Clive slapped his keys into her hand. “We’ll get a cab. Do what you need to do.”

“Clive…”

“We’ve got your back, Lil. Always.”

With a watery and grateful smile, Lily ran for the parking lot so she could drive to the one place she swore she’d never return.

…

She wasn’t coming. He knew it.

Fuck, he knew it in his gut. The more he turned over her expression, and the expressions of everyone in that room, Marcus knew there was no way Lily would leave the dinner without doing damage control.

And he’d let his pride ride shotgun and publicly humiliated the woman he loved. And for what? The satisfaction of punching out the dick who had caused her so much pain in the past. It was immature. Childish. Selfish.

Marcus had wanted to claim her, when what he should have done was protect her. He still would have punched the idiot, but he didn’t have to grab her up and kiss her in front of the crowd. Seemed like the thing to do at the time, but he’d taken it a step too far.

Damn.

He kicked the deflated air mattress to the side, next to the rest of Lily’s goods and wares that he had come to retrieve. Then he headed upstairs, careful of the gaps and cracks in the flooring, and turned left into what was supposedly Essie Mae’s former bedroom. Tonight was as dark and spooky as the last night he was here, but he was so damned brokenhearted, he thought all his childhood nightmares—Jason, Freddy, and Pinhead—could have all appeared and Marcus wouldn’t even be able to summon up a good set of goose bumps.

He bent and picked up the device he’d stashed in the closet. He pressed a button and a tinny voice said one word.

“Go.”

“Yeah, Essie,” he said. “I’m going.”

He stood, bone-tired and husk-empty, turned… and encountered a beautiful pale-skinned, strawberry-blonde hovering in the doorway, wearing an emerald-green dress.

The sight of Lily nearly stopped his heart. He swore, and then put a palm to his chest. “You scared the shit out of me, McIntire.”

She shrugged then gestured to the recorder in his hand. “You’re a cheater.”

“Kind of.”

“That explains the voice,” she said, “but not everything else.”

Not the footsteps, the crashing sound, the fact that he and Lily had come together that night and several times since.

“No.” He shook his head. “Guess not.”

A small smile found her face in the dimness of his flashlight’s beam, and it was like the sun had come out after a year of darkness. His heart lifted. It had to mean something that she was here.

“I was afraid of more than this place.” She took a wary look around the room, as if waiting for something to jump out at them. But whatever activity had ramped up the night they’d first made love was not here. He could only feel Lily, only feel his love for her stretching between them like a strong band.

“I was afraid of trying again,” she admitted. “Afraid of being judged. Of people talking about me. I didn’t want to give them a chance to shun me. Not again.”

“Lily.” He took a step toward her, needing to touch her. She held up a hand and arched a prim eyebrow. He stopped in his tracks.

“I dare you, Black.”

His lips curved into a smile. “Dare me to what, McIntire?”

“Try,” she whispered in the surrounding darkness, “to only kiss me once.”

“That’s a bet I’ll lose.” Erasing the space between them, he caught her head in his hands and kissed her long and hard, until she was climbing him, clawing at him, messing up his hair, and making his pants too small in the crotch.

A creak that sounded a lot like a door swinging open echoed from another part of the house. He looked down at Lily in his arms and saw that her lust-filled eyes were quickly sobering.

“Maybe let’s do this elsewhere,” he suggested.

“Yes. Good idea.”

He took her hand, weaving their fingers together, and started down the stairs, carefully maneuvering her around the gaps. “My place or yours?”

“How about Hawaii?”

He paused at the front door. “Yeah?”

She nodded and grinned.

“My place first, though,” he said.

“And what about all that?” she pointed back to the discarded air mattress and other paraphernalia.

“We’ll get it next time,” he promised, and then hustled her out the door.

Epilogue

There were more umbrellas in Lily’s piña colada than there were dotting the semi-private beach laid out in front of her. She stood on a blanket of white sand framed by a turquoise ocean and a sea of palm trees blowing in the warm Hawaiian breeze.

She took a deep breath, coconut suntan lotion and fresh ocean air mingling in her senses.

“You’re such a tourist,” Marcus quipped from her left.

“I’m in Hawaii. I’m drinking what the locals drink.” She frowned at the massive fishbowl glass in her palm, already beginning to melt. “Since you’re a spoilsport, I brought you a beer.” She abandoned her drink on the small table next to her chair and walked over to the hammock where he sprawled, naked save for the jaunty board shorts riding low on his hips. She placed the ice-cold bottle on his abdomen and watched with delight as his abs clenched.

He sucked in a startled breath, clamping onto her arm as he pulled the bottle away from his body. He didn’t let her go, lowering her instead to his waiting mouth. “Vixen.”

She smiled. “Asshat.”

Their mouths met for a kiss that threatened to buckle her knees. Before she knew what was happening, she was being towed into the hazy, gauzy oasis of lust only he seemed capable of bringing her to. If she didn’t put the kibosh on this kiss, she’d haul him back to their cabana for some afternoon delight…again.

He pulled away from her first, and a stubborn protestation sounded low in her throat. His toothy grin would have better suited a predator with a pointy dorsal fin.

“Later, toots,” he said, hand trickling down her back to cup her bottom. “You’ve nearly worn me to a nub over the last two days alone.”

His fingers slipped beneath her bikini bottoms to touch one cheek. She stepped out of his reach. “Fine,” she said. “If you need a break.” She walked to her beach chair, knowing he watched her. She shouldn’t tease him. She needed a break, too. She ached in muscles she didn’t know she had. Sleeping with the sexiest man on the planet would do that to a girl.

He remained quiet, letting her have that last dig, then slid his sunglasses from his nose to his head and closed his eyes. She watched him in the dappled shade of his beachside bed, admiring the sexy way his hair brushed his forehead.

Since the night of the RSD dinner, the same night her ex tried to bully her and Marcus stood up for her honor, they’d grown closer. As often as possible, he made good on not letting her leave his bed. And she made sure she escaped to her own house at least once or twice a week. But just before this trip, she realized her lease was up. And she did not re-sign.

When he saw the paperwork on her kitchen table, and the fact that she’d checked the box that said she was not renewing, Marcus had pulled her against his body and kissed her deeply. It had sort of gone unsaid that when they returned from Hawaii, they would relocate the contents of Lily’s house to Marcus’s. Sometimes a kiss said so much more than words. And she hadn’t tired of learning and relearning the physical language between them. At this rate, she’d be fluent in no time.

“Macadamia nut for your thoughts,” Marcus said, bringing her back to present.

Lily lounged in her beach chair, an unread novel open against her stomach, her drink more liquid than slush. She blinked over at him. He was leaning across the hammock, arm outstretched, the nut between his thumb and index finger.