from a fever dream—he couldn't look away.
She'd stayed in the water for over an hour, swimming with the easy confidence of someone who'd grown up near the ocean. Now she walked up the beach, wringing saltwater from her wild curls, completely unaware of his attention.
He dropped his gaze to his notebook, pretending to be absorbed in data that suddenly looked like gibberish.
"The water's amazing," she called out as she approached the cabin, toweling off her hair. "You should try it sometime. You know, for fun."
"I'm working."
"Shocking." But there was no real bite to it. She actually sounded... content. Relaxed in a way he hadn't seen since she'd arrived.
She disappeared inside, and Alex told himself the tightness in his chest was just the humidity.
Sleep, when it finally came, proved fitful at best.
Alex tossed and turned, listening to the soft sounds filtering through the thin cabin walls. The quiet padding of bare feet across the wooden floor. A soft sigh that could have been contentment or exhaustion—he couldn't tell which, and that uncertainty gnawed at him.
Get a grip, Carmichael.He stared at the ceiling fan's lazy rotation.She went for a swim. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.
But his traitorous mind conjured images anyway—droplets of saltwater tracing paths down sun-kissed skin, those wild brown curls slicked back from her face, the way moonlight would have silvered the curves of her body as she emerged from the ocean.
He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. This was exactly why he avoided people. Especially people like Lily St. John, who seemed designed by some cruel deity to test his resolve.
When dawn finally crept through the shutters, Alex dragged himself from bed with the enthusiasm of a man heading to his own execution. He needed coffee. Strong coffee. And maybe a cold shower.
Lily's evening adventure had left its mark on the main room—a damp pink bikini draped over the back of a chair, sandy footprints now dried leading from the door to her makeshift sleeping area, the faint scent of salt and something distinctly feminine lingering in the air.
Alex focused on the coffee maker, as if the perfect ratio of grounds to water could somehow restore order to his chaotic thoughts. The familiar routine grounded him—measure, pour, brew. Simple and reliably mundane. Unlike the woman who had turned his carefully planned research trip into some kind of tropical torture.
"Morning, sunshine."
Her voice, husky with sleep, sent heat straight to his groin. Alex's hand tightened on his coffee mug as he turned, and immediately regretted it.
Oh, good grief.
Lily stood in the doorway of the sleeping area, stretching languidly with her arms raised above her head. She wore nothing but a thin tank top that rode up to reveal a strip of tanned stomach, and shorts so brief they barely qualified as clothing. Her brown curls tumbled in wild waves around her shoulders, catching the morning light like burnished copper, and her green eyes were still soft with sleep. Freckles dusted her nose and cheeks like someone had scattered cinnamon across her skin.
She looked like every forbidden fantasy he'd ever tried to suppress.
"Sleep well?" she asked, seemingly oblivious to his internal combustion as she padded to the kitchen area.
"Fine," he managed, his voice rougher than intended. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Coffee?"
"God, yes." She moved to stand beside him, close enough that he caught the scent of her skin—salt and sunshine and something sweet that quickened his pulse. "I'm not human before caffeine."
You're barely human after it,he wanted to say, but the words died on his tongue as she reached across him for a mug, her breast brushing against his arm in the process.
"Sorry," she murmured, but the smile tugging at her lips suggested she wasn't sorry at all.
Alex stepped back, putting distance between them. "I made extra. Help yourself."
"You're such a gentleman," Lily said, pouring coffee with deliberate slowness. "Even to unwanted houseguests."
"You're not—" He stopped himself before he could finish the sentence.Unwanted.Because that would be a lie, and Alex didn't lie to himself. She was unwanted in the sense that she disrupted his plans, his peace, his carefully maintained equilibrium. But she was very much wanted in other, more primal ways that he refused to acknowledge.
