He stood behind her, his butt propped against the wooden rail, his arms looped around her waist and her body tucked into the curve of his. It seemed to be a protective position, as if he were attempting to ensure she didn’t get jostled and tumble overboard.
Which, to be honest, she found sort of hilarious. If anyone was going to fall off the boat and into the ridiculously blue water, he was the most likely candidate. No question about it.
Still, she appreciated the gesture. And since that ridiculously blue water matched his eyes exactly, she was also experiencing a pleasant sense of vindication. She snapped a quick picture of the water to send Cowan and Irene later that day.
“Look at me for a moment,” she whispered to Thomas.
He did, and she snapped a photo of his eyes.
Uh-huh. Perfect match.
Gladys paused. “Did you hear that last bit, Callie?”
Nope. “Yup.”
That fleeting moment of victory past, her worries crept back into her thoughts. By the time she surfaced and took conscious stock of her surroundings once more, Gladys had finished talking and gone elsewhere. So had the hair and makeup woman. Other than the camera operators and boom mic guy, Callie and Thomas were alone at the rail.
He was turning her in his arms and nudging her chin upwards with a single, careful fingertip. He studied her face, his high forehead creased with worry.
“Are you okay?” The words were a quiet murmur, pitched too low for the mic. “You seem…not entirely present.”
Well, of all people, he would know how that felt.
She too kept her voice quiet. “Was it obvious I wasn’t listening?”
“Not really. Other than when you took your pictures, I don’t think Gladys noticed.” Those startling blue eyes searched hers. “You made all the right responses, but you didn’t sound like yourself. What’s going on?”
She bit her lip. What she had to say didn’t belong on camera, but she needed to talk.
“I’m worried,” she finally whispered.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment, and then immediately addressed the nearby crew. “Please give us a few minutes.”
To their credit, they didn’t grumble as they departed. Probably because the ferry captain had just announced the availability of unlimited rum punch and fresh fruit on toothpicks under the covered part of the deck.
After the crew had left the vicinity, Thomas pulled her tight against his body and looked down at her with his Listening Face. Calm. Patient. Accepting. Interested.
His Listening Face made her want to see his Kissing Face. But there was no time for that, even if he’d welcome her mouth on his. She had to take advantage of this opportunity to talk, because she might not get another for hours to come.
She knew that for a fact, since this was their first mostly private moment all day.
For the second morning in a row, Thomas had woken before her and left the room without waking her. Which, frankly, was a miracle, given how often that man fumbled and tripped over things. And for the second morning in a row, he hadn’t returned until she was already dressed and ready for the day, the cameras poised and hovering nearby.
On Parrot Cay, his absence when she’d woken had felt like a relief. A way to avoid potential awkwardness. She’d appreciated how he hadn’t pushed her into intimacy, how he’d remained sensitive to any privacy concerns she might have.
This morning, though…
His absence had frustrated her. Disappointed her.
She’d wanted to discover how Thomas looked first thing in the morning, still rumpled and warm and sleepy. She’d wanted to feel the frisson of possibility when they woke in the same bed, only inches apart. She’d wanted to see all the goodness his Kissing Face had to offer.
To be honest, she’d wanted more than Kissing Face. Considerably more. Maybe even Lovemaking Face.
But most of all, she’d simply wanted to talk to him. Because she was concerned and stressed about the day ahead, and talking it out with someone she trusted might help.
His ability to listen was off-the-charts phenomenal. Now that she’d experienced how it felt to have his total concentration directed her way, she wanted more. Much more.
No wonder all the patrons went to him. In their buckled shoes, she’d do the same.
