Beach. She could just be.
Drenched in sunscreen, she lay on a beach blanket in a modest one-piece bathing suit, a folded towel under her head. Slight breezes just outside Zane’s beachfront home deposited flecks of sand onto her arms and legs. Children’s giggles and adult conversations drifted to her ears. For the first time in days, her nerves were completely calm.
She promised herself to keep out of Zane’s hair, and she had for the most part these past three days. He spent hours inside his office working with Mariah, and occasionally they would ask for her input on the restaurant. She figured it was just a way for him to keep her entertained and make her feel welcome. Each morning, under an overcast sky that would burn off before noon, she walked a three-mile stretch of beach, loosening up her limbs and clearing her head. At night, she’d dine with Zane on the patio facing the ocean, and except for having an occasional glass of white wine or a cold beer, she kept her alcohol consumption to a bare minimum. The Pacific Ocean and fresh air were her balm. She didn’t need to rely on anything else.
She wiggled her tush into the sand, carving out a more comfy spot on her blanket, and closed her eyes. The flapping of wings and piercing squawk of a seagull overhead made her smile.
“Glad to see you’ve taken to Moonlight Beach.”
Blocking rays of sunlight with a hand salute, she opened her eyes. The handsome face of Dylan McKay came into view.
“Hi, Jessica.” He stared at her with his million-dollar smile. “Don’t let me disturb you.”
Gosh, he remembered her name.
Wearing plaid board shorts and a muscle-hugging white T-shirt, and fitting into beach society with the casualness of a megastar, he sort of did disturb her. Yet he did so in such a friendly way, she didn’t mind the intrusion. As she sat up on her elbows, his gaze dipped to her chest. To his credit, his eyes didn’t linger on her breasts, and that was more than she could say about most men.
“Hello, and I am enjoying the beach. When in Rome, as they say.” She chuckled at the cliché. It was Mama’s favorite saying, and she’d used it a zillion times over the years. The most recent was last night when they’d talked on the phone. Did others in her generation get that phrase?
Her eyes fell on a black portfolio tucked under his arm. It looked odd there, as if he should be wearing a three-piece suit while carrying that austere leather case. Instead of moving on, he squatted down beside her, his tanned knees nearly in her face. Obviously, he wanted to chat.
“I see you sometimes in the morning, walking along the beach.”
“You’ve inspired me,” she said. “Of course, I only do three miles. How are your runs going?”
“Killing me, but I’m getting in the ten miles.”
His legs were taut, like those of a natural runner, and the rest of his body, well...it would be hard not to notice his muscles and the way his T-shirt nearly split at the seams around his shoulders and upper arms. “Good for you.”
“So, how’s it going?” he asked. “Other than sunbathing and taking long walks, are you having a good time?”
“Yes. It’s nice here. I’m working on some new lesson plans for my class. I teach first grade back home.”
“Ah...a teacher. Such an honorable profession.”
She waggled her brows. Was he poking fun at her? Or was he being genuine?
“My mother taught school for thirty-five years,” he added, his smile wistful, pride filling his voice. “She was loved by her students, but she wasn’t a pushover. It wasn’t easy pulling my antics on her. She was too savvy. She knew when kids were up to no good.”
“I bet you gave her a run for her money.”
He laughed, the gleam of his lake-blue eyes touching her. “I did.”
“What grade did she teach?”
“All grades, but she preferred fourth and fifth. Then, later on, she became dean of a middle school, and eventually, the principal of the high school.”
She nodded. She didn’t have much else to add to the conversation. Not that Dylan McKay wasn’t easy to talk to. He was. And she loved talking about education to anyone who would listen. It was just that he was fabulous, famous Dylan McKay. And he kept smiling at her.
“Hey, I’m having a party on Saturday night. If you’re still here, I’d love for you to come. Maybe you can get Zane to get out and have a little fun.”
“Oh, thanks.” He’d caught her off guard. Wasn’t that what she needed right now, to be a wallflower at an A-list party? “I’m...uh, I’m not the partying type. Especially now.”
“Now?”
She shrugged. “I’m going through something and need a little R and R.”
“Ah...a breakup?”
She nodded. Her pride aside, she opened up a little to make her point. “Broken engagement as the wedding guests were taking their seats in church.”
“Ah...gotcha. I’ve been there once, a long time ago, when I was too young to know better. It turned out for the best, so believe me, I understand. Listen, I promise you, the party is low-key. Just a few friends and neighbors for a barbecue on the beach. I’d love to see you there.”
“Thanks.”
He smiled, and she smiled back. Then he pointed to her upper thigh, on the right side, closest to him. “Uh-oh. Looks like you missed a spot. You’re starting to burn.” Grabbing the sunscreen tube from the blanket, his long fingers brushed the soft underside of her hand as he set the sunscreen into her palm. “Better lather up and—”
“Stop corrupting my little sis, McKay.”
Jessica whipped her head around. Zane stood on the sundeck railing, staring at Dylan. His voice was a far cry from menacing, but the cool look he shot Dylan made her wonder what was up.
Dylan winked at her. “Maybe she wants to be corrupted.”
“And maybe you want to turn tail and go home. I don’t have to read that script, you know.”
“Whoops,” he said, flashing a charming smile. “He’s got me there. Maybe you can help me convince him to take this role. Wanna try? Since you’re about to turn into a fried tomato out here.”
Under normal circumstances, she was probably the least starstruck person in Beckon, Texas, but how could she not take Dylan up on his offer to go over a movie script? The notion got her juices flowing, and excitement buzzed around her like a busy little bee.
She glanced down at her legs. Oh, wow. Dylan was right. There were more than a few splotchy patches on her body. Time to get out of the sun. “Sure, why not?”
“Great.” He swiveled his head in Zane’s direction. “We’re coming up right now.”
Gallantly, he offered her his hand. She couldn’t very well refuse the gesture. She slipped one hand into his and simultaneously clutched her cover-up with the other as they
