Stranded With Her Ex (5 page)

She froze, thinking about frigid air and black nothingness. Gushing blood and razor-sharp teeth.

“There’s a night-light,” Taryn said, her voice muffled by blankets.

“What?”

“There’s a night-light. It turns on automatically.”

“You’re afraid of the dark?” she asked.

The question was met by silence. After a pause, Taryn said, “No. But this house is really creepy. Sometimes I wake up and feel out of breath. The dark can be suffocating.”

Daniela’s antagonism toward the girl softened. “My panic attacks are like that,” she admitted. “I know what you mean.”

“If you can’t sleep with it on, I’ll unplug it.”

“No,” she said, switching off the lamp. The night-light in the corner illuminated a small section of the wall, creating a halo effect. Chasing the shadows away. “It’s fine. Waking up in a strange place can be disorienting, and…I have nightmares.”

“If I hear you, should I wake you up?”

She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, struck by a slew of unpleasant memories. Not all of her nights with Sean had been good. Sometimes, she’d woken up screaming, hitting him with both fists.

“No,” she said, hugging her arms around her waist. “Don’t wake me.”

Daniela opened her eyes with a start, her heart pounding against her ribs, her breath coming in quick, short pants. In the bunk above her, Taryn’s sleeping form caused an almost imperceptible dip in the thin mattress.

No hint of light peeked through the window. The desk clock read 1:45 a.m.

Fumbling for the bottled water at her bedside, she took a slow sip, struggling to regulate her breathing and hold her panic at bay.

Her nightmares came less frequently now, but they still came. She’d figured sleep would be elusive in these strange surroundings. To her surprise, exhaustion had overtaken her and she’d drifted off, minutes after lying down.

She’d dreamed of being trapped inside the 4Runner, impaled on a piece of twisted metal frame. Intermittent rain came through the broken front windshield, wetting her cheeks, rousing her from semiconsciousness. With lucidity came pain and terror and sorrow. She turned her face away, seeking to drown herself in the bliss of sleep.

Sean’s hand reached out, yanking her from the car. Pulling her out of comfort’s arms and away from sweet oblivion.

The nightmare was always the same.

When her heart no longer threatened to burst from her chest, she rose from the lower bunk, her sock-covered feet padding silently across the hardwood floor. Outside of her cozy sleeping bag, the air was bracingly cold.

Shivering, she eased into her hooded sweatshirt and slipped out the door. When she had bad dreams, she preferred to get up and move around. She knew from experience that going right back to sleep was impossible, and lying in bed only increased her anxiety.

Pacing the hallway was out, so she went downstairs to make a cup of tea. Walking was therapeutic, but simple tasks also calmed her nerves.

Halfway down the stairs, she felt a chill. In fact, she could
see
it. Fog crept up the stairwell, curling around her fuzzy wool socks.

The front door was open.

Daniela couldn’t believe her eyes. Had someone just left the house, in the dead of night? Even more unsettling, had an unexpected visitor dropped in?

For a moment, fear kept her rooted to the spot. She imagined diaphanous white gowns and dead limbs, rising from the mist.

“Don’t be a fool,” she whispered, shaking her head. Perhaps she was prone to panic attacks and crying jags, but she wasn’t fanciful or weak-minded.

Straightening her shoulders, she hurried down the last few steps, moving toward the front door with purpose. The wind had forced it open, nothing more. Brent hadn’t closed it properly during his last smoke break.

She took a quick peek outside, making sure he wasn’t standing there now, puffing away. She didn’t see anything but fog, so she drew it closed, shutting out the cold air and silencing the sound of the crashing surf.

When a hand touched her shoulder, she almost jumped out of her skin.

It was Jason.

“Puta madre!”
she gasped, her heart in her throat.

He chuckled at her colorful language, his teeth very white in the dark. “I’m sorry. I thought you were sleepwalking.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“I can see that,” he said, still smiling.

“Were you going out for a stroll?” he asked.

“Of course not. The door was open when I came downstairs.”

His expression sobered. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

Frowning, he opened the door again, doing a quick search of the foggy exterior before he shrugged and closed it. After a moment’s deliberation, he engaged the dead bolt.

“You don’t usually lock it?” Daniela asked him.

“No reason to.”

She followed his logic. The island had no docking facilities, so it wasn’t as though any vandals or rabble-rousers could drop by. “Must have been the wind,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around her body.

He looked past her, studying the dark living room for signs of a disturbance. Everything was in its place.

“Sean told me about the skinned seal,” she said.

His brows rose in surprise. “Are you worried about that? I’m sure it was an isolated incident.”

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “I had a bad dream,” she said. “I came downstairs to make a cup of tea.”

His eyes softened with sympathy. “Would you like some company?”

Over the past two years, she’d been asked that question many times. With very few exceptions, she’d said no. She hadn’t wanted company of any kind. Everyone, including Sean, had been desperate to console her. But she’d been inconsolable.

Hiding herself away, locked in misery, was easier than interacting with people, and she’d needed time to be alone with her grief.

At long last, that phase had passed.

“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I would like company. Very much.”

Chapter 5

W
hen Daniela awoke again, the room was gray with pre-dawn light. She was surprised she’d slept so well. After a quiet conversation with Jason, and a hot cup of tea, she’d returned to bed, but she hadn’t expected a restful night.

Taryn was still in the upper bunk, her breathing soft and even.

Daniela slipped out of bed, shivering. It was chillier than it had been a few hours ago. Moving quickly, she grabbed her toiletries kit instead of her work clothes. It would be easier to get dressed after she went to the bathroom.

Still groggy from sleep, she didn’t realize someone was already using the facilities until she was standing outside the door. The sound of running water stopped abruptly, and before she had a chance to retreat, the door opened.

Sean stepped into the hallway, a towel wrapped around his waist, his gloriously bare chest mere inches from her face.

They both froze.

She’d seen him more naked than this hundreds of times, from every possible angle, and he’d never shown a hint of modesty. Nor an ounce of shame. But, to be fair, what shame was there in having a body that could make a grown woman weep?

He was leaner than he’d been a few years ago, and even more toned, every muscle in his body standing out in clear definition. He looked like a human anatomy chart.

Although a part of her suspected his exercise regimen had been a little
too
grueling lately, she couldn’t help but stare at the hard planes of his chest and the straits along his rib cage. Her eyes followed the furrow of dark hair on his abdomen until it disappeared under the damp towel, which was slung precariously low on his hips.

She forced her gaze up to his face.

His expression was guarded, awaiting her reaction. He smelled fantastic, like clean water and spicy soap. Her mouth watered at the tantalizing scent, and her fingertips itched to touch his skin, but her mind registered that there was something out of place. Although she could swear she felt heat coming off his body, there was no shower steam.

“No hot water?” she blurted.

A flush stole across his cheekbones. “Not much.”

Because she was standing there like a moron, blocking his exit, he went around her, gripping his towel in a clenched fist.

Entranced, she watched him go. When he switched hands on the towel to turn the doorknob to his bedroom, the terry cloth slipped down another inch, rewarding her with a glimpse of his tautly defined hip.

As soon as he was out of sight, she snapped out of her stupor. What was wrong with her? He must think her an utter fool.

Smothering a moan of embarrassment, she stumbled forward into the tiny bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her. The woman in the mirror above the sink stared back at her in dismay, her skin too pale for her almost-black hair, eyes too big for her face.

Her nostrils flared, inhaling his soap, his skin, his scent.

Even his dirty clothes, which he’d left in a mesh bag on the tile floor, smelled better than a field of wildflowers to her sadly man-deprived nose. Fisting her hands in her hair, she sank into a crouched position, letting her back slide down the door.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him.

When they were together, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to please her. In the months following the accident, he’d wanted to comfort her more than ever. Instead of taking advantage of that opportunity, she’d shied away from his touch.

In hindsight, she should have expected him to file for divorce. His need for physical intimacy had never waned, not once over the course of their five-year marriage, not even during her pregnancy. If anything, he’d reached for her more often, fascinated by the changes in her body, exploring every new curve.

After losing the baby, she’d had no interest in sex, and he hadn’t pressed the issue at first. When he had…it was the beginning of the end.

At the time of their separation, they hadn’t been intimate in over a year.

Sean had never been a monk. He was a man of strong appetites, and there would always be women lining up to indulge him. She didn’t think he’d cheated. But how often had he been in a remote location with a sweet young thing like Taryn? And how could she assume he would go without female attention while he was away if he wasn’t getting any at home?

Angry with herself for wondering—and for caring—she lurched to her feet. It hardly mattered if Sean had been faithful during their marriage.

It was over. Time to move on.

To say she had regrets was an understatement, but she’d come here to start again, not to dwell on the past, or to re-immerse herself in a pit of despair.

With swift, impatient motions, she turned on the faucet and bent over the sink. Cupping her hands together, she filled them with ice-cold water, gritting her teeth as she washed the dazed look off her face.

Cursing his unruly body for having a predictable reaction to the sight of his beautiful ex-wife, who looked enticingly sleep-rumpled and adorably mussed, Sean rifled through his belongings, searching for his deodorant.

“Damn,” he muttered, realizing he’d left his dirty laundry in the bathroom. He wasn’t going back for it until she’d cleared out of there.

Taking the cap off his deodorant, he swiped it under his arms and tossed the stick back into his pack. He’d stripped out of his wetsuit on a public beach more times than he could count, so towel-changing was second nature to him. Employing the same technique, he kept the terry cloth wrapped around his waist while he pulled on his boxer briefs, moving quickly because it was damned cold.

He’d tossed and turned most of the night, trying not to think about the way Daniela’s red thermal shirt cupped her luscious breasts. He wished he couldn’t imagine, in agonizing detail, the silkiness of her skin beneath his fingertips, the sounds she made when she climaxed and the soft cushion of her body under his.

She made him feel like an ungainly adolescent, with no control over his reactions. Christ, they’d been together for almost ten years. He should be bored by the sight of her in comfy pajamas, not reduced to drooling.

If nothing else, the cold shower should have kept him in check. He hadn’t expected to respond to her proximity, but when her eyes drifted down his belly, he’d felt a powerful jolt of lust, and could only hope she hadn’t noticed.

One almost-glance from a woman he longed to forget had him swelling with arousal, remembering far too much.

“Damn it,” he said under his breath, kicking into his pants. It wasn’t his fault she was still wearing that snug-fitting red top. And those baggy flannel pajama bottoms wouldn’t have been sexy if he didn’t know how easy it was to slip his hand inside the elastic waistband. One tug, and they would slide down her curvy hips.

Jason roused, throwing back his sleeping bag. He frowned at Sean blearily. “It was my turn to shower.”

“Be my guest. I didn’t use any hot water.”

His drowsy eyes narrowed. “You took a cold shower on purpose? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Scowling, Sean draped his towel over a chair and pulled on his jeans. Before he was finished buttoning his fly, Daniela appeared in the doorway, holding his mesh laundry bag. Her gaze wandered down his bare torso, coming to an abrupt halt at his fumbling hands.

“Oh,” Jason said. “Now I get it.”

Dani blinked at him, curious. “Get what?”

“Never mind,” Sean said, leaving his top button undone. Stepping forward, he took the laundry bag from her. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she said, retreating into the hallway.

Jason gave Sean a knowing smirk. “Does she rattle your cage?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, lobbing the laundry bag at his bunk. To his disappointment, it missed Jason by a mile.

“She’s a beautiful woman.”

Sean couldn’t stop himself from growling, “Stay away from her.”

Jason laughed, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “I’ve never seen you act so stupid. I’m relieved by the evidence that you might actually be human. I was beginning to think you were a robot.”

Although Jason’s words annoyed him, they also spurred him into action. Moving quickly, he tugging on a sweatshirt and went after Daniela. “Hang on a sec,” he said, catching her before she entered her room.

She turned to face him, her expression wary.

A few damp strands of hair clung to her slender throat, and her breath smelled minty-fresh. He’d always liked kissing her before she brushed just as well as after, but right now he was struck by the powerful urge to press her back to the wall and taste every inch of her delicious mouth.

He massaged his forehead, wishing he could scrub the temptation away.
Focus, Sean.
“How are you?” he asked inanely.

Her brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“No…nightmares?”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Because I thought we could…” He faltered, floundering like a teenager asking her out for their first date. “We usually give newcomers an island tour. Taryn and Elizabeth will show you around the lighthouse, and take you out to the blinds, where they do research, but the best way to see the Steller is by boat.”

Her eyes brightened with interest. At certain times, she was so beautiful it pained him to look at her. “Will Jason go?” she asked, her excitement at viewing wildlife in their natural habitat tempered only by her distaste for being alone in his company.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, forcing a smile.

She smiled back at him. “Okay, then. That would be great. Thanks.”

“Great,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. Just great.

As soon as she disappeared into the room she shared with Taryn, he went down the hall, his jaw clenched. What was he thinking? He wasn’t the welcoming committee. He didn’t even want Daniela to stay here.

Not just for her own good. For his.

He hadn’t mentioned this to Jason, but her panic attacks could be extremely debilitating. After the accident, he’d watched her withdraw from reality on numerous occasions, almost to the point of becoming unresponsive.

Her nightmares were no less troubling. She’d bloodied his nose during one of the worst episodes. He’d gripped her wrists tightly, trying to calm her down, and she’d gone ballistic, screaming for him to let her go. From then on, he’d taken the hits without complaint. In a sad, dysfunctional way, her glancing blows were better than nothing.

It was the only time she touched him.

Pushing aside the memories, which were best left in the past—like his relationship with Daniela—he put on his boots, ignoring Jason’s amused expression. Downstairs, Elizabeth was sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading, a pair of stretchy black gloves covering her slender hands.

“Morning,” she murmured, not bothering to glance up.

“Good morning,” he replied, ducking into the kitchen.

Still unsettled by the chance encounter with Dani, he located his portable mug in the kitchen cabinet and filled it to the brim with hot coffee. His knee-jerk sexual response to her was a simple matter of compatible physical chemistry.

Hard to predict, impossible to control.

It didn’t mean he was doomed to pine for her forever. He just needed to rewire his system. Reprogram his thinking. Engage with other women.

Other women. Like Elizabeth.

On his way out the door, he paused, studying the pretty redhead in a new light. Although he found her attractive, Sean had never been curious about her sexually. He stared at her for a moment now, trying to drum up some interest. She wasn’t built like Daniela, but neither was she skinny. He appreciated curves on women, and he could see that she had her share.

She had a nice figure. He just wasn’t eager to explore it. The idea of sleeping with her didn’t tempt him half as much as the faint scent of Daniela’s toothpaste.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing his perusal. She smoothed her hand down the front of her sweater, as if checking for crumbs.

“Nothing,” he said, dragging his mind out of the gutter. “What are you up to today?”

“I’m going to the bird blind to collect waste samples. That’s why I’m dressed in these old rags.” She smiled ruefully. “Ready to get bombarded.”

“Oh.” Smiling back at her, he took a sip of coffee. Before now, he’d thought she was a little too reserved. After one harmless confession, she seemed much more down to earth. Or maybe imagining her naked had done the trick. “You look fine to me.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks.”

“Where are you from?”

“Florida, originally. Daytona Beach.”

“Shark central.”

Her eyes darkened. “Yes. There are more incidental attacks there than anywhere else in the world. More people in the water.”

Sean warmed up to the subject. “Ever had a run-in?”

“No. I don’t swim.”

“You’re joking.”

She shook her head.

“Well, you have to learn. What if you fell off a boat, or—”

“Around here? Drowning would be the least of my worries.” As if the conversation were finished, she opened her book and resumed reading.
Water Birds of the Pacific Coast,
ironically enough.

It took him a second to realize he’d been snubbed. Elizabeth was a cool customer, and Sean had been amused by Jason’s attempts to woo her over the past few days. She’d shot him down a number of times.

Sean hadn’t expected to get the same treatment.

He ducked his head, smothering a self-deprecating laugh. If he wanted to talk to a woman, he could at least find a willing one—like Taryn. “I’m on shark watch,” he said, muttering goodbye as he headed out the door.

The hike up to the tower was daunting.

A zigzagged path dealt with the sharp rise in elevation, and traversing it was akin to walking up a thousand stairs. The most dangerous area, a narrow space at the outer edge of the cliff, had a sturdy wooden handrail for additional support. A sheer drop on that side careened down the cliff at almost fifty feet, ending at a section of water they called the Washtub. Incoming waves converged there in a swirl of powerful currents.