Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3) (17 page)

CHAPTER 20

T
he marina parking
lot was nearly empty, it being low season, and not too many tourists headed out this early in the day anyway. Ben opened the car door for Preeya, helped her out, and then handed her a package wrapped in purple tissue paper. “This is for you.”

Nose scrunched, she squared her stance and shook her head as she opened it. “You really shouldn’t have gotten me anything.”

“It’s a Thai sarong. From the Bangkok airport. I had a layover there.” Then he willed himself to shut the hell up.

“It’s gorgeous. Thank you. But”—she laughed out loud—“you hadn’t met me yet…when you bought it? And it’s so perfect…” She fingered the thin fabric, her face all lit up.

He nodded and gave her a
tight-lipped
grin. “Honestly, I had brought it back for Beth, but when I gave it to her last night she insisted I give it to you instead. ‘To go with your eyes’ were her exact words. So I guess it’s a gift from Beth, really.”

The tilt of her head made him melt.

“That’s really sweet of her. And of her uncle.” She winked as she flicked off her sandals, holding his forearm for balance. “I love it so much, I’m puttin’ it on right now.” A smile of sweetness laced with spice took over her face.

Which made him slow blink in disbelief at how unbelievably stunning she was, and then that she was going to strip down. There. In the public parking lot. He flung his gaze down her body, then back to her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Ben. I have my suit on under this.”

“Right, of course.” But the small groups of carwash guys scanning the parking lot for business all had ample time to watch her slide, wriggle, and bend out of her clothes and down to her swim suit. And the sensations that the mere
thought
of her undressing brought out in him—every amazing square millimeter of her body that he’d devoured a day and a half ago—he realized that he should have given her the sarong in the car. So she could have changed in the car.

Really, Ben?

He swallowed and shook his head to stop his gawking and thinking and overheating, and then stood in front of her to block her from view while blowing out a long, calming breath.

“Hey, hold this for me, would ya?” She handed him her purse, freeing up her hands to unbutton then shimmy out of her jeans shorts, revealing—
oh God
—her
black-and
-silver bikini bottoms. He sighed and rolled his eyes. She then wrapped the sarong tight around her curvy hips and voluptuous behind. Yeah, he needed to bite down on something, and
not
picture biting down on her.

Because she was just too much for him. An overload for the senses. The other night’s torrent, then last night’s sweet surreality—her with him and his family—and
hell
, every minute of his own torturous questioning and fantasizing and analyzing up to now.

And just when he thought she was done, her arms crossed in front of her, and her thin white tank came up and over her head. Her bikini top held and lifted her breasts perfectly.

Damn, this was
hard
.

And now he was hard. Rock hard. He lowered her purse a few inches, to cover his
auto-reaction
.

“Hey, so, where’s
your
purse today?” Her brows danced with pride at her playful dig, then not a moment later, she keeled over laughing, taking his wrist to keep herself steady.

Though he’d craved her touch, God, since he’d picked her up from the hotel, he still had some defending to do. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “If you must know, I left my
messenger
bag—”

“Your
murse
, you mean…” More hysterical giggles. “AKA, man purse.”

“Oh, that’s it.” He swung her purse onto his shoulder, lifted her up from her
bent-over
laughing fit, and pulled her into him and his very
well-maintained
hard-on
.

Her laughter halted. Her eyes widened then showed a glint of
surprise-to
-
heat-to
-need.

“As you can see, or rather
feel
, I’m plenty man enough to carry a ‘murse’—aka ‘man purse’, if you’d prefer to—”

Her mouth cut off his words, her lips and tongue taking what they wanted from him as she pressed her purple
sarong-wrapped
center hard into him.

Holy
hell.

His pulse pounding through him, he groaned into the depth of their kiss, completely unable to keep his hands in one place. Her face then neck, her shoulder blades, her graspable ass then silken arms and around to the smooth center dip of her spine… If only he could touch all of her all at once. Because damn, he wanted all of her,
this
, all the time.

From the strength of her hold, the caress of her lips, it seemed so did she, which sent relief and more ecstasy rocketing through him as their early morning lip lock continued. Her sudden need danced with his…until whooping and hollering from the loitering car washers broke through their bubble, their little corner of
parking-lot
paradise.

Between the guys’ applause, Preeya’s resumed giggles, and his racing heartbeat, he found it hard to hear or focus or breathe. But when her hand went to his chest, over his heart, and her gaze met his, he found his grounding.

He kissed the top of her head. “Our audience got their fill for the day, I think.”

“Yeah, I think so.” A puff of laughter, then she licked her lips. “Here, I can take my purse back now.”

He hiked her purse strap up higher on his shoulder—and shifted his stance to adjust his now extremely
snug-fitting
shorts—proudly. “No, no. I’m good. I felt naked without my
murse
, anyway.” He winked while she shook her head at him and sighed. “But, hey, I did bring the sunscreen.” He reached into the car and pulled out a travel size bottle. “And my special waterproof
phone-and
-wallet pouch.” He tugged on the lanyard around his neck, the pouch under his shirt.

“So very prepared, Doctor.”

“That, I am. However, I have nothing to carry the sunscreen
in
. Gosh, if only I had brought my
bag
, I wouldn’t have to ask you to carry this in yours.”

“Touché. Now, gimme the lotion.” She took the small bottle and tied a triple knot around its neck with her brand new sarong. “How’s that?”

“Perfect.”
Perfect
Preeya.

“Anything else I should tie on here?”

“Nope. And…I’ll lock your purse in the trunk if that’s cool?”

“Sure.”

“Need anything from it first? Your phone…though I don’t think it would even fit in my handy
water-proof
pouch…”

She took a second to think. “You know what…it’s my
solo-cation
. It would be good to be off the grid for a bit…and anyway, you have your phone in case of emergency.”

“Which won’t happen because, damn it, we had enough emergency the other day to last us a lifetime.”

“Definitely.” Preeya shook her head and flicked her eyes to the sky.

“So…I think we’re all set.”

She took his hand, laced her fingers in his, and smiled at him with her eyes. Those eyes. “All set.”

“You know those eyes will be the death of me, Preeya Patel.” He squeezed her hand as he led her to the marina entrance.

She blushed and squeezed his hand back.

“I need to ask, does anyone else in your family have the same violet hue?”

She glanced up at him, then out to the bay ahead of them. “My mother.” Her voice got thick. “I have my mother’s eyes—and her flightiness, too, so says my aunt.”

His breath paused a beat as he studied her. That deep sea of surfacing sadness flooded her heart, and now his. “You okay?”

She met his gaze again. “Sorry…yeah, I’m good.” The corner of her lips crept up. “No, I’m really good.”

He sighed then smiled. “Me, too. I’m really good, too. And God, Preeya, you’re gonna love the island. And the falls. They’re pure magic.” He leaned in and kissed her lips. “
Sadness-stripping
magic.”

His secret spot, the one he’d found after Jamie died. He’d gone back there each and every day for a week blinking mental snapshots of the cascading falls with his
grief-stricken
lenses. Trying to stop time, and then maybe trying to rewind it?

But today, to his relief and to his enthrallment, he wanted the water—and time—to move forward. He wanted to move forward. Maybe he wanted to move forward with this woman?

Ben, don’t jump so far ahead
. Right over that waterfall’s edge.

The Vallarta Adventures guide came into view, waving to them from the dock.

“Okay, ready for our adventure?”

“Absolutely, Dr. Trainer. I’m so, so ready.”

*

He held her around the waist the entire boat ride out to the Marietas. A firm, protective hold. And although it was ninety degrees by 9:00 a.m., the brisk stream of ocean air chilled her to the bone. He somehow knew it and held her closer to him.

The group on the boat was pretty small. Beside Ben and her were Pedro the guide, his assistant, Surfer Dude Ted—he’d actually introduced himself that way—and two retired couples from Canada—so said their hats, bags, and other touristy paraphernalia branded from their home country.

The two couples were funny, Preeya thought. She nudged Ben to witness the hilarity. The two
silver-haired
men, one thin as a rail and the other with a healthy beer gut, spoke to each other, while the cute older ladies chatted away together like little clucking hens. Occasionally the respective husbands did a kind of
grunt-and
-nod to their wives when they needed something. Sunscreen, or a snack or what have you. And in response the respective wives would grimace at their husbands, but would then provide the requested item. Disgruntled, but fulfilling the need nonetheless.

Ben just shook his head and laughed. He leaned in to her. “It gets that way pretty fast.” The whispered comment, just loud enough to compete with the boat motor and ocean wind, sounded like it came from experience. She laughed to herself. She would have thought Ben and his late wife too young to have gotten to such a state of grumpy telepathy. But she couldn’t possibly know.

Ben sat back, pulling away from her ear, and shifted so his arm supported her back better. Now square and centered in their seats, she and Ben both faced their boat mates. To find four pairs of eyes staring at them. A common wonder—no, pure awe—had come over both couples’ faces. The ladies’ frowns had morphed into wide grins while each reached a hand to their longtime partners. And the men each returned
close-lipped
smiles and patted their respective wives on the backs of their hands.

“Are you newlyweds?” the thinner man asked.

“Us? Oh God,” Preeya laughed, looking at Ben with a total loss for words, the spotlight being just too much for her.

“Is it that obvious?” Ben answered confidently, taking Preeya’s hand, bringing it to his lips, and kissing it sweetly.

“You make a lovely couple. Don’t they, Charles? Don’t they make a lovely couple…can you remember when we were that in love?”

“I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast, dear. But I’m sure it was delicious, since you made it for me,” the rounder man answered his wife.

“Oh, Charles, we went
out
to eat this morning,” she scoffed, slapping his hand lovingly with a hint of what might have been a very standard frustration.

“You have an extraordinary time together, you hear? And make every second count,” the lady with the sun hat interrupted her friend. “Because it goes fast, I’ll tell ya.” She winked, then she shot up to her feet. “Dolphins!” She pointed a
sun-spotted
arm out toward the front of the boat. “John, get the camera. Get the camera!”

And the four older folks rushed to attend to their necessary
proof-recording
devices, while Preeya, still in shock at the interaction, tilted her head at Ben. “You are something else…”

“What? It made them so happy. Why not just go along with their hopeful version? And give them a little vicarious…good stuff.”

“Is that what we have here?” She motioned between their bodies, huddled tight together. “Good stuff?”

“Yeah. Good stuff.” He nodded and smiled, holding her gaze in his. “And it’s not too far off base, is it?”

Her heartbeat blocked her ability to swallow. Or to talk. She could only nod.

He took her chin in his grasp, stopping her head from nodding and her thoughts from rushing. “We’re in public, Ben,” she whispered. “The elderly.”

“I know. But we’re newlyweds, Preeya.” He leaned in to kiss her, and placed a light peck on her cheek, then one light touch of his lips to hers. He followed the sweet kisses with a whispering of words at her ear, but she couldn’t make them out over the boat motor, the
oohs
and
ahhs
from the dolphin sighting, and the rushing wind.

She looked at him and his wide amber eyes so deep and soft and warm and…waiting for a response from her. God, he was so sweet and so were his whispered words, she imagined. She tilted her head at him just as the old folks’ excitement peaked—something about a baby dolphin.

And then Preeya could not contain herself any longer. An explosion of laughter—out of the blue,
ill-timed
and unstoppable. She patted Ben’s thigh and shook her head, trying to tell him through her uncontrollable outburst that she wasn’t laughing at him. That it was the entire scene, the comedic play they’d been cast in, more hilarious than the murse episode, funnier than even her favorite
Lucy
clip from childhood. This, she thought, was priceless.

And as Ben waited patiently for her to rein in her laughter, she put her hand to his face. She calmed down, composed herself, and found air and words. “I’m sorry, it was just that I didn’t hear you. I didn’t hear what you whispered. Over all this…” Her other hand swept across their airspace, presenting the bay and the people and all.