“HOW MUCH FOOD did you put in there?” I asked Johnny the next morning as he hefted the cooler into the back of the jeep, his biceps flexing beneath the weight. “I can tell it weighs a ton. I thought we were going to the beach for the day, not an entire week.”

“Who knows what will happen today.” His eyes gleamed with rakish intent. “Maybe we’ll stay longer. Maybe we’ll find other things to do and burn more calories than we anticipate. It’s best to be prepared, Anna.” I tried to pretend I didn’t like his playful teasing or the way his voice sounded when he abbreviated my name. But I think my flushed cheeks gave me away. He seemed amused that I was flustered. His gaze lingered on my face, and he was still grinning after he closed my door and climbed into the driver’s seat.

I shifted to watch Johnny like I had too many times the night before. The morning sunlight only improved the view. Sunglasses shielding his eyes he drove the jeep confidently, his strong fingers working the stick shift more capably along the up and down two lane road than I had. He didn’t turn on the radio and I was glad. I enjoyed the muted early morning sounds of the island and the easy comfort of his presence.

When we reached downtown Cruz Bay I tried to focus on learning the maze of confusing streets as Johnny zipped the jeep through them, instead of memorizing every detail about him and wishing I could photograph him. His profile serene, the wind sifted through the long layers of his thick black hair like invisible fingers. He wore a plain grey v neck t-shirt that looked like it had been poured onto his chiseled chest along with a pair of long swim trunks. This time they were light blue. He rested one arm on the sill while he steered with the other. Masculine wrists. Strong veins on the backs of his hands. Long fingers. Blunt nails. Musician’s hands, despite his admission that he didn’t play much anymore.

He took the steep hill up from town and turned into an empty parking lot when we reached the bottom on the other side. Angling the jeep into a spot next to a sea grape tree with a twisted trunk and large, fan-shaped leaves, he popped off his seat belt and exited well before I did grabbing the cooler and the tote full of beach paraphernalia. I followed behind him a little less enthusiastically. It was still early, and I hadn’t yet finished my travel mug full of caffeine.

I perked up when I saw the view framed by more sea grapes. I had never seen sand so purely white or felt any so fine between my toes. The water started as a foamy ribbon of lace at the shore, and then became clear for a bit before turning light blue and then brilliant turquoise further out by the reef. I hadn’t realized I had stopped with my toes buried deep in the sand, mouth open in awed wonder, until his low chuckle broke the spell.

“That was my reaction the first time I came here. Hawksnest is one of my favorite beaches. It gets overlooked because it’s so close to town. It’s not always the hard to reach places that are the best ones, you know?”

Under one of the trees he laid our towels on the talcum textured sand and hung the tote from one of the branches. “Ready to snorkel?” he asked, looking as eager as my boys when the three of us climbed onto the oversized sectional in our recreation room and got ready to watch JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, our favorite Japanese anime series.

“Sure.” I smiled. His enthusiasm was contagious. “But let me take a couple of photos of the beach while I choke down the rest of this coffee. I need the caffeine to counterbalance your youthful energy.”

He frowned. It didn’t seem as though he liked being reminded of the age difference between us. “How old do you think I am, Anna?”

“I don’t know,” I stated truthfully feeling caught off balance by his directness. “A lot younger than me.”

“I’m thirty-three. Last I checked that wasn’t all that young. Legal, certainly. How old are you?”

“A gentleman never asks…”

“I’m certainly no gentleman. Of that I can assure you. If you knew what I’ve been thinking since I first saw you this morning in that black bikini…” His eyes looked sinfully dark in the shade beneath the tree.

“But I’ve got on a cover up…” I reminded him, my voice a little breathy.

“I don’t know why women wear those things.” He snorted. “It’s mesh. It’s like a peep show every time you move.” He stroked his beard as he regarded me. “What’s beautiful to a man never changes. Curves, soft hair, smooth skin, heat that blooms because of our touch. But nothing is more seductive than looking into the eyes of someone you’re attracted to and having the desire you’re feeling mirrored back at you.”

I swallowed to moisten my throat. The present topic and the undercurrent between us, whether real or imagined made my mouth go dry. Though older, I felt less experienced somehow, I guess since he had been on his own from such a young age. I definitely felt completely out of my league with this handsome, much younger man. “I’m nearly forty-one,” I confessed. “My birthday’s coming up soon.”

“Mine was nearly a full year ago. So I’m almost thirty-four. Seven years isn’t much.” He took my mug and set it aside, then reached for the zipper on my cover up. “Need some help getting this off?” He lifted an inquiring brow.

“No. I’m alright. I can get it myself.” My voice sounded high and panicked, exactly the way I felt.

“Okay, but hurry.” He grinned. I loved being on the receiving end of one of his smiles, even if I didn’t really know what I had done to amuse him. He grabbed a pair of fins and a blue snorkel from the hanging tote. When he reached between his shoulder blades and took off his t-shirt, my jaw came unhinged.

Again.

What kind of exercise routine did he do besides the boating to get muscle definition like that? I saw lots of the same guys in the gym back home nearly every week. They worked out constantly like I had since the boys got older and I met Claire, but none of them had a body near as amazing as his. Luckily he was already halfway to the ocean and didn’t see my response. I had a feeling if he did that grin of his would have grown wider.

“Meet you in the water, Anna,” he yelled kicking up splash as he jogged out into the flat crystalline surf.

I practiced breathing techniques and polished off the last of my coffee before talking myself into unzipping my cover up. Trying not to look at him, I stumbled and slid ungracefully down the sandy slope into the water with my snorkel equipment in hand.

I hoped Johnny already had his mask in the water. No such luck. His mask was up on his head. He was treading water, and he was staring...at me. He looked so long that my cheeks grew warm, and my mouth got dry all over again.

You’re imagining his interest, I told myself. Sure the two piece swimsuit was sexy. Claire had talked me into the demibra-like top and the Brazilian cut bottoms. But my hips were too wide, and my breasts were too full after two pregnancies, no matter how much I worked out. Nothing I had could possibly hold his attention.

I glanced behind me expecting to see some slim supermodel walking into the ocean, but there was no one. Just me. And damn if that hot look from him after all I had been through in my marriage wasn’t a balm for my ravaged ego.

As soon as I was deep enough in the water, I slipped my head back to wet my curly hair. Donning my fins and then my mask, I put my face in the water and swam out to him, about twenty yards from shore.

I removed the snorkel from my mouth. “What’s to see here?” My voice had a husky quality to it that I blamed on the snorkel and the exertion to reach him though it hadn’t really been all that far.

“Lots of variety at Hawksnest,” he replied, his tone a lower rumble than I had yet heard it. He touched my arm, fingers skimming softly over my wet skin before he adjusted the straps on my mask.

I stared into his gorgeous grey eyes through the glass, and he stared right back at me for several protracted moments. The world seemed to hold its breath…or maybe it was just me. I noticed everything in those moments. The water droplets on his dark lashes. The mix of grey and blue in his eyes. How the ocean lapped against parts of me that had awakened because of him and how much I ached for a man’s experienced touch.

His touch.

“Reef squid. Turtles. Parrotfish. Angelfish.” He cleared his throat almost as if he had been as lost in me as I had been lost in him. Then he smiled softly, and I noted how his eyes had crinkled white lines around the edges. “Let’s stay together.” His lips formed a compelling frame that I suddenly had an ill-advised desire to taste. “I’ll squeeze your hand and point if I see something interesting, if you promise to do the same for me.”

I nodded, though I hadn’t really focused on what he had said. Not when his gaze had dipped to my lips as I wet them. Warmed by the dark charcoal his eyes had become, I held my breath. We were so close, and he hadn’t let go of me since he had adjusted my mask. His hands were on my shoulders as we both treaded water. His grip felt significantly warmer than the tropical water.

He leaned closer.

Was he going to kiss me?

Would I let him?

“You’ll need this,” he advised, sliding the snorkel with its plastic mouthpiece toward my lips. I felt foolish and guilty for the forbidden direction my thoughts had taken me.

However, I didn’t remember ever letting out that breath that I had taken in thinking about the possibility of him pressing his lips to mine. It burned bright inside my chest throughout the hours of snorkeling that we did together. He was always nearby making sure I didn’t drift too far out to sea. He glided his fingers along my arm or grasped my hand to point out something interesting, his methods of communicating underwater where words were impossible.

I liked his method. I liked it a lot.

After a while, I started to do the same thing. I tugged on his wrist when I spotted an octopus peeking out from under the fire coral, and I grabbed his hand when I saw a French angelfish he might have missed. I forgot there was another world outside our watery one until I turned the corner and nearly slammed into a four foot long barracuda. Eyes wide, I swam as close as I could get to Johnny and pointed frantically toward it.

Tucking me into his side, he led me several yards from the perceived threat and lifted his head out of the water. I did the same but glanced back in the direction where the fish with the razor sharp teeth had been, afraid it might have followed us.

He touched my face, and I turned back to regard him, knowing my eyes were still wide behind the glass of my mask. He removed his snorkel and lifted his mask on top of his head. Water sluiced in enticing rivulets from his thick black hair to his broad shoulders. “It’s okay, fancy face.” He removed my snorkel for me, his thumb brushing across my parted lips. My heart rate sped up, but no longer from fright. “That barracuda is always there because that’s where the reef squid hang out. It’s not interested in having you for dinner. If you ignore it,” he gently lifted my mask onto my head, “it will ignore you.”

Yeah, I thought wryly, that strategy might work for the barracuda, but it probably won’t work for all of the jumbled feelings and desires you have stirred up in me.

Later on the shore, unaware of my secret thoughts, Johnny rinsed and stowed away the snorkel equipment. He took the beer I popped open for him, and I began to get our lunch out of the cooler.

“Get yours first, Anna,” he told me when I handed him a plate. “We snorkeled a long time. You’ve got to be starved.”

“I am, but I like taking care of whoever I’m with.” My breath came in on a sudden rush when he curled his finger under my chin and lifted my head so I had to look at him instead of at the sandwich I was making.

“I can see that.” His piercing grey eyes held me captive.

“Part of the mom in me,” I explained. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Maybe not to you, but to me it certainly is. The women I used to hang around with cared more that they were…that I was…well, they cared more about a broken nail than they cared about me as a person or being kind enough to think to serve me before themselves. Yet you do it like it’s second nature.” He tucked a wet curl behind my ear. “And you look beautiful doing it.”

“I’ve got snorkel mask indentations on my face. I’m all sandy and my hair’s a mess. You’ve been by yourself too long, I think.”

“Just because I’ve been out of circulation for a while doesn’t mean I can’t recognize true beauty when I see it.”

“Thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.”

“I can see you don’t believe me,” he concluded after his eyes searched mine. “It’s as much about your words and actions as it is your pretty features. Calling to check on your boys even though you were so exhausted you fell asleep sitting up. The way you speak so lovingly about your family and my sister. Forgiving me for being an ass and helping me mend things with Claire. That’s not just superficial. It’s deeper. Real beauty always rises up from what lies inside, fancy face. Don’t you know that?”

If he was right then he had a lot of beauty inside of him, too. I had a hard time not gawking at this man with a swimsuit model’s physique and a poet’s heart. While my lunch remained mostly uneaten in front of me, he finished his in a couple of quick bites. Then he laid on his side on the beach blanket, and the photographer in me had the urge to snap a photo, except that the shadows from the sea grape tree would have interfered with the shot.

While he relaxed, I busied myself throwing away our trash, stowing away the uneaten parts of our lunch and fumbling when I found his eyes on me.

His dark brows dipped, and he turned his head away, reaching for his sunglasses and rolling onto his back.

I swallowed, deciding I must have imagined the serious look in his gaze. He certainly couldn’t be as caught off guard. Fumbling in my mind like I had fumbled with our supplies, I felt like I suddenly needed words to fill the awkward silence. I glanced out at the sparkling water and listened to the waves lapping at the shore. The question automatically drifted into my mind.

“Why St. John?”

“Hmm,” he murmured lazily as if drunk on the one beer and the sun.

“It’s an island paradise, but why did you choose it as opposed to somewhere else?”

“Because it felt right. Like home, from the first time I saw it.” His biceps bunched tightly as he lifted up onto his elbows to regard me for a long moment from behind the dark barrier of his sunglasses. He seemed to be trying to work something out in his mind, or maybe he wanted me to pick up on something, but before I could figure it out, he continued. “Life had gotten out of control for me at one point. The slow pace here, the simple lifestyle, it was just what I needed to help me put the scattered pieces of my life back together.”

I nodded. I could understand that. I could feel it beginning for me.

“Then when things didn’t work out the way I thought they would, I came back, and here I have stayed.” His explanation was vague, but I got the idea he was probably talking about the woman he had almost married. “What about you? What do you like about Dallas, and what do you do back there besides take care of your boys and keep my sister in line?”

I told him how I loved the wide open spaces of the Metroplex. I talked about my charity work and how much I enjoyed the specialty water aerobics class I had begun to teach at his sister’s insistence.

While we packed up the jeep, he told me details about some of the islands he had visited and how he liked to sleep on the front netting of his boat so he could look at the stars.

I listened attentively as he continued to describe his favorite beaches on the way back to the villa, thinking how the open jeep somehow felt like a bubble in a private universe just big enough for the two of us. I realized that the way I felt, the breathless effervescence, had begun all the way back when he had first stared at me through my snorkel mask and that it had not lessened all day. Being with him and getting to know him was like discovering something wonderful. Something that you never knew you needed but now that you had found it realized you didn’t just need it, you needed it desperately.

“I’ve got some things I need to take care of, Anna,” Johnny told me back at the house without meeting my eyes as he rinsed off the cooler and the snorkel equipment with the garden hose. “Will you be alright by yourself tonight?”

“Yes, absolutely.” I hid my disappointment. Maybe I had misread things. The lingering touches. The soft whispers in my ear. The hot glances. The connection. “I need to check on my boys and I should get to bed early.” For what reason I didn’t really know, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to say.

He shut off the hose and straightened a lock of his hair that had escaped the sunglasses and fallen into his eyes. He stared at me for a long moment. His gaze seemed conflicted almost as if he were wrestling with himself about something. “Have a good evening, Anna,” he said low like a permanent goodbye, stepping close and grazing his warm knuckles softly over my cheek before he turned away and took the path around the villa to the lower level.

“You, too,” I said softly to the emptiness that remained after his departure, standing in the driveway feeling unsure and strangely bereft.

Get a clue, Annabelle. He’s hot and thirty-three-years-old. He took pity on you. He’s going to run back into town and grab his twenty-five-year-old girlfriend and fuck the hell out of her. Newsflash, you’re not even an afterthought in his scene.

Only later I wondered if maybe I had been wrong because after I had my shower and called my boys it wasn’t male groans or feminine giggling that drifted upstairs from his apartment down below. It was the sound of the piano. Soft, tinkling high notes and a few somber, wistful low ones. A tune began to coalesce that I had never heard before. Did he write music? He started humming, and his voice was rich and soulful, somehow reminding me of the way he had looked at me before he had said goodnight.