Sunrise Kisses (The Kisses 8)

“I'm not exactly dressed for swimming.” I blushed, looking down at my boxer shorts and seeing the pale pink hearts darkening on the hem from the ocean water. “Is that how you broke your board?

His eyes looked me up and down, taking in my thin pajamas and just how tight I was holding my arms close. I could have sworn his pupils dilated, and just thinking that they did made me blush harder.

“No,” he said shaking his head. “That board got hit by a boat.”

“I hope you weren't on it,” I said when he didn't offer anymore information.

He regarded me quizzically for a moment before shaking his head slightly. “No, I wasn't. I was driving the boat.”

“Oh.” I smiled and nodded, hoping like hell that the pink sunrise was at least partially hiding my blush. It was really hard not to stare at his muscles under his wetsuit. Good lord, he was built. “Then maybe I'll take you up on your offer to paddle-board, but I'll remember not to go out on a boat with you. Or at least not be on a paddle-board when you're sailing.”

I looked up to see the corner of his lips twitched, hinting at his own amusement.

“As long as you don't tackle me again, I promise not to hit you with a boat.” He kept his face straight, but his eyes twinkled. I couldn't help but smile back.

He nodded politely and stepped away. Pulling his board close to him, he then lay down on his stomach and began paddling out into deeper water.

It only took a moment before he rose first to his knees and then up to standing in a graceful motion I knew must have taken months of practice. Even from where I was standing, I could see his abs and arms working with the strength needed to push him through the water. It was easy to see how he stayed in such good shape if he did this every morning. It looked like a full body workout.

I watched him for a moment, enjoying seeing his finesse and strength in the water, until I realized that I was staring again. Somehow I managed to blush even more, especially knowing that I could have happily watched him all day. I was a creep, but at least I knew it.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Now that the sun was up, it was warmer but my pajamas were still thin and getting wet. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that dinner had been a long time ago and Charlotte had mentioned something about breakfast in the morning.

Reluctantly, I turned and headed back to shore. At the base of the deck was a little freshwater shower that I used to rinse the sand and salt from my legs before climbing the stairs back inside. I looked out at the water as I finished rinsing, surprised to see Mr. Belrose looking back at me.

He grinned, and the blush that had finally faded came roaring back. I bit my lip, determined not to make a complete fool of myself and hurried inside, nearly colliding with a giant wall of man. Elijah avoided me easily, making sure that I didn't run into him or the door in my attempt to stop the collision. He chuckled, shaking his head.

My face was burning now, knowing that not only was the stealthy body guard chuckling at me, but Mr. Belrose had seen the whole thing. I mumbled an apology and scurried up to my room to put on real clothes and hopefully fade my blush before my skin permanently matched my hair.

Chapter 5

I glanced at the map as I hurried through the maze of rooms. I was fairly sure that the kitchen was two more rooms to the right, but every room had the same opulent extravagance. Gilded frames and antique furniture all meshed together until every room looked the same. It was all about the display of wealth. It made it hard to distinguish what room I was in without physically checking the art hanging on the walls. Since the map didn't have that information, I had already gotten turned around once.

I finally just followed the smells of cooking and coffee. It was two rooms to the right and one to the left. Once in the kitchen, though, I finally felt like I was where I belonged.

The mansion's kitchen felt like it had been decorated by someone else. It's simple, rustic charm didn't match the rest of the house. That isn't to say that it wasn't luxurious, huge, or full of gourmet items, but that it didn't feel pompous or overbearing. Of all the rooms in the giant mansion, the kitchen actually felt like one that people lived in rather than a museum.

Leaning against the center island with a bright red mug that said, “If this cup is full, don't bother talking to me” was Charlotte. She was happily chatting away with a heavyset woman in an apron who was bustling around the kitchen cooking something that smelled absolutely divine.

“Good morning, Ava,” Charlotte greeted me, a welcoming grin spreading across her face. Her dark hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and s

he wore a crisp short sleeved, polka-dot shirt with the cutest skirt I had ever seen. “I wasn't expecting anyone up for a little while yet.”

I grinned back. “I wanted to see the sunrise. I'm very strange and happen to like mornings.”

“Just like her mother,” added a very grumpy voice. I turned to see my father stumble into the kitchen and settle with his work bag at the heavy wooden table. His gray hair was rumpled, and he still looked swollen from traveling. His green in his eyes looked strange against the bloodshot whites. I knew he had slept because I had heard him snoring from across the hall, but he sure didn't look like it.

“It was the time for just Mom and me,” I recalled, smiling at the memory. I could still recall with perfect clarity how Mom would always curl up in the sunny patch of the couch in the mornings, reading the morning paper or a dogeared paperback book. She was always sipping on tea or coffee and wore the same pink, ratty robe. I still had that robe, tucked away into my closet at home. Sometimes in the mornings, I would wrap myself up in it to read the paper just so that I could feel her presence again.

Charlotte handed me a full cup of coffee in a plain blue cup, pointing to the kitchen table where a pitcher of real cream and a sugar bowl sat waiting. I grinned and headed over to make my mug more cream and sugar than coffee.

“Coffee, Mr. Fairchild?” she asked, holding up a green mug. Dad mumbled a barely coherent yes and she poured him a generous helping. Just as she finished setting the cup on the table in front of him, Elijah the Bodyguard bustled into the kitchen. Without missing a beat, Charlotte picked up two waiting travel mugs from the counter and handed them to him. She's like Starbucks, but without the line, I thought to myself.

“Charlotte,” Elijah said, taking a big sip out of one of the mugs. “You're the best, you know that right?”

“Of course I do,” Charlotte replied smugly. She held up a brown paper bag. “Make sure Sebastian eats something for breakfast today. He's got that meeting with the sales rep, and last time he nearly took off the poor guy's head because he was hangry.”

Elijah went to reach for the bag, but she pulled it back, wanting a response before she would give it to him. “Yes, ma'am,” the big man said, rolling his eyes. “As long as there's one in there for me, too.”