JT didn’t know why he was nervous about what she thought of this space when he’d already shown her the house. Maybe because he spent more time here than in the house.

“Doesn’t it get cold out here during the winter?” she asked after moving to the wall of glass.

“No, I had them install the best HVAC system and the glass is double paned.” He slid the glass door open and stepped out on the back deck. He’d installed a deck on each level of the small building, but the upper deck was his favorite.

She stepped past him and walked outside. When the wind off the water hit her, she wrapped her arms around herself. He grabbed the throw blanket from the edge of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “It really is beautiful here.” She sighed.

He leaned against the porch railing and glanced out at the water. “Sunrises are my favorite.” He looked around, then his eyes rested on her face again.

“I’m sorry for whatever has caused you enough pain that you feel like you have to escape, but I’m not sorry you chose here to escape to,” he said after the sun had slipped behind the land and all the light was gone.

She turned towards him, her eyes scanning his in the darkness. He could tell she was withholding something from him, but once again, he didn’t want to probe.

“Come on, I’m sure you’re tired after a long day of travel.” He moved back to the glass.

They walked back towards the house in silence. When they reached the main yard, Bo joined them.

He noticed that his loyal dog ran up to Emma and demanded attention, which she gave to him freely.

Hearing her laughter as she pet Bo made JT smile.

“You’re going to spoil him.” He snapped his fingers before Bo could knock her over. When Emma stood up again, he noticed that the sad look that had haunted her eyes since he’d first seen her on the dock was all but gone. Silently, he praised his decision months ago to get the dog.

“You normally work at night?” she asked after stepping into the house.

“Yes.” He walked over and started washing the dishes by hand, and she came over to dry them.

“Do you write every night?” she asked, setting the dry dishes on the counter next to the sink. He motioned towards a cabinet and she slid them into place.

“No, not every night. Why?”

She shrugged. “What are you writing now?”

He smiled over at her. “I haven’t talked to anyone about plotting books before.”

“Why not?” She leaned against the countertop and noticed that he looked slightly embarrassed.

He shrugged as he shut off the water and dried his hands. “I guess it’s never come up before.”

She shook her head. “Really? I would think that you get asked all sorts of advice from other authors.”

“I steer clear of most people,” he answered honestly.

“Why? Why do you live on an island? Out here, by yourself?” She leaned a little closer. “Trying to hide something?”

He knew she was teasing him, but something stirred down in his gut. “The same reason you’re here, I suppose. Things can get a little too…”

“Crazy,” she finished for him.

He nodded once as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Overwhelming,” he added. “If I want to deal with the real world, it’s just a short boat trip across the water. I’ve kept an apartment there for the past few months since I’ve been helping… my mother out.”

“Is she okay?” Emma asked.

He turned to his coffee maker. Since it seemed they wouldn’t be going to bed anytime soon, he offered her a cup. “Do you have tea?”

He nodded. “Pick your poison.” He opened a drawer and showed her the display of single serve packs. She pulled one out and handed it to him. “Why don’t you go on in and sit. I’ll bring it into you.”

She walked through the kitchen towards the living room area, Bo at her heels. When he brought her tea, she had snuggled with the dog on the sofa and was reading one of his books.

She glanced up when he walked in. “Other than Crescent Creek, I haven’t read any of your books.”

He chuckled. “Mystery, sci-fi, and horror aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.” He handed her the mug of tea and smiled down at her.

Her eyes met his and, once more, he saw humor replace the sorrow and fear.

“That one”—he nodded to the book in her hand—“you might want to read during the day.” He sat next to her, on the other side of Bo.

“Yes, the opening scene is why Bo is up on the sofa with me.” She set the book down and ran her hands over Bo’s fur.

“He’s a ham. I doubt he’d protect you against alien creatures.”

“Is that what’s in this one?” She glanced back at the book in fear.

He chuckled. “It’s kind of nice, knowing someone out there hasn’t read everything I have written.”

She shrugged and sipped her tea. “I’m into romance.”

“Classic?” he asked, “or modern?”

“Both. Anything with romance in it. I suppose I’m what you call a typical romantic.”

“I have some up there.” He nodded to the shelves across the way.

“You read romance?” she asked, setting her mug down and walking across the room.

“I read anything,” he answered.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Even this one?” She showed him a copy of the latest erotic novel.

He smiled. “That was one of my favorites.”

He watched her face to see if she blushed, but instead, she studied the cover. “How is that even possible?” She tilted her head slightly.

He felt a sudden urge to readjust his sitting position. “Not sure, haven’t tried it myself yet.” He swallowed a drink of coffee and wished suddenly he’d put a shot of whiskey in it.

* * *

Emma kept her back to JT and hid her flushed cheeks as she tried not to imagine him doing to her what the male model was doing to the woman on the cover of the book she held. Setting it down, she took a few deep breaths as she glanced over his book collection.

“This is one of my favorites.” She took down a copy of Little Women. “My father read it to me when I was eight.”

He nodded. “Who were you? Meg, Jo, Beth, or Amy?”

She thought about it. “I suppose I was more like Jo than the others.”

“Tomboy?” he asked, his eyes running over her.

She nodded. “I can play princess, but I’m more comfortable in jeans and sweatshirts.” She walked over and sat down, holding the book in her lap. “My father owned a farm outside of Savannah.” She tucked her legs under her and smiled when Bo laid his head on her lap.

“Why didn’t you keep your southern drawl?”

“My first year in California, I kept it. After I was told I was no Reece Witherspoon, I dropped it.” She shrugged.

“Who told you that?” She could see his eyes grow dark with condemnation.

“It doesn’t matter. She was right. Keeping the southern drawl meant narrower role opportunities. So, I worked hard on losing it for three months.” There was a moment of silence. “What about you?” she finally asked. “You’ve probably had to make changes, other than your last name.”

“Writing is probably the polar opposite from acting,” he added.

“I’m not sure about that. Both deal with being someone else or making others believe they are. After seeing where you write…” She shook her head. “If others knew that wrote your dark stories in such a beautiful setting…” She let the rest of her statement hang while her eyebrows rose.

“Okay, you have me there.” He smiled and set down his empty coffee mug.

“Then there are the public viewings. We both have to dress up in stiff clothes and sell ourselves.”

“True.” He motioned for her to continue.

“We try to keep our lives, our real lives, hidden from the public eye.”

“Privacy is important.”

“Not all of us can buy our own islands.” She glanced around once more. It was still hard for her to believe they were miles away from anyone else. “How do you get electricity out here anyway?” she finally asked.

The change in conversation caused him to laugh.

“Wires, just like everywhere else.” He smiled. “They lay on the bottom of the ocean just fine. Of course, the original owners had to pay an enormous sum to lay them, but every year or so, I pay a guy to scuba dive down and make sure everything is where it needs to be. The boathouse also acts as a mini power station. Since I’ve been here, I’ve added solar panels and hope to wean the island off the grid completely by the end of this year.”

“Okay, I’m impressed.” She smiled.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?” She smiled down at Bo, who was snoring lightly in her lap.

“What other concessions have you had to make?” he asked.

“Not many.” She glanced over at him. “I haven’t slept with anyone to get a part.”

He shook his head. “That hadn’t… of course not,” he added. “Not what I meant.”

She smiled. “I’ve heard horror stories about some who have. It never ended well for them, so it was one promise I made to myself when I moved to California.”

“I didn’t hire you for… never mind.”

“Why did you pick me?” she asked.

“You fit the part,” he added, and her eyes narrowed.

“I thought we were being honest?”

He sighed. “You did. I mean, when I wrote Hannah Rodgers, it was your face I saw.”

She tilted her head. “Me?”

He nodded. “When you walked in, that day you auditioned, it was freaky strange seeing my first character come to life.” He waved his hand and she could tell he was more than a little embarrassed.

“That must have been…”

“Strange? Exciting?” He nodded. “Both. Of course, it was an added bonus that you could act better than most of the others who had auditioned.”

“Now you’re just playing nice.” She shifted slightly, causing Bo to glance up at her like she had just disturbed the best dream in the world. “Sorry,” she mumbled down to the dog, causing JT to chuckle.

“I don’t play nice with others,” he added. “Hence me owning my own private island.”

She smiled. “Okay, I’ll take the compliment.”

“You had already played a few notable parts.”

She nodded. “Some small supporting roles. Nothing that I’ve felt as passionate about as Crescent Creek. And nothing as big.”

“There were some parts you did that you didn’t fully get behind?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve made concessions yourself.” She sighed. “I mean, you have to go into town sometime. Surely people recognize you there?”

He nodded. “For the most part, but Silver Cove is a small town. During tourist season, I tend to stick to my own.”

“Someone mentioned you drive a ferry?”

“I do, sometimes. It usually sits in the boathouse.”

“Where is it now?”

“Todd parks it at the mainland when he’s covering for me. I rent a slot at the docks for it. I hate leaving it out in the weather, but…” He shrugged.

They were silent for a moment, then JT spoke.

“What about other concessions you’ve made?” he asked. “Mark?” Suddenly the past few months surfaced and she felt the tightness return to her chest. “I’m sorry,” he added immediately.

“No, you’re right.” She looked down at Bo and felt her eyes burn. “At first, I think it was the attention I enjoyed. I mean, after all, what girl would turn down a date with Mark Rayes?” She glanced around the room, not really seeing the warm cozy space.

“Was it all about advancing your career?” he asked, causing her to glance over at him again.

“No,” she started, but the look he was giving her told her he wanted the truth. “Like I said, it started out with me being flattered. Shortly after our third date, it turned sexual.” She avoided his eyes. “Which continued to be the driving force of the relationship for a while.”

“When did it change?” he asked.

For some reason, she felt like she could totally open up to JT. She hadn’t even admitted most of this to herself but talking to him about it felt easy.

Her eyes met his. “When I met you.”