Page 9 of The Summer House

He chuckled. The waitress appeared and cleared their plates. After giving each of them a pointed look, she placed the check in the center of the table.

Rick grabbed it. Mandy held up her hands. “You’ve just finished telling me about your incredible success. I get by on a teacher’s salary, with the occasional expensive gift from my father. Don’t expect me to fight you for the check.”

“Fair enough.”

He leaned toward her, resting his forearms on the table. “This is nice,” he told her.

She knew what he meant—them sitting together and talking. She didn’t know what he was feeling, but she’d been all tingly ever since spotting him. As reunions went, this one was darned nice.

“I’m glad we got together,” she said. “We should have done it a long time ago.”

He nodded, then stunned her by stretching out his arm and resting his hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry, Mandy. About the way we parted and how the marriage ended. It wasn’t my finest hour.”

“Mine, either. But let’s not spoil the afternoon by talking about that.” She glanced at her watch and was stunned to see they’d been sitting there for over two hours. “It’s getting late. What time do you have to be back at the office?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” She shifted her attention to the ocean below. It would be a pity for this to end so quickly. “What I would really like to do is walk along the beach by the edge of the water. Get my toes wet. Want to join me?”

He turned to study the crowded beach. “Sure, but I have a modification to make on your suggestion.”

She pretended to shiver. “Oh, honey, I just love when you talk like a scientist.”

He laughed. “Okay. How would you feel about taking your toe-wetting walk along a private beach instead of this one?”

She groaned. “Let me guess. The private beach is all yours, compliments of the patent licenses we just talked about.”

“You game?”

Spend more time with Rick on a private beach that he owned? Gee, what a tough decision.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

After paying the bill, Rick escorted Mandy out to the parking lot. He gave her cursory instructions, his cell number and promised to drive slow.

Ten minutes later they were on Highway 101, heading north. Mandy kept her Volvo—a gift from her father two years ago—a safe distance behind Rick’s flashy sports car. No doubt he could have driven circles around her, but he didn’t show off. Although he had taken the time to lower the convertible top.

She figured his car cost more than she’d made in the past two years combined. Laser physics paid well when one was at the top of one’s game.

They exited north of Santa Barbara, circling under the highway and heading toward the ocean. The two-lane road offered occasional glimpses of the water. A mile later, they turned onto a private drive, which led to another. By the fifth turn, Mandy was completely confused.

Rick drove into a brick driveway, passing a tall stucco fence surrounding what looked like a massive estate. They drove for nearly a minute before she saw the house.

The three-story structure took her breath away. She had a brief impression of elegance and a remodeling project in progress, then the driveway curved and she had a perfect view of the ocean.

Rick pulled up in front of the house, and Mandy stopped behind him. Tall trees offered shade, while lush plants blossomed and trailed over the grounds. Talk about paradise.

She stepped out of her car, not sure where to look first. The house was compelling, but so was the ocean.

“Okay,” she said, walking toward him. “I’m impressed. It’s amazing.”

“Thanks.”

She hoped he would offer to show her the house, but he didn’t, instead turning toward the water and leading the way to a worn path. It led to a low bluff, which in turn had stairs down to the beach.

Mandy followed him to the sand, where she paused to slip off her sandals. As she lifted one foot, she nearly lost her balance. He put out an arm to steady her. When she was barefoot, he pulled off his shoes and socks, then took her hand in his and started for the water.

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