Summer on Lovers' Island (Jewell Cove 3)

Except to her. Lizzie let out a breath. “But I’m safe, right?”

He nodded. “Yes, I suppose you are. You’re not family. You don’t have history in Jewell Cove, and you’re not staying. You’re just passing through.”

It was all truth, so it was perplexing why hearing him say the words bothered her so much.

“Some would say I haven’t been as much fun the last few years.”

“Life has a way of kicking us in the teeth, doesn’t it?”

She inhaled deeply, tasting the sea air. “Not right now, it doesn’t. Thank you for bringing me here, Josh. A picnic on the beach was just what I needed.”

“Me, too.”

His voice was low, with something beneath it that made her sit up a little straighter. The barest hint of suggestion, but it was there just the same. She was acutely aware that they were isolated here on the island. “Hidden” … wasn’t that the translation for the native word? And then there was the name given it by the locals … Lovers’ Island.

Lovers.

Once more she felt a pang of regret as she said the words she knew she must. “Josh, we can’t mix business and pleasure,” she warned.

“How much is really business?” There was a coaxing note in his voice and she was just vulnerable enough to be flattered that he was suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting.

“You’re my boss,” she said.

“Barely. We work together. And you’re only here for a few months. It’s not like you’re going to be part of the practice forever.” He leaned forward. “Lizzie,” he said in a soft voice. “I would never use something like this against you. You have to believe that.”

She wanted to believe him. Wanted to so badly that specific parts of her body ached in anticipation. The breath seemed to shake in her chest. “I believed that once before,” she reminded him. “And you know how that ended.”

“We’ve both believed a lot of things. I’m not looking for forever, and neither are you. But damn, I’d like to start living again. I want to feel alive. I want to take risks and chances and the hell with the rest.”

Lizzie was so tempted. A gull gave a sharp cry overhead, plaintive and demanding. And still she and Josh leaned closer, closer, and butterflies winged their way through her stomach, fluttering with anticipation.

What he was asking for was a fling. With no consequences. Once upon a time that was how she’d lived her life. Fearlessly. How had she changed so much?

Maybe this was just what she needed to move past the mess that was her relationship with Ian. She liked Josh a lot. And she was insanely attracted to him. Come January she’d be back in Springfield. If they kept their eyes open … agreed to no strings—

She jumped up off the blanket. “You want to feel alive, Josh?”

His eyes looked confused and she couldn’t help but smile, feeling suddenly strong, and with a feminine power she’d somehow lost over the past months. Yes, this was what she needed. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

She let her grin grow. “Swimming.” She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, revealing her bathing-suit top, then laughed at the startled … and hungry … look in Josh’s eyes. “Come on.”

Josh got up and pulled his shirt over his head while Lizzie unfastened her shorts and dropped them onto the blanket. Her bathing suit was modest, a halter-back top and bikini-cut panties, but they were light blue and she knew in about twenty seconds they would be translucent. If he wanted to take a risk, she was up to the challenge, and damned if it didn’t feel good to cut loose again.

She let her laughter fly on the wind as she ran to the breakers. This was what she’d been missing. The part of her she’d buried beneath her grief and sadness.

“Shit!” She let out a squeal as she plunged thigh deep into the cold waves. To her delight, Josh came dashing past, barreling into the surf in a careless dive, giving her only a fleeting glimpse of his bare chest and shoulders and the swim trunks he’d worn all day.

Taking a deep breath, she took three more steps and then dove under.

She surfaced and scrubbed her hair away from her eyes and saw Josh treading water about ten feet away, droplets sparkling on his lashes and dark-blond hair. His eyes seemed bluer than ever, and the goofy smile on his face made her feel like laughing. “Graceful!” she called out, bobbing on the waves, pushing toward him in a breaststroke. She licked her lips and tasted the salt of the ocean.

“I prefer strength over grace,” he commented, and she blinked. Yes, she realized, he would go for quiet power over finesse, and the idea was incredibly exciting.

“Me, too,” she replied. And then, with an impishness she’d forgotten she possessed, she flashed him a quick smile and dove under, pushing away and kicking her feet on the top of the water, giving a saucy splash.

When she surfaced, he was calmly floating on his back several feet away, utterly unconcerned.