Half-Hitched. Isabel Sharpe

This paper goes in this pile. That goes in that one.

      “Hello, Addie.”

      She started at the sound of Derek’s voice, luckily not standing close enough to the edge to pitch over. She immediately had to put the brakes on a fantasy of Derek saving her from certain death by hauling her back into his arms.

      Honestly. Addie pulled herself together. “Hey, there, Derek.”

      Then she made a fatal error. She turned to look at him.

      He was breathtaking. A touch more sun on his cheeks made the contrast even sexier between golden skin and his white shirt, and made his vivid eyes practically jump out of his face.

      No, no, Kevin was coming soon. Once glance at him and everything she’d ever felt for him over so many years would come rushing back again, and this Derek guy would be forgotten.

      “Enjoying the view?”

      “I am.” She put on a casual smile—ho-hum, nice to see you—and concentrated on the view, which she’d just been pretending to look at before. Yes, it was lovely. A sailboat was cruising in toward the bay, sails crisp white in the sunshine. A lobsterman was hauling traps just beyond the next island, his white and green boat bobbing gently in the waves. Breezes ruffled her hair; the air was sweet enough to drink. Why hadn’t she been enjoying this all along? “I don’t think I’d ever get tired of this view. The sea is always changing, the light, the birds, the boats…”

      Derek chuckled. “Well, Ms. Manhattan. You’re describing the view I see pretty much every day. Maybe you need to give that life a try.”

      She snorted, having to suppress yet another picture, this one of herself sunbathing on the deck of his yacht. “Do they pay full-time salary and benefits for someone to project the odds of running aground or sinking?”

      “Um…” He tapped a finger on his very sexy lips as if trying to remember. “Not really, no. But I have an onboard bookkeeping position opening up in a few weeks. Are you interested?”

      “Don’t think so, but thanks.” Addie made another serious mistake. She smiled at him. Then he smiled at her, and it was as if the scene around them wrapped itself up neatly and disappeared, the way backgrounds did sometimes in cartoons, leaving the two of them alone in nothingness.

      Worse than how she’d felt the night before when she’d had to force herself to watch one of the most magnificent sunsets she’d ever seen. All she’d wanted to do was gaze into those cinnamon-brown eyes and drool.

      Okay, Addie. Engage rational superpowers immediately. Like this: fine to look, fine to appreciate, but no touching.

      An upswell of voices by the house made her turn to see what was happening.

      Kevin was happening. Somehow she’d missed being first to see the boat, hadn’t heard it, either, and now he was right here, standing on the front porch, being hugged by Ellen, two or three others crowding around for their turns, grinning that old familiar straight-toothed grin that could still knock her for a loop.

      And just like that, as if she’d been released from a sorcerer’s spell, Addie was able to move again, to walk away from The awesome but evil power that was Derek, and into the pure heavenly light of Kevin.

      “Ad-die.” The last syllable of her name came out on a shout. She’d forgotten the special way he said it, and the memory made her legs move even faster. And there he was, disentangling himself from the other woman and sailing down the steps on his strong runner’s legs to grab and whirl her around in a joyous embrace that made her laugh and gasp for breath and nearly spill her punch.

      Kevin Ames.

      “God, look at you.” He held her at arm’s length, his face glowing. Eleven years later, he looked exactly the same. Maybe his face was thinner, maybe his skin was a bit weathered, and now that she looked, had he lightened his hair? But really, exactly the same. “You’ve turned into one seriously hot babe, Addie!”

      His face might be glowing, hers was on fire. “Thanks, Kevin. You really—”

      “Addie all grown up.” He shook his head, looking her closely up and down. Somewhat disturbingly, she noticed his eyes were the exact shade of brown as Derek’s. Medium caramel. Only for some reason they weren’t doing quite the same things to her. “Addie Sewell. I can’t believe it. You’re a real woman now.”

      “Oh, well.” She was taken aback by his seductive tone then chided herself for being such a prude. Kevin wanting her was the whole point. “I just did the normal grow—”

      “What were you, seventeen, eighteen last time I saw you?”

      She nodded, unable to blush any harder than she was, or she’d try. “Eighteen.”

      “I remember that time very well, Addie.” His voice lowered, his gaze turned tender. He touched her under the chin, making her shiver. “We never quite got synced up, you and me.”

      “Uh, no. Not quite.” She peeked up at him under her lashes, trying not to be mortified by the memory of her outburst at their last meeting. He certainly didn’t seem to hold it against her. “I was a little naive.”

      “You were?” One eyebrow rose suggestively. “So that means you’re not anymore?”

      Man, her blush mechanism was going to wear out at this rate. But this was what she had come for. No matter how loudly Aunt Grace’s boxes were calling to her, no matter how uneasy and rattled she felt around Kevin, she wasn’t going to be the shy hide-away girl anymore. “No, Kevin. Not anymore.”

      “I’m really glad to hear that, Addie.” He leaned in close, caught and intertwined her fingers with his, gave them a squeeze. “I’ve always had a soft spot for you. Actually…sometimes a hard spot.”

      She caught herself just before she cringed, and smiled up at him without shame this time, waiting for the world to disappear around them the way it had around her and Derek.

      Waiting…

      And…

      Hmm.

      Well, she felt all warm and melty and sweet, that was something, right?

      Plenty.

      “Kevin!” A guy Addie barely knew—John, she thought—one of Paul and Kevin’s old track buddies charged out of the house and Kevin bolted away for the chest-bumping man-hug.

      Addie grinned at the macho ritual then on impulse turned around, feeling eyes burning into her back.

      He was still there, feet planted apart, hands on his hips, looking grimmer than she’d ever seen him, or pretty much anyone, look.

      Not because of her and Kevin?

      No. He didn’t look sulky or immature or sour-grapes. He looked…angry. And strong. And nobly determined.

      And sexy as hell.

       Turning head away, lalala, can’t seeeee you!

      “Addie.” Sarah bounded toward her, drink in hand. “We have got to talk.”

      “Now?” She peered around Sarah at Kevin, relieved to have an excuse not to look back at Derek again. “Can’t I have a few more minutes?”

      “No.” Sarah grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the crowd, across the top of the hill where Addie and Derek had walked the night before.

      “What is it, Sarah?”

      “I have to tell you something.”

      “I figured that much.” She was used to Sarah’s drama, but this time Sarah seemed uncharacteristically uneasy. Usually Addie had the feeling that underneath the wailing and gnashing of teeth, Sarah was enjoying herself immensely. Not this time. “What’s going on, are you okay?”