He’d paid Luke back within a year. But he owed him more than money could ever repay.
Which was precisely why, even while the words tasted like battery acid on the back of his tongue, he said, “You should ask her out.”
“Who?” Luke’s phone rang, then, frowning, he strolled away, investing everything into the call. Leaving Jonah to throw out his arms in surrender.
Which was when Claudia stormed up. “No getting through to him now.” Then, shaking her head, she turned to Jonah with a smile. “Now that you’ve brought my girl home safe, what’s the plan?”
“Work,” Jonah said. “Haircut, maybe.”
“Don’t you dare! Your curls are gorgeous.”
Jonah glanced down at the petite bundle of energy at his side. A woman who was as much a part of the landscape as he was. A local. Someone who’d stick around. “Your little friend told me you think I’m hot.”
“She did not!”
Jonah smiled back.
Claudia gaped at him a moment before she burst out laughing. “Of course I think you’re hot. The entire region of females thinks you’re hot. Anyone else simply hasn’t met you yet.” She squeezed his biceps, gave a little a shiver, and then went back to walking congenially at his side.
And that was why he’d never gone there with her. Because while Claudia was cute as a button, and local, and available, there’d never been that spark. That all-out, wham-bam, knock-the-wind-from-your-sails spark that he knew was out there for the having.
He knew because he’d felt it.
Twice.
The first woman who’d made him feel that way had made him believe it was real, until the day she woke up and decided it wasn’t.
The other one had convinced herself she wanted to ‘reconnect’ with his best mate.
To think, his week had started with such high hopes.
Feeling better about the world after having just signed a lucrative contract to keep his newest luxury yacht on call for clients of the Hawaiian Punch Hotel, Jonah set off through the outdoor Punch Bowl Bistro, Hull meeting him at the door and padding along beside him.
He’d nearly hit the path between resorts when Hull whimpered, ran around in front of him, and nudged his hand with his nose.
“What’s up, boy?” Jonah asked, right at the moment he realised it wasn’t a what, it was a who.
For there at a table sat Avery Shaw.
It had been days since he’d set eyes on her. After the Luke revelation, he’d figured total avoidance was the safest bet.
Now as he watched her sit at the table doing nothing more seductive than swirl a straw round and round in a pink drink the staunched heat clawed its way through his gut like some creature kept hungry way too long, settling with a discomforting ache in his groin.
Before he even felt his feet move Jonah was threading his way towards her.
Hull got to her first, curling around the base of her table and lying down as if he was expected.
“Hey!” Avery said, her face lighting up with surprised laughter. With sunshine.
Then he saw the moment she knew what Hull’s sudden appearance meant. Her head whipped up, her eyes locking onto his, lit by an instant and wild flicker of heat, before she tilted her chin as if to say, I refuse to admit my cheeks are flushed because of you.
Yeah, honey, he thought, right back at ya.
Then her eyes slid past him, to the empty doorway leading inside the hotel. And all sunshine fled to leave way for sad Bambi. What scrape had she gotten herself into now?
His vision expanded to notice her knife and fork were untouched. The bread basket mere crumbs.
And he knew.
Luke. She’d made plans to have lunch with Luke. And for whatever reason, the goose had clearly failed to show.
That was the moment Jonah should have walked away. Considering how much he owed Luke, how long a friendship they’d enjoyed, and the fact that being anywhere near Avery made him feel like a rubber band stretched at its limit, it was the only honourable option.
And yet he dragged out a chair and—blocking Ms Shaw’s view of the front door—sat down.
Luke not carving out time for a surf during his first time in the cove for years was one thing. But not knowing when a gorgeous woman wanted to get to know him better? Unforgivable.
And she was gorgeous. Her pale hair clipped neatly away from her face in some kind of fancy braid, eyes soft and sooty, lips slicked glossy pink, ropes of tiny beads draping over a black-and-white dress that made her look like a million bucks. If he ever needed a reminder she was not from here, that whatever spark was between them had no future...
Then she had to go and say, “Oh, you’re staying?”
And that was it. He was hunkered in. His voice was one notch above a growl as he said, “Nice to see you too, Miss Shaw.”
She pointed over his shoulder. “I’m actually—”
“Thrilled to see me?”
She swallowed, clearly undecided as to whether to admit why she was there alone. In the end she kept her mouth shut.
“Saw you sitting here all alone and figured it was the gentlemanly thing to rescue you from your lonesomeness,” he said, casually perusing the menu he already knew by heart. He put the menu down, and settled back in his chair, sliding a leg under the table, navigating Hull’s big body. Only to find himself knocking shoes with Avery. Her high-heel-clad foot slipped away.
“Really?”
“Hand to heart,” he said, action matching words.
Her eyes flickered to his hand, across his chest, over his shoulders, to his hair, pausing longest of all on his mouth, before skimming back to his eyes. And while he knew it was not smart, was traitorous even, he enjoyed every second of it.
“Is your dog even allowed in here?” she said, pointing under the table.
He lifted a shoulder, let it fall. “Not my dog.”
She leaned forward a little then. Her mouth kicked into a half-smile.
“Well, whoever’s dog he is,” that mouth said, “he’s sitting on my foot. And my toes are now officially numb. He’s enormous.”
“Huge,” said Jonah, lifting his eyes to hers to find them darkened, determined, as if making some kind of connection between man and beast. Enough that he had to fight the urge to adjust himself.
Wrapping her lips around her straw in a way that was entirely unfair, she asked, “So how did you and Hull meet?”
“Found him on the beach when he was a pup—a tiny, scrawny, shivery ball of mangy, matted fluff, near dead with exhaustion and hunger. Odds on he wasn’t the only one in the litter dumped. Probably tied up in a sack full of rocks and thrown overboard. He’s been crazy afraid of water ever since. Took him home, cleaned him up, fed him, and that was it.”
“You saved his life and that doesn’t make him your responsibility?”
“Never bought him, never sought him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great dog. And if he thinks you’re a threat to me, he’d like