Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

“I seriously hope not because I have food in the cooler.” He let his hand drop, and she swept her hair back from her face and settled her sunglasses on her nose.

“Of course you do. Your name is Carly

le. So this is just two people enjoying a pretty afternoon on the water. Sounds good. Certainly sounds more appealing than poker night with reruns of Sex in the City.”

He guided the boat out of the marina and into the bay. To the west were the twin forks of Long Island, to the right the open water, the shape of Gardiner’s Island in the distance.

Fliss stood next to him, feet planted apart, steadying herself against the gentle rise and fall of the boat. “I used to dream about that first time you took me out on the water. You have no idea how much I envied you. I envied your tight loving family, too, of course, but I also envied you the boat. Being out on the ocean felt like freedom to me. You could have just carried on sailing and never come back.”

It was a thought that would never have occurred to him, but clearly it had occurred to her.

For him the summer had been an escape from life in the city. For her it had been an escape from life with her father.

“I saw you watching me. You always sat in the same place. On the sand, tucked between the dunes.”

She turned. “You saw me?”

“We all saw you.” He judged the wind and made an adjustment to the sails. “Although I admit I probably paid more attention than most.”

“You did?”

“Sure. You had great legs. I’m shallow like that.”

“That was it?”

“Your butt was cute.”

She punched him on the arm. “How do you know you weren’t looking at Harriet? From that distance, you wouldn’t have been able to tell.”

“I could tell. You never wore shoes. Everywhere you went, your feet were bare.”

“I liked it. Still do. It gives me a feeling of freedom. Makes me think of the beach. I do it at home, too. It drives Harriet insane because she’s always falling over my shoes.” She paused. “I didn’t know you noticed me. I thought I was one of the crowd. Daniel’s sister. You were always surrounded by girls. Older than me. They had confidence, flippy hair and not a single bruise on their personality.”

“I knew you existed.” He kept his eyes on the horizon, hoping that if he kept it low-key she’d keep talking. “You really thought the first time I noticed you was the night of your eighteenth birthday?”

“Until that night we were always in a group.”

“Sometimes in a group there’s one person who stands out. You were that person for me.”

“Because of my legs and my butt?”

“No. Not because of that.”

She was silent and suddenly he wished he hadn’t chosen to take her sailing. Sailing demanded concentration, and what he wanted to do was concentrate on her. He didn’t want his hands on the boat. He wanted his hands on the woman.

But that would be the wrong thing to do. Too fast, too intense, and they risked blowing what they had all over again.

“I didn’t know.”

“Your brother knew. He warned me away from you. Told me you’d been hurt enough.”

“He talked about our home life? Daniel?” She sounded astonished, as if the possibility hadn’t occurred to her.

“A couple of times. He’d had a beer or two and there had been some incident at home. From what Daniel told me, your father preferred ripping into you than eating his dinner.” And he’d listened, feeling his friend’s frustration, his hands balled into fists as he’d wondered what type of guy would find tormenting his daughter to be a sport.

“Daniel tried to get me to keep quiet, but I couldn’t. If I’d stayed silent, it probably would have ended sooner, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Harriet hid under the table with her hands over her ears. I argued with him. The more I argued, the madder he got. My dad always had to win every fight. He had to have the last word. He wanted to see me cry, and I refused to ever cry.” She gave a soft laugh. “Some days I thought I was going to burst holding it all inside, but I would rather have burst than let him see he’d upset me. I’m stubborn like that.”

“I knew things were difficult for you, but I didn’t know the details.” And he hated hearing it, but he hated not hearing it even more. He wanted to know. In some ways dealing with Fliss was like dealing with a sick animal. They didn’t tell you what was wrong. You had to search for clues. It was a jigsaw puzzle, and up until today he’d had nothing but missing pieces.