“You should probably take a couple of days off,” he suggested, although he hated the thought of not having her on the boat. When had he grown so addicted to her company?
“Maybe,” she said. “I could use the break to do some research. I’m not sure I can learn anything more from diving anyway. I’ve replaced all the samples I got originally, and I can’t dive any deeper than I did today.”
The fact that she didn’t argue with him made him even more concerned. Beka always argued with him. She must be feeling lousy indeed. Maybe she was coming down with one of the summer colds that was going around. They’d warned his father at the hospital to stay away from anyone who showed signs of being sick. All the more reason to keep her away from the boat, dammit.
Marcus suddenly had enough of being social. “This has been great,” he said to the group they were sitting with. “It’s been really nice to see you all again. But I think we’re going to take off for now. Thanks again for inviting us.” He stood up and Beka stood with him, smiling at everyone and adding her thanks.
“Aren’t you going to stick around for the show?” Frank asked. “It starts soon.”
His wife Nancy elbowed him in the ribs. “I think maybe Marcus would like to spend a little time with Beka without all us old married people cramping his style.” She nodded toward the bonfire where a local band played an eclectic mix of rock, swing, and jazz. A dozen couples had kicked off their shoes and were dancing on the sand. “I’m guessing he’d rather dance with his beautiful date than sit around talking over the good old days, most of which you guys made up anyway.”
Frank studied Beka a little too earnestly, about one beer over his limit. “Hell yeah, I see what you mean.” Nancy elbowed him again, harder this time, and everyone else guffawed. Eventually they managed to get away, and Marcus could feel his face burning like the fire they were heading toward.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered. “They meant well. We don’t have to dance, of course.”
Beka stopped walking and put one hand on his arm. Electricity shot through him where her flesh touched his. “Does that mean you don’t know how to dance?” she asked, a sly twinkle in her eye.
“I’ll have you know that I am the best former Marine–fisherman dancer on this beach,” Marcus said stoutly. The fact that he was probably the only one didn’t make it any less likely that he would step on her feet, of course, but if the music stayed slow enough, he could probably keep up without making an ass of himself.
Her laugh trilled lightly above the notes of the flute player, flying up like lightning bugs into the night sky. When they reached the circle around the band, the tune changed to something quiet and slightly mournful from the eighties; Billy Joel, maybe. He wasn’t sure. All he knew for certain was how right Beka felt in his arms, her face turned up toward his with a smile, the silk of her hair brushing against his skin as he twirled her around.
The rest of the world vanished into the distant background, until there was nothing left but the salty breeze off the ocean, the warmth of Beka’s presence, and a music that seemed to come as much from the stars and the moon and the rare bubble of happiness in his chest as it did from any human hands.
Until someone tapped him on the shoulder and a familiar voice said, “May I cut in?”
FIFTEEN
WHAT THE HELL was he doing here? Marcus spun around to face Kesh, his hands balled into fists as he fought the almost uncontrollable urge to pound the other man into dust.
Beka said, “Kesh!” But Marcus thought he detected more surprise than pleasure in her voice.
“Did you invite this guy to join us?” Marcus asked through gritted teeth. This was taking “three is a crowd” to whole new levels.
Beka shook her head. “No, I did not. In fact, I haven’t seen him since the day before yesterday; I’m not even sure how he knew I would be here.” The look on her face was distinctly unwelcoming, which made Marcus relax just enough to start thinking instead of simply reacting.
“Did you follow us here?” he asked, taking a half step in front of Beka. Great. The guy was a stalker. Well, if he wanted Beka, he was going to have to go through Marcus to get her.
Kesh shrugged elegantly. “I was concerned when Beka did not arrive for our usual dinner on the beach,” he said. “When I arrived at her home to make sure that she was not ill, I saw you driving away. So yes, I followed her. But merely to ensure her safety.”
Beka scowled at him, for once clearly not impressed by his charm. “We don’t have a ‘usual dinner,’ Kesh. Just because we got together a few nights in a row doesn’t mean that it is going to happen every day.” She crossed her arms over her chest, making that magical dress do dangerous things. “And I certainly don’t need you to keep me safe.” She gave him a glare that was steeped in meaning. “Have you forgotten who I am?”