aren’t always accurate.”
“Let’s just say, I’m feeling optimistic.”
Was he, now. “Optimistic enough to only book one hotel room?”
Max answered her question with a blazing smile.
Letting her stew about their destination amused Max for the next half hour. The silence gave him time to mull over what he’d learned about her. He’d known she’d taken care of Hailey and helped her by paying for college. It just never occurred to him how young she’d been when she’d taken on the responsibility of her sister.
As they entered the city limits of Gulf Shores, Rachel sat forward in her seat, her expression growing animated. Had she been back in the last five years? Many times he’d imagined her here. Pictured her long blond hair whipping around her face as she walked the beach or sat having breakfast at Jolene’s Hideaway.
The car streaked past the beach cottages where they’d spent their four days together. Rachel’s gaze snagged on the cluster of pale peach structures, her head turning as she kept her sights locked on them. Curiosity and confusion melded in the turbulent blue depths of her eyes as they came to rest on him.
“We’re not staying there?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“You’ll see.”
They quickly left the main strip behind, hotels, restaurants and shops giving way to beach homes. Leggy structures built on pilings lined the road, their colors pale representations of the surrounding landscape.
“I thought you said we’re staying in Gulf Shores,” she persisted.
“We are.”
“But the hotels are all back there.” She gestured over her shoulder, indicating the town now a mile behind them.
“I own a house here.” He didn’t need to glimpse her expression to know he’d surprised her. Beside him, her body tensed. “I bought it four years ago.”
A year after they’d met. It made sense to purchase property since he’d taken to visiting the town once a month. All in the hopes of finding her again. Proof positive that he was a fool. She’d been married. She’d returned to her husband. Yet he’d returned to the scene of the crime like some love-struck idiot. Over and over.
When it occurred to him that he was behaving exactly like his father’s mistress—a woman he despised for her weakness—that he was willing to take whatever scraps of Rachel’s life he could because living without her made him miserable, he’d stopped coming to Gulf Shores for three months. But in the end, his longing for her had been too strong.
Naturally, all this was wrapped up in logic and justified by sound reasoning about rising property values and his need for a vacation home. But each time he returned to the beach house, he couldn’t hide the truth from himself. He was here because he hoped Rachel would return to him.
“This is yours?” Rachel’s question broke the quiet. She’d rolled down her window and a light breeze wafted in, bringing the rhythmic crash of surf and the scent of brine. “I don’t get it. Your weekends are filled with racing. Why’d you buy a house out here? It’s a lot of money for something you never use.”
“I like the beach.” More than ever now that she was here. “Let’s go inside, I’ll show you around.”
Max had chosen the house for it’s open floor plan and the location, but as Rachel exclaimed over the granite counter-tops and stainless appliances in the gourmet kitchen, he decided he might have had a woman in the back of his mind when he’d had the kitchen and bathrooms updated.
As they concluded the tour of the main part of the house and headed toward the bedrooms, Rachel tugged her overnight bag from his grasp and marched into the guest bedroom. He saw that she expected him to argue. Why bother when words would have little effect on her? She was afraid of what the chemistry between them would lead to. Oh, not the lovemaking. The hungry look in her eye told him that her desire for him matched his longing for her. But she was worried how their relationship would change after this weekend.
“I’m going to grab a shower,” he told her. “See you in thirty.”
When he returned to the small bedroom, he found Rachel in the midst of unpacking. She’d also showered and now wore a pale blue sundress that bared her slender arms and showed off her delicate collarbones. Her damp hair lay flat against her head, the bright gold darkened to bronze. Tiny silver butterflies swooped below her ears.
“Nice,” he murmured, gaze snagged on the frothy scrap of red satin and black lace laid out beside her suitcase.
“That is not mine.” She shook her head. “And I wouldn’t have packed it for a weekend getaway with you.”
“Why not?” He made no effort to resist a grin.
She rolled her eyes. “Because it wouldn’t have lasted more than ten seconds, so what would be the point in putting it on?”
“Try it on and I’ll demonstrate the point.”
Max gathered her into his arms and dropped his lips onto hers. He’d meant it to be just a hot, quick kiss, a suggestion of what would come later, but she melted against him and he lingered. He tasted yearning and reluctance in her kisses. Both excited him. He couldn’t wait for that moment when passion torched her hesitation and she let herself go.
Dropping his hands to her backside, he cupped his palms over her sweet curves and pulled her hard against the unruly tension in his groin. Her shiver told him she was on the verge of surrender. His stomach took that inopportune moment to growl.
A different sort of growl rumbled his throat as she laughed and flattened her hands against his chest to push him away.
“Sounds like the beast is hungry,” she said.
Before she could move out of reach, he caught her hand and pressed it over the erection straining against his zipper. “The beast is starving.”
For a series of heart-pounding seconds she cupped him, fingers trailing along his length, and Max found his knees starting to give way. But before he could swoop in for a deep, exploring kiss even hotter than the last one, she twisted free and fled out the door.
“Come on, Max,” she called over her shoulder, cheeks flushed, her half smile taunting him. “You promised me dinner.”
Ten minutes later, her eyes glowed as they drove into the parking lot of the restaurant she’d recommended. Reluctance, eagerness, anxiety and yearning passed across Rachel’s features, and Max wondered what memories this place roused. He took her hand as they started up the steps to the enormous deck that wrapped around the outside of the waterfront restaurant. With spectacular views of the Gulf of Mexico, the deck was wide enough to accommodate two rows of tables set for four and a generous aisle between. Despite the heat, families and couples occupied every table.
Weathered wood boards squeaked beneath their
