Holiday In The Hamptons. Sarah Morgan

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      He’d called her a woman.

      It made her giddy. Right there and then, she felt the age gap evaporate. Poise and power replaced doubt and insecurity. “I wanted time to myself.”

      “On your birthday? That doesn’t sound right to me. No one should spend their birthday alone, especially not an eighteenth birthday.”

      She’d known Seth for years, but they’d grown closer than ever this summer. Unlike her father, Seth never seemed outraged by her antics. When she’d gone skinny-dipping in the ocean late at night, her twin, Harriet, had begged her not to go, but Seth had simply laughed. He hadn’t joined her, but he’d waited on the rocks until she returned safely. Because Seth Carlyle always does the right thing.

      Still, he hadn’t judged or lectured, simply handed her a towel and sprang down onto the sand as if his job was done. He never touched her, and she’d wished a million times that he would, even though she knew he was watching over her because he was Daniel’s friend and a responsible person.

      She found herself wishing it again now. Which proved she was anything but a responsible person.

      To be sure she didn’t give in to temptation and fling her arms around him, she wrapped them around herself.

      His gaze dropped. “You’ve cut your hand. You should be more careful on these rocks. Does it hurt?”

      “No.” She snatched her hands behind her back, one half of her hoping he’d leave while the other half hoped he’d stay.

      “If it doesn’t hurt, why are you crying?”

      Was she crying? She brushed her cheek with the heel of her hand and discovered that they were wet. “I kicked sand in my eyes when I was running.”

      He thought she was upset because of the wounds he could see.

      He had no idea about the wounds she kept hidden.

      “Why were you running?” He closed his hands over her arms and drew them gently in front of her. Then he turned her hands over so he could examine them. His fingers were broad and strong, and her hand looked small in his. Delicate.

      She didn’t ever want to be delicate. Her mother was delicate. Watching her navigate her stormy marriage was like watching a single daisy struggling to stay upright in a hurricane. Fliss wanted to be hardy, like a thornbush. The sort of plant people treated with respect and care. And she was fiercely determined to earn a good living so that she would never, ever find herself trapped in the situation her mother had found herself in.

       If I leave your father, I’ll lose you. He’d make sure I don’t get custody, and I don’t have the money or influence to fight that.

      Seth bent his head, and she watched as strands of dark hair flopped over his forehead. She itched to touch it, to slide her fingers through it, to feel its softness under her hands. And she wanted to touch the thick muscles of his shoulders, even though she already knew they wouldn’t be soft. They were everything hard and powerful. She knew that for sure because last summer someone had tossed her in the water and it had been Seth who had hauled her out. Being held by him was something that no woman would forget in a hurry.

      Unsettled, she dragged her gaze to his face. His nose had a slight bump in it thanks to a football injury the summer before, and he had a scar on his chin where he’d head-butted a surfboard and needed fourteen stitches.

      Fliss didn’t care. To her, Seth Carlyle was pretty much the most perfect thing she’d ever laid eyes on.

      There was something that set him apart from the others. It wasn’t just that he was older, more that he was so sure. He knew what he wanted. He was focused. He made doing the right thing sexy. He was studying to be a vet, and she knew he’d be good at it. He was going to make his father proud.

      Unlike her.

      She’d made her father disdainful, exasperated and angry but never proud.

      And she didn’t want to drag Seth down with her.

      She snatched her hand away from his and curled her fingers into her palm to stop herself from touching him. “You should join the others. You’re wasting a perfect beach day.”

      “I’m not wasting anything. I’m exactly where I want to be.” His gaze was focused exclusively on her. And then he gave her that wide, easy smile that made her feel as if she was the only woman on the planet. She didn’t know which got to her most—the way his mouth curved, or the way those sleepy dark eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.

      Her stomach flipped. After being made to feel unwanted, it was a change to feel the opposite.

      What would happen if she put her arms around his neck and kissed him? Would he get carried away and do the wrong thing for the first time in his life? Maybe he’d take her virginity right here on the sand. That would really give her father something to complain about.

      The thought made her frown. Not even by virtue of a thought did she want her father to tarnish her relationship with Seth.

      “You really shouldn’t be here. With me.” She leaned her back against the rock and gave him a fierce stare designed to repel, but it didn’t work with Seth.

      “I saw a car outside your house. Was it your father? He doesn’t usually join you in the summer, does he?”

      She felt as if she’d plunged naked into the Atlantic. “He arrived this morning. Decided to surprise us.”

      Seth’s gaze didn’t shift. “To celebrate your birthday or ruin it?”

       He knew.

      She squirmed with horror and embarrassment. Why couldn’t she have a normal family like everyone else? “I didn’t hang around to find out.”

      “Maybe he wanted to deliver his gift in person.”

      “That’s your father, not mine.” The words blurted out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Mine didn’t bring a gift.”

      “No? Then it’s a good thing I did.” He braced one arm on the rock behind her and reached into the pocket of his board shorts with the other. “Hope you like it.”

      She dragged her gaze from the swell of his biceps and stared at the cream velvet pouch in his palm. “You bought me a gift?”

      “It’s not every day a woman turns eighteen.”

      There it was again, that word. Woman. And he’d bought her a gift. Actually chosen her something. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t care, would he?

      Her parched self-esteem sucked up the much-needed affirmation. She felt dizzy and light-headed, even more so than she had the time she’d smuggled a bottle of vodka to the beach.

      “What is it?”

      “Open it and see.”

      She took the bag from him, recognizing the shell logo picked out in silver. She knew that whatever was inside it wouldn’t have come cheap. She and Harriet had walked past СКАЧАТЬ