He dropped our things in the foyer. I peered around him.
“What do you think?”
Turquoise water and white sand awaited just past the sea oats.
“Where are we?”
“Rosemary Beach.”
I cradled Blake to my chest and made tracks across the open living space to the wall of sliding glass doors.
“Is that?”
“The Gulf of Mexico? It is.”
“How’d you find this place?” I yanked on the handle, but the door didn’t budge. He reached around and flicked the lock. With a scrape, it slid open, a blast of salt air hitting my face.
“The internet.”
I set Blake on a lounger and sat on the end of it, tugging off my boots and socks. As quickly as I could, I rolled up my leggings to my knees.
“You ready for this?” I scooped Blake up. When my feet hit the sand, I stopped and wiggled my toes in it. “It’s soft.”
“Damn. It is.”
“This is exactly what I always pictured,” I mumbled toward the water. It gently lapped against the shore, nothing like the big waves of the Atlantic.
“I thought Florida was supposed to be warm.” Patrick shrugged off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders.
He shivered with a particularly brutal slice of wind.
I moved toward the shore. Blake squealed as the water hit my feet. “It’s freezing,” I shrieked, jumping back. Sand coated my wet feet. Blake squealed again. “Okay,” I said, setting him on his wobbly feet.
Patrick took one of his hands, and I grabbed the other. Blake laughed when the water fizzled against his tiny toes. We lifted him when a small wave came in, then dipped him back into the clear water.
“You like that, little dude?”
“Love.”
We let him go and within seconds he’d crawled up from the water, fisting sand. He threw it up in the air and spluttered when it hit him in the face. Patrick sank down beside him and began digging out a moat with his hands.
The sun was low in the sky, which was painted a burnt sienna.
“Grab my phone, if you don’t mind.” Patrick stuck out his chest.
I fished the device from his pocket. He leaned close to Blake and grinned. My heart flip-flopped.
“Come here.” He pointed his sandy finger beside him. I plopped down, and he grabbed Blake, twisting so our backs were toward the water. “You’ll have to take it.”
He wiped his filthy hands on my leggings and grinned.
“My ass is already dirty,” I informed him before leaning close and snapping a few photos.
Blake grabbed a handful of sand and let it go in my lap. I scooped some up and put it in his. He giggled and did it again. And I couldn’t help but join him. Blake was the only one who’d heard my laughter, and sadly it was rare. But today, Patrick did too. He was probably shocked, thought me incapable of smiling let alone laughing.
Patrick shoveled grains on both of us in heaps.
“This boy needs a pail and a shovel.”
“Do you mean you or him?” I pointed at my son.
“Both.”
“That tub is too amazing not to take advantage of.”
I swigged from a bottle of water.
“Then let’s do it.” Patrick pointed his head in the direction of the master bath.
“I meant me.”
“You’ve seen me naked.”
Yeah, I had. Best not to be repeated or I’d end up pregnant again. Because Patrick naked? He certainly didn't look like he sat behind a desk all day. Lean and tone and pretty damn perfect—-no, no, no. I wouldn’t not think about him without clothes on.
An image of him in those custom-made suits popped into my mind. Commanding, confident, charming. That didn't help matters either.
“Today was travel hell. I deserve alone time.”
“Hey, I was there for you the entire time you threw up. I even gave that guy across the aisle nasty looks for staring.” He laced his fingers in mine. “I promise to behave.”
“Like that helps.” I bumped shoulders with him. “Thanks for holding the barf bag.”
“It’s the least I could do, considering your condition is my fault.” His smirk said it all about how he felt.
“You’re so proud of that.”
“Pretty much.”
We took a quick peek in on Blake.
“He was tuckered out,” I said when we’d made it to the spacious bathroom.
“I think he likes the beach.” Patrick turned on the taps.
A response died on my tongue when he reached behind him and peeled his shirt over his head. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him half naked—hell, fully naked—recently, but something in me stirred. Something I needed to ignore.
It was hard enough I was pregnant and didn’t have a job. I’d successfully put those thoughts on hold for a few days, knowing when I finally allowed myself to think about the pregnancy and what that would mean for me, I’d probably end up falling apart. And yet I’d been elated when Patrick had grabbed me and pulled me into a kiss for the ages after we saw the ultrasound. That moment . . . I’d remember that—his passion, his excitement—forever. He wanted this baby. And Blake. Not necessarily me. And yet . . .
He grinned wolfishly when he caught me staring. “You gotten shy on me?”
I jutted my chin up. “No.”
Like a modest little girl, I took off my leggings first. The sweater I wore was long enough to cover my assets.
He stalked toward me. My heartbeat accelerated.
“Need some help?”
I balled my fists at my sides so as not to touch him. “How are you tan in the winter anyway?” The sentence came out far more breathy than I intended.
“Are you just now noticing?”
“Have you been strutting around half naked in hopes of tempting me?”
“Is it working?”
“How long should I wait before I tell you the tub is about to overflow?”
He whipped his head around. “Was that a joke?” A smile tugged at his lips.
“Did it sound like one?”
“That’s it, Wicked.” He swept me off my feet. I squealed and flailed as he put me in the tub.
“You’ve ruined my sweater.”
“Should’ve stripped faster.” He pushed his jeans off his hips and didn’t seem embarrassed
