Chapter 14

Fresh flowers weren't Harmony's thing. Neither was a greeting card. Dane chose potted basil in a pot the shape of a manatee. He thought it might go well in her kitchen, but what the hell did he know about this crap? It had been days since he'd heard from Zoe. She was slipping away from him.

He waved at Henry who cared for the goats that lounged on the roof like nothing had changed. Harmony answered the door as he lifted his hand to knock. Her smile was serene. "This is three days in a row, dear. I'm keeping you from your work."

"I'm the boss." He smiled, but the words sent waves of sadness through him.

"Basil. How lovely. Come in, come in."

They sat in her sunny kitchen, and she did indeed place the manatee pot on the windowsill behind her sink.

Useless apologies for the scene on the boat had already been offered to him. Since there was no peeling Zoe from his arms, Liam had driven the boat back to Sun Trips. But where was she now? His arms were empty in more ways than one.

Willow came from the back room in her yoga gear. "Dane. Have you heard anything?"

He shook his head.

"Mom and I were just talking about when the three of us were children. Seth would try and flirt with girls. We got in his way."

"You didn't bother him, dear. He used you as bait. You were better than a puppy at the park when it came to attracting the girls."

They laughed an honest laugh. Dane needed to get a grip. This wasn't his family.

Willow sat in one of the polka dot painted wooden kitchen chairs and crossed her legs one over another.

"His fifth grade parent/teacher conference," Harmony said to Willow. "His teacher told me she had front door duty one morning when Henry dropped off Seth. Our ancient Corolla got to the front of the line and Seth climbed in the back seat, kissed Raine, then you, before getting out of the car. The teacher told me it made her cry."

This was a private moment. What was he doing here? Dane shook his head. "All I thought about as a kid was chasing skirts."

Harmony laughed, of all the damned things. "How do you think we had Seth? All Henry and I wanted to do was sneak whiskey from our parents' pantries and have sex on the beach."

"You kept him." It was a statement that was a question and profoundly inappropriate. By this point Dane wasn't sure if he had it in him to give a damn.

"It was our choice, yes." Harmony mimicked Willow and pulled up one of her legs. She took a deep breath as her mind wandered back thirty plus years. Then, she simply shrugged. "We wanted him. Our parents did everything they could to convince us otherwise, but we wanted him. Life as teenagers who just wanted to drink whiskey and have sex was certainly over, but it was our choice."

Harmony turned to him now, shoulders, face, and eyes. "Find her, Dane."

Willow kept her gaze down, but it didn't help. What the hell? "I don't know where she is." What would he say if he did find her? Where would he look?

"She's a woman, Dane. She loves you. Go find her."

And then, he knew. Butterflies burst in his gut. He knew where she would be. But what if he was wrong? What if the timing was off? He kissed Willow on the forehead, causing her to do a double take, before he did the same for Harmony. He ran out the door and waved backward at Henry as he jumped into his Jeep.

* * *

Zoe sat with her eyes closed and her legs crossed. She heard the quick rush of water between hundreds of fins as a school of fish darted in circles behind her. It mixed like a melody with the steady bubbles that released from her facemask. It was almost July and the water was warmer, so she chose her diving skins over her wet suit. A boat sped by too fast somewhere above. She tried not to focus on anything up there.

She wasn't putting herself at risk. Carefully, Zoe had used the charts and guidelines of underwater diving to ensure she wasn't coming down too often or too long. The last thing she wanted to do was to give herself decompression sickness and worry her parents any further.

He was with her here, Seth was. She could feel him. The memories were crisp. Ones of him carrying her on his shoulders when she was a little girl, all the way to the last dive they did together. It was here they dove last, not fifty yards away from where she found his skull. They'd spotted a grouper and took a zillion shots of it.

Sensing something was watching her, she opened her eyes but didn't move. Slowly, she glanced to the left, then right, keeping her breathing in controlled rhythm. It could be anything. Hiding in the seaweed. In a cavern. Behind a rock.

Of course something was watching her, she grinned. She was in the frigging Gulf.

Rotating, she started kicking lazily the fifty yards to the spot she found him. The water was choppy. Choppy was normal. The day she found him it had been unusually calm. Staring at the spot, she realized she would have never noticed the cavern under normal conditions. It was a mirage. No dark blue tint giving hint to the protruding opening.

She came to within five feet of it and waited. They had an agreement, her and the moray eel that made this its home. It poked its head out and tried to scare the hell out of her. Then, it bolted out of its hole, darting quickly in an effort to, once more, scare her before escaping the cavern and into the crevasse below.

Here, she'd found a skull with a knife through the eye. Her brother. Not much had been disturbed by the police. No yellow crime scene tape, she thought, sarcastically. Each of the last few days she'd come down here, she expected to find some sort of disturbance. Maybe rocks that had been chipped to release her brother from the wall. Or samples taken from around. Other than a small, jagged hole about the size of... of a knife, there was nothing.

She placed her hands on either side of the small opening, letting her legs dangle to the open water below. She felt something brush across her calf and assumed it was her friend. She would buy a new camera. A good one. Seth would want that. She would take out a loan and buy a Seth-approved camera and come down here to take pictures of her friend. He brushed her leg again. It made her smile, and she slowly inched herself from the crevasse. Friend or no friend, it was probably not a good idea to piss off a moray eel.

She came face-to-face with him. He wasn't an eel, and fear was nowhere to be found. Her body reacted regardless. Not with fear but an overwhelming warmth.

He came for her. The words repeated in her mind. He came for her. His beautiful, amazing blue eyes, although bloodshot, searched her face. She saw tenderness there and hoped she returned the same. If there was one thing she could have asked for at that moment, it would be to gaze into the eyes of Dane Corbin. He looked sad. She reached out and put her hand on his cheek. It was warmer than the warm water.

He took her air gauge and checked it. So Dane. Her eyes didn't leave his as he turned and read the instrument. It didn't make her want to slap him. Instead, she wanted to... she wanted him. Her insides erupted into a swirling hot tub of need. He came for her. He came for her, and he was crying. She tried to smile around her mouthpiece, trying to reassure him, but it didn't seem to soothe his expression.

He pointed up. She shook her head, took his hand, and tugged him toward the opening of Seth's cavern. He came for her. She needed to share this with him. In order to fit through the opening, their bodies pressed together from shoulders to knees. Even through their diving skins, the feel of his taught chest and thighs shot currents of desire throughout her. Taking his hand, she pressed his fingers along the small hole where the knife had been. He didn't flinch. He would do this for her.

His fingers moved along the inside of the wall and stopped on four slight divots she'd missed. They'd been smoothed over with the passage of time, giving the appearance of a soft pillow. How could anyone not appreciate underwater nature?

He pointed up again. This time, she nodded. He twined his arms and legs around her, turning as they maneuvered out of the cavern. Remaining entangled, they began their ascent floating effortlessly together. The muscles in his legs flexed and released against her thighs as he slowly kicked his fins, moving them toward the light.

Halfway up, they made a decompression stop. Knowing the strength of his legs would be able to keep them at the proper depth, she wrapped hers around his waist, then pulled him to her. Who said water caused a man to shrink? He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

The careful arms that wrapped around her. The legs that continued to move against her backside. His obvious need for her. It was all killing her. She ached to rip her mouthpiece out and pour her lips over his. She pulled down the zipper of his wet suit and ran her hands over his abs, learning each square as they flexed in the water. Her fingers traveled up and over his chest, tracing a sailboat tattoo that covered his right pectoral.

Her breasts had not gone south since high school. She pressed them against him in an effort to prove it. Was he allowing her to break their take-it-slow pace? Because his hands slid around and took hold of her butt. He grabbed and kneaded, rhythmically pulling her against him. As their stop time ended, she pushed away, reading the expression in his eyes. They were no longer sad, but... determined.

Ten feet to the top. This was the longer stop that might possibly be her undoing. Glancing up, she didn't see the bottom of her boat. He'd led them to his.

She used the moment and ran the palm of her hand in a line from his throat, over his chest, then dipped into his suit. A large group of bubbles hurried from his facemask—his pupils dilating before returning to normal. It gave her the last bit of confidence she needed. She took his hand and placed it over her.

Quick and purposeful, his eyes left her face. He cupped her from the outside of her suit as if she was lost treasure. Pulling her zipper, he traced his fingers along the swell of her flesh. His hands dipped beneath fabric, then tugged at her suit exposing her to the elements. Slick, cool water rushed over her. He circled with his thumbs as he explored, as the sound of the bubbles coming from their breathing apparatus quickened.

In the deep blue she saw something she'd dreamed about somewhere. I can't quit thinking about you. She could say the same, would say the same if they could get out of this damned water. Grabbing his wrist, she checked the gauge herself, then wanted to kick herself for taking his hand away from her. She wanted him, needed him.

Closing her eyes, she traveled her hand up and over his chest and rested both on his shoulders. Taking a slow breath, she forced herself to focus. He came for her. She would never forget it. They waited the last few seconds, before darting madly to the surface.

"Uh," she yelled as soon as her face hit the air. She yanked her mouthpiece away with one hand and his with the other, pressing her exposed chest to his and their lips together. Dane. Possessive. Hard. Needy. They turned in circles as their tongues did a dance that was a mix of reunion and awakening.

He rotated on his back, pulling her on top of him. "I found you," he crooned as he kicked his flippers toward the boat. "I'll never let you go again," he said between kisses. She thought her legs were helping, kicking as they closed the distance in the water, but she couldn't be sure. Her mind focused more on what was beneath her.

They tossed their gear onto his mini pier and pushed it randomly into the boat. She pulled herself up and collapsed on the floor. Turning over, she waited for him to follow, holding herself up with locked elbows and propped knees.

He came out of the water like a Greek god, his exposed chest and stomach muscles pumped from the dive. Water fell from his hair and wet suit as he stepped onto the boat, then let himself drop between her legs. The weight of him pressed into her core and covered her with everything she ever wanted.

The damned suits. Reading each other's thoughts, they unzipped and tugged, rolling the tight fabric free, then tossing the suits in a heap. She wrapped her legs around the back of him and pulled with her heels, throwing back her head and pressing heat to glorious heat.

His thick hands were everywhere, molding each inch of her. Cool lips traveled the length of her excruciatingly slowly. She wanted him more than anything she could remember. It had been too long, foreplay would have to wait.

Determined, she reached behind and unlatched the door to down below. It made him stop. He lifted his head in question. "Come," she said, and used sheer will power to push him off of her. Dripping down the stairs, she stumbled to the area that doubled as a living room and a kitchen nook. It was the only boat Sun Trips owned equipped with a bathroom and a bed. Had he chosen this one on purpose?

No.

This was her. Her want. Her need. Her resolution to take. She stood next to him with her bare toes over his. His chin nearly touched his chest as he looked down at her. He slid his hands up her waist, over the sides of her breasts, her shoulders until they rested, one on each cheek. His gaze was intense and moved from one of her eyes to the other. "You're mine." He kissed her, tenderly, lingering his lips on hers as he repeated. "Say you're mine."

It came out in a croak. "I'm yours." Two small words that made her legs buckle. He grabbed her backside with one hand, guiding her to the small couch. His other hand slowly pushed her until she was pressed against the back cushions. He sat back on his heels, seeming to study her. His eyes traveled over each part of her. Exposed, she felt the strongest desire to share everything with him. Reaching behind, she released the clasp on her top and ducked her shoulders out of it. His shoulders dipped forward as he exhaled in awe. His flattery gave her the nerve to do the same with the other half of her suit.

She watched as his deep inhale made the ship tattoo rise and fall. "You are the most beautiful thing in my world."

A tear escaped and slid down her cheek. She sat up and wrapped her legs around him as he kneeled. He wiped her tear with his thumb and followed it with his lips. Kissing her temple, her cheek. His fingertips led his lips on a slow path along the length of her collarbone, over the hollow at the base of her neck. One hand continued its trail south, but his lips didn't. They stopped and moved from one perky C to the other, assaulting her senses and leaving her a churning whirlpool.

He still had on his trunks. She wanted to rip them to shreds, but her arms wouldn't move, couldn't move. His lips on one side of her, his hand on the other, she could do nothing but let her head fall back and cry out.

When his fingers found her, her heels reflexively moved to the edge of the couch keeping her from breaking something. Her elbows locked as she grabbed his shoulders and cried out in celebrated release. Again and again, she shook as he took her to a place higher than any she knew existed. She could hear him coo her name as she kept going, coming down ever so slowly. In the midst of aftershocks, she found control of her arms and legs.

Desperately, she pulled his trunks, running her hands along his slick thighs, his muscled waist. His head dropped to her shoulder when she found him, hard as steel. He tried to slow her down, tried to bring her up again but she had waited too damned long for this.

"I don't have anything," she gasped. "Tell me you have—" But he was already tearing open the package.

Guiding him, they came together in a meeting of bodies and hearts. The sensation was more than she could have expected or imagined. A moan came from him that made her heart melt along with her body. She lifted, they moved. Faster and deeper, pulling and grasping. He took her face, his brows dug so low, she could barely see anything except the brilliant blue boring into her. Her hands grabbed his sides, her nails dug in.

"Now." She didn't know if she said it out loud, but she couldn't hold back another second. Her release was a desperate panic to get closer, deeper. Without missing a beat, he clenched her knees, readjusted her legs and dove in deeper. The muscles in his sides flexed beneath her hands in his last push, holding them there as his eyes turned opaque, then closed.

She was a limp noodle. The Coast Guard could be ordering them out and she wouldn't be able to move her arms or legs. His hair was still wet, but his skin no longer chilled. He pressed his forehead to hers and squeezed his eyes shut. "You left me."

What? "What?"

"You left."

She had. Her shoulders were suddenly heavy. She left with only a phone call to her mother, and escaped. He came for her, and she took from him. How many times would he keep giving as she kept pushing him away? "You're right. I was... No. I should have called." She scooted over, so he could fit next to her, hoping he would try.

He lay next to her, and she rested her head on his warm shoulder. "You came for me." It made her lids sink. Please don't let this be her final screw up.

"I know you needed—" he started.

"I should have—"

"—brought me with you."

"Would you have come?"

"I can't remember my life before you came crying to my office, asking me to buy Sun Trips."

She lifted her head to look into his beautiful blue eyes. "You mean that," she said as a statement.

He took her face in his hand. "You're mine," he repeated and guided her head back to his shoulder.