Desire and the Deep Blue Sea Page 7

  “Yes.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “So I need your assistance. Until you’re completely, unequivocally sure you’ll want to be with me once we return home, please take pity on a besotted former academic. Help me keep a certain amount of distance.”

  “No one can promise forever,” she reminded him.

  He acknowledged that with a lift of his shoulder. “Right now, I’m not asking for forever. Just next week.”

  One side of that lush mouth tilted. “So don’t tempt you. And don’t kiss you until I’m absolutely certain I won’t regret it.” Her head inclined a fraction. “I can do that. Or, more accurately, not do that.”

  “Thank you.” He nudged her arm with his. “I’m grateful.”

  “And in return, will you promise to trust me if and when I say I am sure?”

  Her brows were raised in challenge, and he smoothed each of them with a stroke of his free thumb. “I promise.”

  “So we’re good now? I can eat breakfast, take my anxiety meds, and stop having intense conversations before I’ve had even a single cup of coffee?”

  He laughed. “We’re good.”

  She eased her hand from his and headed for the room’s little coffee station.

  “Want to see whether the resort is offering a snorkeling cruise this morning? We should have time to do it before we need to make our”—she crooked her fingers—“big decision. Especially since Gladys surrendered to our charm offensive and didn’t schedule anything specific for this morning.”

  Callie wanted him to spend several hours staring at her in a wet bathing suit?

  Oh, no.

  But also: Oh, yes.

  “Reserve the tickets,” he told her, and promptly left the bedroom in search of a cold, cold shower.

  Callie eyed the water down below, those tempting lips pursed.

  The captain of their vessel had zipped to the side of the island that boasted a sunken ship—sunken via holes strategically placed by the island’s owners, because they’d wanted a snorkeling feature nearby—and tossed a rope around a cushioned wooden pole sticking out of the clear water. The pole implied the water wasn’t too deep in that spot, and there were multiple employees watching out for the safety of all the tourists aboard.

  Still, Callie hesitated.

  The colorful trim on her goggles almost matched that heart-stopping coral suit she wore, and her flippers fit perfectly. Which Thomas knew, because he’d checked. Her mouthpiece swung from her clenched hand with every restless movement. An inner tube waited for each of them in the rippling waves below, held by another patient crew member, so she wouldn’t need to worry about staying afloat once she ventured in the water.

  The single cameraman who’d accompanied them to the boat had braced himself against some sort of fiberglass bulwark and was capturing every moment on film, as Gladys had insisted.

  Everything was ready. Everything but Callie.

  When he laid his hand on her shoulder, the strengthening sun had turned her silky skin feverish. “Do you want to jump in together?”

  She cast a dubious glance at the narrow gap in the rail. “There’s not room for both of us.”

  “There is if I hold you.” He’d lowered his voice to a whisper, since maybe the crew wouldn’t love that idea. But he couldn’t come up with another solution that would allow Callie to move past her anxiety and give herself what she wanted. “We’ll just have to make sure we jump far enough out from the boat.”

  She nestled into him, front to front, her arms wrapped around his waist, and he almost whimpered as her breath ghosted against his earlobe. “Not to be rude, but maybe potentially-dangerous feats of physical prowess aren’t exactly your greatest gift?”

  “I’d never let you get hurt.” He might whack himself against the boat on the way down, but she wouldn’t get a single scratch. Not while he was alive, conscious, and within arm’s reach. “Trust me.”

  Silence.

  Moisture glinted on her lashes as she stared up at him, and she was biting that lower lip.

  Dammit. She was going to be so disappointed and angry at herself if they didn’t do this, but he wouldn’t push her to do anything—anything—that made her uncomfortable.

  He frowned. “Sweetheart, we don’t have to jump. We can stay on board, or there’s an inclined ladder toward the back of the boat—”

  She nodded toward the gap in the rail. “Are you ready?”

  He blinked at her. “Of course, but like I said, we don’t—”

  “I trust you.” Her voice was firm. Decisive. “So here we go.”

  As it turned out, Callie boasted not only surpassing beauty and softness, but also a startling amount of physical strength. Because the next thing he knew, the two of them were flying off the side of the boat, powered only by the might of those curvy legs.

  Somehow, they lost hold of one another as they smacked into the water, and as soon as he made his way to the surface and oriented himself, he swung his head in a frantic search for Callie.

  The search didn’t last long. He just needed to follow her giggles.

  “Are you all right?” She reached out a hand and tugged him to her side. “The water’s so warm!”

  “I’m fine.” More than fine, actually. Delighted and proud.

  Her legs shifted in a graceful, sinuous kick beneath the water as the nearby crew member handed them their inner tubes.

  She hooked an arm around her yellow doughnut, contemplated the opening for a moment, looked down at her chest, and shrugged. “I think I can wedge myself into this thing. Let’s find out.”

  After a couple minutes of fumbling and goggles readjustment, the two of them were floating on the surface, their faces in the water, the inner tubes supporting their middles as they studied the deliberate wreck and the schools of glinting fish darting beneath them.

  Callie’s fingers had intertwined with his, and he couldn’t spot any signs of tension in her movements. Which was why he was startled when she squeezed his hand and suddenly went vertical.

  He did the same, only to see her remove her goggles and mouthpiece.

  They’d only been snorkeling for a short time, but maybe she’d gotten a cramp? Or started worrying about drifting too far away from the boat?

  He yanked off his own goggles and mouthpiece, so he could see her better and speak intelligibly. “Are you o—”

  Her free hand curled around the back of his neck and guided him closer, despite the hindrance of the inner tubes. Then closer, until all he could smell was salt and Callie. The goggles had drawn a faint line on her forehead, her hair sleeked against her head in a shining cap, and her tongue—

  Her tongue, unless he was mistaken, had just licked a drop of water from his ear.

  The nearby tourists, the boat, the ocean itself ceased to exist.

  “I can’t wait any longer.” Her fingers threaded through his hair and cupped his skull. “I’m sure, Thomas. So you need to trust me.”

  Her lips pressed to his, soft as velvet and warm as the sun on his back.

  It was loving affirmation in kiss form, neither hurried nor demanding. When his hand cupped her cheek, she nestled against the touch with a sigh he breathed into his lungs, and that cool cheek heated beneath his fingers as her mouth opened to his tongue.

  She tasted of salt and sweetness, and she smiled when he rumbled a desperate surrender of a groan into that tempting mouth. When he wrenched himself away to explore further, she grasped him with trembling fingers, trying to draw him back to her lips as he trailed a path from her lips to her jaw and licked that fragrant, shadowy spot just below her ear.

  Musk and roses. Delicious.

  She moaned, and he surged upward to capture it against his tongue.

  The kiss stretched into the entirety of the ocean, and when they paused for a moment, both breathing in rapid rasps, she whispered his name with such longing he nearly floated away.

  Then he blinked his eyes open and realized: They were floating away.

>   The gentle current had inexorably nudged them farther from the other tourists. The captain appeared to be saying something into a megaphone and waving them back toward the ship with a certain amount of controlled impatience, as if she’d been doing it for a while. A crew member was swimming in their direction. And Thomas’s hands were empty of everything but Callie.

  Callie smoothed back the hair plastered against his forehead and gifted him with one last, lingering brush of her mouth against his. A tender, private caress, despite the watchful eye of HATV’s camera lens.

  Then she smiled at him. “Let’s go find your goggles and mouthpiece, shall we?”

  He was hers. She’d claimed him.

  What else could he do but follow?

  Seven

  “Oh, my God, Tess.” Callie leaned into the mirror and smoothed on a thin layer of makeup primer. “Thank you for telling me about Renaissance Island. This place is so relaxing. Yesterday afternoon, a dude named Sven pummeled me into massage-drunk jelly, and the snorkeling trip this morning was incredible. The water’s so clear and warm and calm it’s like a baby’s bath.”

  Her cell was resting on the bathroom vanity, the speaker activated so she could continue getting ready for the upcoming sit-down interview, where she and Thomas would discuss the three island options and end all faux-suspense by choosing one of them for the rest of the trip.

  “I know, right?” Tess gave a rueful laugh. “Although I have to admit, I probably spent more time on the tennis courts than on the beach.”

  “The beaches are gorgeous, but Thomas and I met Lucas just before dinner last night.” Callie said, carefully mixing a squirt of her foundation with a dollop of moisturizer on the back of her hand. “I can safely say you made the right decision. Damn, woman.”

  Lucas was a tall drink of twenty-something hotness, and no one could blame Tess for gulping him down. Even better: When Callie had mentioned her friend’s name, his face had softened and lit in a way that was almost painful to witness.

  He clearly adored Tess. Enough that he was finishing out his contract with the resort and planning a move to Maryland. So yeah, Callie had approved of him. Wholeheartedly.

  “Is Thomas there with you right now?” Tess sounded cautious. “Or can you talk freely?”

  After showering, dressing in the bathroom, and giving her a tender, sweet buss on her temple, he’d gone out to get them a belated breakfast from the little café on the first floor. Given his usual speed of decision-making and movement, she figured she had plenty of time to chat.

  “He’s grabbing food.” She sponged the foundation mixture over her face and neck, blending the edges thoroughly into her skin until no line of demarcation remained. “And that brings me to the other reason I owe you a big thank-you. He and I are together now. Like, boyfriend-and-girlfriend, drawing-hearts-in-the-sand-with-our-initials-inside together.”

  A long pause. “What?”

  Callie loaded up her little highlighter brush. “I said, Thomas and I are dating now, and I’m so grateful you convinced me to come here. Thank you.”

  Another, longer pause. “Are you joking?”

  “No.” Tess hit the inner corners of her eyes and her cheekbones.

  Total silence.

  “Honey, I have time, but not all day.” No need for blush, not after how the sun and water had conquered her sunscreen that morning. “Whatever you want to say, spit it out.”

  “Callie…” Her friend spoke slowly. “You hate Thomas.”

  She frowned down at the phone. Eye makeup would have to wait.

  “No, I don’t,” she said.

  “Uh, yeah.” Tess didn’t sound combative. More befuddled. “Yeah, you do.”

  “I don’t think I ever hated him. Not really.” She’d been thinking about that over the past few days. A lot. “I’ve had a hard couple of years, and changing jobs is really stressful. Not to mention how bad things got with Andre in the end. I think I was looking for a scapegoat, and Thomas served that purpose.”

  She flicked on the water to wash some stray highlighter from her fingers, and the plumbing made an odd sort of thunk.

  “I hear what you’re saying.” Tess’s words almost dripped with doubt. “But Cal, during almost every conversation we’ve had over the past four months, you’ve either raged or cried about how he’s screwing you over at the library. Because of him, you’ve spent your workdays stressed to the point where you might as well buy stock in anti-anxiety meds.”

  Callie bit her lip and stared down into the sink, rinsing away the soap and letting the cool water rush over her wrists. Sometimes that trick helped calm her when she got overwhelmed, and sometimes it didn’t. But it was worth a try.

  Tess wasn’t finished. “Those complaints weren’t the product of any frustration and loneliness you were experiencing in other areas of your life. Andre didn’t somehow make certain you never had a moment to breathe on the desk, and job transition stress didn’t ensure you were always scheduled alongside Thomas. One man caused those problems, Cal. One man. Thomas. I can’t count how many times you told me you couldn’t stand to see his face behind the desk. That you loathed working with him.”

  Swallowing over such a dry throat hurt.

  “And after three days sharing a hotel room, you’re apparently dating the man. So please forgive me if I’m a bit confused and concerned.” Tess’s Vice Principal Voice softened and lowered. “I don’t want you hurt. I don’t like the idea of someone taking advantage of a fraught situation to get closer to you. And I don’t see how you could make a relationship with him work when you want to rip out his throat after every shift together.”

  At that, Callie’s spine stiffened, and she turned off the water. Which made a weird thump again, but whatever. They could call maintenance later.

  “He didn’t take advantage of me.” When Tess started to say something, Callie overrode her. “I mean it. He didn’t even want to kiss me during this trip, because he wanted to be absolutely sure our circumstances weren’t responsible for my attraction to him.”

  “Well, I guess that’s something,” Tess muttered.

  “And he doesn’t mean any harm at work. He just doesn’t multitask well, and I don’t know if he could change that even if he wanted to.” Callie drummed an eyeliner pencil against the vanity. “I understand him better now, so I don’t think I’ll get as frustrated as I used to.”

  “Okay.” Tess didn’t sound convinced.

  To be fair, the argument did sound a bit weak when spoken aloud.

  Callie checked the time on her phone display and gave a little, panicked shriek. “Oh, shit. I need to go, Tess. We’ll talk later, all right?”

  “Sounds good.” Her friend hesitated. “Just…take good care of yourself, sweetie. Please.”

  Callie couldn’t help but smile, despite the renewed worries crowding her mind. “Such a mother hen.”

  They said goodbye, and Callie tried to concentrate on finishing her eye makeup. Just after she emerged from the bathroom, a loud knock sounded at the door.

  She looked through the peephole. Good Lord, had Thomas lost his keycard again?

  “You’re a mess, McKinney. We need to clip your card to your pocket somehow,” she said as she opened the door. “Do you remember where you last saw it?”

  Thomas didn’t answer, and he didn’t come inside the room.

  Instead, he handed her one of two paper bags and glanced down at the subtle swirls of the carpet. His mouth opened, but he pressed it shut again.

  Oh, no. She’d hurt his feelings.

  She laid a hand on his cheek, still smooth from his morning shave. It was hot beneath her palm, brushed with hectic color as if he too had stayed out in the sun too long. “I was just teasing, Thomas. You’re not a mess. People lose their keycards all the time. If you need another one, we’ll get it. And I don’t mind keeping mine handy for the both of us.”

  He stepped back from the contact, and her hand fell to her side.

  “I’ll give you som
e privacy to keep getting ready.” He was so quiet, she could barely hear him. “Take your time, and I’ll meet you and the crew in the lobby.”

  When he finally met her eyes, he offered her a smile.

  It was weak and fleeting and not at all like Thomas, and she felt like a monster.

  Oh, God, they were going to have to talk about this, weren’t they? “But—”

  She’d waited too long.

  “But I am ready,” she told the closed door.

  Callie had loathed him.

  Loathed him.

  All those months on the desk, Thomas had thought she’d grown distant because of difficulties with Andre or her family or something else in her private life.

  But no. She’d distanced herself from him because she couldn’t stand the sight of his face. Because he made her cry, rage, and become anxious.

  Even before this trip, he’d thought they were friends of a sort. And while he’d wanted much, much more than that, he’d taken comfort in having any type of relationship with such an amazing woman. But the entire time, he’d been making her life harder, making her miserable, and making her hate him.

  In a far corner of the sunshine-hued lobby, an armchair lurked behind the fronds of a potted bush. He sank into its cushion and covered his face with shaking hands.

  Every shift they’d spent together for the past four months, he’d orchestrated. Timed his schedule requests so he could be near her as often as possible, without ever thinking about whether that was what she wanted. And then, during those shifts, he’d tried his best to block her out so he could concentrate on patron questions, just as he did with all his other coworkers.

  The only difference: She’d never left his mind. Not entirely.

  But fumbling pencils when she bit her lip or admiring her efficiency at locating the exact right journal article for a patron wasn’t the same thing as actually paying attention to her.

  Not as his fantasy, the object of his desire. But as Callie Adesso, a subject in her own right, with wants and needs and goals at work that might not match his own.