A bird perches in the broken window above the giant front doors. It warbles at me as I walk by crunching on broken gla.s.s in your borrowed flip-flops that are way too long and wide for my feet, but better than the platform heels I arrived wearing.

The scent of last night's fire lingers in the lounge. I find you out on the patio with coffee, fresh fruit and crusty bread. "I haven't seen a kitchen," I say, taking a seat beside you, "but you keep turning up with food."

You scoop pieces of cut-up fruit into a bowl and set it in front of me. "You don't need to be in a kitchen. I'll wait on you while you're here. You're my guest after all." You pour a cup of coffee and add two creams and one artificial sweetener, just like I like it.

"Did you make notes while you watched me at the coffee shop?" I take the mug and sip. The hot coffee goes down like liquid Heaven.

Your neck flushes slightly, and your eyes fall to your lap. "No notes. I have a good memory."

You're punishing yourself with enough guilt that I feel terrible mentioning it. "Thank you." I pick up a piece of melon with my fingers and pop it into my mouth. Juice runs down my chin. There are no napkins, so I wipe furiously as I chew.

Your fingers join mine, wiping juice off my chin as you chuckle. "The watermelon's overly ripe. I should've warned you. And I couldn't find any napkins." You lick your fingers, and I imagine their sweet taste in my mouth as I suck the juice from them. My expression has to give me away, because you reach over and run your finger across my lips. When you take it away, I run my tongue over the same spot.

If you lean forward to kiss me right now, I won't stop you. If you keep going, keep touching me, I won't stop you.

"I won't..." You shake your head, reading my mind. "It has to be you."

The sun glints off your hair, riding the dark waves to your forehead. "What if I can't?" I ask. Making the first move has never been my strongpoint. I'm used to l.u.s.ting at a distance and pining away unsatisfied until the guy loses interest. I always hold back. What if I give away what I'm feeling and get turned down? I don't set myself up for rejection. It's a fault of mine-I'm a successful overachiever because I don't take risks.

You shrug. Your lips quirk down. "Then you can't." You cut a slice of bread from the loaf and slather strawberry jam on it before handing it to me.

"How did all of this get here?" I ask, gesturing to the fruit, coffee, bread and jam. "If I'm here as a result of your desperate impulses, how is this place stocked with food?"

"I called my a.s.sistant on the way down." You pop a grape in your mouth and smile, proud of your ability to stock a kitchen on a moment's notice.

I do find it impressive. "So, I read one time that when you inherited Rocha Enterprises, it was only a handful of apartment units and one strip mall. Is that true? Did you make it what it is now?"

You sit back and take a sip of coffee, propping your foot up on your knee. "My grandpa left me the strip mall and my sister the three apartment buildings. My dad didn't want the ha.s.sle of rental properties. He was an accountant and had a job he was comfortable doing."

"Now you have an international enterprise worth billions of dollars." I can't help blinking when I look at you, thinking about your success, how brilliant you must be in business. It's like staring into a ball of fire. You intimidate me on so many levels.

You watch your finger flick a crumb of bread off the table. "Yeah, for all the good it does me."

You're the most tormented man I've ever met. "You don't enjoy your wealth?"

You turn your eyes on me. "I enjoy that it got me here with you." You stand and sit your mug on the table. "Care for a tour of the island?"

Just when I'm starting to scratch the surface of your past, you change the subject. I take the last sip of coffee in my cup and reach for your hand. You watch our fingers interlace. It's a start and all I can manage for now. You squeeze tight and pull me up off my chair. "Watch where you step. There are snakes."

"Snakes?" These flip-flops don't seem like such a good idea anymore. Spiked heels would be much better for stepping on snakes.

"The island's wild. Nature's taken back over in the seventy-some years n.o.body's been here."

"There'll be spiders, too," I say, more to myself as a warning than to you.

You laugh. "I saw a big one inside this morning, but don't worry, I killed it."

My skin crawls, and I shiver. "Don't tell me that. I won't sleep tonight."

"You'll have a long night then. You'll need something to occupy your time." You open and close your hand around mine. I look at you out of the corner of my eye and see you smiling, waiting for my reaction.

"I'm sure I can find enough movies on T.V. to get me through until morning." I open and close my hand around yours, making you laugh.

"Ha. No movie channels. We barely get local stations. We're in the middle of nowhere if you haven't noticed." You tug me through the wrought iron gate and into an overgrown jungle of swamp gra.s.s, trees roots and vines that tug at my ankles. "We'll need to get a crew out here to clear most of the island. I was thinking we should leave the far eastern edge wild though. How does that sound?"

We'll need a crew? We should leave the eastern side wild? Who do you mean by we? "It's your island. Sounds good to me."

You press your lips together and exhale loudly out your nose. "If it's just mine..." You shake your head. "Like you said yesterday, a rundown hotel on a piece of land in the middle of the swamp does me no good. I'm not invested in this one to make a profit, Rachael. You love this place as much as I do, don't you?"

I glance back at the three-story, white, stucco hotel with its red tile roof and exposed rafter beams. The long windows are covered by black shudders propped open, looking like they're yawning, waking from a long sleep. "It's amazing. There's so much..." I can't find the right words. "It's alive."

I glance up at you, and the validation is written on your face. Validation for doing whatever you had to do to get me here with you-here at the hotel we both love that deserves nothing less than the two people who dream of bringing it to life again.

You close your eyes for a moment and slightly nod before tugging me along again through the tall gra.s.s. "So, we'll leave the eastern edge wild. A lot of the interior work we can do ourselves. Are you up for painting and helping me replace some windows?"

This has to be a test. Instead of approaching me from the standpoint of an employer offering a job, your new angle is to team up and make this a fun, friendly renovation. "Merrick, I can't stay. You know that."

Your arm circles my shoulders. "You can. I told you, I took care of everything."

"How did you take care of everything? What did you tell my mom? Shannon? I'm still finishing up an internship, you know."

Your chin jerks up in annoyance. "Internship. Please, Rachael, don't tell me you turned down my offer because of your internship. My a.s.sistant contacted your roommate and let her know you'd changed your mind about my offer and you're spending time in Florida to solidify your decision."

"Nice cover story. And what about my mom?" Irritation tangles with amus.e.m.e.nt inside me.

"Your mom's on an extended European cruise with your aunt. I talked to her personally. I let her know it was a perk for you joining me for a short time in Florida to consult on the Turtle Tear Hotel renovation."

"What?! She's on a cruise?" I yank your arm and make you face me. "What did you tell her, exactly?"

You smile with your entire face, reveling in my shock and laughing softly. "On our way down here, I had a nice talk with her. I told her it was last minute, that I escorted you down here, and I knew your concern for leaving her. I asked if she would have anyone to join her on a vacation-it was the least I could do for taking you away for a while."

I stand looking up at you, dumbfounded. "Everyone knew I was coming here except me."

You tilt your head. "You were the last to know."

You did take care of everything. My mind is blank, because I honestly have no idea what to make of all of this. n.o.body would be worried or looking for me. What if you really had intended to hurt me? The sudden realization that I was taken away so easily sends waves of panic from my back to my chest. I try to tell myself to be calm. I'm not in danger. Don't think of what could have been.

"What are you thinking?" you ask.

I throw my hands in the air. "I have no idea what to think."

"Then don't." You hook your arm through mine and we begin walking again. "I'll show you where the helicopter lands."

Everything about the past few days is surreal.

I'm here with you, Merrick Rocha, on Turtle Tear Island.

My mom is on a European cruise that you sent her on.

I have a happy mom on a dream cruise, my dream hotel renovation and you...my dream man? I'm not certain, but I think I would feel that way if I let myself forgive you.

Chapter Six.

We stand in the center of a clearing beside a black helicopter. The tall gra.s.s around us has been blown over. It lies flat on the ground. "It's the only spot on the island where there are no trees. I was afraid it might be a marsh when I first landed the helicopter here."

"When was that? How many times have you been here?"

You pat the side of the helicopter and lean against it. "About two years ago. This is my third time."

Third time's a charm. Funny, I've only slept with my high school boyfriend and my ex-boyfriend, Lance, who I met my second year in college and dated for two years-you'd be my third. Experience isn't on my side.

I run my eyes up your strong legs, over the lines of your chest where your t-shirt hugs, down your well-defined arms-I can't imagine how good they would feel wrapped around me.

I want you to be my third. If I get the courage to make a move, I have to be sure it's more than just s.e.x. I'm not a one-time and done kind of girl. I'd be crushed if I got past how we started and gave myself to you only for it never to happen again-if that was all you wanted.

"The island's three miles in circ.u.mference, right?" I need to get my mind off of you and me and all that implies.

"It is." You step toward me and hold out your hand. "I've never been all the way around. Let's go explore."

There are a lot of things on this island I'd like to explore.

My fingers tingle as I take your hand. We head to the far side of the clearing and duck into the trees. "Whoa. How are we getting through here?" Mangrove roots arch and turn, forming cage-like structures at the base of each tree.

"We climb and watch for water. I don't want you sinking." Your hand slips up my arm and clamps down just above my elbow. "Hold tight."

I twist my fingers in the side of your t-shirt and follow you, stepping where you step. You help me up and over the mangrove roots. It takes us a while, but finally, we emerge from the tangled trees into tall gra.s.s that gives way to a sea of water lilies.

"There's water under there," you say, pointing to the lilies. You grip me even tighter. "I don't want to scare you, but watch for gators. You never know."

My eyes skirt around us, delving into the tall gra.s.s and lilies. "Maybe we should go back."

"Look over there," you say, ignoring my suggestion. "It's a boat house."

The ramshackle wooden structure looks like an abandoned shack to me, not a boathouse, but I step lightly behind you through slick mud, admittedly curious about what's inside.

Bugs buzz in the trees, and the relentless sun beats down on my face. It has to be nearing noon. I slip; one foot shoots out from under me. You lunge for me and pull me against you before I fall.

"Thanks." I'm pressed into you, your hands flat on my back holding me tight. Your eyes are hazy, expectant.

I reach up-my hand shakes-and brush a curl back from your forehead. I caress your cheek with my eyes; run them over your nose and down to your lips. Should I?

In my hesitation, you to set me back on my feet before I have a chance to act. "Close one," you mutter. I'm not sure if you mean my slip, or the almost kiss.

You forge ahead the few yards to the boathouse and peer inside. "Hey! Looks like we're catching our dinner."

I catch up and find you digging around through fishing gear inside a big canoe. "I thought you said the kitchen was stocked."

"We're on an island!" You're beaming holding a net in one hand and a fishing rod in the other. "Let's get out on the water and see what we can catch."

I can't help but laugh at your exuberance. A flash of what you were like as a young boy comes to mind. All curls and big brown eyes. "Did you go fishing with your grandpa when you went camping?" I step in the canoe beside you and pick up a red and white bobber.

"Yeah," you say bending and opening a tackle box. "My sister was like the fish whisperer. Every time her bait hit the water a fish would jump on." You take a rusty hook out of the box and hold it up examining it.

"You weren't as lucky?" I toss the bobber up and catch it.

You chuckle. "I have c.r.a.p luck at fishing. Let's hope you're better."

"Don't count on it. Thank G.o.d for grocery shopping a.s.sistants, huh?"

Your wide grin mesmerizes me. You narrow your eyes, holding a question in them.

I lift my brows. "What?"

"I hoped I could make you happy by bringing you here. I guess I never realized that I'd get something from you."

Now I narrow my eyes at you. "What are you getting from me?"

"I haven't smiled this much in a long, long time."

"And I haven't even kissed you yet." The words slip out before I realize what I'm saying. My eyes widen, and I suck in my lips.

You laugh and pull me in for a hug. "I'm glad it's on your mind at least. I've been dying to know what's been going on in there." You playfully tap your knuckles on top of my head.

"Glad I gave that away," I mumble, making you laugh louder.

Out on the water, you cast your line with a shiny fake bug on the hook for bait. The boat rocks, and I grab the sides. You watch me, relaxed and amused.

Fortunately, we only found one reel, so I'm off the hook for the fishing part of this expedition. Instead, I slip to the bottom of the boat and stretch my arms and legs out in the sun hoping I don't burn to a crisp. Water laps at the sides of the boat. A fish jumps. Birds fly high overhead calling to each other.

"Content?" You balance the pole against your bench and lean back to wait for a bite.

"Why would you say that?" I can't give you satisfaction for dragging me here yet.

You fold your arms over your chest and quirk a smile. "You sighed."

"Could've been a sigh of irritation." I glance away from you then back. I can't stop looking.

Your dimples deepen. "No, it was contentment." You mimic my sigh and thread your fingers behind your head. "I could live here. Maybe I won't leave."

"Don't you have responsibilities? A little business to run?" I nudge your leg with my bare foot.

Your gaze shifts out over the water. "I've been thinking about retiring."