Page 7 of Hot Kisses

A long, long time ago I cared about the beach more than anything else. Just like Clarice.

It’s clear she’s got a motivation for getting me to agree to another tour, and I don’t think it’s because she wants more time alone with me. That’s okay, as long as I get to spend more time with her. I’m already planning how to extend the evening, show her the time of her life. It means rearranging a bunch of things, but the second I laid eyes on Clarice, I knew I’d be staying here longer than planned. As long as it takes.

As I pull into the restaurant lot, I make a call to the owner of the boutique in one of my resorts. She admits she needs someextra help for the summer and is intrigued when I tell her about Clarice’s jewelry. If she’s not so worried about where she’ll be working for the summer, Clarice can stop viewing me as the enemy and enjoy everything I have to offer her.

Inside the restaurant, I tell the host who I’m meeting. Since I’m late, he should be waiting. The bored teenager points out toward the veranda where there’s an early lunch crowd of beachgoers already gathered. The only man in a business suit makes me stop in my tracks before I go back outside.

It’s the asshole. The one who was causing Clarice to be on the verge of tears, the one who was ogling the bikini babes. He’s laughing with a woman wearing a low cut halter, his eyes nowhere near her face. He keeps reaching for her shoulder and she finally laughs and hands him her phone.

This piece of shit is collecting numbers of other women while his is scraping for dollars at the beach? With a sinking stomach, I realize I’m about to make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. I want to storm out, but then I remember Clarice isn’t his woman anymore. She’s already mine.

When he sees me staring at him coldly, he disentangles himself from his conquest and pumps my hand before leading me to a table. He’s already spewing facts about the area that he hopes will impress me. As if I don’t go into every deal knowing everything there is to know.

I still want to walk out, leave him gasping like a landed fish for hurting Clarice. There’s no reason to be this enraged, but I am.

But he’ll just sell the land to someone else if I back out. I curl my fists as he pushes the deeds over to me, along with some other paperwork.

“You don’t know how long my dad’s will was in probate,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Took three lawyers to sort it out.”

My eyes narrow and I finally look it all over. “What was the problem?” I ask. I don’t need to be halfway through construction to have the land contested.

“No problem at all! My dad just wasn’t prepared at the time of the accident, that’s all.”

I scour the paperwork. “You were the sole heir?”

He sputters on his martini, fiddling with the olive. “Only child. My brother died years ago.”

His relationship with his family isn’t my concern and the papers are in order. I still don’t want to sign. Closing my eyes, all I can see is that sadness in Clarice’s eyes, that he put there. Then I remember that momentary glimpse of her being truly happy and I’m going to keep her that way.

“I’ll sign,” I say, sizing him up. “On one condition.”

“Name it.” He leans across the table, spine ramrod straight with anticipation.

“Give me Clarice.”

He completely deflates, sliding back into his chair. I raise my eyebrow at his confused look. “You want my niece? That Clarice?”

Now it’s my turn to spit my drink. Oh, shit, what a mistake to make. Before I can come to terms with it, this asshole uncle of the year reaches out his hand to shake.

“Deal,” he says.

Oh, fuck. I regain my composure and stare at him until his hand falls to the table. I shake my head slowly. “Of course, I was joking about Clarice.”

He shrugs. “Whatever it takes to get this deal through.”

I’ve never wanted to punch someone so much in my life. And I’m not too happy with myself, either. I’ll win Clarice on my own. Not a piece of property like the sand she works so hard on, but something to cherish for the rest of my life.

With a suppressed sigh, I fold up the paperwork and stand up. “I’ll have my people look this over and get back to you.”

Leaving without looking back, I can only imagine he’ll shrug and get back to collecting phone numbers. But at least he’s not hurting Clarice in that way.

Now it’s so much worse. If his brother and father are dead and he’s a complete waste of air, who does that leave Clarice with? I have to know she’s all right, and not alone in this world. Instead of driving back to the airport like originally planned, I check into a hotel then head back to the beach.

Her table is empty and the cooler is gone. There’s a sign hung over the big massage chair saying she’ll be back later. A growl of frustration rises in my throat and with my hands raking through my hair, I turn to the water.

There are a lot more people on the beach now. Families on bright blankets, little kids dodging back and forth with pails of water and plastic shovels. An older couple hold hands under a big umbrella wedged into the sand. A few people are roasting themselves with towels over their faces and the girls from earlier are playing a ruthless game of volleyball.

Laughter competes with the seagulls’ cries, and underneath it all is the gentle whooshing of the water hitting the shore. I look further, almost desperate, until I see a small figure bobbing out in the waves. Raising a hand to block the sun, I squint to see that it’s Clarice on a surfboard.

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