Mari watched through her favorite telephoto lens as his muscular body sliced through the water with what seemed like no effort at all. He swam parallel to the beach, fighting the current both directions as he glided lap after lap. She tried to count how many times he swam back and forth, but she ended up hypnotized by the rhythm of his powerful arms rotating through the current. She couldn’t help but wonder what arms that strong would feel like wrapped around her body and holding her tight enough that all of her worries would slide off of her shoulders onto those broad, muscular ones instead.
With a sigh, she zoomed in a little closer, watching the muscles ripple with the effort as he swam. The sun was warm on her back, but the breeze cooled her skin. She looked up and down the beach and saw no sign that he’d left a towel or a bag waiting for him—the same as it had been each day she’d watched him from her spot on the beach. She was staying just down the beach in a small villa that was more luxurious than anything she’d ever experienced.
The trip to Casa Blanca Resort & Spa had been a splurge, a treat that was intended to be a balm to her wounded pride while helping her find her groove again. She’d been knocked off her stride when she had least expected it. She’d spent a lifetime building her career only to watch it go up in flames without explanation.
Shaking off her melancholy, she looked through the viewfinder again only to find her favorite subject missing from the frame. Scanning back and forth, she spotted him immediately and gasped out loud when she realized he was moving toward her, no longer in the water, but on the sand. He moved with purpose on land just like he had in the water. Everything about him screamed confidence. The way he stood with his shoulders square, chest out. When he moved his strides were long, eating up the distance between them quickly. She scrambled to her feet, holding her favorite camera and lens combination in her arm like an infant.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out as soon as he was close enough to hear her and then immediately wanted to pull the words back.
He quirked one eyebrow up with a smirk. “What for?”
She wanted the beach to open up and swallow her right there. It was like that time the cute quarterback of her high school football team had asked her what time it was and she got so tongue-tied she’d blurted out the day of the week instead of the time. With courage she didn’t feel, she squared her shoulders and stuck out her hand in greeting. “I’m Mari Reynolds, and you are?”
Again she got a smirk for her trouble, but at least he took her hand in his much larger one and shook it. The handshake felt oddly formal considering he was almost naked, in swim trunks and nothing else, and she wore a tank top and shorts. “Brett Williams,” he answered and then glanced at the camera resting on her forearm. “Get any good shots today?”
Her cheeks got warm as she realized that he definitely knew she’d been watching him, but she was quickly distracted by a drop of water that dripped from his dark hair onto his shoulder, across his chest, past the dog tags that hung there, and down to his stomach. The scar that transected his bicep made her itch to touch it, both in comfort and in curiosity. But those abs…they looked good enough to eat.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat, pointedly drawing her eyes immediately back up where they belonged.
“Sorry.” She apologized again and wanted to kick herself. Why was she acting like a giddy teenager around this man? Oh yeah, because he was freaking hot, and she was finally realizing how long it had been since she’d feasted her eyes on anything as distracting as Brett Williams. She lived in New York City and worked with some of the world’s most elite models, male and female, but she’d never fantasized about running her tongue along any of their collarbones the way she was just now.
“That’s an impressive lens you’ve got there.” Brett nodded, and Mari couldn’t help but wonder if they were still talking about the camera. The lens had cost more than her first car, so he wasn’t wrong. She grabbed onto the topic and ran with it.
“Do you know about camera equipment?” She asked.
“A little, only as it relates to work. Are you a professional or ambitious amateur?” Mari really wished he had a towel, or a T-shirt, or something. She considered running to her villa to grab him one but didn’t want to break the spell or give him an opportunity to walk away before she got back. She’d just have to suck it up and try to focus…on anything besides that beautiful torso of his. In her mind’s eye, she was already picturing how she’d pose him to capture him with her camera.
“Professional, although if you checked my bank account, you might disagree.” Nervously she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and them immediately pulled it back toward her face. Don’t fuss with your hair, Mari, it telegraphs your weakness. In her mind, she heard her mother’s admonishment as if she were here to remind her in person. Brett watched her intently, and she had the feeling he did everything with intensity. That thought alone was enough to send her toes curling into the soft powdery sand beneath her feet.
“There’s more to being a professional than the income it generates. Lots of serious careers should pay better than they do.”
“Like being a soldier?” Once again her mouth ran ahead of her brain and blurted out what she hadn’t intended to say out loud.
Brett laughed at her blunder and nodded his head. “Yes, definitely, although that wasn’t the example I was thinking of.”
“But you are a soldier, right?”
“I was.” Mari wondered if she imagined the flicker of sadness that seemed to disappear from his eyes as quickly as it had appeared. She wished she’d caught it with her camera so later she could analyze it in private.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” she said softly.
“Pry or spy?” He winked as he said it and Mari felt the coil in her stomach that had first appeared the moment she spotted him swimming just off the beach wind a little bit tighter.
“I wasn’t spying really. I was just photographing the beach and noticed you. I couldn’t help but watch.”
* * *
Brett rubbed his fingers together to keep from reaching up to tuck that strand of hair back behind her ear. There was something about her that kicked up his curiosity. She seemed like a contradiction in herself, bold one minute and shy the next. Hiding behind her camera to watch him and then standing toe-to-toe with him in the sand calling out his military service without even knowing a thing about him.
He could count on one hand the number of people on this sun-drenched island that he had met since following his boss here and calling this part of paradise his home. He kept to himself more often than not, socializing only when the job required it. He knew he’d remember if he’d met Mari before, even if it had happened before he relocated. Yet, there was something about her that felt familiar.
Normally if he caught some random person photographing him, he’d be annoyed or pissed off. He’d always hated having his picture taken, but his years in Special Forces had made it more than an annoyance—it had made it a safety risk for him and his entire team if he was recognized. Now as a security specialist he had just carried on the habit, finding that if he was security for a celebrity or politician having his photo not end up in the paper or a magazine made everyone’s life a whole lot easier.
He’d walked up the beach intending to tell her to knock it off before he took her memory card out of her fancy camera, but as soon as he got a good look at her, the idea had vanished. Probably because his brain had only the minimum blood flow happening since most of it seemed to be heading south. But it wasn’t just that. She had an expression on her face he couldn’t quite describe. Lost, maybe? Although he’d be damned if he could tell someone what lost looked like. But yeah, lost was definitely what she looked like.
“Well, no matter what your bank account says you must have earned enough to pay for that equipment.”
She laughed, half-heartedly but still, it was hypnotic in its melody. “True, I suppose. But the real question is what did I sell in the process.”
That didn’t sound like a light-hearted conversation to be had on the beach under a swaying palm tree, so no matter how tempting it was to get to the bottom of that particular mystery, he let it go. He was almost dry from his swim, thanks to the sea breeze and the warm Florida sun. He knew he should head back up the beach because his least favorite part of his workout was still to come—running back home from the beach.
He hated to run. No two ways about it, running was his least favorite thing to do, which was why he ran to the beach, swam a dozen or so laps, and then ran back. More swimming meant less running. Sure, he still had to run—that was unavoidable—but he preferred to keep it to a minimum. But today it was more than just despising the run that kept him rooted to his spot. It was the temptation to push her hair back from her face, to lean in and let the soft floral scent she wore embed itself in his memory, and most of all to try to imagine how beautiful her midnight blue eyes might be if they weren’t haunted by that strange sadness he sensed about her.
“Are you staying at the resort?” It was nothing more than a polite question, he lied to himself. It wasn’t that he wanted to know where to find her again.
“Yeah, I’m in the Rockrose Villa.” She pointed over her shoulder to indicate the villa that he knew stood closest to the personal residence of the owners of Casa Blanca, Lacey and Clay Walker. All of the villas at the luxurious resort were beautiful in every way possible, but if he had to admit to having a favorite, it would definitely be Rockrose. The small, one-bedroom villa had always felt more intimate than the others to him. Maybe it was the size or the lack of a pool that afforded it a larger more private patio, but whatever it was, it suited his impression of Mari.
“Are you friends with Lacey and Clay?”
She tilted her head slightly to the side in a way that he found strangely endearing before answering. “Acquaintances more than friends really. We have mutual friends is probably a better way to explain it.”
He watched her for a moment and considered her answer, which was really more of a non-answer. “Well, I should let you get back to your photos.”
She looked around with a look of confusion creasing her brow. “Where is your ride?”
“No ride, just my own two feet.” He smiled and pointed at his bare feet on the sand.
“Are you staying at the resort, too?”
“No, my house is just up the shore. Lacey and Clay are nice enough to let me run down their beach.”
“You’re going to run back home?”
“Yup, I do it every day, so if you’re out here photographing the beach about this time again tomorrow, you might just see me again.” He gave into temptation and tucked that stray strand of hair behind her ear before he turned and ran down the beach. His fingertips tingling was a pleasant distraction from how much he hated running.
* * *
Mari stared at the letter that had been delivered to her apartment a few weeks ago even though she’d read it so many times she more than had it memorized. Why were they doing this to her? How could this be happening? How could anyone truly believe these things about her? She folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Her chest was tight, her throat raw with the tears she hadn’t shed.
Her career was going up in flames and she had no idea what to do about it. How could she fight an enemy she couldn’t even name?
Who was responsible for this? That was the question she wanted to be answered more than anything else. Finding out who it was would help her find out the reason why, or at least that’s what she hoped.
She glanced at the counter where her favorite camera and lens waited, ready as always to help her capture something. Usually her palms would be itching to grab it and walk around this beautiful resort to see what pieces of beauty and wonder she could find. But now the idea left her cold. Truth be told, the thrill of taking the perfect photograph was harder to find now. She’d chalked it up to no longer being a rookie and having a few years’ experience under her belt. She was afraid to examine it more closely than that because if she wasn’t a photographer anymore, she didn’t know what she would do. Being a photographer was all she’d ever wanted to do. What had started out as an obsession with a cheap camera had turned into her coping mechanism, and the camera had become her talisman.
She liked the world a little better from behind a camera. If she was feeling insecure—which was most of the time—hiding behind a camera was a good way to blend in with the background and avoid awkward conversations. And then there was her favorite part of the whole process…editing the pictures. In a quiet room, late at night, just her and her computer screen for hours and hours on end. That was where she truly lost herself in the art of what she loved to do. It was where she could analyze and dissect an image to figure out what she loved or didn’t love about it. She could photograph something and then in a split second it was gone, but on her computer screen she could study it, figure out what made it tick, understand it in her own time.
A quiet knock sounded at the door, drawing her out of her reflections. Her heart rate kicked up a little at the idea that it could be the guy she’d talked to on the beach a few days earlier. She’d watched for him every day hoping to catch a glimpse of him again like he’d promised her she would, but she hadn’t seen him again since. Crossing the room she opened the door to find Lacey Walker on the porch.
“Oh, hello.” Mari had never considered herself very good at the social thing. More often than not she tripped over her words or said the wrong thing.
“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you.” Lacey’s strawberry blond hair hung loosely around her shoulders and moved gently in the breeze from the beach. She was a few years older than Mari and her skin bore the evidence of living in sunny Florida, her fair complexion dotted with freckles.
“That’s okay, it’s no bother,” Mari answered but couldn’t help but wonder why the resort owner would be paying her a call.
“I wanted to invite you to a little get-together we’re hosting tonight at the Tiki Lounge here at the resort. It’s nothing fancy or formal, just kind of a last minute fundraiser we’re throwing together to benefit Heaven’s Helper, the local food bank.”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Mari grasped for any excuse that would allow her to not attend the party and avoid offending her hosts.
“I know you haven’t done much socializing since you’ve been here, but this will be a small group and it’s very casual. I really hope you come.” Lacey seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing on. “It’s none of my business, of course, but it’s not much of a vacation if you never leave your villa, is it? I don’t know what brought you to Barefoot Bay, but I would hate for anyone to leave without having at least one amazing memory to look back on.”
Mari sighed and admitted defeat. “Sure, I’d love to come. What time?”
“Seven. We’ll have cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. See you then!” Mari watched Lacey walk off the porch of her villa and head back up the beach toward her personal residence.
She wished she’d made an excuse not to go. She wasn’t up to being social and she had no idea what she was going to wear. She wondered how many people would really be there. Hopefully when Lacey said a small group, she meant a really small gathering—like maybe Mari and two other people if she was lucky at all. Which she very rarely was, and almost not at all lately.
She should go for a walk, the sun and sea air always lifted her mood. Maybe she’d get sunburned and that would give her the out she needed to blow off the party. She could send a check—okay, it would have to be a very small check—to donate to the food pantry with her excuse.