By the time she reached the gate at number ten, her tension rising higher with each step, she was so wound up that she couldn’t go inside. All she wanted to do was keep walking. There was only one place to go, even though there were memories there too: the beach. She went on past her house, and past the Ward house—in darkness, as she’d expect at two thirty in the morning—and slipped down the narrow beach alley.
When she reached the sand, she bent down and took off her sandals, and left them by the hedge. Even though the city was just on the other side of the peninsula, there was more of the galaxy visible here than she ever saw in LA. She walked in starry moonlight toward the water, feeling the pull of the ocean in her soul.
She stood in the foamy water’s edge as the sand washed out from under her heels, letting herself sink deeper one wave at a time. When she was finally about to lose her balance, she stepped forward into the sea. The daytime breeze had died away and the water in front of her was eerily still, but every now and then a swell caught the hem of her dress. She dipped her fingers into the water as she walked out, tempted to pull off the dress and dive in. But it was a delusion to think the sea could wash away her sins. This very place, this ocean, wasn’t enough to heal Ethan’s pain. Maybe it was only right that she should bear it for him now.
Thinking about him, she felt a prickle on the back of her neck and turned around, spooked. Then she cried out, and pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound.
There was someone on the beach.
But it wasn’t Ethan. Of course not.
It was Liam.
She started to wade back in, the frustrating weight of the water slowing each step. The closer she got to the shore, the more she wanted to be on solid ground again. She splashed through the shallows and started up the sand toward him, while he waited. She couldn’t see his expression, and she hardly wondered why he was here, in the moonlight, in the middle of the night. Same reason she was, maybe.
When she was just a few feet away, she stopped. Standing in the water, she’d still felt the red-wine haze, but now she was sharply, abruptly sober. The salt-water drops were itchy on her legs, and the three-quarter sleeves of her dress were wet, but she stood still in front of him.
He never had looked much like his brother.
Then again, she’d never seen Ethan look at her the way Liam was now. Deeper, darker, his expression direct but unreadable.
What had she thought he was here for, standing on the beach?
For a moment she felt a chill run down her spine. She really didn’t know this guy, or what he was capable of. But she did know how angry he was at her. She looked up and down the beach, but they were alone, just them and the waxing moon. In any other situation this would be romantic. In any other situation where his face wasn’t shadowed with disgust.
“I said I was sorry,” she said.
When she’d opened her mouth, she’d intended the words to sound sorry, but seeing him look at her with that expression, a sort of rebellion had crept into her voice.
“Yeah. I know.”
His tone made her mad. Not an appropriate reaction, a little voice in the back of her head said, but she couldn’t stop herself. “How sorry do I have to be?”
He took a step nearer, reaching for her arm, and her entire nervous system leapt into high alert. Was he looking so tortured because he was going to kiss her again, which was obviously some special kind of self-inflicted punishment? Or…was it because he was compelled to wring her neck, as unavoidable retribution for her causing Ethan’s death? A shot of adrenaline hit her, and she spun around, out of his reach, and made for the alley.
On the third stride she felt an agonizing pain as something small but lethal stabbed into the sole of her foot. As she crumpled to the sand, trying to decide whether it was a scorpion, a snake, or some kind of bitey sand spider, she could see him coming toward her.
He tried to help her up, but she pulled away. “It’s just some kind of bite. I don’t need any help.”
“Don’t you?”
She hesitated, clutching her foot. Any poison would be starting to work its way up her leg by now. “Oh, shit. Do you think I should go to the emergency room?”
He bent down and picked something up, then held it up for her to see.
“Yeah, the Barbie doctor will see you now.”
Oh, great. She remembered now. After she’d already made an idiot of herself. There was nothing poisonous in this country at all—apart from the vibes she was shooting at him as he stood there holding the stupid doll in his hand. She rubbed the bottom of her foot, wiggled her toes, and got up, pulling herself as tall as she could in her bare feet. “It’s not a Barbie. It’s a Bratz.”
He shrugged and handed her the offending toy. “Almost as spiky as you.”
“Spiky? This from the guy who didn’t want to hear any kind of sorry from me the other day.” She narrowed her eyes. “And why are you following me around in the middle of the night, anyway?”’
He looked out to sea, where the looming peak of the volcano guarded the bay, and she saw his jaw tense.
“I work at night. I have clients in different time zones.”
She looked up and down the beach. “I don’t see any clients here.”
“They—” He stopped himself. “What I do at night doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
She raised an eyebrow at his accidental innuendo, and…was he blushing now? There was a surprising satisfaction in seeing him flustered. Thank God he couldn’t read her mind, because what she’d been doing at night lately had more than a little to do with him. Now was the moment to turn and leave…but some devil on her shoulder drove her on. It wanted payback for the way he’d cut her off when she’d tried to reach out, payback for letting everyone (including her) think Ethan’s death was her fault, and payback for the kiss. With that kiss, he’d cut right to a small and vulnerable spot, and, more fool her, she’d let him know it. And feel it, and hear it. But apparently he had a vulnerable spot too.
Before he could say anything else, she let the doll fall to the sand, took a step closer, and reached one hand up to the back of his neck.
He didn’t push her away.
Just before she closed her own eyes, she saw the expression in his. Was that how she’d looked, pressed up against the wall of his house? Surprised, hesitant, and…aroused. She squeezed her eyes shut. Payback, that was all.
As their lips met, she took a hold of his jeans at the buckle, and pulled him closer. He made a sound somewhere between anger and defeat, and leaned down to kiss her back, harder and more urgently than she’d bargained for. Her own body responded with treacherous ease, her tongue meeting his, her hips searching for that sweet-hot connection. In the cool, moonlit air, the sudden flare between them felt hot enough to turn the sand to glass at their feet. He buried his hands in her hair, and she let her head tip back as he kissed her, sinking further into an unexpected blur of desire and surrender.
But then one tiny, sane corner of her brain resurfaced, reminding her of exactly who she was clinging to.
This was not what she set out to do.
She took herself back, breaking their connection with one forceful shove against his chest. Then, without looking at him, she turned and walked away, only stopping to pick up her sandals before heading down the alley and out of sight.
She could play that game too. And when she played, she intended to win.