hands.
“I… well, something. People will be checking in today.”
“What time? How many?”
“Several families. But not until three this afternoon,” she admitted.
“So there’s plenty of time for coffee, breakfast, followed later by the picnic I’ve planned,” Caleb said.
Meg scowled. She should have told him an army was expected by ten! “Caleb…” Thinking back, she replayed the moment on Captain Crow’s deck when she’d offered to sleep with him. Hadn’t she made clear it was a single session she was after, a way to address and then eliminate the almost adolescent fascination she felt for him?
Damn, she realized she’d not been clear after all.
A flush crawled up her neck to her face. “I should have said…it’s not that last night wasn’t nice—”
“From my side of the blankets, it was damn fabulous.”
It was hard not to be pleased about that. “Well, yes, for me, too.”
“Good.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mouth, the touch gentle and unassuming.
Beneath the sheets, her toes curled. “Still,” she said, rallying her good sense. “I wasn’t supposing, you know…” God, how to say this?
“When I came to the cove I wasn’t supposing anything, either, Meg,” he replied. “So how about we stop concerning ourselves with expectations and just enjoy the day? I’ve become quite good at that.”
Since the surgery, he meant, and the second reference to it quelled her objections. She could have a picnic with him, she supposed. It didn’t mean anything would go further than that.
Another night in his bed wasn’t a foregone conclusion.
But enjoyment—that did seem to be foregone. Caleb had already proved himself a charming companion and that didn’t change as he coaxed her into exploring the cove with him, Bitzer at their heels. They wandered along the hiking paths winding around the hillside behind the cottages, finding evidence of the small creeks that kept the tropical vegetation lush.
She found herself telling him about her great-great-grandparents, Max Sunstrum and Edith Essex. The moviemaker and the ingénue. Their love affair and subsequent marriage were the stuff of legends. “Some accounts say he was so obsessed with her he made her quit acting. He didn’t want her to have any other leading man but him.”
“Isn’t there something about a missing piece of jewelry?” Caleb asked. “Given to Edith by her final co-star?”
They stopped in the shade of a palm tree, and the breeze made a silvery sound through the fronds. “An old Hollywood rumor,” Meg said. “Our family has never really bought into it. It’s purported to be a magnificent choker nicknamed ‘The Collar,’ inspired by the last movie made here, The Egyptian .”
“There’s Cleopatra’s barge and everything in that one, isn’t there?”
Meg glanced over. “You’ve seen it?” At his nod, she smiled. “When we were kids, we wished the barge had survived way more than some dumb necklace.”
“I can’t imagine growing up here,” Caleb said. “It must have felt like being shipwrecked on your own private island.”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Especially in the off-season when my sister, my parents and I were often the only ones here.” That’s when their mother would tell her stories about the merpeople and every day had felt enchanted.
After eating the lunch he’d provided—Caleb admitted to stocking up on deli stuff before moving in to his cottage—they continued their walk on the beach, starting at the tide pools on the northern end and strolling along the sand to the southernmost point, right in front of Beach House No. 9.
They paused there, staring up at it. “The numbers on the houses refer not to their geographical location, but to the order in which they were built. My mom always claims this one holds a special charm for lovers, though, just like in the song ‘Love Potion No. 9’.” Meg slanted a look at Caleb. “Sentimental stuff, huh?”
He
“I… well, something. People will be checking in today.”
“What time? How many?”
“Several families. But not until three this afternoon,” she admitted.
“So there’s plenty of time for coffee, breakfast, followed later by the picnic I’ve planned,” Caleb said.
Meg scowled. She should have told him an army was expected by ten! “Caleb…” Thinking back, she replayed the moment on Captain Crow’s deck when she’d offered to sleep with him. Hadn’t she made clear it was a single session she was after, a way to address and then eliminate the almost adolescent fascination she felt for him?
Damn, she realized she’d not been clear after all.
A flush crawled up her neck to her face. “I should have said…it’s not that last night wasn’t nice—”
“From my side of the blankets, it was damn fabulous.”
It was hard not to be pleased about that. “Well, yes, for me, too.”
“Good.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mouth, the touch gentle and unassuming.
Beneath the sheets, her toes curled. “Still,” she said, rallying her good sense. “I wasn’t supposing, you know…” God, how to say this?
“When I came to the cove I wasn’t supposing anything, either, Meg,” he replied. “So how about we stop concerning ourselves with expectations and just enjoy the day? I’ve become quite good at that.”
Since the surgery, he meant, and the second reference to it quelled her objections. She could have a picnic with him, she supposed. It didn’t mean anything would go further than that.
Another night in his bed wasn’t a foregone conclusion.
But enjoyment—that did seem to be foregone. Caleb had already proved himself a charming companion and that didn’t change as he coaxed her into exploring the cove with him, Bitzer at their heels. They wandered along the hiking paths winding around the hillside behind the cottages, finding evidence of the small creeks that kept the tropical vegetation lush.
She found herself telling him about her great-great-grandparents, Max Sunstrum and Edith Essex. The moviemaker and the ingénue. Their love affair and subsequent marriage were the stuff of legends. “Some accounts say he was so obsessed with her he made her quit acting. He didn’t want her to have any other leading man but him.”
“Isn’t there something about a missing piece of jewelry?” Caleb asked. “Given to Edith by her final co-star?”
They stopped in the shade of a palm tree, and the breeze made a silvery sound through the fronds. “An old Hollywood rumor,” Meg said. “Our family has never really bought into it. It’s purported to be a magnificent choker nicknamed ‘The Collar,’ inspired by the last movie made here, The Egyptian .”
“There’s Cleopatra’s barge and everything in that one, isn’t there?”
Meg glanced over. “You’ve seen it?” At his nod, she smiled. “When we were kids, we wished the barge had survived way more than some dumb necklace.”
“I can’t imagine growing up here,” Caleb said. “It must have felt like being shipwrecked on your own private island.”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Especially in the off-season when my sister, my parents and I were often the only ones here.” That’s when their mother would tell her stories about the merpeople and every day had felt enchanted.
After eating the lunch he’d provided—Caleb admitted to stocking up on deli stuff before moving in to his cottage—they continued their walk on the beach, starting at the tide pools on the northern end and strolling along the sand to the southernmost point, right in front of Beach House No. 9.
They paused there, staring up at it. “The numbers on the houses refer not to their geographical location, but to the order in which they were built. My mom always claims this one holds a special charm for lovers, though, just like in the song ‘Love Potion No. 9’.” Meg slanted a look at Caleb. “Sentimental stuff, huh?”
He
Similar Books
