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Shock stung Darcy like the spines of poisonous red coral. The sun gleamed off Max’s bronzed skin, but his body seemed frozen in ice.
Darcy rolled to her side and let her hand fall on his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t move or touch her back, other than the forceful slug of his heart under her hand. “I went a little crazy that first year after Eva and the baby… I did some things I’m not proud of before I found focus.”
“To lose someone you love is horrible, but to lose your child, the promise of a family at the same time—you had a right to go more than a little crazy.” What would it be like to be loved so fully by this intense man?
Max jerked upright, her hand falling away. “The baby wasn’t planned, but I wanted it. Eva hadn’t decided whether or not to take on me and my j—” he paused, frowned “—my lifestyle permanently.”
His lifestyle? What was wrong with marrying a professor? Eva lost serious points in Darcy’s book if the woman hadn’t been able to see beyond the beach bum facade to the serious man beneath.
“Maybe she was right.” He hooked his elbows on his knees and stared out at the sun sinking into the horizon. “Who knew what kind of father I would have been? Failing at a relationship is one thing. Failing a kid…I had to get it right. A child deserves more than a father who communicates with grunts.” Max shot Darcy a wry smile. “Maybe I have more in common with my old man than I thought.”
Guilt pinched her over her teasing and she sat up, swinging around onto her knees to face him. “I might pick on you about your short answers, but you pack more into a few words than most people do in a two-hour monologue.”
“That’s a nice thought.” He hooked a finger in her dog tags as if subconsciously drawn to them. “But you’re reading more into me than is there, Darcy.”
“I disagree.” She clenched her fists to keep from reaching for him. “I think maybe there’s a lot more to you than even you know.”
His knuckles grazed her cheek, dusting sand away. “The eternal optimist.”
A smile played with his mouth, and in that moment of closeness, she knew. They’d definitely crossed a line. He was going to kiss her. Their problems still lurked between them, but for some reason they’d both decided to forge ahead.
Her stomach clenched. She wasn’t going to launch an advance. But she was done retreating.
* * *
Max studied the lips he intended to kiss senseless in less than five seconds. “You’re a nice woman, Darcy.”
“Nice?” Her smile played with those full and tempting lips. “Sheesh, if you call me cute, too, I’ll have to deck you.”
He laughed. And it felt good. Darcy’s optimism made him feel good after a long time of feeling so bad.
She didn’t move toward him, not even a waver. He’d given her plenty of cause to be wary. He’d bruised her pride. But he’d been torn up too, caught between protecting her from more coincidences while keeping her safe from him. Right now he couldn’t think of a single reason why he needed to do the latter anymore.
Droplets of water from her hair rolled down her neck. Lucky water. He leaned to drink the bead from her skin. Perfect. Satisfying yet addictive.
Max glanced up to gauge her reaction for any sign she wanted to deck him after all. Her smoky eyes stared back, her lips parted, inviting. And he intended to take her up on the invitation.
Finally, he kissed her, fully dipping into the warm heat of her mouth and tasting undiluted Darcy. She locked her arms around him, her hands roving along his bare back with frantic urgency. They tumbled to the sand side by side, and he surrendered to the mind-drugging draw of kissing Darcy.
All the enthusiasm she poured into life flowed over him, encompassed him as if he’d plunged back into the water. Like he was deep in the grips of nitrogen narcosis, his mind swirled with the intoxication of having her in his arms.
Sand beneath them, sun over them, wind stirring up the salty sea air, Max palmed her head and her waist, bringing her flush against him. He traced the high-cut hip of her suit. Darcy moaned, arched closer with an encouraging wriggle.
He tucked her closer. Closer again. Nowhere near close enough.
“More,” she demanded in a husky whisper.
He wanted to comply, but how much farther could it go, anyway, out in the open on a sandbar? Although He knew exactly how far he wanted it to go. Darcy soaking up the sun and radiating it right back into him.
The man he’d been two and a half years ago might have taken her up on the offer. But she deserved a better man than that. This wasn’t the time or place for more.
“Not now, Darcy.” He skimmed a gentle touch along her cheek, into her damp hair. “Later, when you’re thinking more clearly. When we’re back at the island and can talk this through.”
She stared at him with stunned eyes. “You really aren’t going to finish?”
His libido shouted in protest. Never had he been so turned on and they hadn’t even slept together. And they couldn’t, not here. Not now, regardless of how much he wanted it.
