“Hey,” a familiar voice called from nearby, sooner than she expected. “Are you okay?”
She watched Danny descend the wooden steps, his white trousers in hand now that he wore a pair of faded khakis that conformed to muscular thighs. He also carried a couple of huge take-out bags, one of which was topped with three baguettes that stuck out of the paper sack. Hauling in one more deep drag of the salty sea breeze off the harbor, Stephanie wiped a little sweat from her forehead and gave him a thumbs-up.
“I’m good to go,” she called back, not wanting to ruin this reunion with stupid stuff from the past that did not rule her life anymore. “And I’m dying for a ride in this baby.”
She patted the side of the Gran Torino through her window. Then, recalling he was still locked out, she leaned over and popped the door on his side.
“Fair enough.” He slid in beside her, tossing the take-out bags and his extra pair of pants in the backseat. Then he dropped a set of dog tags into the console with a bunch of coins. “But will you be disappointed if we eat lunch at my place?” He started the engine and then jerked a thumb toward the bags of food. “I’ve had an order in at this place for six months and I hate to miss out on homemade manicotti.”
By now, the scent of basil-laden tomato sauce wafted her way. She peered back at the huge bags and frowned.
“I don’t know. Are you sure there’s going to be enough food for me in there?”
He laughed and the sound soothed her like a hug. The last of her claustrophobia disappeared, carried away by the warm breeze drifting through the windows as they drove past pawn shops and pizza joints toward the main road.
“Jerry packed enough grub to feed six people, which should be about right for the two of us.”
He cranked the radio and lowered his window. She realized the song playing was one his band used to cover, a ballad with hard-core guitar harmonies and a screechy lead vocal. For a moment, the years rolled away, a weight lifting from her chest. It had been easy to be with him five years ago, too. He could be charming when he wanted, but more often he was quiet. She’d liked that about him because she was the same way with a public personality and a private one. And both sides of her had felt comfortable around Danny.
She lifted her voice to sing along while he drove. On a quiet stretch of access road before they met the highway, he stuck his head all the way out the window, letting the wind whip through his hair. She was tempted to copy him, it looked so fun. When he ducked back into the car, his dark hair stood straight up in the center, as though he’d been through a wind tunnel.
They took turns singing on the way home, maybe because it was easier than talking. Sometimes that public party persona was simpler to deal with than the moodier private one. But she half dreaded asking him to have a fling. Something told her he wasn’t going to jump in with both feet the way he had five years ago. He struck her as more serious now, for one thing. She’d seen it in that powerful stride when he’d walked down the boat ramp, felt it in the way he’d tensed when she’d flirted with him.
Half an hour later, they were on the far side of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, rumbling over coastal roads. They passed a sign welcoming them to Cape Charles.
“It’s beautiful out here.” She’d grown up on Long Island, but it had been easy to forget you lived anywhere near the water with the dense urban sprawl from the city. Here, the scent of the bay hung in the air and patches of beach were occasionally visible through the trees. Blue water sparkled under the early afternoon sunshine.
“When I left Cape Cod, I tried to choose a place that felt like home. My house here is a pretty good compromise.” He hit his turn signal just then, pulling into the driveway of a gray, cedar-sided house that would have been lovely even if wasn’t overlooking the water.
Perched on the beach as it was, she couldn’t imagine what the Nantucket-style home had cost him.
“Oh, wow.” She’d known that his family was wealthy. But she hadn’t really pictured this. “If this is a compromise, I can’t imagine what the house you were raised in looks like.”
He turned off the engine and tugged the bags out of the backseat.
“Before my dad formed Murphy Resorts, he was a real estate developer at a time when property rates were growing exponentially. So yeah, my folks live well these days.” He hit a button on a key-ring remote that lifted a garage door off to one side. Two weathered Adirondack chairs sat on a deck off the room over the garage.
“Do you have someone take care of things while you’re away? It must be hard to leave such a beautiful place.” She followed him into the garage, which was empty except for a bicycle and a scooter as big as a small motorcycle. He’d left his car outside.
“A property manager has it cleaned and watches it while I’m gone.” He used his keys to open an interior door that led them into a modern kitchen full of whitewashed cabinets and stainless-steel appliances.
But her eyes didn’t stay on the kitchen. The open floor plan drew her attention to a huge family room with a wall of windows that overlooked the water.
“This is incredible.” She walked toward the windows, drawn by the view. “I can’t imagine how relaxing it must feel to come home to this.”
The beach was empty even though a few boat ramps were visible down the shoreline, suggesting other houses were nearby through the trees that lined the property.
He dropped the bags onto the counter and shuffled through the take-out lids, so she returned to the kitchen to help.
“After growing up near the water, I get a little stir-crazy if I can’t see it now.” Turning on the oven, he slid some foil containers inside to reheat. “Would you like to take a walk out there while this warms up?”
“That’d be great.” She wanted to feel the sand between her toes, but walking out on that shoreline with Danny would be the ideal time to come clean about what she wanted from him. Her heart rate jumped into a higher gear as an attack of nerves set in.
“This way.” He nodded toward the French doors off the living area and they walked past overstuffed blue couches to reach the patio.
Stephanie took her shoes off and left them on the wooden deck before she followed him down the few steps to the beach. Sea grass bent in the breeze on a couple of low dunes close to the house. Beyond that, a few patches of dried black seaweed clumped in piles while the surf rolled onto the shore with a rhythmic whoosh.
“My dogs would love this.” She tipped her face into the salty air.
“You have pets?” He stretched his arms over his head and arched his shoulders like he was working out some kinks.
She tried not to stare. But then again, how could she not? It had been a long time since looking at a man incited the kind of sensual interest she felt right now. That spark of excitement made her feel alive. Healthy. Whole.
“Yes. A couple of cats.” Her voice cracked, her throat dry. She licked her lips and tried again. “I meant the dogs I photograph would have a blast out here. I love taking pictures in natural settings like parks, or at the owners’ homes. But I’d get some great shots if I had this in my backyard.”
Water really brought out the personality of some dogs. Labs and retrievers. Newfies, Porties … And maybe if she kept thinking about her job, she’d forget about what she really needed to discuss. The oh-so-awkward reason she’d made the three-hour drive from D.C. to Norfolk.
“I’d like to see your work sometime.” He toed off