I turned to see Noah staring at the house, his face blank as if he were remembering something and trying to forget it.
“You okay?” I asked, taking his hand.
He shook himself, smiling as he cleared whatever he was thinking from his mind. “Yeah. Just thinking. Is this where you live?”
“Yeah. I guess you can come pick me up here next time instead of the parking lot,” I said. He chuckled. “Me and four others live and work here. If we are able to purchase some land near by, then I'll be able to do my doctorate research program here too.”
“What if you don't win?” His voice held a note of concern that made me smile.
“I don't know. I'm trying not to think about it too much. Once we find out, then I'll make a decision as to where to go next. I really love it here, though. I want to stay,” I said. I took his hand. “But that is not tourist talk. You want a tour? I have to grab my swimsuit.”
Noah nodded and followed me in the back door. I couldn't remember the last time I had used the front door.
“Here's the kitchen. There's an attachment over there where we can make the shark food and not get it mixed up with ours,” I told him as we entered the house. He nodded, his head on a swivel as he looked at everything. We walked through the “living room” filled with all sorts of fish tanks, and I gave a running commentary on our research and what we did with all of them. His eyes glassed over a little and I hurried him to my room.
I peeked in the door to make sure that Brooke wasn't still sleeping. Her bed was neatly made in the corner, and I gave a little sigh of relief. “Come on in,” I invited him. “That's my bed over there.”
Noah walked cautiously into the room, going over to my corner. He looked strange standing next to my bed, and yet somehow like he belonged.
“I'm going to change real quick,” I told him as I opened the bathroom door. “Make yourself at home.”
Noah sat gingerly on the edge of my bed, looking around at my things. I had a poster of the local tropical fish hanging on the wall and pictures of my family pinned below it. He leaned over to look at a family portrait from the last time I was home. A slight smile twitched at the corners of his mouth and I ducked into the bathroom.
I changed as quickly as I could, managing to brush my teeth, put on waterproof mascara, brush my hair, run a razor across my legs, and get in my swimsuit in less than three minutes. I debated between a one-peice swimsuit and a bikini, finally daring to go with the bikini. Even though we would be in the ocean, I was willing to risk losing my suit. I smirked as I thought about the possibility of losing it on purpose with him around. I came out and handed him a bottle of sunscreen.
“If you'll get my back, I'll get yours,” I offered, turning around. He quickly stood up from the bed and took the lotion. His big hands rubbed it into my skin in smooth strokes. I had to concentrate on not sighing with pleasure as he did it. “Your turn.”
He wiggled out of his shirt, presenting his back to me. Well-defined shoulders merged with the perfect muscles of his back and down into a tight waist. I was sad when I had finished rubbing in the lotion; I could have touched his bare skin for days.
He stretched the shirt over his head as I slathered a little more sunscreen across my face and exposed skin. As he escaped the collar of the shirt, he pointed to the pictures on the wall. “You look like your mom.”
“Thanks,” I said. I thought my mom was beautiful. “Dad says Jake and I got her smile, but we got lucky and got his brains.”
Noah laughed, the warm sound filling the small room. His blue eyes took me in, checking me out in my swimsuit. For once in my life, I didn't feel self-conscious; I felt sexy. I liked the way his eyes felt on me, and judging from the reaction in his swim shorts, he liked it too. I was all warm and soupy inside because of it.
“Let's go get the gear,” he said, taking my hand in his. I had a feeling that a little longer, we would be even later getting to the water.
I guided him back through the house, stopping in the prep kitchen to pick up some fish for the shark pups. Noah eyed the small bucket of fish warily as I led him out to the pen.
“I need to feed the pups before we go out on the water,” I said, kicking off my sandals and stepping into the pool. “You want to try?”
“Pups? That's water. Pups are dogs.” He stood on the edge looking at the four little sharks swimming lazily around the pen.
I laughed and set the bucket down, stepping out of the pool to take his hand. He frowned, but he slid off his shoes. He followed me until he was knee-deep in the water before he stopped moving. I let go of his hand and kept going. “Just come stand here. I'll bring one to you. They can't hurt you. They're too little.”