Stranded With Her Ex. Jill Sorenson

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СКАЧАТЬ you need me to get them?” he asked.

      “I can reach,” she said, standing on tiptoe. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body and smell his skin. If she lived to be a hundred years old, she would never forget his scent, warm and musky and deliciously masculine.

      Sean.

      She took down the stack of sturdy, mismatched plates, aware of his proximity and his watchful eyes.

      Her red long-sleeved thermal was a utilitarian item, sturdy and comfortable, but it fit snugly, outlining her breasts. She’d always had trouble finding clothes that weren’t too tight across the chest. Under Sean’s gaze, the fabric seemed to shrink further, making her feel overwarm and underdressed.

      It wasn’t as if he was ogling her. It was just that she couldn’t help but think of the many times he’d lifted her against any convenient flat surface, including the kitchen countertops, in their apartment.

      Heat rose to her cheeks. The memories seemed foreign to her, as if those intimacies belonged to someone else. The person she’d become didn’t respond like that, tearing a man’s clothes off as soon as he walked through the door.

      The woman she was now didn’t respond at all.

      “Silverware?” she murmured, avoiding eye contact.

      “In the top drawer,” Jason said. “Just forks will do.”

      Nodding, she counted out six forks and placed them on top of the stack. Adding a handful of napkins, she carried the bundle to the table, trying not to let her arm brush against Sean’s midsection as she walked out of the kitchen.

      Elizabeth and Taryn put their laptops away, helping Daniela set the table.

      After Jason brought out the food, there was a minor commotion as everyone gathered around the table. When Sean took the seat opposite Daniela, she found herself staring at him. She dropped her gaze to the forest-green knit across his chest, her heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with anxiety.

      The sweater was seven years old, now that she thought about it. She’d given it to him on Christmas Eve, the same night he’d proposed. He’d hidden the ring in a lingerie box with a ridiculously sexy red teddy.

      It was a joke, because he knew she hated gifts like that. She hadn’t seen the ring at first. Annoyed by his poor taste, giving her trashy underwear on Christmas, after she’d bought him an expensive sweater, she’d almost thrown the box at him.

      Then she saw his eyes sparkle with humor, and she looked again, finding the diamond. With a smile, he got down on one knee and asked her to be his wife.

      That night, she’d worn the ring and the teddy.

      Daniela rubbed the empty place on her finger, blinking away the memories. Now the ring was hiding in a jewelry box at the back of her lingerie drawer. The teddy was in shreds, having been torn from her body by Sean on one of his homecomings. Blushing slightly, she lifted her gaze from the sweater to his shadowed jaw.

      His scruffy, don’t-give-a-damn appearance only added to his appeal.

      In contrast, Brent, to his right, seemed almost elegant. And then there was Jason. With his dark good looks and easy smile, he had an edgy style that was neither rugged nor refined.

      All three men were handsome—and eligible—as far as Daniela knew. The table seemed to shrink in their presence, and she felt acutely self-conscious. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a meal with strangers.

      Jason proposed a toast. “To new beginnings?”

      “To new beginnings,” Brent agreed, lifting his own glass.

      Sean’s expression was sardonic, but he went along with it, and Daniela followed suit, clinking her water bottle against Taryn’s. It didn’t escape her attention that a barren, inhospitable island was an ironic choice as a place to start over.

      Jason served the lumpia fresh, rather than fried, and it was a build-your-own affair. The ingredients were placed in the center of the table, and everything looked delicious.

      Daniela scooped up sautéed vegetables and shredded chicken, the filling for the moist, paper-thin wrappers. Rolling them up into neat little packages wasn’t easy, and no one but Jason was entirely successful. Although she was hungry, her frayed nerves wreaked havoc on her appetite, so she focused on chewing and swallowing, one small bite at a time.

      “This is your first visit to the Farallones, Daniela?” Brent asked.

      “Yes,” she said, glancing up from her plate. “How about you?”

      “It’s my first time, too. And Elizabeth’s, I think?”

      She nodded.

      “That can’t have been the first time you’d seen a shark attack,” Daniela commented. “You were as cool as ice.”

      Laughing, he shook his head. “I was scared witless, I assure you. But you’re right, I’ve filmed sharks feeding many times. The trick is to cultivate a courageous facade.” Arching a brow at Sean, he asked, “Or do you become inured to it, eventually?”

      Sean shrugged. “It would be a mistake to get too comfortable out there.”

      “Says the man whose pulse never climbs above seventy.”

      Sean lifted a forkful of rice to his mouth, not bothering to dispute him.

      “Well, you couldn’t pay me to watch a shark feeding,” Elizabeth said with a shudder. “If this island wasn’t home to so many species of birds, I wouldn’t have come at all.”

      Brent gave her an odd look. “Really? I could have sworn I’d met you before, on a shark expedition. I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to remember where and when.”

      Jason perked up at this news. “Liz is secretly a shark groupie?”

      “Don’t be absurd,” she said, her tone frosty. “I hate sharks.”

      “My mistake,” Brent murmured, but Daniela was left with the impression that he didn’t think it was.

      The tension in the room was palpable. Elizabeth seemed uneasy in her surroundings, and reluctant to share personal information. Sean wasn’t thrilled with Daniela’s unexpected arrival. And Taryn picked at her food, looking depressed by the turn of events.

      “I heard that the house is haunted,” Daniela said, changing the subject.

      Unfortunately, her attempt to lighten the mood failed. No one said a word.

      “Is there a local superstition?” she asked, pressing on.

      Taryn stopped pretending to eat and set her fork down. Sean shot her a warning glare but she ignored it. “Some people think the house is inhabited by a lady in white. She was a light keeper’s wife, a pioneer woman who lived here a hundred years ago.”

      “What’s her story?”

      Her lips curved into a humorless smile. “Apparently, she threw herself СКАЧАТЬ