Adam threw another driftwood log on the fire and settled next to her, not so close that they were touching, but close enough she could feel his body heat. She longed to lean into him. Then, thinking of her mother, she did, resting her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for teaching me how to build a sandcastle.”
“Thank you for learning.” He touching his cheek lightly to her head and then lifted his again. “I’ve been trying to remember something all evening.”
“Yes?”
“Where is the property line between me and Lot 4? Did I save myself any beach?”
She smiled to herself. She wouldn’t mind having more days like this … with Adam. He was different than she’d first believed him to be. Strong. Exacting. Yes, he was both of those. But there was something more, something that ran deeper. “About ten feet.”
“So the cliffs are mine.” He drew a line in the sand with his fingers.
“I suppose so.” She tipped her head back, looking for the first star to appear. She didn’t want to miss it.
“I think I’d like to climb them.”
She sat up. “Climb them?”
He nodded. “I used to climb in college, before I got so serious about life.” He huffed out the last word as if it were heavier than the ones before. “I’m going to start up again.” He turned to her, searching for her reaction.
He needn’t worry that she’d think he was crazy. He was talking to the woman who adorned sandcastles with pink sea shells and who had enough sand in her hair to practically fill a playground. “I think that’s a great idea.” She looped her arm through his, wanting to hold him tight and keep him safe. Rock climbing, especially the black cliffs below the castle, wasn’t for the faint of heart.
He pressed a kiss to her sand-filled hair, and her stomach spun in circles. She wanted to lift her chin and invite him to kiss her. Wanted it more than she could tell. Even though she’d spent the day playing like a child, she couldn’t quite let the cautious woman inside of her go. She kept her chin down and admonished herself to be satisfied with the closeness they shared. This was Adam Moreau, for heaven’s sake. He was a master of the law and a billionaire.
And what was she? A law clerk with a dream.
It wasn’t about the money. She couldn’t care less if Adam had a buck or a billion. It was what the money represented in him—the drive, the constant pressure to do more and be more. Take rock climbing, for example. He saw it as a challenge. Probably a way to get his strength back up after the surgery. He could do anything, be anything, and date anyone he wanted to—she didn’t need that kind of competition.
Mostly, she was afraid she’d lose in love again. While Charles hadn’t broken her heart, losing him had wounded her confidence. If she couldn’t hold on to a man like Charles who wanted the billionaire life, then how could she ever expect to hold on to a man who was already there?
The sun slipped into a line and disappeared. The fire next to them crackled as if it had just gotten permission to take over. “Be safe,” she whispered. Adam rested his hand on top of hers. They sat there until the fire dwindled and Bella could barely keep her eyes open. She wasn’t scared or nervous about being alone with Adam. Her feelings were quite the opposite: she felt safe and protected next to him. Like nothing in the world could harm her, simply because he was there.
Chapter Thirteen
Charles
“Welcome.” Charles extended his hand over the slightly sticky tabletop to the older gentleman in the bad suit. Hadn’t this guy been inside a department store in the last decade? “Thanks for coming by. Philip Wilson, this is Martin Creer.” He motioned to Martin, who sat on the other side of the booth from him. The frail man agreed to this meeting, albeit reluctantly. Charles had a feeling he’d have to be his most charming to make this work.
He’d chosen the sandwich shop because it was near a Link station and he didn’t have long. The firm expected him to bill all eighty hours this week, and his supervisor was a stickler for having results to show for the hours billed. He’d billed too many research hours to paying clients when working on breaking the Beast already and needed to watch his back. Oliver Wolfe wouldn’t so much as acknowledge him in the hallway, and he doubted the owner would back him in a dispute against his mentor.
“We’ve met.” Philip shook Martin’s hand. “Although I didn’t know the two of you were well acquainted.” He eyed Charles’s Wolfe, Wolfe & Wolfe monogrammed briefcase—a gift for joining the firm.
“I’m engaged to his daughter,” Charles supplied. Nothing like the power of positive thinking.
“Formerly engaged,” supplied Martin.
“Bella?” asked Philip, his head tipping to the side like a puppy in a meme. Gag. Could these two be any more gullible?
Martin nodded. “That’s my girl.”
“She’s bright.”
Charles beamed. “I only pick the best.”
Martin’s jaw clenched. “Why are we here, Charles?”
He pushed his briefcase off the table and onto the seat next to him. “I’m curious about renting an apartment in The Rose.”
Philip swallowed. “We don’t have any openings.”
