“Thanks for coming along. But I thought you were allergic to kids.”
“I guess I like them in small doses. Especially when they’re at a place like Ryder House. It’s nice to help.”
“Agreed. I’ve been really lucky in my life, and I never want to take that for granted. It feels like a special privilege to help out.”
“You’re right. I’ve heard it called a ‘helper’s high.’ Otherwise known as doing the hokeypokey.”
He chuckled. “You’re a good sport.”
“I like to think so.” She passed through the arch of beach roses and dune grass and stepped onto the sand, which was still slightly cool and damp from the night.
“We practically have it all to ourselves,” she said, enchanted by the shifting blue of the water, the slight pink tinge of the morning sky.
A few hundred yards away was a lone jogger, heading up the coast. In the other direction was a woman doing yoga poses. The rest of the beach belonged to the seagulls and sandpipers.
Logan stopped at the cabana and took out two boards, along with a couple of bars of wax. They applied the wax to the already-bumpy surface of each board.
“Okay,” he said when they finished. “Surf’s up.”
She nodded and peeled off her oversize tunic, knowing without looking at him that he was checking her out. His gaze felt like a waft of heat on her bare skin.
He didn’t even pretend not to stare. “Sunscreen?” he asked, offering her a tube.
“Thanks.” She spread the cream everywhere she could reach while he did the same. Then she donned her rash guard, a tight jersey shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves.
“You missed a spot,” said Logan. “Turn around.” He went down on one knee and smoothed his hands down the backs of her thighs.
She was startled by the sensation of his bare hands on her skin. It had been so long since a guy had touched her, she’d nearly forgotten what that felt like. And until this moment, she hadn’t realized that she missed it.
She was flustered by the time he finished and stood up. “Thanks,” she said, hoping her thoughts didn’t show on her face. She’d never been good at playing it cool.
“My pleasure.” He picked up his board. “Really.”
She followed him to the surf. The warm water swirled around her ankles in a rhythm that pulled at her, reminding her of why she loved the ocean—the steady movement, the timeless rhythm, the mysteries beneath, the raw curl of power. “Let’s go ride some waves.”
“You’re going to show me up again,” he accused.
She laughed. “Watch and learn.”
They waded out together and then mounted their boards to paddle out to the green water. The waves were aggressive, but beyond the first break, the ocean was calm, shifting with a cradling motion.
“Beautiful morning,” he said, sitting astraddle and watching the incoming rollers.
“It is. Let’s try this one.” She indicated a nice glassy mound coming toward them.
“You got it.”
They paddled in tandem, and when the momentum took their boards, they both stood up. She laughed aloud, loving the sensation of being propelled by the surge. The first ride of the day made her glad to be alive. She’d taken her stepchildren surfing a few years ago. She couldn’t keep herself from remembering that. This morning, though, the memory didn’t hurt.
They rode for about an hour. Beyond the break, she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. A series of large, dark shapes flurried just under the surface, moving fast, a raft of liquid shadows.
“Hey, Logan!” she yelled, looking around for him. Her heart pounded.
He had seen, too, and seconds later, the dark shapes broke the surface and leaped into the air in a graceful arc. Darcy was transfixed, and then she broke into laughter. “Dolphins,” she cried. “I’ve never been this close to dolphins.” The animals leaped again, and she could feel the rush of wind and spray as they passed. It was magical. There was no other word for it.
The animals didn’t seem to mind their proximity. They surged past, the muscular undulations of their bodies stirring the water, then causing shower after shower as they breached. She felt both intimidated and reverent, privileged to be part of their world. In that moment, the sense of wonder was so powerful it reminded her of being a child again.
The dolphins leaped several more times, and then disappeared out to sea. Darcy’s gaze caught Logan’s and she could see that he was every bit as enchanted as she was, sharing the same sense of wordless wonder. The fact that they had witnessed it together bonded them in some intense way. Unforgettable moments had a habit of doing that.
He signaled to her to indicate an incoming wave, and they rode it in together, side by side, to the shallows. She whipped her wet hair out of her face and grinned at him. “Well,” she said, “I guess that’s something you don’t see every day. I’m just... God, it was overwhelming. I have no idea what to say. I’m speechless. I mean, I’m babbling. But really, Logan, I—”
He stopped her with a kiss. It was just that fast. One moment she was attempting to blather on about swimming with the dolphins, and the next, he had cradled her face between his hands and was kissing her with a raw, searing passion that took her breath away. For a second, she went stiff with startlement, and then she melted against him, feeling the unfamiliar shape of him, tasting him for the first time, exploring the texture of his lips, wishing it would go on for a very long time.
“Oh,” she said when he finally lifted his mouth from hers. “Oh my.” Still at a loss for words, she stared up at him, wanting him to kiss her again, wondering if he wanted to. He tasted delicious, of salt from the sea and his own unique flavor. It was exciting and sexy and wholly unexpected. She had not kissed a man in ages. She was glad the one she was kissing happened to be Logan O’Donnell.
He smiled down at her. “I’m glad we shared that.”
She wasn’t sure he meant the dolphins or the kiss.
“Me, too,” she said, and she knew which one she meant.
“Are you sure you have to leave today?” he asked.
Ah, so tempting. Then she took a deep breath. It was just a kiss, she reminded herself. It was only a kiss. “Yes. I have a work thing.” She bent over and unstrapped the ankle tether of her board.
“On a holiday weekend?”
She straightened up and nodded, furrowing a hand through her hair. “It’s weather-dependent. There’s a photo shoot that needs snow and ice, and that’s the prediction for tomorrow and Sunday.”
“Sounds awesome. Where’s the shoot?”
“Lake Placid,” she said. “It’s a snow sports shoot.”
“Cool. So, do you do photography?”
“No. I’d love to learn one day.”
“It’s overrated,” he said quickly, almost harshly. He caught her quizzical look and added, “My ex is a photographer.”
“I don’t think it’s contagious,” she said.
“Yeah, sorry.” He passed her a towel. Their hands brushed, and they looked at each other briefly.
“So, what do you do on the shoot?” he asked. “Stylist, or...?”
“I’m, uh, the subject,” she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Sorry, what?”
“The subject.”
“Like, you’re a model?”
“I’m one of the athletes,” she said, somewhat insulted by his surprise. She knew she wasn’t model-pretty, but she wished he thought she was.
“Now I’m confused. I thought you were in advertising.”
“I am. I’m in sports marketing,” she said. “It’s a specialized field. I work with sponsors, and the shoot is set
