I swallow down my heartache. Which is just ridiculous. I have no relationship with this guy. And he came off a little bit obnoxious before I realized who he is and changed my tune. But he is obnoxious. Pushing himself into my raft today and sending me this bizarre invitation to meet him on the beach.
For what?
For sex, you dumbass!
He wants to use me. And I was fully planning on letting him. But no way, not if he’s got a girlfriend. Not even if he was breaking up with her, because that’s almost what that conversation looked like. She was sad for some reason—he was comforting her.
I drop to the sand and remove my shoes, my toes digging in until they are on the verge of cold. “Grace,” I say in a soft whisper. “You’re way too impulsive, Grace. You’re so eager for a fairy tale, you create one where it doesn’t exist.”
“It’s the wrong beach,” a husky voice calls out from behind me.
Vaughn. He’s found me.
“Did you get lost?” he asks. He stands beside me for a moment before taking a seat on the sand. “A few of the waiters saw you on the path outside the party and said you came this way.”
I can’t look at him and I have no idea what to say, so there’s nothing but the crashing of waves.
“This beach is private.”
“Oh,” I say, as I laugh a little to myself. I grab the straps of my shoes and I’m about to stand up when his large hand wraps around my small wrist.
“It’s OK,” he says in a soothing voice. “We can stay here.” His grip pulls me down and I give in and settle back on the sand. “Did you eat dinner?”
I shake my head no.
“Are you hungry?”
Another no.
“Are you mute?” he asks with a laugh. But when I stare up at him his laugh dies in his throat. “What’d I do? You’re looking at me like I’m the devil.”
I take a deep breath and look away. His beautiful eyes are too distracting. I can’t concentrate when I gaze at him. He steals my breath and invades my thoughts in all the wrong ways. I can feel the heat of his body next to mine. He’s still wearing his suit. Not a light one, like the rest of the people at the party, but dark. A black suit.
It’s an omen, I think. An omen that foreshadows the darkness inside him that I’m just beginning to see clearly. I know more about this man than a stranger should. I’ve been obsessed with him for years.
Maybe that makes me the dark one?
He huffs out a breath. “Did you hear something? Did you read something? I mean, you were normal this afternoon and now—” He changes position and flops down on his side in the sand, his hand propping up his face, his smile a devious smirk. “Now you’re…” He stares at me in the moonlight, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. “Now you’re… afraid.” He lets the word hang there between us. “Afraid of me? Or just of being with me?”
I have no clue what to say, so I opt for the truth. “I saw you back there.”
“OK,” he laughs, a look of relief washing over his face. “So… what did you see? I’m not drunk, so I know I didn’t do anything stupid. I’m still dressed, so I wasn’t humping the chairs.”
I chuckle a little at that.
“I didn’t eat the salad”—he swipes a finger over his teeth—“so I know there’s no lettuce distracting you from my disarming smile. I tipped the waiter and the band—”
“I saw you with that woman.”
“What woman?” he responds too quickly.
“That tall brunette in the pink dress.”
“Samantha?” he asks, sitting up with a smile.
“I don’t know, is that her name?” I say back with a snarl that takes me by surprise.
“You’re jealous.” And now he does laugh. “You’re jealous of Samantha.”
“I’m not jealous, Mr. Asher—”
“Whoa,” he laughs. “That’s so f**king hot.”
I just stare at him. “What?”
“Almost everyone calls me Mr. Asher, but holy f**k, hearing it come from your mouth.”
I glance down at his crotch and see the unmistakable bulge of a hard-on. “I’m leaving.” I get up, all the way up this time, and he does not protest. I grab my sandals by the straps and turn away. He gets to his feet behind me and I’m a few paces up the beach when he calls out.
“She’s my sister, Grace. Samantha is my sister. She got married today and she’s having second thoughts. I didn’t know what to say to her so we were… having a moment, ya know? Kinda personal. I’m sorry you saw it.”
I stop but don’t turn around.
“I’m not usually so… I don’t know, caring. But she’s having second thoughts and I didn’t know what to say to make it better and I was trying to help her believe it’ll be OK. I think she loves him, but what do I know? I want to convince her this is normal, but I don’t think it is. Because if I was getting married I would not have second thoughts. If I was the one who got married today, I’d be f**king my wife in the pool house, or here on the beach, or up in the hotel. My wedding night would be nothing but constant attention to the woman I chose to spend the rest of my life with. So I’m thinking she did make a mistake. But how can I tell her that?” He stops and lets out a long breath.
When I turn to look at him he’s rubbing his hands down his face like this is eating away at him.