Okay. That and the fact that only someone with impaired mental capacity wouldn’t see the benefits of shepherding Lilah through the gorgeous scenery of the Caribbean on a little tiny boat, just the two of them. He wasn’t stupid. Or a saint. Or the one who had been jabbering about sex and cameras.
“Let’s get on it,” he suggested. “Jack’s going to text me in an hour to give me the lowdown. Thora’s in good hands.”
“I should have gone with her.” Lilah’s huge dark eyes latched onto something inside him and wouldn’t let go.
“Yeah. I’ve got a guilt complex raking a hole through my stomach too,” he admitted, mostly to honor her concerns. “But if the situation were reversed, wouldn’t you want them to go on?”
“Of course,” she said instantly. “I’d hate it if I was in the hospital and knew Jack and Thora were hanging out in the waiting room, just sitting for hours as the race went on without them.”
He grinned because he couldn’t help himself and flipped his hands up. “What? No love for me as I sacrifice my prize money to sit by your side?”
There came that blush, and he was not going to apologize for enjoying the fact that he could get her to. If he played his cards right, that pretty pink stain might make a few more appearances. To hell with any worries about what might happen after the race when he had to go back to Coronado and she had to go back to being afraid of her own shadow.
After all, he’d feel terrible if he didn’t help her out with the lack of passion in her life. It was his civic duty really.
“Thank you, Fitz, for being there for me in my time of need. You’re the best,” she intoned like a class-A smart-ass, and he loved that too.
“That’s more like it. Now. Clue. Let’s show these people how it’s done. We’ve got some ground to make up after that little side foray into a medical emergency.”
Lilah sat down on the same wooden bench Thora had just vacated and pulled the clue from her bag to read it aloud. “Wash your hair 112 times at the shore. I think this refers to a beauty salon maybe? Can we check to see if there’s one called The Shore on the island?”
The ocean breeze had gotten ahold of her hair and tangled around her face. He had the worst urge to comb his fingers through it, but it was just an excuse to touch her because come on. The little T-shirt she’d pulled on this morning hugged her curves nicely, what few there were, which was killing him. Overblown figures had never done it for him, but hers? Was perfect. Slim, straight in all the right places, nipping in and out in better places.
And now she was staring at him. Because… he was supposed to be looking up something on his phone. “Nail salon. Got it.”
“Beauty salon. Are you sure you packed your brain this morning?”
“Pretty sure. You wanna check?” He tilted his head toward her, totally curious what that would look like. As long as it involved her putting her hands on him, it was all good.
But she just laughed. “I don’t have X-ray vision. Though wouldn’t that be cool?”
Yeah, unless he was using his to survey a building full of ISIS dickheads with machine guns. The thermal scanner equipment he got to use on a regular basis wasn’t the slightest bit sexy, so he changed the subject readily by tapping his phone and holding up the search he’d just done on Green Cay establishments with Shore in the title. “It’s a hotel.”
“Shampoo.”
They said it at the same time, and her huge grin tripped through his heart with a fair amount of warmth. Very nice. She could do that about a hundred more times, no problem.
But then she leaned over and grabbed his phone to hold it steady as she pulled up directions. Since he was still holding the phone too, her fingers threaded with his and he couldn’t find a thing to complain about.
Yep. His gut was definitely steering him in the right direction. Now he just needed to figure out how to steer her away from the hunt and toward a place that was a little more secluded.
“It’s about half a mile down the beach,” she announced. “We can walk. Come on.”
She vaulted from the bench and took off toward the street that ran parallel to the water outside the marina. Another team came into view ahead of them as they left the marina parking lot and went left onto a small walkway to the side of the road.
“Look, we’re not too far behind,” she said with a nod and picked up her pace. “Let’s run.”
“In flip-flops?” He eyed her cute pink thong sandals. “You’re a fan of broken legs?”
“Maybe I was hoping you’d carry me,” she shot back.