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Chapter Eight
Hours later, after a day spent visiting the various beaches on the island, exploring the trails, perusing the gift shops and island market, climbing the lighthouse, and sitting in the peacefulness of the tiny yet gorgeous church, they finished their dinner well after sunset and made their way back to the ferry to return to Southport.
They'd eaten at a restaurant near the marina for convenience's sake, but Jacob had texted various options, including the private club on the far end of the island.
One call to John Shapiro would get them inside, but Everett didn't want the questions that would arise from the ability. Isabel was already suspicious and knew being able to get access to such a private club meant he had strings to pull and the means to do so. It seemed as though she hadn’t Googled him yet given her mob question, and he hoped to keep it that way as long as possible.
Her nervous chatter had faded as she'd grown tired, and he tucked her into his side when he saw her stifling a yawn. Over the last hour or so, her guard had finally lowered and she seemed to be more relaxed with him. "Did you have a good day?"
The warm, upward tilt of her lips told him all he needed to know.
"Yeah, I did. Thank you for buying me the sweatshirt. And humoring me when it came to getting the shells and sea glass."
"My pleasure." They looked like typical tourists, both in newly purchased outerwear to combat the evening chill as they ferried back to Southport. The temperature had dropped considerably, changing over from the beautiful eighty-degree day to somewhere in the lower fifties, though it felt cooler on the water. "Isab—"
"Ever—"
Both stopped and waited for the other to continue. "You first," he urged.
She tilted her head back against his upper arm, and he stared down at her beautiful face. The lights on the boat highlighted the angles and planes, the delicate arches of her eyebrows, and the fullness of her lower lip.
"I was just… I've talked all day. Tell me about you. What should I know about you?"
The softly spoken request held the weight of her worries. "What would you like to know?"
"A businessman?"
Smiling, he used his free hand to tuck a wind-tossed curl behind her ear. "Yes. Not a mobster. I began with a few startups after I graduated college, then moved on to takeovers. Some were friendly, some not."
"But nothing illegal, right?"
"Nothing illegal," he said, stroking his finger over her soft cheek.
"I'm guessing you're pretty well-off then, even if you don't act like it. Well, other than having a driver," she mused dryly. “And an assistant who travels with you.”
He didn't correct her statement, letting her process things however she wanted. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"
"Have you been married...before?"
"No. Never."
"I suppose if we weren'tactuallymarried, then you wouldn't be here."
Once again he didn't comment. But the question did make him stop and wonder.
If the chapel hadn't been fake… If he'd simply met Isabel, they'd had their fun, and then gone their separate ways...
Would he have come to find her? Pursued her as he did now?
The legally binding marriage had definitely added an aspect he hadn't considered, but the truth of the matter was she had thoroughly intrigued him.
Enough to want her regardless of their marital state?
Given his fascination with her, he believed so. No, heknewso. But how did he convince her of that?
"Do you have family?"
"My father. And a series of stepsiblings. I'm not close to any of them, though."
