Perfectly Charming (A Morning Glory Novel Book 2) (11 page)

Jess studied Ryan as he competently set up the table. He’d taken off his shirt and wore a pair of board shorts that looked new. She gathered he’d never found the ones he’d lost the night of his birthday. That brought to mind his big, nude body sprawled in the sand. His body was amazing. Beat Marcus and Logan by a country mile. Ryan was hard, lean, and . . . very sexy. His ruffed hair looked suitably beachy, his Ray-Bans hid those green eyes, and his smile made her toes tingle.

And he wanted her.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Ryan Reyes had grown into the total package. He was gorgeous, fun, charming, understanding, silly, crazy smart, and sexy. Yeah. Very sexy. And she wanted to touch him. Feel his warmth. Indulge in him like he was a decadent piece of chocolate. Ryan made her laugh and feel herself again. Perhaps he was the perfect man to heal her wounds . . . perhaps he was the perfect man to jump into bed with. She longed to feel the excitement of a new romance—desire, joy, and crushing paranoia of wondering if it was all too good to be true. She’d felt it only once, but she remembered how horrible and beautiful it was at the same time. So was she really going to stick to friendship because it was safer?

“Here we go,” Ryan said, pointing to several plates with chopped vegetables and slaw, drawing her thoughts away from the indecision that haunted her. For some reason indecision had become her shadow. She didn’t like feeling that way.

“So impressive,” Becky drawled, rising and giving Marcus an appraising look. Her gaze snagged on Jess’s, and she smiled. Obviously, Ryan had been right about Becky liking Marcus. “I love a man who can cook.”

“It’s not so rare these days. I’m terrific on the grill myself,” Marcus said, stepping beside Becky.

“And so humble about it,” her friend teased Marcus.

Jess pulled her legs up again and stared out across the waters. The dolphins had disappeared, and the sun sagged toward the horizon, casting a golden glow. Everything looked soft, reminding Jess life wasn’t so hard. She should focus on chilling. Not analyzing every glance and touch.

“Not hungry?” Ryan said, sitting down on the bench beside her. He handed her one of the beers she’d brought made by a local brewery that specialized in small batches.

She took a sip. “Good beer. No, I’m going to eat. Just letting everyone else go first.”

“Ah, in your nature.”

“What?”

“Being kind.”

“No, it’s not. I’m not all that kind. In fact, I can be super mean. Ask my brother, Rob. He loves to bring up my past role of torturous older sister.” Jess smiled and thought about touching his arm again. “If you don’t want to go on that dolphin-watching expedition, you don’t have to. I didn’t mean for you to get roped into it.”

Ryan looked out at the sunset. “You didn’t rope me into it. Morgan did.”

“Do you like her?”

His gaze jerked back to hers. “Who? Morgan?”

God, why had she asked that? Of course, she knew why. She didn’t want him to want any other woman, yet she’d told him a few days ago she wasn’t ready for more than what they now had . . . which was still undefined. “It’s just you spend a lot of time together.”

“We’re friends,” he said, lifting a shoulder, “and neighbors.”

“So are we.”

Ryan’s lips curved, and he moved his leg closer to hers. Not because he wanted to, but because Becky needed to squeeze by. “Yeah, but it’s not the same.”

“Why? Because we knew each other back in high school?” she asked, lowering her voice.

“No, because I don’t want to be just your friend, Jess.” She watched his hand as it brushed her inner knee, faint as butterfly wings. The soft friction shot straight to her belly, careening through her. The combination of his words and touch seared her.

“Ryan,” she whispered.

“Just know that. Go on the date with Logan, but know I want you.”

Jess swallowed hard and lifted her gaze to his, but he rose. He wasn’t giving her time to respond.

“Let me get you a beer, Logan,” Ryan said, scooting around Morgan, who once again had caught Jess in an intimate conversation with him. Morgan bit into a tortilla chip and chewed thoughtfully, her eyes resting on Jess.

The thrill she felt at Ryan’s admission faded as unease crept inside. Morgan had been obvious in her pursuit of Ryan. From the birthday party to the implied statements on the way over to the marina, Morgan had plunged a flag into her territory, claiming Ryan as her own. Jess wanted to smack Morgan’s hand and say
not so fast
. The other part of her wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard Ryan’s soft words, that she didn’t feel tingly around him. It would make better sense to ignore the fireworks and focus on herself. She didn’t need a man to heal her. She could heal herself. Anything more didn’t make sense.

Ah, being sensible.

She’d done sensible. She’d set her course, bulldozing her way into the life she’d thought she should have because it was the way a person did things. Make a plan, follow the steps, keep focused. No stepping outside a comfort zone, no deviating, no second-guessing.

But that hadn’t worked out, had it? So why should she back off the feeling she had for Ryan and do the sensible thing?

She rose, straightening her shoulders with conviction. If she wanted Ryan, and he wanted her, what was the problem? They were grown-up people who could do grown-up things. In fact, she should be doing very, very grown-up—and possibly downright dirty—things with Ryan.

Grabbing a plate, she waited behind Logan to try some of the fresh tuna Ryan had grilled. Morgan stood up suddenly and brushed against her. Very softly, her new neighbor said, “You’re not right for him.”

Jess jerked her eyes to Morgan’s, shocked the younger woman had been so obvious. But then, standing on Ryan’s boat, obliged to a date she didn’t want with an accountant, Jess found the part of herself she’d shoved behind heartache and forgotten. That Jess didn’t take shit from anyone. She smiled at Morgan and took a chip off the woman’s plate. Sliding around her, she bit into the tortilla chip and said, “We’ll see about that.”

And that made her feel like her old self.

Chapter Eight

Ryan had just stepped out of the shower when his cell phone buzzed. He walked over to the nightstand, scrubbed his face, and stared down at the screen.

Martha Reyes.

His brain spun through all the possibilities in a nanosecond, landing on
something’s wrong, so you better answer it
.

He picked up the phone, wrapped the towel around his waist, and pressed the button to answer the call. But of course, he had answered too late. Sighing, he flopped back on the bed, preparing for the worst. His father had high cholesterol, but he’d talked the man out of taking statins and into a better lifestyle. His father had dropped weight and lowered his triglycerides. His mother had back issues, but who knew at her age? Breast cancer had killed his maternal grandmother before he was old enough to know her. As his parents neared their seventies, a plethora of health problems awaited them. Today could be the start of a new one.

Dialing the number stamped in his memory, Ryan prepared for the worst.

“Ryan, thank goodness. I worried when you didn’t answer,” his mother said, breathless. Was that a symptom or merely her body’s natural response to hurrying to the phone?

“I was in the shower.”

“Oh good,” she huffed.

Then his mother didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Anxiety fluttered in his gut.

“Uh, so is everything okay?” he asked, sitting up, bracing for the news his grandmother, ensconced in Pleasant Acres Retirement Center, was in the hospital, or perhaps his mother might utter the
C
word. His grandmother had been the one person who’d made him feel normal. He wasn’t ready to lose her . . . even though he knew he should have been visiting her. Guilt sledgehammered him.

“Everyone is fine,” his mother said.

“Oh,” he replied. So why had she called him? She never called. She and his father were still resentful over him leaving Caltech to “drive around a fishin’ boat.” “So you called for . . . ?”

“I haven’t talked to you since March. Can’t a mother call her child?”

“Sure. Oh, thank you for the birthday gift.”

“That’s the sunscreen they recommended in
Good Housekeeping
. It blocks the UV rays better or something like that. I guess you need something like that since you’re out in the sun all day. Your father picked out the hat. Some kid at Loston’s said it was a preferred hat by outdoorsmen. That’s what you are now, I guess.” She sounded quite sad about it, too.

“You can still call me Doc if you want to. My degrees didn’t disappear the day I bought the
Beagle
.” He used a light voice because he wasn’t in the mood to argue with her . . . or rather, engage in passive-aggressive behavior where she pretended to be supportive of his decision but dropped not-so-subtle comments about him wasting his abilities.

“Ha-ha,” his mother tittered. “Oh, I was calling to make sure you got your birthday gift, but also because I saw Donna Culpepper at yoga last week, and she told me that her daughter, Jessica, is working in Pensacola. Of course, Donna didn’t know you live there, too.”

“Because you allow everyone to think I’m still in California working on my speech for the Nobel Prize?”

“I don’t let anyone think anything, Ryan James. But I don’t know why I would tell anyone you’re down there drivin’ men around to catch fish half of them won’t consume anyhow. But I don’t want to talk about your new trade. Just wanted you to keep your eyes open for one of your old classmates.”

It struck Ryan why his mother had called him. She didn’t want anyone in Morning Glory to know her boy wonder now ran a fishing charter service. Not when she’d received so much recognition for his many accomplishments. The
Morning Glory Herald
had written several articles about his achievements, the last of which was selling his medical advancement to a major pharmaceutical company. He understood objectively that many parents received worth through the achievement of their children, so that didn’t make his mother atypical. Perhaps shallow, but not abnormal. His mother had never been shallow, of course . . . not that she would admit.

“I don’t have to keep my eyes open. She’s renting a condo in my complex. We’ve already run into each other.” Or rather, she’d tripped over him naked on the beach. He probably shouldn’t tell his mother that, though. Not something she’d want to share with her Church of Christ knitting circle/Bible study.

“Does she know who you are?” His mother sounded worried.

“At first she didn’t recognize me. I had to reintroduce myself.” And try not to throw up on her or overly expose his junk . . . which he’d likely have done. He’d had a lot of tequila and rum that night. “Why are you so concerned?”

“No reason. How strange she’s living in your complex. It’s truly a small world,” his mother said, clearing her throat. “So what did she think about your new career?”

“She said she liked my boat,” Ryan said, unwinding the towel from his waist, sliding it from beneath him, and tossing it onto the leather bench at the foot of the bed. His skin itched to pick it up and toss it into the washer. But he quelled the urge. He forced himself to look at crumbs on the countertop and swore off organizing his canned goods according to daily vitamin allowance and seed type. He eyed an uneven toenail as he sat naked on his bedspread . . . another forced action.

“Oh,” his mother responded.

“Actually, I’m going dolphin watching with her today.”

“She’s divorced,” his mother said. She made it sound like Jess had gonorrhea or something.

“Thank God. Her husband was an asshole.”

“Ryan James, watch your language,” his mother said, her tone turning sharp. Martha Reyes had taught school for thirty-five years. She could freeze anyone with a mere look. “I must run now. I have to take a tuna salad to Mrs. Montgomery. She fell and broke her hip last month and is still having trouble getting around.”

“Thanks for calling and wishing me a belated happy birthday,” he said, eyeing his body in the mirror. He sucked in his stomach. Still flat, but he needed to watch the cheeseburgers. He’d worked so hard in the gym to perfect his body. No use in making more work for himself.

“’Bye, Ryan,” she said, hanging up.

No
I love you
or
I miss you
. Just, “’Bye, Ryan.”

He set his cell phone on the bedside table, centering it on the
JAMA
he’d received in the mail last week. Then on second thought he bumped the phone so it slid halfway off the magazine. Then he walked away.

An hour later he pulled up at the Holiday Harbor Marina. Morgan sat beside him, smelling like coconut suntan oil and looking like the subject of a country song. Her bikini top looked like if he hit a big pothole, the stitching would pop. Her cutoff jean shorts were, well, short. He had a good shot of seeing her hoo-ha when she bent over. She also wore very impractical wedge sandals. Logan had texted he would pick up Jess, which didn’t make much sense since she lived in the same complex as him and Morgan. Guess the man really thought this was a date.

And by the looks of Morgan, she did, too, which aggravated him. They’d had the conversation about being friends. Why couldn’t Morgan accept what they had? She was like the swallows who built the nest on his deck—nothing would dissuade.

Jess stood by the huge ice machine wearing a tank sundress that skimmed her thighs and a pair of thong sandals. Her hair had been braided, and she wore lip gloss. Guess she thought it was a date, too.

Damn it.

“Hey,” she said, donning a smile. “Logan went to talk to the guy who is taking us out.”

Morgan said hello to Jess, but she was a bit cool about it. He’d never seen the happy brunette act standoffish with anyone. One of the reasons he liked Morgan was her sunny disposition and enthusiasm for everything . . . even grocery shopping. Ryan equated grocery shopping with the flames of eternal damnation. All that disarray, suspect smells emanating from the freezer section, and deli harboring pathogenic bacteria waiting to climb into his luncheon meat.

Logan came out of the marina. “Okay, folks, it’s all set up. Captain Buddy’s our guy. He knows where all the bottlenoses hang out.”

“Didn’t we just do this yesterday?” Ryan asked, trying to stanch the sour grapes in his tone.

“Yeah, but who cares?” Morgan said, studying her nails before blinding him with a smile. “This time it’s a date, and Logan mentioned going to the beach afterward. We can play beach blanket bingo. It’s my favorite game.”

“It’s the name of your beach house,” Jess said.

Morgan rolled her eyes. “Duh, that’s why it’s my fave.”

Captain Buddy, a guy Ryan had never met, came out and pointed out his boat, a flat-bottomed skiff. The man looked like Santa Claus and Jimmy Buffett had had a baby. He wore a bright Hawaiian shirt, baggy shorts, and deck shoes. His stomach hung over, and he had the habit of rubbing it while he talked. They all put on life jackets and climbed into the boat.

It was an hour of . . . watching dolphins.

Ryan liked dolphins well enough, but he saw them all the time. They frequently followed his boat, jumping in the wake. Not to mention Buddy took them back to Big Lagoon, where they’d docked the day before. Jess seemed to enjoy it, pointing out the rolling fins and beaming at Captain Buddy as he talked about dolphin adventures he’d had over the years. Logan watched Jess like a hawk searching a field for prey. Morgan played on her phone. Overall, Ryan would rate the date a C plus only because Jess smiled a lot. He remained silent, noting the way the captain piloted the boat more than watching the dolphins.

After an hour they motored back into the marina, bought some beer, and piled into Logan’s jeep. Fifteen minutes later they walked along the white beaches of Perdido Key, which sat east of Orange Beach near the Florida state line.

“This is so gorgeous. No matter where you go on the Gulf Coast, it’s paradise,” Jess said, bending and scooping the crystal sand and letting it pour through her fingers. “I still can’t believe I’m here and not looking at the muddy pond in the middle of Morning Glory.”

“Morning Glory? Is that even a place?” Morgan asked.

Jess’s forehead crinkled. “No, I’m making it up, Morgan.”

Ryan tried to hide his smile, but Jess caught sight of it. Something in her eyes glowed triumphantly. The old Jess was somewhere inside the shell she seemed to have become. No, not shell, but the vulnerability Jess displayed was similar—luminescent and secretive—and so not what came to mind when he pictured her. He wanted that Jess back, the one who lifted her chin, argued when she knew she was right, and elbowed her way past the stragglers in life.

Morgan seemed oblivious to Jess’s jab and pointed to an unoccupied pavilion on the state beach. “We can put our stuff over there. I brought a towel even though I didn’t know we were going to the beach.” She shot an annoyed look at Ryan.

How was he supposed to know? Wasn’t like Logan had called him and they’d planned the day like a couple of adolescent boys on their first shebang. Ryan had been coerced into this double date . . . which he didn’t consider a true double date. Not for him, anyway.

Logan headed over to the pavilion. “The day is too nice to go back home and do laundry. We’re young. Let’s play.”

Morgan and Jess dumped their beach bags. One swish of her shapely hips and Morgan was beach ready in a matching bikini bottom. Jess watched as Morgan tiptoed out to the pounding surf. Then with a slight lift of her shoulder, she wrenched the tank dress overhead.

“Nice bikini,” Logan said.

That was an understatement.

“Uh, thanks,” Jess said, clasping her hands between breasts that were tastefully covered. Her bikini was not as revealing as Morgan’s, having more substantial material and an almost modest cut, but her body was amazing.

He thought about the Jess he’d fantasized about all those years ago while lying in his twin bed staring up at the constellations that clustered on his ceiling—another educational Christmas gift from Santa Claus that he didn’t have the heart to pull down. Her Morning Glory cheerleading uniform showed her long, tanned legs and clung perfectly to her breasts, nipping in at her slim waist. She had amazing collarbones, and her arms were somehow both elegant and athletic. He’d adored her then, dared to brush her arm whenever he added boric acid to the test tube. He’d breathed deeply when she was near, sucking in the scent of her perfume and shampoo. Jess had been his ideal girl.

And now she stood in front of him, no longer girlish, but splendidly woman.

“Okay, I’m heading into the water,” she said with a smile that looked a bit forced.

“Me, too,” Logan said, ripping off his shirt and following her toward the surf. The fool hadn’t even put on sunscreen. He’d be a lobster tomorrow.

Ryan grabbed a beer and sank onto the bench, watching Jess cautiously step into the water. Her hands fluttered at the sides of her swim bottoms as if she were afraid the strong swell of waves might make short work of her suit. He’d seen plenty of boob and ass thanks to the ocean. But Ryan didn’t want any cheap glimpses of Jess’s no doubt extraordinary flesh. He wanted to earn his view the honest way. No cheating.