he looked out at the ocean, shimmering at the edge of the sand. He didn’t answer right away, but she just waited, and he finally turned back to her. “No,” he said. “I’m not.”
“Is it that you can’t fall asleep?” she asked. “Or after you fall asleep, do you wake up a few hours later and just lie there, thinking about everything, worrying…?”
“Both,” he admitted.
“I used to do that,” she told him. “Two hours after I fell asleep, I’d be wide-awake, lying in bed, suffocating underneath all these screaming anxieties....” She shook her head. “That’s not a fun way to live.”
“I have nightmares.” Miller heard the words leave his mouth, and it was too late to bite them back. Jonathan Mills didn’t have nightmares. The nightmares were John Miller’s albatross. They belonged to Miller alone. He drank the last of his iced tea and stood up. “I really didn’t mean to stay long. I know you probably have things to do. I just wanted to thank you for…everything.”
Mariah stood up, too. “You know, I have a book on stress-reduction techniques that I could lend you, if you want.”
A book. She could lend him. How perfect was that? He could drop by to return it some afternoon—while Serena Westford just happened to be visiting. What a coincidence. Serena meet Jonathan Mills. John, this is Serena…
“Thanks,” Miller said. “I’d like that.”
With the swish of her towel against her legs, she disappeared into the darkness of the house. The book must’ve been right in the living room because she came out almost immediately.
He took it from her, glancing quickly at the cover, which read 101 Innovative Ways to Relieve Stress. “Thanks,” he said again. “I’ll bring it back in a few days.”
“Why don’t you keep it,” she said. “I’ve gotten pretty good at most of the exercises in there. Besides, I can always pick up another copy.”
Miller had to laugh as his perfect plan crumbled. “Don’t you get it? I want to return it. It gives me an excuse to come back out here.”
Mariah’s soft brown eyes got even softer, and John was reminded of the way she’d looked at him this morning after she’d gently kissed his ear. “You don’t need an excuse to come over,” she told him quietly. “You’re welcome here. Anytime.”
Miller tried to force a smile as he thanked her. What was wrong with him? he wondered again as he walked around to his car. He should be feeling triumphant. She liked him—that couldn’t have been more obvious. This was working out perfectly.
Feeling like an absolute bastard, he put the car in gear and drove away.
Chapter Three
MARIAH WAS ON THE ROOF when she saw Serena’s sports car pull up in front of the Foundations for Families building site.
“Hel-lo!” Her friend’s bright English accent carried clearly up to her.
Mariah used the back of her hand to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. Tomorrow she was going to have to remember to bring a sweatband—the weather forecast had predicted more of this relentless heat. She was dirty and hot, with stinging salt and sunblock dripping into her eyes, and her back was starting to ache.
But she was surrounded by people who laughed and sang as they worked. Today she was driving nails alongside Thomas and Renee, the man and woman who would own this house, watching the pride they took in being able to help build the home that would shelter them and their two daughters—Jane Ann and Emma.
Foundations for Families started each day with a minute of silent meditation, of joining hands and closing their eyes, just taking a moment to touch base with the powers that be—God, or Mother Nature, or even Luke Skywalker’s Force—it didn’t matter which. Meals were something out of an old-fashioned barn raising with sandwiches and lemonade provided by volunteers. And each day, Thomas and Renee would call to Mariah and thank her by name—sometimes even enveloping her in an embrace as she left to go home.
Mariah couldn’t remember ever being happier.
Down on the ground, Serena shaded her eyes to gaze up at her. “What time are you done here?”
Mariah rested her hammer against her work boot and unfastened her water bottle from her belt. She took a long swig before answering. “My shift ends at six,” she said.
“Good. Then you can meet me at seven, at the resort,” Serena decided. “We can eat at the grill out by the pool, then prowl the bars, husband hunting as you so aptly put it.”
The resort. Where Jonathan Mills was staying. Except Mariah was almost certain he wasn’t the type to hang out in a bar. Still, she was almost tempted to go over there. Almost.
She hooked her water bottle back onto her belt and hefted her hammer. “Sorry. Can’t,” she told her friend, glad she had an excuse. She wasn’t the type to hang out in bars, either. They were noisy, crowded and filled with smoke and desperation. “I’m coming back out here tomorrow. I’ve got to be up early in the morning. Laronda scheduled a building blitz. We’re gonna get this sucker watertight by sundown.”
Serena looked at the rough plywood that framed the modestly sized house and skeptically lifted an elegant eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” Mariah said cheerfully. “Of course, we could always use more volunteers. I don’t suppose you’re interested…?”
“Not on your life.” Serena snorted. “I did my share—in Africa fifteen years ago, with the peace corps.”
The peace corps. Funny. Mariah knew Serena had spent nearly eighteen months with the peace corps—building roads and houses, working in a part of Africa where electricity hadn’t found its way to this very day. They’d talked about it quite a bit, but Mariah still couldn’t picture the elegant blonde actually getting her hands dirty digging latrines. Serena? No, she just couldn’t imagine it. Still, why would the woman lie? And she spoke of her time in the corps with such authority.
“Sure I can’t talk you into having some fun tonight?” Serena asked.
Mariah shook her head. “I’m having fun right now,” she told her friend.
“You,” Serena said, “are one seriously twisted woman.” She called back over her shoulder as she headed toward her car, “Don’t forget about my party Friday night.”
“You know, Serena, I’m not really the party type…”
But Serena had already climbed behind the wheel, starting her car with a roar.
Mariah didn’t want to go to any party. She’d been to several of Serena’s affairs before and stood uncomfortably while Serena’s chic resort friends talked about nothing of any substance. The weather. The stock market. The best place to rent jet skis.
Last time, she’d left early and vowed to make up an excuse if Serena ever invited her again. She’d have to think up something convincing…
But she wasn’t going to think about it right now. She had a house to build. No
