Page 38 of The Paradise Problem

Twelve

LIAM

Arms, legs, lips, heat.

My feet pound against the sand, each step sounding out the rhythm like a song looping in my mind. I can’t get the four words out of my head.

Arms, legs, lips, heat.

“… and of course, Gary Petersson gets hard the second we start talking about merging, but I string him along because…”

Not even my father’s voice breaks cleanly through; it’s just a vague drone in the background.

I woke up around two this morning to find Anna wrapped around me. Despite what she’d told me about sleeping in one place all night, at some point she’d migrated across the massive bed to throw a leg over my hip, send an arm over my torso, and press her face to my neck. It took monumental focus to not go hard against her inner thigh, and because of it, I’d slept like absolute shit.

Our running route has circled the beaches of the main island before switching to marked trails that cut through the lush forest. At various points, a spotted lizard darted across the path, a nest of baby birds squawked from a nearby tree, a sea turtle sunned itself on a rock in the foamy sea spray, but I barely lingered on the magic of any of it. With every blink I see the curve of Anna’s hip where the sheet fell away, feel her firm breasts pressed against my ribs, hear her warm, sleeping breaths so close to my ear.

Arms, legs, lips, heat.

Arms, legs, lips, heat.

“… some hot piece on the back nine, and I said, ‘Steve, I’ll let you take a shot at…’ ”

We reach the end of the main beach again and I bend, cupping my knees, trying to catch my breath as my father finishes whatever one-sided conversation he was having.

“… Doug Krantz all over my jock, and that’s where I need him, because he’s got that connection to the dairy lobby.”

Should I bring it up with her? One night in and I already feel like Anna and I need to set clearer boundaries.

Or should I let it go? It’s not like she intentionally did anything wrong. Some people are just sleep-cuddlers, I guess.

But if I let it go, it’s unlikely to be a onetime thing. If she found her way to me on our first night together, she’s only going to do that more as we grow more comfortable with each other.

“What do you think?”

My father’s question penetrates my fog, finally, and I straighten, pushing my salt-water-and-sweat damp hair off my forehead. The sun has only just come up and it’s already sweltering. I bet Anna has already kicked off the blankets, letting the air cool her overheated skin.

Her legs—

“Liam.”

I snap over to where he’s watching me expectantly, annoyance etched in every line on his face. There’s some real dark magic at work here, because he’s sixty-one years old and barely breaking a sweat. “About what?” I ask.

“About Krantz.”

I squint to the distance, piecing together the words from the past few minutes. It infuriates me that he thinks he can ask me for my thoughts on business issues after everything, but I know Anna is right and showing up isn’t enough. The only way to placate him this week is to play along. “I think if he can’t even come up on share price, then he doesn’t get a meeting. Eighty is a nonstarter. Call Marty Chu over at Liberty and see if he’s willing to play now that Doug is hungry for it. Marty always lets others do the legwork for him. I bet he bites now.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder. “We good? I’m gonna go shower.”

Without waiting for an answer, I turn and jog back to the bungalow and the woman who, after a single day here, is hijacking my every waking thought.

* * *

“JESUS CHRIST,” I BLURT, the second I turn at the corner of our bridge and step onto the deck of our bungalow. Anna is curled up in a papasan, with a sketch pad in her seemingly bare lap. Honestly, from the first glimpse I get, I think she might be naked. “What are you doing?”

I’ve got a hand over my eyes, but I hear the creaking sound of her standing, the soft padding of her bare feet on the deck. “I’m sketching. What the heck do you think I’m doing, you weirdo?”

I can smell sunblock and her shampoo, and carefully lower my hand to find her only a foot away from me. I’m relieved to see she isn’t actually naked, but she might as well be. Her… bathing suit? Is essentially a few palm-sized scraps of tropical-print fabric. “Oh. I thought you were sitting naked in the chair just now.”

“Right?” she says forcefully, gesturing to her, wow, incredibly lithe body. “Vivi bought me four suits, and this is the one with the most coverage. How am I supposed to swim in it? It’s dental floss. Also, the tag was still attached, and I pulled out my phone to do the math: the price per square inch is criminal. I might have to wear it to the wedding to help justify the cost.”

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