He moved her hair to the side and pressed a kiss on her shoulder. “Nope.”
His breaths caressed her skin, so close, as she waited for him to explain. But he stayed quiet. He stroked her with the hand resting on her hip, his thumbs easing under her shirt, finding bare skin.
And for a just a moment, she let her mind wander to all the things, past and present, that had brought them to this moment. What were the odds that both Simon and Joseph Goodwin were in the same country? That one of the seven suspicious shipments she had found was headed to Australia? It was as if the stars were lining up just to show them the way back together again.
Marianna cringed at the thought. No. She didn’t come here for another chance with Simon. Maybe the prospect of another orgasm or three had crossed her mind back in Miami. But that was it.
He, like William, like everyone else, believed privilege insulated her from hurt and heartbreak. Maybe he cared, but when things got rough, she was on her own. And she wasn’t sure she could take another round of heartbreak from Simon. Which meant they shouldn’t go anywhere near old territory.
Marianna slipped out from between his arms and grabbed the box of rice.
“I’ll put the water on the stove,” she said quickly, opening the bottom cabinets, searching for a pot. When she stood up, Simon was watching her intently. Assessing her, it seemed. She met his gaze, and her movements slowed until they were both still, facing each other. Heat, longing, wariness—it was all there in his deep green eyes. And questions, so many questions etched in the creases of his brow.
Finally, he took the bag of rice out of her hand and turned away.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “Just make yourself at home.”
So much for cooking lessons.
Marianna wandered out of the kitchen area and into the nearly empty living room. There wasn’t much to check out in his place.
“You mean snuggle up on your cozy couch out here?” she said.
“I’ve been meaning to get one of those.”
She walked over to the surfboards, stacked against the wall. Five or six of assorted shapes and lengths.
“Do you use all these?” she asked.
“Different boards are better in different conditions, but the front two are the only ones that get regular use.”
She looked down at the first two boards.
“These two look the same,” she said. “What am I missing?”
He laughed. “Nothing. They are the same. I loan that one out.”
“A friend you surf with?”
Simon shook his head. “Sort of. He’s just a kid.”
Marianna’s mouth fell open. Did Simon have a child? Of course, it was possible. She knew well that eleven years was plenty of time to become a father... She blinked, the shock of the idea flooding through her. She knew he hadn’t been single and celibate this whole time, but him being a dad, sharing that bond with another woman, had never crossed her mind.
He looked over his shoulder and then glanced back again, quickly. She was still gaping at him, and her question must have been written all over her face. He snorted out a laugh.
“Not my kid, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he chuckled.
The relief that came from Simon’s sentence was physical. Those words shouldn’t have filled her with so much happiness, but they did. He watched her, his eyes filled with amusement.
Finally, her words returned. “Whose kid is it?”
His amusement faded. “It’s through a youth mentoring program I’m involved with. The kid wants to become a Surf Life Saving volunteer, so we meet a lot at the beach.”
“I see,” she said softly.
She continued to stare at Simon. Her mind, still stuck on the kid thing, was having trouble registering this new information. He looked at her again, and she waited for him to say more. He turned back to the food, pouring ingredients into one of the pots, which seemed to mean the end of that subject. But after a while, he spoke.
“Blackmore Inc. has been involved with refugee programs for a while now, and I’ve gone with Cameron to check some of them out, just to make sure they’re legitimate,” he said. “This one is a Big Brothers program for kids who lost at least one parent. I thought I was a good match.”
