I run my fingers through his hair and bring his face closer to mine, breathing him in. I can’t speak anymore. I just want to be closer.
He stops holding back his grin and lets it go wide, kissing me passionately one more time. Then takes my hand and stands.
“Wait…” I pull out my phone and snuggle in beside him. “This is important.” I wink.
Wrapping an arm around his waist, I pose us for the selfie.
Snap.
Then we race to his cottage…
Loud chatter on the beach startles me, and reluctantly I pull myself out of my daydream, keeping my eyes closed as the rest of the memory plays out like a movie. I want to finish this one. So I push myself back into his cottage—back into his arms.
He took his time with me, exploring every inch of my body with his fingers and mouth. I was always told not to expect to enjoy my first time, but I did. Sure, there was a littlepain and discomfort, but they were nothing compared to being worshipped by the man I’d admired and loved for years.
“Momma!”
Natalie’s voice jars me the rest of the way out of my daydream. “Momma, there’s a man staring at you.” I jump up and look in the direction she’s pointing. I freeze. It’s not the same man as last night. His back is turned, and he’s rushing off, but the golden sandy brown color of his hair and that frame.
Nathan!
“Wait! Please wait!”
I rush toward him, but then realize I’m scaring Natalie. I pull her close to me.
“Who was that man, Momma?”
Trembling, I force myself to take a breath. “I’m not sure, sweetie. But he’s gone. He didn’t mean us any harm.” I’m not sure how I know he’s harmless, but I do. Did he actually look like Nathan, or am I seeing what I want to see?
“I’m tired. Can we go home?”
I pull her into my arms and try to wipe away the tears from my eyes before she sees them.
“We’ll go home right after we stop by the inn.”
CHAPTER 9
The Stranger
Minutes after encountering my mystery woman on the beach, I pull into Gulfstream Marina. Near the parking lot, boat charter booths line the dock entrance, advertising fishing trips and dive excursions. Still early in the afternoon, the marina is busy. Fishermen clean their catch while some boats launch and others return. The small café beside the pier is filled with lunchgoers, and the neighboring seafood market brags about thefreshest catch in the South.
I walk up to the booth offering offshore recreational diving.
Carter’s Drop, the Experience,takes tourists near the blue hole. You can see the reef and the entrance to the Drop, but you can’t go inside. At least you’re not supposed to.
Seeinghertoday lit a fire in me. Before I find her again, I have to have more to offer her than a man who has no memories and no stable job. Being part of the film crew is an opportunity to prove what I’m capable of. I knowher. I’ve kissed her too many times not to.
“You certified?” The grizzled guy behind the counter asks.
“Yeah.”
“Sign the waiver. I need to see your C-card if you’re gonna dive.” The man grabs my card and pushes a form across the counter. I fill it out, making up the address information.
He flicks his eyes over the form, not giving a damn what’s on it, then slides it into a folder. “Got your own equipment?”
“No.”
“Rental gear’s over there.” He jerks his head to the right, where the docks meet a small dive shop beside a larger, recently remodeled building with older warehouses beyond it. “Prices are on the wall. The boat launches in twenty minutes. It doesn’t wait.”
