Stranger on the Shore (Mirabelle Harbor, Book 4) (20 page)

Gil snorted. “You and I both need more than one
lifetime
. Most people would, Marianna. But it’s worth practicing, even for those of us who are nowhere near the mastery level yet.”

So, for a half hour at least, we breathed in and out with the tide, sharing little stories about our siblings in between our dance with the waves. It was so easy to talk with him. Effortless, really. Like we’d known each other for years and not merely weeks.

After this, we stopped by a little seafood shack a few blocks from the coast—a spot Gil apparently knew well—and picked up a bag of fresh scallops and another bag of raw shrimp.

“I’ll cook these up for us with some veggies and butter,” he promised, making the return to his place all the more tantalizing.

Gil’s place, incidentally, was a newly built and well-constructed brick townhouse in the heart of Sarasota. The inside was tastefully furnished—uncluttered, clear lines, nicely appointed wood furniture—but the artwork hanging on the walls gave his home true character.

“I know some of these are your creations,” I said, pointing to a couple of canvases that were marked with Gil’s distinctive color combinations and brushstrokes. The way he painted was as unique as his fingerprints. “But some aren’t.”

He nodded as he moved to the kitchen and began grabbing pans and oils and veggies and spices. My mouth was already watering before he even pulled the scallops and shrimp out of their respective bags.

“I’ve been influenced by many different artists. Salvadore Dali, of course, but also far less famous visionaries.” He paused. “There’s a local cartoonist who’s been working the shopping areas for years, and I just loved the caricature he did of Joy and me.”

My gaze followed his to the framed pencil sketch on the far left kitchen wall.

“And then there’s that Lithuanian mask maker.” He pointed toward a carved wooden mask hanging all the way across the room in his den.

“And this?” I asked, motioning toward a drum-like object we’d passed in the hallway en route to the kitchen.

“That’s a
doumbek
—a Middle Eastern clay hand drum that I got on a trip to New York about ten years ago.”

“Ever bring it to the beach drumming on Sundays?”

He laughed as he tossed a few handfuls of scallops into a sizzling skillet. “I probably should have, but no. I’ve never been gutsy enough to bring a percussion instrument and actually play it there. Can’t think of what kept me from it, though.”

For me, the answer would have been easy—I was simply too self-conscious. But I hadn’t gotten that impression for Gil. At least not with the confident way he came across in public. It didn’t strike me as plausible that there was anything he wasn’t gutsy enough to do. But I should know better than most how easy it was to put on a mask.

Tonight, though, I felt I needed to somehow project real gutsiness, even if I rarely ever felt that way. Tonight, I wanted to prove—if only to myself—that I was no longer that wimpy divorced woman who’d arrived in Florida so wearily just a few weeks ago.

I watched in awe and appreciation as Gil prepared dinner for us.

And then we ate. Buttery deliciousness. The plump scallops and succulent shrimp were perfectly cooked, and the vegetables added a crunchy lightness to an already fairly healthy meal. But, good as it all was, it wasn’t nearly as good as my memory of Gil’s lips on mine. I wanted more of
that
.

So, when Gil asked what I’d like for dessert—fresh fruit, ice cream, or both—I decided it was high time to put boldness into action.

“Option D,” I proclaimed. “It’s not on the list, but I’d rather have a kiss from you.” I feigned a heavy sigh and hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear the crazy thumping of my heart. “I’ve been feeling deprived since last Sunday, and I’d like to pick up where we left off.”

Whether or not I’d fooled him into thinking I was being genuinely gutsy, it didn’t matter. He grinned at me with a devilish twist of his lips. “We do have some unfinished kissing time from last weekend. But, if we pick up where we left off, my body will betray my desires again.” He was still smiling, but his look turned more serious when he added, “Just know that the fact that I want you doesn’t constitute
any
pressure to go further than you want to go or feel comfortable with tonight, okay?”

He was being entirely sincere, and I appreciated that more than I was willing to admit. His respectfulness gave me an extra burst of courage. Enough so that I added, “That is a really thoughtful disclaimer, Gil. Now, please,
please
kiss me.”

He immediately rose from the table and held out his hand.

I took it and he led me to the sofa in his den, passing a pet tank on the way with a little black creature in it.

“We can do formal introductions later,” he said, tugging me deeper into the room. “But for now, I’ll just tell you that this is my newt Nancy. She and I have been living together for three years. My longest relationship to date.”

“Then Nancy knows a good man when she sees one,” I said.

“Oh, you sweet talker. Let me taste those words.” He put his mouth on mine and, suddenly, I wouldn’t have been able to speak a complete sentence if my entire future depended on it.

He nudged me toward his sofa, which was made of a soft brown leather. “Imagine being seventeen and making out on your parents’ couch,” he joked as he pulled me onto the cushions.

But I didn’t have to imagine that. I’d lived it... and lived to regret it.

Thoughts of Donny were, of course, an instant mood killer, so I pressed for an immediate change of subject.

“I’m not one of those women who misses adolescence, Gil. I lived with someone who was very juvenile for a long time. Now, I’d like to be with a
man
, not a boy.” I paused. “And you’re that man.”

It was impossible to see much of a blush under Gil’s deep tan, but I still detected a hint of rising color. “That’s flattering to hear,” he whispered, “but it’s also a pretty big leap of faith. I’m not known for my commitment readiness, you know. What if I disappoint you?”

I chuckled as I tugged his body closer to mine. Close enough so he was half on top of me. So I could feel his belt buckle against my abdomen, the weight of his chest on mine, the ridge of his erection at the apex of my legs. God, it had been
so
long. I let my hips rise to meet his. Scandalous behavior, my mother would have said, had she been around to judge me on this. And my sister, of course, would have been full of her usual criticisms and sarcastic commentary. But, dammit, for once I didn’t care.

This was
Gil
. And I’d witnessed enough bad male behavior up close and personal to recognize its opposite.

“You won’t disappoint me,” I assured him. “And I know this probably isn’t true of every woman you’ve ever met, but I’m not looking for a commitment right now. Truly. I just want to explore this connection we share. I want to spend these next few weeks with someone I really like...
you
.”

I heard him exhale, heavily, almost like a moan, before he started to systematically press every square inch of his body against mine, as if stamping me. Limb to limb. Mouth to mouth. Hip to hip. We moved together as if we had but one skin.

And one moment flowed so naturally, so effortlessly into the next that there was no sense of struggle or second guessing. Our kisses not only connected our bodies, but it synched our breathing and, possibly, even our pulse. So, later, after we’d been making out for what felt like hours, and after all of me had come to be tuned in to all of him, the next step seemed not only natural but inevitable.

Gil removed his jeans, pulled out a condom, and looked at me in question.

I nodded. “Oh, yes,” I murmured.

Then, when he slid it on, helped me get rid of my shorts, and thrust himself deep inside me, I said those same words again—only much louder. And all I could think was that this was how it always should have been. That, thank goodness, I’d lived long enough to finally get
something
right in the relationship world.

Sure, there was a soft voice crying within me, who remained sad that I’d wasted my youth on someone like Donny. Resentful of the innocence I’d traded for a man who’d betrayed me. But I was also grateful that I’d gotten to experience the difference now. Being with someone like Gil, who was as warm and passionate and generous in his lovemaking as he was in his life, was significant for me.

And while I hoped he and I would get a few more nights like this one before I had to head back to Mirabelle Harbor, I knew I’d always be incredibly thankful that his fiery touch wiped away the memory of Donny’s indifferent one—at least for tonight.

“It’s been a long time for me,” Gil whispered sometime later, covering both of our half-naked bodies with a cream-colored throw blanket that had been draped over one arm of the sofa.

“Longer than three and a half years?” I asked.

He winced and hugged me tighter. “No, not quite that long. But it wasn’t just a couple of weeks ago, either. It’s been a few months since I was even dating anyone and... well, more than a year since I was with a woman who made me want to cook her dinner or stay up half the night talking and kissing and—”

“Wait. You mean I’m not the only woman you ever wanted to cook dinner for? And here I thought I was special.” I kissed the tip of his nose and winked at him.

He laughed. “Believe me, Marianna, you’re plenty special. You are, in fact, a far more unusual woman in my life than you could begin to guess.” He reached to brush the hair from my eyes, his hips angling toward me. It’d been less than an hour since our first time together, but I could feel the stirrings of his arousal again.

Practicing boldness, I decided, had its advantages. It got easier to be gutsy with a little experience. “I want to hear about all the ways you think I’m an unusual addition to your life, Gil.” I paused for dramatic effect, running my fingertips up the backside of his thigh until I felt him quiver beneath my touch. “Or you can just expound upon a few of my better qualities through nonverbal language.”

“I’m more of a show rather than tell kind of guy,” he divulged in a low, sexy tone.

“Then by all means, feel free to start showing... ”

I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but making love with Gil was even better the second time around.

It was well after one a.m. when he drove me back to my car.

“You know you can stay with me tonight,” he’d said. “Nancy won’t mind.”

I was tempted. “Your newt may not have a problem with it—or, maybe, she just wouldn’t tell us—but Ellen might worry if I didn’t come back to the bungalow. Plus, I could use a toothbrush and a change of clothes before showing up at your sister’s shop tomorrow morning.” I glanced at my watch. “Or, rather, today. In about eight hours, actually.”

“Joy’s making you work on a Sunday morning?”

I nodded. “And she’d probably be suspicious if I came back in the same outfit I was wearing all day Saturday.”

He chuckled. “Trust me, Marianna, she’s gonna be suspicious anyway. The girl can sense things like a gypsy woman, I’m telling you. Hope you won’t mind being at the center of a good-natured inquisition.”

I shook my head. “I know your sister’s heart is in the right place. And, whether she asks me directly or just guesses, I’m not hiding from her how much I like you, Gil.”

He gave me a long, lingering kiss by my car. “She definitely knows I like
you
. But Joy can be dangerous with too much information. I give you permission to downplay tonight’s events with her, or she’ll likely have us engaged and planning a fall wedding before you can say, ‘Here comes the bride... ’”

We both laughed at that. Then with a final peck on my forehead, he tucked me into my car and I drove dreamily back to the bungalow.

The lights were off at #26, so I carefully slid my key into the door lock and let myself in. I’d taken only two steps when I heard my sister’s angry voice cutting into the darkness.

“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded. “It’s 1:42 a.m., Marianna. I was worried you were dead or abducted or some bad shit like that.”

“I just had a date,” I said, feeling my defensiveness rising. “And, for the record, Ellen, you’re not my mother or my court-appointed parole officer—not that I have one of those. I don’t have to let you know every place I’m going or every person I’m seeing.”

“Ah. Screwing Elvis, were you?”

My brain flashed red and my temper snapped like a Chinese firecracker. “For heaven’s sake, can’t you just shut up and mind your own damn business for a change?” I heard myself shout. My eyes, having begun to adjust to the dark, could see Ellen’s outline on the floral sofa, curled into an angry ball and clutching a pillow like she was trying to strangle it.

When I’d left Gil in the parking lot, I didn’t think anything could dampen my mood. Clearly, I hadn’t counted on my bossy sister waiting up to badger me.

“I texted you
four
times,” she shouted back.

I grimaced. I’d muted my cell phone earlier in the day and hadn’t remembered to undo that. “You know I don’t have that thing glued to my hands, like
some
people.”

But she wasn’t distracted by my not-so-subtle insinuation that
she
was one of those people.

“If I knew anything about these new ‘friends’ you’ve been hanging around with every fucking minute, maybe I wouldn’t have been so scared out of my mind about your safety. But I only met your hot beachcomber once, and you won’t tell me hardly any details about him or these hipster jewelry makers you’re supposedly ‘working’ with. It could be a cult, for all I know. But you don’t care about what anyone who knows you and loves you thinks anymore, do you? I mean, what would things be like for Kathryn if something bad had happened to you? Did you even think about her while you were out running around tonight with that stranger?”

“Gil’s not a stranger.”
Certainly not anymore.
“And don’t you dare try to guilt trip me. I’ve done nothing but be there for my daughter every single day of every single year of her life. Be honest, Ellen, you weren’t thinking of Kathryn tonight. You were thinking of
you
. You probably just wanted someone to yak at while you channel surfed, but you didn’t have anybody at your immediate disposal. Not with your employees and your colleagues and your husband hundreds of miles away from you, and probably relieved to have a couple of weeks off from your constant demands.”