Into Thin Air Page 3

  “Could you hand me a towel, please?” I extend my hand toward him.

  He gives me the one wrapped around his waist. I toss it back and chuckle.

  “No, Sam. A dish towel.”

  He lifts his hands. “My bad.”

  He rummages through the kitchen cabinets till he finds some, then tosses one to me. I open the freezer, gather a handful of ice, and wrap it in the towel.

  “Sit down for a second,” I say.

  He pulls out a high, cushioned barstool from under the counter and sits down. His shorts are still wet, but so is my suit. I plant myself between his legs as if I’ve done this a million times. The warmth of his body infuses mine with heat. He rests his hands on my hips. I push his damp hair out of the way, then gently place the ice against the red bump that’s not bleeding anymore. He flinches, then lets his eyes drift shut as if he’s enjoying this. I am too, but I’m a little disappointed. I’d love to look into those eyes.

  “Are you a nurse?” he mumbles as if he’s falling asleep.

  I giggle. “No way. That tiny drop of blood on your head is about as much as I can handle. I’m glad it stopped.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  I ignore his question. “You sound tired. Are you?”

  “No. You seem to relax me. I don’t know how, since we don’t even know each other. Well, I know you aren’t a nurse, you don’t like blood, and your name is Ellie. That’s about it.”

  “But that’s enough. And don’t forget, I gave you some lemons and showed you one of my fruits.”

  His eyes flutter open, and he squeezes my hips. “That was the best part. You have such creamy skin, sprinkled with freckles. Almost like sprinkles on ice cream.” He traces the freckles on my shoulder with his fingers, continuing down my arm. “Look at this one below your shoulder. It’s shaped like a heart.”

  “That tickles.” I shiver from his touch and glance at where his finger is. “You’re right. I’ve never noticed that. I guess no one else has either.”

  “Then no one has paid your body enough attention. I found it within seconds of admiring your skin.” My face flushes. He’s almost poetic.

  “You must be Irish with your red hair, fair complexion, and shamrock-green eyes. Mmm, they match your bathing suit.” He tugs on my hairband and my damp curls spill across my back and arms.

  “Crimson is your last name? It fits.” He tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

  Why does this seem like foreplay? Whatever it is… I like it!

  “My hair is red, but it’s surely not crimson. Real red hair skipped a couple of generations. I’m lucky—I got this golden auburn color… if you want to call it lucky.”

  “You are lucky. You’re beautiful,” he says sweetly.

  “Thank you.” My cheeks tingle with warmth, and I’m suddenly nervous. “Did you know, only about two percent of the population are redheads? Kids made fun of me a lot when I was little. They said I looked like death because of my white skin. Maybe I’ll get a little tan while I’m here. Or my freckles will. I’ll never be as tanned as you are.” Shut up, Ellie! I can’t stop babbling.

  He’s trying not to laugh at me, but a grin sneaks out. “From what I could see when you got out of the pool, you have a slight tan line.” The glint in his eye makes his meaning clear.

  I lift the ice from his forehead and pretend to observe the bump. I’m trying hard to distract myself because his suave jokes don’t annoy me like they should. They do the exact opposite.

  After I place the ice on the counter, I lean over and lightly press my lips to the bump. “All better.” Ellie, what are you doing?

  I lean away, and we gaze at each other as if we’re both trying to figure out what the hell is going on. My hands rest on his sun-kissed chest. I don’t remember putting them there, but I don’t want to take them away either. The nearness of him is a familiarity I don’t understand but want.

  “You’re different from other women. More natural than anyone I’ve ever known. It’s a breath of fresh air. You’re hard to find in this materialistic world.”

  I could ask him what he does for a living after a statement like that, but I don’t. There’s no need to get personal, but it sounds like he deals with the same kind of people I do every day. Still, I protest.

  “But you don’t know me. What you see is on the outside. Maybe I’m a crazy lunatic on lanky legs.”

  “Nah. If you were, you wouldn’t have scaled the wall or put ice on my head. Only a caring person would’ve done that. And you don’t have lanky legs.” His fingertips tease my skin, from my lower thighs softly up to my hips. “Any woman would kill to have these.”

  My lips part from the desire that’s flooding my veins. I trace his chin with my finger, continue down his neck, and stop on his pulse. It’s pumping fast.

  “Do I make you nervous? This little spot is racing.” I touch it lightly, wishing I were using my lips instead of my finger.

  He lifts my hand and kisses each finger playfully. “My pulse has been jumping like this ever since I saw you that first time, when you arrived at the hotel.”

  It’s official. He’s going to be the death of me.

  “I thought that was you. Your voice is very distinct and soothing. I’m sure many people tell you that. Especially the ladies.”

  “Sam, Sam, Sam. Lemons, lemons, lemons.” Mental Petie flies in the door and lands gracefully on the kitchen counter like he lives here. “Ellie. Ellie. Ellie,” he squawks. “It’s time to go back, back, back.”

  I step to the side, and Sam hops off the stool.

  “Who are you, my father?” I respond to Petie, dumbfounded. “I’m not going anywhere until I want to.”

  “Look, bird. Will you please get out of my house or suite or whatever you call this place?” Now Sam’s talking to the feathered stranger. I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh.

  He shakes his head. “What a joke. I’m talking to a bird like it’s a friend who just interrupted a hot date.”

  A minute ago, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but maybe this is for the better. I lean my hip against the counter. “So, am I going to get some lemonade or what? I’m pretty thirsty.”

  “Me too. I’m thirsty for something else now, but I guess that’ll have to wait.” He gives Petie a dirty look then pulls out a knife to cut the lemons.

  ∞

  I stretch out on my stomach and rest my chin on my hands. Sam and I have just finished a wicked game of water volleyball. I held my own for a while, but in the end, he kicked my ass. I had to keep checking that my boobs stayed in my top. I’m exhausted from playing and laughing so much.

  Whew. Sam put too much vodka in that second batch of lemonade. It went down way too smoothly. I shouldn’t lie in the sun too long, but this sun lounger is like a big pillow, welcoming me to take a nap. It’s hard to stay awake.

  “Why are you doing that?”

  Oh. I’m in heaven. There’s nothing better than a foot massage. Sam’s hands are so strong. He digs in his fingers at just the right spot on the ball of my foot. I let out a soft moan.

  “She loves it. I thought it might help. Something you should know or should be doing.”

  “Wow. If I knew you gave foot massages, I would’ve climbed over the wall the night I arrived here,” I mutter.

  “Why is this music playing? It’s annoying as shit.”

  “You don’t like it? I love any song from James Arthur.”

  “I always told her you were an asshole. Would you please leave? Now!”

  Huh? What? Sam wants me to leave? I look over my shoulder at my feet. My body freezes and my pulse explodes in my ears. There’s no one there, and no music is playing. Sam’s relaxed on a raft with his eyes closed at the other side of the pool. Goosebumps run up and down my arms. I spring from the chair, pushing it against the wall. I swipe my arms and legs viciously like ants are crawling on me. I’m chilled to the bone. I wasn’t asleep. I felt it. I heard it. It had to have been real.

>   “Ellie? What’s wrong?” Sam says as he swims across the pool toward me.

  I turn away from him and quickly leave his place through the front door. I type my password on the keypad outside my door and rush inside. I close the sliding glass doors and pull the curtains shut.

  Within seconds, Sam is pounding on the door. “Ellie, what’s wrong? Please let me in.”

  I shouldn’t have left like that, but that was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. Even worse than the first night I was here when I thought Cooper was in my suite.

  Sam bangs on the door again. “I’ll climb over the wall if I have to.”

  I inch toward the door. Why am I going to let him in? Because I don’t want to be alone. Isn’t that ironic? All I keep saying is that I want to be alone, but now I don’t.

  I open it slowly. Sam’s soaking wet with a towel wrapped around his waist again, but his face drips with concern, not water. It makes me confused. The only people who are ever concerned about me are Mom and Gale.

  “I’m sorry, Sam. The lemonade must’ve been too strong. I think I had a nightmare… but I don’t think I was sleeping. Maybe it was a hallucination.”

  I wrap my arms around my waist and move aside to let him in.

  “The lemonade hit me too,” he confesses. “I’m sorry. Tell me what happened. You looked petrified. You still do.”

  “I’m not sure I want to talk about it right now.”

  He raises his hands. “No problem. Let’s go sit out on the beach. It’s private. You can tell me what happened when you’ve relaxed a little bit. Have you been out there yet?”

  “No. I’ve been enjoying this place so much that I haven’t ventured out to the beach, if you can believe that. I’ve only watched it from my balcony upstairs.”

  “We can sit in one of our private gazebos and order buckets of water—we both need to drink a lot—and eat some junk food. I’m craving something salty. We need something in our stomachs other than lemonade. Hopefully without Petie hanging around this time.” He chuckles.

  “You’re lucky you’re so damn sexy and I don’t mind your company.” I turn away. “Let’s go.”

  “So you think I’m sexy, huh?” he jokes from behind me.

  I grin at him over my shoulder. Like he doesn’t know it.

  ∞

  “Would you like lemon in your water?” the waiter asks.

  “No,” we respond in unison, then laugh.

  “I think we’ve both had enough lemons for today.”

  “Pfft. Ya think?” I chuckle as I pull my hair into a ponytail.

  “I’ll be back with your water and an order of nachos,” the waiter says and walks away.

  Sam and I sigh as we relax in our sun loungers. I cross my arms behind my head, enjoying the light breeze blowing a salty but floral scent our way.

  “This is the life. I’ve always dreamed of taking a vacation like this. It’s taken me a couple of days to acclimate, though. It’s fun being a slug, wearing a bathing suit, and being alone all day. I don’t want to leave.”

  “Why did you come here by yourself? Stress?” Sam asks as he reclines his chair one level down.

  “Kind of. I’m avoiding my real life right now. But I don’t want to get personal. I’m sure you don’t either. You don’t ask me, and I won’t ask you. Sound good?”

  “It sounds like you’re running from something. I can’t say that’s my reason for being here, but I’m fine with not talking about it.”

  I’m not running from anything, but I have finally gotten what I wished for, and I need a breather to let it all sink in. My life is going to change once I get back home. Hopefully, for the better.

  “So, are you going to tell me what happened back at my place? When you looked at me, I thought I did something wrong.”

  I shake my head and curl up on my side, facing him. “It wasn’t you, but I thought it was you.” He turns toward me with a crinkled forehead. “I could’ve sworn you were massaging my feet. I heard voices, and one of them said I should leave. When I looked behind me, you weren’t there. You were in the pool. I swear I wasn’t asleep, but maybe I was drifting into sleep. The foot massage was so real and felt so good.” I cover my face because I realize how crazy it sounds.

  “Did you recognize the voices?”

  “I thought it was my mom or Gale. The voices were muffled because my favorite song was playing.”

  “What song was it?”

  “‘Say You Won’t Let Go,’ by James Arthur. Do you know it? I can play it for you when we get back to our rooms.”

  He nods with a slight grin. “I heard you playing it yesterday.”

  “No, you didn’t.” I gasp. “Did you hear me singing too?” I hide behind my hands again. My face burns.

  “Well, I’m not sure you’d win The Voice.” He grins, and I laugh because he’s right. “I can’t carry a tune either, so no worries. Anyway, why is it your favorite? Does it remind you of your boyfriend or someone special?”

  I remove my hands from my face.

  He asks it casually, as if he doesn’t care. I can’t see his eyes because of his sunglasses. I kind of want him to care.

  “No. I’m not involved with anyone right now. It’ll be my wedding song if I ever get married. Every time I hear it, my heart aches, and I almost can’t breathe. Sometimes I can’t even listen to it because I get too emotional. No other love song has ever made me feel that way.”

  Lately, I work in a world where there are a lot of fake people and failed marriages. It’s made me lose hope in finding love myself. I don’t know who I can trust, because I don’t know who’s real and who’s using me for my connections.

  “What if your future husband doesn’t like that song?” he challenges me with a laugh. “What are you going to do then? Call the wedding off?”

  I shrug. “Then I’ll know he’s not the one for me.” I pretend I’m joking, but I’m not. “I have ways of persuading people, though.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know what you mean by that, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” He chuckles. “Since we’re talking about something you love, let’s have some fun. What are three of your favorite things? In any order.”

  “If I tell you, you have to tell me yours too. Kind of a… I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” The waiter places our nachos on the table between us. He clears his throat. Oops. I guess he heard that.

  Sam and I turn in our loungers to face each other. He takes off his sunglasses. Man, his eyes are stunning. The blue is even brighter because the pupils are smaller from the blazing sun. I can’t imagine how many women must melt at his feet.

  “Sure. But you have to go first.”

  He motions for me to dig in. I load up a plate. Then he does the same.

  “Sea turtles,” I say without thinking.

  “That was a quick answer. Sea turtles, huh?” He chomps into a cheesy chip loaded with salsa. He blinks several times and swallows. “Wow, that was spicy.”

  “I fell in love with them when my dad gave me a little stuffed-animal sea turtle. I think I was seven years old. I carried it everywhere. I still have it, and I think they’re cute. It amazes me how they bury their eggs on the beach, and the babies have to find their way back to the water. They can live for over a hundred years. Turtles are supposed to be a sign of good luck, knowledge, and strength. Well, something like that.

  “I love how my suite has a bunch of glass sea turtle sculptures. They have the most beautiful Swarovski crystal ones in the lobby gift shop. I’ll probably buy one before I leave.” I add some more sour cream to my plate. A dollop falls on the sand. “Oops. I’m such a mess.”

  He licks sour cream off his pink lower lip as he hands me a napkin. His lips are becoming more and more tempting to nibble on.

  Chapter 7

  Sam

  “I saw you looking at them.”

  She freezes just as a chip is about to touch her tongue. “What? You saw me looking at your—” She looks a
t my mouth.

  “No…” I lick them slowly again for fun. “Not my lips, but I do like it when you do that.” My voice drifts off. She clears her throat and puts the chip back on her plate.

  “I noticed you around, you know.” Her eyebrows rise. “Not just at the buffet. I was in the gym the other day, and you stopped in front of the tinted windows and smelled some flowers. I knew it was you because of that beautiful hair flowing down your back. I almost fell off the treadmill. Then you stood there facing the ocean for a few minutes. I wondered what you were thinking about.” I wanted it to be me.

  “I’ve been busy thinking about too many things,” she mumbles as she wipes her hands.

  “Don’t think too much when you’re with me. We’re here to have fun. So, what’s the second thing you love?”

  Her smile lights up her face. “For food, it’s a cross between white chocolate and pomegranate seeds. But I think I’ll go with the seeds.”

  I pull my head back. “Huh? Okay. Interesting choice. I’ve never eaten them before.”

  “I could eat them every day. I have a couple of pomegranates waiting for me in my kitchen as we speak. I should cut one up and have you try them. Or if you go to the buffet in the morning, I’m sure they’ll have some.” The corner of her mouth quirks up. “I looked them up once on the internet for their nutritional value. Came to find out, they’re a natural aphrodisiac. I wonder how many you have to eat, because nothing was happening down there, if you know what I mean.”

  If we ever sleep together, I can guarantee we won’t need pomegranates. Just watching her eat nachos turns me on.

  “If you had the right boyfriend, you wouldn’t need them.” I wink at her.

  She throws her dirty napkin at me. “Maybe your girlfriend or ex-girlfriends eat the seeds behind your back. They stuff them in their cheeks like chipmunks.”

  I guffaw. “I have no worries in that department. Maybe I should be the one eating them instead, but we’re not getting personal, right?” I tilt my head to the side.

  “All right, all right. We shouldn’t touch this topic. It’ll only lead to trouble.”