She lifted her head to look up at him, horrified by his story. "The first day we met, Michael, you told me you were a horrible person. I'm confused. The person you're describing is not that, not at all. The person who arranged this trip so Rowan and I can feel better is not that."
Even in the darkness, she could see the cold void in his eyes, as if he were looking at something terrible that only he could see. "Bad shit follows me, Savannah. It just does. I don't know if I'm working off some kind of karma or what. It never ends."
"That can't be true," she protested. "I accept that Tommy was an accident. My family probably never will, but that's how they are. It's no reflection on you because the way they feel is based on a lie."
"Tommy isn't the only one."
Those words affected her like ghostly fingertips up her spine. "Who?" she asked softly.
"When I was a kid, my mother had a new man every month, and none of them except for one or two were worth a shit. The ones who were decent didn't last long, because they couldn't deal with her issues. But it seemed the worse they were, the longer they were around. Some of them were straight-up predators. I was a kid and I saw these things; she was an adult and she didn't, or else she didn't care."
Savannah didn't need to hear any more. She didn't think she could. "Anything you did in defense of your family was completely understandable."
"Is it?" he asked, searching her eyes. "Why does it still follow me?"
"Maybe because you let it?"
"Believe me, if I could shake it, I would."
"I know. Easier said than done. Probably the worst thing I've ever done is shoplift a box of condoms; I'm not one to give advice."
He blinked at her and then, amazingly, burst out laughing. The shock of it stunned her, but after a moment of embarrassed silence-had she really just told him that?-she couldn't help but join in. My, but he was gorgeous when he laughed. "Well! I didn't want the lady at the checkout counter to know I was going to have sex. Turns out I didn't anyway. What a jackass that guy turned out to be." Actually, the damn things expired before she could ever use even one of them, but he didn't have to know that. "To think I risked a misdemeanor over him."
"I needed that," Mike said once he'd caught his breath. "But don't hold it against me that I'm glad you sent the jackass packing."
"Oh, I'm glad too. I should have made him get the damn condoms."
Easily, naturally, Mike's hands found hers again, both of them. This time his fingers laced through hers, sending a nice shivery sensation through her. The slightly uncomfortable girth of his fingers between hers had her thoughts running wild with imagining the girth of other areas of his body. "You're something else," he said.
"But you don't know what, right?" she teased.
"No," he admitted, shaking his head a little dazedly. "I don't know what. Yet."
"Same here." Oh God, was he leaning closer? She felt dizzy looking up at him with the stars all around his head, like they revolved around him. A small wave washed up around her feet, cool and fleeting. Simple as that wave that touched her, his lips touched hers, then drew back. Simple, but enormous. Savannah shivered, drinking in his breath, off balance and whirling though she stood perfectly still, held to earth by nothing but his hands holding hers.
More. Please. She tried to tell him without saying a word, looking into his eyes, seeing the raw need there. And he came back to her, his mouth opening against hers now to invite a deeper contact. The wind whipped wildly around them and she let him in, let his tongue tease inside her mouth and coax hers out to play. His thumbs drew lazy circles on her palms, drawing desire from a wellspring inside her that had been dry for so long now-
"Mike!" a shout came, borne on the wind. It jolted them apart, Savannah blushing and trying to tame her hair into something that looked like it was attached to her head, Mike straightening his shirt. "Is that you, man?"
Michael turned around to face the direction from which the voice had come, lifting an arm in greeting. "It's me," he called back.
The guy walking toward them in white T-shirt and khaki shorts stopped suddenly. "Oh, my bad, didn't see you had company."
Mike put a steadying hand to the small of Savannah's back. She still thought her knees might buckle at any moment. "It's all right. This is Savannah. Savannah, this is my neighbor Randall."
"Nice to meet you," she managed to say. Randall reached them and held out a hand, which she shook. His other hand was wrapped around a beer can.
"Likewise. I was just gonna tell you, we've got steaks and burgers up here. We're all sitting around shootin' the shit, drinking a few, you know. Y'all should come on up."
Savannah expected Mike to turn down the offer, but before he answered, he looked at her. "Are you hungry yet?"
"I am, yeah. I don't think I realized how much." She hadn't had anything to eat since the plane ride over, and all at once it felt like it. And she needed some time to collect her thoughts; that kiss had scrambled them to hell and back. His lips were as strong as every other part of him.
"Well all right!" Randall exclaimed with the happiness only experienced by the inebriated. "Beer's on ice, margaritas are in the blender if the lady so wishes."
Oh, damn, the last thing she needed was to get tipsy, but at the moment it was the main thing she wanted. "We probably won't stay too long," Mike said, keeping his hand at Savannah's back as they began the walk up the beach toward the houses.
"I hear ya, I hear ya." Randall cackled knowingly. As soon as they reached the deck outside his house, where a delicious scent was wafting from the grill, Savannah met Randall's wife, Jenna, and two other couples whose names she tried to remember but promptly forgot. All she could see, really, was the man who had touched and kissed her out there by the water as if she might break. Every time she thought about it-which was pretty much constantly-her heart flipped over in her chest.
"So how long have you and Mike been dating?" Jenna asked after leading Savannah into the kitchen for hamburger fixings.
"Oh, we're not . . . I mean . . ." Good God, she couldn't even conjure up an explanation for this. But Jenna only laughed. She was petite and very pretty, with dark blond hair she'd been smart enough to pull back in the beach wind and kind hazel eyes. She handed Savannah a plate with a toasted bun.
"Believe me, I know how it is," she said, directing Savannah to the lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles spread out on the kitchen island.
"We went to his brother's concert tonight because my sister-in-law is a big fan," Savannah explained. "And we sort of ended up here." That sounded safe enough.
"That's right! I'd forgotten those guys were playing tonight. One day maybe I'll get Randall to take me to a concert. We have small kids-who happen to be with Grandma tonight-and when we get a rare night off from parenting, we're so old and boring we'd rather just hang out here than go out."
"I don't even have kids and I already understand that."
"Well, if you're wondering," Jenna said, pointing vaguely toward the patio doors with the knife from the mayonnaise jar, "that is a wonderful man out there. We think the world of him. I always have to tell this story about Mike whenever we meet a friend of his: when our oldest son was twelve, about three years ago, Mike saved him out there from a riptide."
"Oh, wow," Savannah said, momentarily at a loss for anything else to offer. "That's amazing."
"Risked getting caught up in it himself, but he knew exactly what to do. Just went after him like some kind of damn superhero and got him out. I had started running out there myself to go after him, but Mike yelled at me to stay, and it's a good thing because I probably would have drowned or made him have to save me too. But he got him back while I stood on the beach a screaming, hysterical mess, watching my kid get pulled out from shore." Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to spreading mayo on her bun. "Scariest day of my life. We owe him so much, and he waves it off like it was nothing."
Incredible. Savannah watched his tall figure through the clear glass door, where he was chatting with his friends out on the deck and occasionally drinking from a beer can, imagining him pulling such a heroic feat. Striding from the water like some kind of sea god to return Jenna's child to her. She must have wanted to kiss him. Savannah damn sure did. Again.