The blonde wandered over, catching the tail end of the conversation. "Story? What story?"

"Diane, this is Rylee."

Diane reached across the table. Rylee wiped her hand on the tablecloth before shaking.

"Rylee's a dogwalker," Wash said, a smile breaking out, "and Logan is famously afraid of dogs. He squared off with one when he was a kid and came up on the short end of the stick."

"Match made in heaven." Diane lifted her drink in tribute.

They whirled away, captured once more by the music. Some of the others rolled up their pants legs and ventured out into the dark water.

"You were attacked by a dog?" Rylee asked.

"It was a long time ago." He stood. "Wanna dance?"

"I ate so much, I'm not sure I can even walk."

"Sure you can. Or let's test the water."

"All right."

They went to the water's edge, the cool wet rush enveloping their ankles. Logan tried to coax her farther, but she pulled at his hand, tugging him back. He bent low, scooping his hand under the waves.

"Don't do it!" She scrambled back.

A jet of water leapt up and she ran away, laughing. He splashed more at her, but she kept a safe distance. His jeans were wet to midcalf, his shirt billowing in the wind, blown tight around his muscled chest and flat stomach.

He came out of the water holding his dripping hands out in a conciliatory gesture. The firelight caught his eyes as he advanced. They shared a look, then their fingertips touched, his wet hands trailing up her forearm, cupping her elbows, drawing her gently forward. She, on tiptoes, closed her eyes just as their lips touched.

It couldn't have lasted forever, but it felt that way. She imagined them reclining in the surf like in that old black-and-white movie, their limbs intertwined as waves crashed around them. She pressed her hand to his rough jawline, arching her back as he tightened his arms around her. He lifted her gently off the ground like she was weightless, floating.

Off in the distance, Wash howled in approval. The others gave them a round of applause, interrupting the moment.

She pulled back in surprise, unaware the fire had illuminated them against the dark background of the night sky. Logan allowed her feet to touch down but didn't release her.

His eyes searched hers, as if he'd just discovered something unexpected, as if he wasn't sure what to do in the aftermath. "You're beautiful."

Wash called out, "Come on now. Keep it up and you'll have to get a room!"

They broke off, now bashful, returning hand-in-hand to the ring of light around the fire. Wash came up to Logan, slapping him on the back. His companion Diane gave Rylee a friendly but almost envious look.

"All of a sudden," Logan said, slipping his arm around her waist, "this party has gotten old."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

They said their good-nights, making their way back up the beach, a few of the others following suit. At the car, he paused to wring the water from his pants, producing a fresh towel from his gym bag so they could brush the sand from their feet. She was almost reluctant. She wanted to keep the sand as a souvenir.

In the car, he curved his hand round the back of her neck, threading his fingers into her hair and drawing her close for another kiss. It felt like forever again, and must have been, because the kiss only ended when Wash, fresh from the beach and unaccompanied by the blonde, tapped pointedly on the driver's window.

"I thought you were leaving."

"We are now," Logan answered, turning on the ignition.

As they drove, he found her hand. She turned toward him, surprised to find him watching her.

"Logan." His name felt different on her lips somehow. More . . . intimate. "Keep your eyes on the road."

She studied the lines of his face. The slope of his nose, his chapped lips, his chin, the pulse in his neck. An undertow of longing pulled against her resolution. Feeling the weight of his hand in hers, she knew she needed to be honest with him.

She turned the radio down. "We've started something."

His thumb traced her hand, exploring every dip, every swell. "Yes."

"I . . . I wasn't planning on it."

He kept his eyes on the road. "Me neither."

Moistening her lips, she took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is, I can't start something."

"Why not?" He glanced at her. She tried to slip her hand free, but he tightened his hold. "Don't pull away, Rylee."

"I have to."

"Why?"

"It's complicated. I'm not even sure I can explain it."

"Try." He stroked her palm.

"It goes back. Way back."

They rode in silence again, her heart keeping time with the thrumming of the tires. He drew her hand to his lips, tasting, nipping, kissing. Singling out each knuckle like he'd never known a hand before.

A ball of desire she'd kept hidden even from herself shattered into a million pieces, scattering fragments of yearning throughout her body. She shivered, goose bumps covering her arms, her legs, her chest.

"Logan." Her whisper a plea. For what, she wasn't sure.

He lowered her hand, resting it against his thigh.

"I'm afraid."

He frowned. "Of me?"

"Of me."

The car slowed. Whether he did it on purpose, she didn't know.

She pulled against his hand again. This time he released her.

"My granddad, Nonie's husband?"

He nodded.

"Well, he took off when my dad was a teenager, leaving Nonie at a time when single parents weren't at all the norm. Her family had money, so she and my dad were okay financially, but emotionally- from what little Nonie has told me-my dad was never the same."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea."

She looked out the window. They were crossing the Ashley River, leaving the island and heading toward the city. "When I was five, my dad did the same thing to my mom. One day he was there, the next he wasn't." She looked down at her hands. "Two days after he left, she overdosed on sleeping pills. We don't know if she did it by accident or on purpose."

He ran the back of his fingers against her bare arm. "Two days is pretty quick to lose all hope. How could she be sure he wouldn't come back?"

She stared at him, completely taken aback. "I don't know. I never really thought about it. But, yes. That does seem kind of strange."

He turned onto Broad Street. "So now you're afraid of what? That if we get serious, I'm going to do the same thing?"

"It's not you, Logan. It's me." She crossed her arms. "Monroe women can't seem to hold their men. That's all."

He wove through the streets of the historic district, finally pulling up in front of the Davidsons' house. He parallel parked, then turned off the ignition.

"You brought me to Toro's."

"Yes."

"You didn't have to. I could have come over after you took me home." She put her hand on the door handle.

"Rylee?"

She paused.

"Just because you're a Monroe doesn't mean you're an automatic candidate for abandonment."

Her eyes moistened. "You can't tell the future, Logan."

Placing a finger at her chin, he turned her toward him, wiping a tear that trailed down her cheek. "No, I can't, but I can tell you this. I'm not your granddad, and I'm not your dad. When I find the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, it'll be for the rest of my life. Death do us part, just like the vows say."

Pulling away from his touch, she opened the door and fled before he could say any more.

He leaned against the hood of the car, thinking of the manuscript pages waiting back at his apartment. The book he wasn't writing.

He shouldn't be here. Waiting for her to emerge from the David-sons' house. Waiting to be near her again. But he was.

He ran a hand through his hair. Her being in cpd's sights might be inconvenient, but nothing he couldn't cope with. This abandonment thing, though. That was a problem.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. The incoming number was blocked.

"Woods." Marcel Gibbon's voice. "Half an hour. Washington Park."

"You sound funny. Is everything all right?"

"Half an hour-"

"No, wait. I can't get there in thirty minutes. Make it an hour."

"You can make it," Gibbon said. "Bring the girl."

The line went dead. Rylee came out of the gate. Toro immediately growled, showing his teeth.

Logan froze.

She gave the leash a quick jerk. "Bad dog! This won't take long, Logan. I'll be back in no time."

"I'll walk with you."

"You don't have to. I know you don't like him."

Pushing away from the hood, he fell in beside her. "Keep him on his side of the sidewalk and we'll be fine."

No response. Not even a smile. He sighed.

They walked in stiff silence. He brushed her hand. A block later, he hooked her pinkie with his. When Toro stopped, Logan intertwined his fingers with hers and tugged her to him.

Nuzzling her ear, he caught a tiny hint of the fragrance she'd had on when he first picked her up. "I'm sorry, Rylee. I didn't mean to make you mad."

She looked up, her eyes luminous, distraught.

"It's okay." He cupped her cheek, brushing her lower lip with his thumb. "We'll just take it slow. One day at a time. Okay?"

Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

Moving his hand to the back of her head, he lowered his mouth.

They'd barely touched when Toro gave a bark. She pulled back and patted the dog.

The mastiff led them down an alleyway, finally emerging at the waterfront. They climbed the steps and walked along the bulkhead.

The sound of the waves along the wall, the salty, flowery scent of the wind, caught them up in a momentary reverie.

He glanced at the mansions lining East Battery. "Rylee?"

"Hmmm?" A lazy breeze stirred the fabric of her dress.

"I . . . I was wondering about that house, the one your grandmother called home."

"I was wondering about that, too." She looked at him in surprise. "Those old pictures, I haven't flipped through them in years. The ones of my parents and me, I've memorized them all. But the older ones, not so much. I never really paid attention to that house before-just the people in the photo. But, now it's stuck in my head."

"Do you know where your parents lived when you were little?"

"Somewhere around here, though I don't know exactly which house. Nonie hated to talk about anything relating to that time. She'd get really short with me and stay mad for days if I even brought it up. When I got old enough to insist, she was so confused, I never could get a straight answer." She sucked in a quick breath. "Do you think that might be it? Do you think that's a picture of my house?"