Proximity (4 page)

Well, not always anyway. This morning it had taken awhile to get Bill out of her mind. Ever since he'd shown up on her porch with take-out, he'd been acting weird with a capital W.

Now, sitting here in the mid-afternoon humidity, she doubted she'd sleep well at all for the rest of the trip. Bill stood at the head of the table, rambling on about this being his final trip with the group, which took some balls after all of his talks to her about needing to come back so she could snap out of her funk.

Who the hell did he think he was? Just because the world thought he was some kind of genius didn't mean any of them gave a crap. They'd known each other too long, been through too much, had sworn to be diving together when they were all old and gray with their grandkids in tow. And now he was announcing out of the blue that he wouldn't be joining them anymore? Where had this come from? They'd spent hours together in the past several months and not once had this stupid idea made it into their conversations.

She squinted at him, wishing she could see inside that skull of his. She watched him sucking up to the dive master who would be guiding them during their stay. A map of the caves lay out on the table in front of them, clearly outlining the sinkholes that would serve as their entrances and exits. For each dive, they would traverse one section of the cave before popping up beneath another sinkhole to be retrieved by a team that would be driving to that destination while they traversed the labyrinth below the earth.

Bill's shaggy brown hair curled slightly over his ears from the humidity and a day's worth of stubble covered his face. His tight green t-shirt hinted at the tip of a mermaid's tail that peeked beneath the short sleeve of his left bicep. Gone were the corporate trappings that he hid behind in Dallas.

How could he give this up? He lived for the thrill as much as any of them.

"Mai Tai," she said to the waiter without tearing her gaze from Bill's bent head. Any relaxation she'd gained from the massage had evaporated at this announcement. From the strange looks on the guys' faces, she knew they all agreed with her and were simply biding time for the dive master to leave before launching into question mode.

Bill glanced up, his hazel eyes full of caution.

Yeah, you'd better be scared, Billy Boy
. She tapped her fingertips on the table.

"Are you paying attention to the layout of the caves, Savannah? Should anything—"

"Are you my daddy now, Bill? Or my professor? I mean, seriously, you're treating me like I'm a child on this trip." She grinned absently at the waiter when he placed her drink in front of her. "Is that how you think of me? As a baby girl in need of your assistance? I miss a few trips and suddenly—"

"Whoa, calm down." He straightened, hands on his hips and shook his head. "You seem distracted so—"

"Do I, honey baby?" She knew he hated it when she called him pet names so she drawled out the last two words in her best fake Southern charm and batted her eyelashes.

"You've thrown us all into a tailspin, Bill." Stewart tapped the bottom of his beer bottle with a restless finger. "Give her a break. When did you decide that this was your final trip? And why are you acting like you're the team leader? Are you letting your success fool you into thinking we're your subordinates?"

"Maybe I'll come back..." Matthew, the dive master, eased back from the table. "Seems like you all have to hash out some things."

"Don't go." Bill ripped his gaze from hers and smiled at Matthew. "Let's go over the logistics for tomorrow one more time."

She met Derek's gaze and shrugged. He looked equally annoyed by this new Bill who'd shown up in Costa Rica. He'd been perfectly normal in Dallas...at her house, in the car, on the plane...so what the hell had happened between then and now? Staring hard at Derek, she tried to communicate her questions telepathically. The big guy seemed to be on her same wavelength and simply rolled his eyes as an answer.

"Are any of you paying attention to this? Matt has better things to do than—"

"Geez, Bill, what bug crawled up your ass last night?" Jon asked before pushing away from the table. "We got it. Thanks, Matt. I need something stronger than beer. Where's that waiter?"

"We can't be drinking before—"

"Sit down and stop acting like your father," she said quietly, knowing the comparison would irk him even further. "I think we need to have an intervention. What do you think, guys?"

They all agreed except for Bill who glared at her from across the table.

"An asshole intervention," Jon clarified in case Bill still didn't grasp the idea that none of them believed his little speech about expanding the business to California.

Bill had the grace to look away from them and fiddle with the corner of the map Matthew had left behind. The man probably regretted taking on the job of guiding a bunch of feuding Texans into a dangerous cave dive.

"We're a team," Stewart leaned forward on the table, "and we don't lie to each other. Never have, never will. There isn't one person at this table who thinks you're suddenly giving us up."

When Bill looked toward the towering pine trees surrounding them, she knew something was truly wrong. He looked troubled and secretive, two words she never thought she'd use to describe her best friend.

"Are you sick? Is that it?" she asked. The idea created a dark pit in the depths of her stomach. Memories of sitting in the hospital after her father's stroke bombarded her like a round of machine gun fire. "We're here for you no matter what. Tell us the truth."

"Oh, my God, man, is that what's really going on? You don't need to make up some elaborate story. Remember that blood oath we all took in Fiji?" Derek laughed and glanced around the table.

"We were drunk off our asses. I don't think that counts. That was one hell of a bon fire, wasn't it? What a night," Bill said, his gaze still locked on some distant branch on a random tree. A ghost of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "You guys are overthinking this, you know. It's not like we won't still be friends if I move away. Life moves on, sometimes we need to simply let go."

"How Zen of you," she muttered.

"Doesn't mean you need to leave the group if you move away either. You could meet us wherever we go. Why are you being so dramatic about this being your last dive and all that?" Derek slid a beer toward him. "C'mon and lighten up."

She knew when Bill took the beer and looked at everyone but her, that he wanted to quit the group because he was tired of her messing up his love life. She knew the rumors—her sisters were more than eager to make sure she knew what people said about her hanging out with this group of men—and she knew that he'd lost more than one girlfriend because of their attachment.

This sucks
.

"I'm going to take this in my room. I'll have dinner there, too, I think. I'm really tired." She pushed away from the table and strode toward the bridge leading to her suite.

"Savannah!" Jon called out but she didn't turn around.

She'd had a bad feeling about this trip before agreeing to go and should have gone with her gut. Instead, here she sat thousands of miles from home with friends who normally elevated her mood rather than sunk it.

She had just opened the door to her private balcony facing the canopy of the jungle when a hammering of knocks fell against the front door. Sighing, she ignored them, needing time to regroup.

Focus on the dive. That's why you're here. Look at that monkey staring at you.
She squinted at the howler monkey perched in an adjacent tree.
Gee, I hope he doesn't throw shit at me.

"You didn't lock the door. That's probably not safe." Bill stood behind her.

"You're certainly brining the drama on this trip." She sipped her Mai Tai and waited while he adjusted his long frame into the chair next to hers. "Emily told me that Lexi had an issue with our lunches and talks. I know you said that you didn't care what people said—and you know I don't—but it must be eating you up to leave the group. I'll quit, if that's what this is. You stay with them. Pretty soon the other guys will have similar issues with me, I'm sure. You're all too damn polite to say anything."

"Savannah—"

"Don't lie to me."

"Don't be a martyr."

She twisted in her chair to look him in the face. "We've been through snake bites, hurricanes, wicked currents, and years of shared secrets. Do. Not. Lie. To. Me."

He gritted his jaw but didn't look away. "Fine. I won't. Yes, I'm leaving the group because of you."

Well, damn, that hurts.

She felt like he'd slapped her. She'd been holding out hope that her insecurities were getting the best of her. She ripped her gaze from his and stared into her drink, absently poking the pineapple stalk into the alcohol before taking a big bite from it.

"I can't do this anymore. It's killing me," he said.

"What is?" She couldn't look at him. Sudden tears had blurred her vision.

"Choosing and never being chosen in return."

"What are you choosing? We're not playing a game of pick-up basketball. That's what you sound like—a child who isn't being picked for the right team." She rubbed a stray tear with the back of her hand. "What does that mean—
choosing
and not being
chosen
?"

"Nothing, Savannah. It doesn't mean anything."

"Now you're patronizing me." Goddamn it, he was pushing her buttons like never before.

"I'd watch that monkey if I were you...he's eyeballing your drink."

"I can handle the monkey." She slid him a gaze that she hoped melted him in place.

"You're overreacting to my announcement."

"Announcement? Stewart was right when he said you're treating us like your employees. What happened between my house and here? What aren't you telling me? Be straight, don't give me some bullshit story you've obviously made up on the fly. What is killing you? Your word...
killing.
Me? How? We're—"

"Stop it, Savannah. You're making everything worse." He stood and squeezed her shoulder. "Come back out with the guys. They're all pissed at me for driving you away. Let's hit restart on this adventure of ours and have a good night."

She'd rally because that's what she did—what she was known for, rallying and never breaking. Even after her fiancé had killed himself, she'd gone on with life and succeeded. She rallied. But right now she didn't want to laugh this off and be one of the guys. She wanted to drink her Mai Tai, order room service, and spend the rest of her night staring at the jungle surrounding them. Alone.

"Go do that then. I'm not coming."

"Savannah...this isn't about hurting you. You and I—"

"—Are such good buddies that you can't confide in me?" She met his gaze then, eyes devoid of tears, a skill she'd mastered over the years. "We talk every night. I thought we told each other everything, and here you have this resentment toward me—"

"—I don't resent you at all, couldn't, that's not—"

"Then tell me the truth because I know you're lying."

He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and stared at her as if weighing the pros and cons of confession.

"So it's true? You're still lying?" She stood then and poked him in the chest with the remainder of the pineapple stalk. "We are dive partners! I trust you with my life and you trust me with yours every damn time we go down. What could you possibly want to hide from me?"

"If I tell you, I'll lose you." He clenched his jaw but didn't break eye contact. "That's what you do, Savannah. Yes, we know each other really well, which means I know what I can and can't tell you."

"What do you mean that's what I do? Do
what
? You showed up at my house with Chinese take-out, all smiles and wanting to make plans to go to Denver for Alyssa and Luke's wedding—then wham you're suddenly moving to California." She gestured wide with her hands, more confused than she'd ever been about anything in her life. "Did you get bit by some Costa Rican bug and it's causing you to lose your fucking mind?"

Without hesitating, he grabbed the back of her head and ground his mouth against hers until they stumbled back against the chair and onto the railing of the balcony. The ferocity of his kiss weakened her knees and shocked her to the core.

She clenched at his shoulders for balance, conscious of leaning precariously against a bamboo railing thirty feet above the ground. Every inch of her trembled at the unexpected passion rolling from his lips and against hers.

But she liked the way he felt against her, enjoyed the way his fists pulled as he wrapped them tightly into her hair, liked the way he ground his mouth against hers until she kissed him back, thrilled at being thrown off balance and needing to cling to his strong shoulders to remain upright.

When she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, he moaned his appreciation. The sound electrified her blood with a million tiny pinpricks of awareness that pulsated beneath her skin.

As suddenly as he'd kissed her, he let her go.

She sagged against the railing, hands searching for something to hold onto as she watched him walk away. Anger replaced desire in the blink of an eye.