“I told myself it was because my mom asked, and because I needed to talk to my dad, but I’ve gotta admit . . .” He held her gaze. “I’m glad I did.”
Her heart tightened. “What about Candy?”
“She’s an employee of mine,” he said. “Married to one of my investment partners. They’re very happy together and have an adorable little kid.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” he said with a smile, the kind that changed the rhythm of her heart. “We were in Belize scoping out some future vacation stops, talking to some resorts willing to give us deep discounts for our clients.” He lightly touched his nose to hers. “Now you.”
“Now me what?”
“You still with that suit who works at a bank?”
She went brows up at him, and he smiled. “You’re not the only one who gets gossip from a parent. Our moms are still like two middle school girls.”
She laughed. “Yeah. They are.”
“So. The suit?”
She met his warm but curious gaze. “He was too . . . suity.”
He laughed, and the sound woke up all her good parts. Looking at him, she could almost feel the forces of gravity shift from pulling her under the water to pushing her even closer to James in the hope that he might kiss her. Just thinking about it had her gaze dropping to his mouth.
Maybe he felt the same pull because he said her name in a low sexy timbre that wasn’t technically a question but sure felt like one.
She answered with a nod and a “yes, please,” and then his mouth was on hers. Not forcefully, but with enough intensity that she could feel the promise behind the kiss, along with the promise of much more if she wanted it.
And in that moment, there wasn’t anything she wanted other than more—more of this, more of him, more of them . . . All of which she tried to convey with her kiss, something he returned with a heat and hunger that stole her breath. He had one hand fisted in her hair, the other low on her back pressing her against him as his legs continued to work at keeping them afloat. He pulled back, studied her face, and then smiled.
And then she kissed that smile off his face.
When they started to slide underwater, he kicked them back to the surface, both of them coughing and laughing.
By mutual silent agreement, they began to swim to shore. Which of course turned into a race and then a dunking contest. When they stepped out of the water, still cracking up, they made their way through the stuff Harry had left for them, which included a Nerf football. While they tossed it back and forth, Hannah worked on doing something she rarely accomplished anymore—staying in the moment and enjoying it.
Although she thought of herself as a natural athlete, she hadn’t flexed those muscles in a while. It’d been a long time since she’d thrown a ball, yet she could still get it to James—well, in his vicinity at least. He was a good sport, running and diving for her errant tosses in nothing but board shorts hanging dangerously low on his sexy hips. Of course he was able to get the ball right into her hands. Tired now, but also determined, she gave the ball one last toss just to see him run. He hurled himself into the air to make the catch, then hit the sand hard and stayed down. And still—way too still.
“Oh my god,” she whispered and ran over to him. “James?”
Nothing.
She dropped to her knees and put her hand on his bare back. His skin was smooth and warm. “James!”
He moved so fast she never saw him coming. In the next breath, she was flat on her back and he was braced above her, mischief in his gaze.
“I take it you’re done playing football,” she managed, her pulse kicking into gear. He was big and warm and hard. Everywhere.
“Babe, that wasn’t football. You were too busy ogling me to even try and throw it the way I taught you.”
She bit her lower lip and stared at his mouth. “You’re too . . . tempting.”
“Is that a problem?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He smiled, lowered his head until his lips touched hers, and then finally kissed her until her toes started to curl and she was panting and trying to get inside his bathing suit.
Which was when he rose to his feet and headed back to their picnic area.
“Are you serious?” she asked his back.
“Thought I’d wait until you were sure you wanted to be tempted.”
“That wasn’t tempting me,” she called after him. “That was provoking me into a huge . . . state.”
He sat and began to eat a sandwich as he looked at her curiously. “What kind of state is this, exactly?”
Blowing her hair out of her face, she waited for her heart rate to slow down from stroke level. “Never you mind.”
He grinned. “You can take it back, you know, and just admit you want me.”
Over her dead body. She plopped down in front of the basket and accepted the sandwich he handed her. She was all too aware of her phone vibrating on the blanket. It’d been vibrating on and off since they’d gotten here. After an internal debate, she gave an apologetic smile and answered. Work, of course, and it took a bit to get everything handled, but finally she disconnected. “Sorry.”
“That thing’s been going off since you stepped onto The Therapist. Is work always this intense?”
“Usually it’s worse. This is my boss showing restraint.”
They had wine chilling in a cooler, and when she pulled out ridiculously fancy glasses, a few rose petals fell out as well.
James laughed. She did not. “Nothing about this is anything like the hot dogs and s’mores that we used to get.” She shook her head. “He’s upped his game.”
James touched his glass to hers. “That he has.”
“I’m sorry your parents aren’t here for this.”
He shrugged, and she set her glass down, alerted by something in his carefully blank face. “So . . . what made you come this year?”
“Maybe it was for this,” he said, gesturing between them with his wineglass. “After all, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without someone calling me on my shit every five seconds.”
“Aw,” she said with a laugh, “you missed this.”
“Yeah, I missed this.” He set his glass down. “And you,” he added, surprising her. “I missed you.”
Her heart fluttered, but her brain was afraid to believe. “Right. That’s why when you first arrived, you looked like you were dreading this trip.”
His smile faded. “That wasn’t about you.”
“What was it about?”
“Long story.”
She lifted her hands and gestured around them. “Literally, nowhere else to go or to be.”
James looked at her for a long beat. “My dad had always groomed Jason to take over the lumber business. Growing up, I was the . . . spare.”
She made a sound of regret for him, but he shook his head. “I was okay with that, believe me. I never wanted to stay in New York and run the company. I always wanted to leave and explore, to find my own thing that suited me. But then Jason died and the spare was pulled into play. You know I took off first, needing some time. I told myself it was my nature, but the truth was, I knew if I stayed in one place too long, I’d have to face the fact that Jason was really gone.”