Claire McDermott was joint owner of Beachcombers with her sisters. Claire was a single attractive woman who happened to cook Carson's favorite food—and didn't jealousy suck? The guy was heading to a late meeting at work on a Sunday night, for goodness' sake. "So you're still sailing."
"I finally bit the bullet and replaced my old sixteen-footer with a used thirty-one-foot Catalina a couple of months ago."
She could so see him out on the water, sun bleaching his golden hair white, bronzing his chest while they both savored the waves and the day. She'd always admired his way of enjoying silence as much as a conversation. "Good for you. Life should be lived."
He stared back at her with eyes so blue she saw the ocean and really wanted to jump in, headfirst, no safety preserver.
He blinked first—thank God—and looked over her shoulder. "Are you meeting someone?"
She wanted to say no and see if he asked her to join him for supper, but she was smart enough not to act on that "want" with this man ever again. "Yeah, he should be here any minute."
His sky-blue eyes blanked. "I won't keep you then."
"Enjoy your wings and your meeting."
Nodding, he brushed past and heaven help her she watched his confident long strides since he couldn't see her unrestrained attention as he melded into the crowd. And how weird was it that suddenly she could see through that crowd just fine when it came to watching him?
Pain—and yes, anger—whispered through her veins. All of which strengthened her resolve to break things off with Gary. How unfair to date him when she still had this mess of feelings for Carson tangled tighter than those sailboat lines twisting in the wind.
He cleared the walkway and stopped. Waving?
She should look away. Leave. Quit staring after him like a lovesick dork. And she would in just a second.
Carson called to someone behind a beat-up truck but his words drifted away on the wind and out to sea. He waited to be joined by two men—an older, shorter man in a backward ball cap and another guy about Carson's age, taller in a plaid shirt. She couldn't make them out well from a distance and didn't study them overlong since she was too busy being more relieved than she should that Carson wasn't with a woman.
He walked with the two men toward his extended-cab truck where they all three climbed in. All? Apparently there wasn't a work meeting after all. It stung more than a little that he'd felt the need to make excuses.
Definitely time to leave and move forward...
Panting from her run, Nikki slowed on the sidewalk in front of her parents' next-door neighbor's, sifting through the mishmash of emotions from that night to simply analyze the event.
She'd already remembered that time prior to stepping inside, but relaxing did offer her a few more details—like the two men Carson met up with. Problem was that seemed so insignificant. She could only hope the relaxation techniques suggested by the hypnotist would help her recall more.
As if she'd conjured Carson from her thoughts, there he was, in the driveway with her mother, little Jamie barreling by the trailer hitch on his toddler scooter.
Her mom sagged back against the fender of Carson's truck, her hand pressed to her forehead. Nikki's stomach lurched up to her throat. Had something happened to her father? God, she'd been so selfishly focused on her own mess she'd all but forgotten that her dad was in the Middle East, not a safe place for military members on the ground or in the air.
Nikki ripped the headset from her ears and sprinted across the dormant lawn, over a low hedge toward her mother. "Mom?" She took her mother's elbow, determined to keep it together, be supportive. "I'm here. Breathe—"
"It's all right," Rena interrupted, straightening with a shaky smile. "Everything's fine. I only got a smidge spooked when Scorch drove up. I had a little flashback to the other time my husband's commander showed up on my doorstep. Of course I know you wouldn't come alone for a bad call. You would bring along a doctor and chaplain," she rambled, gasping. "But still..."
Carson jammed his fists into his leather coat pockets. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just came to check on everyone. And you're right. I wouldn't be here alone and I wouldn't be wearing a flight suit."
He would wear his dress blues, all those ribbons across his chest. He could be a poster model for a recruiting office he filled out any uniform so well. What a silly superficial thought that made her wonder if her feelings were still the result of physical attraction and the old crush.
She didn't much like what that said about her.
He'd apologized, hadn't made excuses and seemed to be working on amends. Just because she didn't totally trust him, she didn't have to be rude. And the excitement circling laps around inside her stomach was simply nerves because of their history. Maybe she'd gotten it wrong over the past seven months by staying away from him. Perhaps spending more time with him would help her get over that.
Get over him.
He had to stop looking at her before her family noticed.
But Carson couldn't seem to reel in his attention from Nikki, her face glistening with sweat, her hair mussed, much like he imagined she would look during marathon sex. Which he would give his left nut to remember having had with her seven months ago.
The next morning, they'd been n**ed in bed together and he couldn't even recall shedding more than their shirts. He remembered well that incredible moment she'd unfastened the front clasp of her bra, freeing perfect pert breasts. He'd reached for her with both hands, could feel the shape and pebbling peaks of her against his palms even now.
His breathing hitched right along with a skipped heartbeat. How idiotic to think about sleeping with Nikki when standing in the driveway with her exhausted mother, worried brother and wild man baby brother currently trying to run over Carson's boots with his scooter.