They kept out of one another’s way. For the most part. It didn’t take them long at all to fall into a rhythm. A week went by with the two of them seeing one another over the coffee pot in the morning and at dinner at night. But in the hours between, they kept to themselves. Iris, for the most part, stayed in the room with the piano, working on songs. She figured she’d have an entirely new album ready for Owen by the time this whole thing was done.
Occasionally she read a few chapters of some book or another, or she just took time to stare out over the water. At some point every day, she could hear the clink of weights down in the workout room, or the rhythmic footsteps of Marcus on the treadmill.
But he went to bed after her and woke up before her. And in-between it was almost like he was a work machine. He poured over the thick files of information that had come along in the black backpack. And he worked tirelessly on a laptop that Iris supposed was protected and encrypted in one way or another. Every once in a while she heard him speaking, low, on his cell phone. But he never spoke about the case to Iris and most of her just didn’t want to ask.
But as the days piled up, there was one part of all of this that was really starting to bother her.
It was that tension that had her fretting in the doorway of the dining room while he sat with his head bent over some papers. She stared at the back of his head, at his perfectly trimmed hair.
Without warning, he swiveled in the chair to face her, pinning her with his eyes. Iris jumped in place, but forced herself to stay calm.
“Yes?”
She thought there might be a touch of humor in his tone, but she couldn’t be sure. He didn’t seem irritated with her, though, and that was a relief.
“I don’t mean to bother you.”
“You just meant to stare at the back of my head for ten minutes while you linger in the doorway?”
“Sorry.” Her cheeks flamed as she stared down at the fingers she twisted up in front of her. She wore an oversized white sweater that came down to the bottom hem of the navy shorts she wore. His words embarrassed her until a thought occurred. “But that’s not that different from what you do in the morning when I’m playing.”
She was right. He’d taken to drinking his second cup of coffee in the doorway of the music room, as he’d come to think of it, watching her work through song after song. Each one was more incredible than the last and they really did remind him of something, he just couldn’t figure out what. Regardless, it was very clear that she was tremendously talented and he enjoyed the opportunity to see her in action every day.
“Fair enough. But when I watch you play, I’m not busily working up the courage to interrupt you.”
She blushed, hard, and he almost cursed himself for embarrassing her. But then he realized that he liked the petal pink color of her cheeks way too much to regret anything.
“Well,” she swallowed and stepped into the room, the sunlight falling across her face. Her black eye had gone yellow around the edges and the worst part was more lavender than the deep wine color it had been in the days after she’d been hit. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”
His eyes on hers and his arms crossed over his chest, Marcus set his foot on the chair next to him and slowly slid it outwards. “Sure.”
Iris softly sat herself down on the chair and pressed her fingers underneath her thighs. Marcus did his best to ignore everything from the waist down. Seeing her in shorts was not good for his blood pressure. And she’d taken to wearing them every day. He wasn’t sure he could handle watching her hands touch her legs, so he anchored his eyes to her face. That, he found, wasn’t much better. She’d piled all that blond hair up on top of her head in a messy bun and the effect was that she looked like she was wearing a crown of some sort. She looked like a little golden queen, all fragile and somehow regal.
“Is my brother alright?” Her voice was small but steady, in a way he hadn’t yet heard it. Marcus suddenly got the distinct impression that as fragile as she seemed, she’d still spent a lifetime protecting her brother.
Eyeing her, weighing the level of honesty he was about to use, he decided she could take it. “We have barely any intelligence on him. My handler thinks he’s in Mexico right now. He disappeared about three weeks ago. After repeated interactions with the Kutros family. But we have no reason to think that he’s—”
“I know he’s alive,” she said, surprisingly cavalierly. She waved one hand through the air.
“How?”
“I can feel it,” she said, patting the space between her breasts gently. “Whether or not you choose to believe the twin thing, it’s real for me and Owen. I know he’s alive.”
Marcus continued to eye her for a second, nodded.
“What does the Kutros family do, exactly?” she asked like she didn’t want to know the answer.
“They’re gun runners for the most part. Occasionally they’ll smuggle some drugs if the haul is worth enough.” He paused. “As far as I can tell, your brother got mixed in with them because he borrowed money from the wrong people and talked his way into some mercy. Then suddenly he was all tangled up and over his head.”
“Owen,” she groaned into her hands. What the hell was wrong with him? She refused to acknowledge the guilt that gnawed at her. She’d long ago stopped loaning him money. It only fed his bad decisions. Apparently he’d found another way to get his hands on the dough he so desperately was always in need of.
“Isn’t he a millionaire? From all the number one hits?” Marcus asked.
Iris chuckled humorlessly. “He might be, if he knew how to hold on to even a penny of it. He’s an act-first-think-later type of guy. With very expensive taste.”
Marcus cocked his head to one side. “And you?”
“Well,” Iris knotted her hands together. “As just the songwriter, I don’t make nearly what Owen makes. But no, I don’t really spend it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Marcus shrugged. His eyes dropped to her foot as it tapped up and down on the ground. And then up to her lips that were currently being worried between her teeth. And then to her hands that twisted up in her lap. It suddenly occurred to him that though he’d been running 7-10 miles on the treadmill each day, she sure hadn’t. And neither of them had left the house in a week. She must be damn near coming out of her skin with energy.
“Walk or swim.” It was a statement, not a question, but he couldn’t find it in himself to turn his words softer.
“I’m sorry?”
“We’re either going for a walk or a swim. You choose. Before you fidget right out of your skin.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, immediately going completely still. “Is it bothering you?” She looked down at her formerly twisting hands as if they were traitorous betrayers.
Marcus sighed and rubbed at his eyebrows. “No. Nothing about you bothers me.” Except for all your damn short shorts. “But I can tell you’re wound up and it would be good for both of us to get out of here for a little while.”
Nothing about you bothers me. Iris sat still, stunned for a moment. Right into silence. Here she was feeling like the ultimate burden to him, doing her royal best to stay out of his way and then he goes and says something like that. What was she supposed to do about it?
“Um. Well. Maybe we can do both?”
“Sure,” he nodded, glancing at his watch. “We have a few hours before the sun goes down, so that’s fine. Meet you back down here in ten minutes.”
She watched him leave the room, presumably to go get his—gulp—bathing suit on, before she rose dumbly to her feet. Good lord. She was really going to have to get ahold of herself, but part of her still felt like none of this was real. She still felt that at any minute she might wake up in her bed in Pennsylvania. That Owen was going to call, to tell her that he was back from whatever vacation and that he wanted to get in some studio time. She expected to head in to the recording studio alongside him. With Jet, ugh, behind the glass, guiding Owen into more top ten singles.
But that wasn’t in the cards right now. She didn’t have a phone, a computer, no way at all to contact Owen. Who had apparently fled the country. Currently, Jet had absolutely no way of contacting either of them.
That thought put a little satisfied smile on Iris’s face. She kind of got a kick out of that. He’d be going insane. And after everything that he’d put her through, well, served him right to have to worry about her for a change.
She heard the floor creak above her and she jumped, started heading up to her own room to get ready. It was time that she surrendered to this completely, because there were no signs that the situation was changing anytime soon. She realized that besides his name, she really didn’t know a thing about the man that she was trapped in this house with for an indeterminate amount of time.
Nothing you do bothers me.
She heard the words again and it hit her all at once how silly she’d been. Tip-toeing around the house, pretending as if all of this was barely even happening. Sometimes it seemed like the only person she ever stood up to in her life was Owen. Not her mother and certainly not Jet. It was time to get a little backbone with this guy. What did she have to lose?
Iris pawed through the drawers in the room where Tia’s clothes were, looking for a bathing suit. She could be calm and cool and start a regular conversation. She could stop hiding from him like a mouse from a fox. She could, and would, form a camaraderie with this man who was charged with protecting her. She could make this duty of his be a joy for him. Yeah. She tugged on the bikini bottoms and ripped her shirt off over her head to tie on the top. She was gonna be charming and attentive and she was just gonna smooth this whole thing over.
Iris pulled a long t-shirt over the top of her bathing suit and called it a good job. She was far from a model in the swimsuit edition, but she’d do. She just hoped she’d get to repay this Tia woman at some point or another in her life. She was really helping her out on the wardrobe front.
Marcus waited at the foot of the stairs. He had a white t-shirt on and navy blue swim trunks. He wore no shoes.
“We’re just gonna walk on the sand if you wanna leave your shoes behind.” He handed her a beach towel that she threw over her shoulder. Glancing at her as he opened the sliding glass door that led to the back yard, he tentatively kept going. “Are you gonna need sunscreen or something?”
Iris looked up at him in surprise. “No, I tan pretty well. And besides, it’s February, I won’t burn, even if it’s warm.”
“Alright,” he shrugged, pointing the way toward a little overgrown path that apparently led down to the beach. “I never know what you pale people need.”
Iris picked her way down the path and glanced over at his bronze feet, they just looked so strong. So… capable. For some reason, she found herself blushing as she looked at the wide set of each toe. She cleared her throat. “Are you… not white?” she heard herself ask before she shut her eyes in horror and brought one palm up to her forehead. Good one, Iris. Way to smooth things over. Make friends. Make this not awkward. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ask it like that!” she blurted and was beyond relieved when he was laughing.
“It’s okay. In my experience, there’s never really a graceful way to ask that question. I’m just grateful you didn’t ask it in the first two seconds of meeting me, the way a lot of people do. Drives me nuts.”
Suddenly his hand was firm and hot on her elbow as he helped her step over a fallen log, gray and bleached from the salt and the sun.
“My dad is Greek. Real Greek. From Thessaloniki. Came over to the states when he was 22. And my mom’s grandmother was black. So, that’s why I always have tan skin, even in the winter. A lot of people consider me to be white, some people don’t.”
“Do you think of yourself as Greek?”
They were to the white, pillowy sand now and Iris groaned a little as she wiggled her toes into the warmth.
“No,” he answered immediately as he started the walk down the beach. “It’s a little rocky here in the water, but there’s a great place to swim a little further down. We can get a good walk in and then swim and walk back.”
“Alright,” she answered, a little stunned at how quickly and resolutely he’d answered her question. He obviously had no desire to talk to her about it. Which, why should he? He barely knew her.
Marcus cleared his throat and slowed his pace a little to match hers, he walked closer to the water than she did so when waves came they wrapped around his ankles and just kissed her toes. Her cute toes. They were small and neat and had little pink nails. He’d always been a sucker for pink nails.
For some reason, he found himself wanting to answer her question. He’d been asked that question before and he’d shut it down just as firmly, no looking back. It was a sensitive topic and he generally didn’t care to talk about it. Today, though, with her, he found words on the tip of his tongue.
“My dad and I, we don’t get along. We never have. And any kind of Greek traditions or heritage never really got passed down to me. And he didn’t really raise me. So, nah, I don’t feel Greek at all.”
Iris bobbed her head. She knew all about not getting along with a parent. “Are your folks divorced?”
“No. They’re together.” He squinted out at the ocean and then scanned his eyes along the tree line. Just walking along the beach, it was easy for her to forget that he was working right now. But he obviously was busy trying to make sure this situation was completely safe for her.
She furrowed her brow, took a deep breath and mustered the courage to ask her question. She would not be a mouse hiding from a fox! “But he didn’t raise you?”
Marcus glanced back at her. He was kind of shocked that she’d been able to work up the gumption to ask him that. And he was kind of shocked that he was about to answer it. There were very few people he would ever have spoken to about all this, and they’d known him long enough that they already knew all the answers. It struck him, suddenly, that he’d never really tried to explain this in his adult life. He’d never been close enough to someone, or wanted to try. He wondered now why this was the moment. Why she was the person? And as had become his habit over the past week, he concluded that it was all because of his self-imposed celibacy thing that he’d been doing for over a year now. He figured his body was so desperate for contact that it was abandoning his usual patterns and going for broke. Well. There wasn’t much he could do about that except grit his teeth and bear it. Because he wasn’t going to break his celibacy now. And certainly not with this wisp of a woman.
“I was pretty much raised by my friend Eli’s dad and my friend Jay’s mom. Their names are Ryan and Kat. And weirdly enough, I’m pretty sure they’re dating now.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Eli, Jay and I have been best friends since I was a kid. Maybe four years old or so. And I spent all the time that I could with them growing up. Things got so bad at my house when I was around twelve or thirteen, that I pretty much lived at one of their two houses. I was always sleeping over. And Kat and Ryan were pretty much splitting all parental duties between them. Even parent teacher conferences and that kind of thing. Ryan took me to doctor’s appointments and Kat talked me through my first break-up. They were really there for me. They’re my real family.”
“Wow,” Iris repeated. “I’m jealous.” She bent to pick up a shell and didn’t notice the way her oversized t-shirt lifted against the back of her thighs as she bent over, but Marcus did. “I’ve got you matched on the crappy family part, but I was never lucky enough to find a second family the way you did. It was always just me and Owen against the world.”
“Your parents not around? Here, I’ve got pockets in my swim trunks if you want me to carry that shell.”
Iris passed over the shell as she shook her head her head at his question. “They’ve both passed away. My dad when I was really young, I don’t remember him. And my mom a few years ago. But we didn’t get along when she was alive. And when she was dying, things just got worse.”
“I’m sorry,” he said in a voice so low it was almost lost in the rumble of the ocean. She wondered if it was intentional or accidental when the backs of their hands brushed briefly together as they walked side by side.
Iris shrugged. “It sounds insensitive to say water under the bridge, but honestly, that’s how I feel.”
Marcus eyed her for a second and she forced herself to look in his eyes. She was rewarded with a look of great surprise and familiarity. “That’s exactly how I feel. Everyone always acts like it’s the saddest story that I’m not close with my parents. But I’m over it. I have no desire to keep being sad about it.”
“Agreed.”
“And besides, I have parents. Ryan and Kat are the best parents I could have asked for. Ryan’s such a proud dad. You should have seen him when Eli won the Superbowl. I thought he was going to—”
“Wait,” Iris hissed as she roughly grabbed one of Marcus’s biceps with both hands. With more strength than either of them thought she had, she brought Marcus around to face her. The wind off the ocean caught in her long hair and floated it up in the air between them. If he hadn’t been so alarmed by her behavior, Marcus would have had to fight off the urge to rub some of the strands between his fingers.
“What?”
“You mean,” she began, each word pausing for a breath in-between. “To tell me. That your friend ‘Eli’, is ELIJAH BIRD? Superbowl-winning star quarterback?”
Marcus pursed his lips, not liking the expression on her face one bit. “Uh. Yeah.”
“Holy SHIT!” Iris yelled, color flooding her cheeks as she slapped her hands over her mouth and took a stumbling step away from Marcus. “Oh my god!”
Marcus furrowed his brow. He had not been expecting this. He felt his frown deepen even further when she let out an insane giggle as she scooped the hair off her face. “I take it you’re a Stingrays fan?”
“Pfff,” Iris waved her hand through the air in dismissal. “Please. I’m an Elijah Bird fan. Jesus. You mean to tell me that I’ve been staying in Elijah Bird’s beach house?”
“Quit saying his name like that!” Marcus snapped, full on scowling now. For some reason, hearing her call herself an Elijah Bird fan had launched Marcus into a terrible mood. When she showed no signs of letting up on the pink-cheeked, shocked hero worship, Marcus just grabbed her hand and continued tugging her down the beach.
“I can’t believe this. Oh my god.”
“Get ahold of yourself,” Marcus growled. “Show a little respect. You’re wearing his wife’s clothes right now.”
“They’re not married yet,” Iris said as she wagged a finger at Marcus.
“I know, I know. I’m the best man, for god sakes. I know whether or not they’re married. But they’re as good as married. So you can wipe that fangirl look off your face.”
Iris did no such thing. Actually, she was a little taken with the scowly, irritated side of him. He’d been so calm and collected the entire time that she’d known him. He didn’t like her losing her mind over his friend and she wasn’t exactly sure why. But he was still holding her hand on the beach, so she figured she was doing something right.
“You think he’d sign something for me?”
Marcus just growled and continued tugging her along, a whole step in front of her. “Get in the water,” he growled as he dragged them toward a small lagoon.
He was right that it was better swimming here. The blue water kissed along the white sand of the beach and the waves were much smaller here. She couldn’t see any rocks and the water was about hip deep for a long way out. It was perfect.
Still chuckling to herself, Iris carefully unfolded her towel so that she could lay out the second she got out of the water. When she turned back, Marcus was halfway through taking off his shirt. She quickly turned away from him as if the sight had burned her. Well, that answered her question about chest hair. Yes, he had a lot of it. And yes, it was perfect and manly and she really, really wanted to rub her cheek against it. And yes, just that half second glance at his partially naked chest had been enough to permanently kick her Elijah Bird celebrity crush to the curb. But was she going to tell Agent Marinos that? Hell no.
“Wait, how did you get a bathing suit?” Marcus asked from behind her.
Iris turned around, the ocean wind plastering the long t-shirt to her front. She cocked her head to one side. “I borrowed one from Tia. You think that’s okay?”
“Yeah, of course she’d share with you. But how in hell are you going to fit in Tia’s suit? You’re nowhere near the same size.”
Iris’s cheeks flamed as she cleared her throat. Men. He was really going to make her explain this. “Well, uh, we’re not the same height, of course. But we’re pretty much the same size…otherwise.”
Marcus lifted an eyebrow, as if he didn’t believe her and then shrugged, turning his back and giving her an eyeful of that golden, sculpted expanse. He waded into the water and Iris tugged her t-shirt over her head, quickly glancing down at the pale pink bikini she wore, to make sure that it did, indeed, fit her. It did. In fact, it looked great on her. It was a tad skimpier than she’d normally wear, but beggars can’t be choosers.
She knew why Marcus was confused about her size. Iris had the kind of boobs that could be smashed down to nearly nothing in the sports bras she’d been wearing throughout the week. But on display in a bikini, lifted and supported, she sported some very respectable C cups, if she did say so herself. And as for her curvy ass, well, she wasn’t completely sure how he’d missed it accept that she’d been wearing long sweaters and shirts that did their part to cover it. There was no covering it now, though.
She stepped toward the ocean in the skimpy bikini, extremely aware that every pale, lush curve of her body was on display in the bright sun. She resisted the urge to pull her long hair in front of her. I will not be a mouse hiding from a fox!
She’d taken a step or two into the water, just a bit chilly, and she felt two things happen at once. One, the cool water caused her skin to tighten all over, including across her breasts. She knew her nipples had gathered, to press against the thin pink fabric of the bikini top. And two, even though her eyes were on her feet in the water, she felt Marcus turn, she felt his gaze fall upon her. She felt that same heat that she always felt. But without looking up, which she didn’t, she had no way of realizing that this was an entirely different look than he’d been giving her.
Holy shit. God in heaven. What in the absolute hell was he supposed to do with this? Marcus tore his eyes away from the goddess walking through the water toward him and did the only thing he could think to do. He dove into the cool water and swam as fast as he could away from her. For just a few strokes at least. He needed a tiny bit of distance. He could feel the heat of her racing through his veins.
Unfortunately, closing his eyes against the salt water merely caused her image to pop up again and again. One foot lifting to step through the water, her hair floating all around her in the breeze. Her trim little waist flaring out into those curvy hips he’d been dimly aware that she had. But then that chest. Good lord those breasts. Where in the living hell had those come from? From the way her clothes had fit her, Marcus had been positive that she’d had a small chest. But what he’d just seen, perky and trying to press their way through that bathing suit top, had been a solid handful. And he had big hands.
Seriously. What the hell was he supposed to do? Finally, his lungs screaming, he came up for air. Tossing the salt water off his face and treading water, he glanced back toward the beach, expecting her to still be standing, knee deep in the water. She shocked the hell out of him when she came up for air two feet from him.
“You’re fast!” she remarked, rubbing water out of her eyes and grinning like crazy.
“So are you, apparently.”
“Swim team in high school. My favorite sport.”
He nodded. His training was the only thing that kept him from trying to make out her shape underneath the water. Instead he forced his eyes to scan over the beach, checking for anything amiss. He found nothing, just like he knew he wouldn’t. There was virtually no chance of them being found here.
“Wanna race?” Iris asked, one of her hands brushing his forearm as she circled them in the water to keep herself afloat.
Marcus found that all he could do was to nod.
“Alright. Back to shore then.” She paused. “But not out of the water yet. I’m not ready to get out.”
He nodded again.
“On your mark, get set, go!” she hollered, diving under the water and speeding away.
He followed suit, just barely keeping up with her. He was stronger and had better cardio, but he also had a lot more mass to drag through the water and she almost had him beat. He touched down just half a second before she did, but she didn’t seem to care. She came above water, her hair a dark blonde slick down over one shoulder, grinning like a loon.
She stood and the water fell away from her. They were less than hip deep right now and Marcus asked God what he was being punished for right now. The sun caught in each water droplet that raced down Iris’s chest, over her soft stomach.
Marcus, again, chose to dive under water, rather than lose his earthly mind, or do something that he’d surely regret later. Like take this woman he was assigned to protect and make love to her in the surf of Lotus Island.
He stayed under until his lungs screamed. He came up gasping. Again, she was right beside him.
“I’ll make dinner tonight,” she said, floating on her back and looking up at the blue, blue sky that was just beginning to take on that slightly melancholy periwinkle that happened an hour or so before sunset.
“Alright,” he said, allowing his eyes to skate over her while she looked away. Jesus. It was like looking at Aphrodite. “You know I don’t mind doing it though, right?”
“Sure. But Beau brought all those fresh groceries by and you’ve been doing it all week, so I figure it’s my turn.”
Marcus nodded and dove under the water again. His life just got so much harder. So much fucking harder.
You’re not good for women, he reminded himself for the thousandth time since he’d decided to become celibate. He’d withdrawn from women because all he ever did was make them sad. He was intense with women, in ways that he didn’t even really understand. He’d just been told, over and over, that he was too much, that it was like he took all the oxygen out of the room. That it was too intense. He didn’t understand it, but he’d come to hate it about himself.
And whenever he’d tried to be more… vanilla, the woman he was with loved it. Went crazy for him. But sooner or later, he ended up getting bored and he’d leave her. And she’d cry. And he’d feel like a dick.
Something about the way he liked to have sex was not normal? Or something? Honestly, he didn’t even know. He just knew that he had no desire to make anyone else cry again. Ever. You’re not good for women, he chanted in his head again as he took more strokes under water. Away from the woman in the pink bathing suit that had made him want to untie the strings with his teeth.
She was gentle and sweet and obviously mostly an innocent. There was no way she’d be able to handle him. Even if he could have her. Which he couldn’t. Considering he was assigned to her damn case. And he was the only person in the world who knew where she was. It was completely unethical.
He needed to back off and cool down and step back. This time he counted to 120 before he allowed himself to come up for air. It wasn’t long enough.