Love with the Proper Stranger (5 page)

On closer scrutiny, Mariah realized that it was possible some people might not have found this man worthy of a second glance. Actually, he wasn’t conventionally handsome—he’d certainly never grace the cover of a men’s fashion magazine. But there was something about his looks that she found incredibly appealing.

Or maybe it wasn’t his looks at all, Mariah thought with a smile, remembering how the young woman in the natural-food store on the mainland had spoken of cosmic reverberations and auras. Maybe as far as auras went, his was a solid ten.

As he stepped closer, she saw in the pale morning light that his face was lined with weariness and gray with fatigue. Still, despite that and his too-short hair, she found him to be remarkably attractive.

“Hi,” Mariah said, sitting up and brushing the sand
off the front of her T-shirt. His eyes followed the movement of her hand, and she became self-consciously aware of the fact that she’d only thrown a pair of shorts on underneath the T-shirt she’d worn to bed. She wasn’t wearing a bra and she didn’t have the body type that allowed for such wardrobe omissions. The only times she didn’t bother to put on a bra were mornings like this, when she was certain she would be alone.

But she’d been wrong. Right now, she most definitely was not alone.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to fold her arms across her chest in a casual manner. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” Dear God, would you listen to her? She was
apologizing
for being on her own stretch of beach.

She didn’t have to apologize for that. And she certainly shouldn’t bother to apologize for her missing bra. Despite the man’s earlier scowl, it was clear from the way that his gaze kept straying in the direction of her breasts that he, for one, was not in the least put out by her lack of underwear.

He pulled his gaze away from her long enough to glance up at the cottage. “Is this your place?”

Mariah nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m renting it for the season.”

“Nice,” he said, but his eyes were back on her, sweeping along the lengths of her bare legs, skimming again across her body and face. “I hope we didn’t disturb you. The dog can get loud—she’s still young.”

“No, I woke up to catch the sunrise on film.”

He glanced up at the sky. The sun was already above the horizon and climbing fast. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We were in your way.”

“It’s all right.”

He held out one hand, offering to help her up.

Taking his hand meant she’d have to unfold her arms. But there was no way she’d be able to get to her feet with her arms folded anyway.

What the heck, Mariah thought, reaching up to clasp his hand. With a face like his, this man had no doubt seen a vast array of female bodies, and probably wearing far less than a worn-out T-shirt. She was nothing new, no big deal.

He, on the other hand, was a very,
very
big deal. He pulled her up from the sand, and she found herself standing much too close to him. But when she moved to back away, he steadied her with his other hand, his fingers warm against her elbow.

He was tall, with shoulders that went on forever and a broad chest that tapered down to a narrow waist and slim hips and… Embarrassed, Mariah quickly brought her eyes back to his face.

His eyes were blue. They were electric, brilliant, neon blue. And they sparked with the heat of attraction. Dear God, he found
her
attractive, too.

“Is it just you?” the man asked, and Mariah gazed up at him stupidly, wondering
what
he was talking about.

“Renting the house,” he added, and she understood.

“Yes,” she said, gently pulling free and putting some distance between them. “I’m here by myself.”

He nodded. God, whoever he was, he was
so
serious. She’d yet to see him smile.

“How about you?” she asked. “Are you vacationing with your family?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m here alone, too.” He motioned vaguely down the beach. “I’m staying at the resort, at least temporarily. I was thinking about renting
one of the houses up on this part of the beach. I’m getting tired of room service—I’d like to have my own kitchen.”

“It’s a trade-off,” Mariah told him. “Renting a house is more private, but you lose the benefits of having a hotel maid. And if you’re not careful about cleaning up after yourself in the kitchen… Well, the variety of insect life you can attract is immense. You can’t leave
any
thing out. Not even a plate with crumbs on it. You have to keep all the food in the refrigerator—or in plastic containers. But as long as you don’t mind doing that, it’s great.”

He nodded. “Maybe I’ll stick with room service for a while longer.”

Princess the dog inched forward and pressed her cold nose against the back of Mariah’s knee. “Yikes!” Mariah exclaimed.

“Princess, back,” the man said sharply.

“She was just playing,” Mariah protested as the dog immediately obeyed. “It’s okay—she just startled me. I don’t mind. She’s… an unusual mix.”

There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re unusually tactful. But it’s okay. She’s not a mix of anything. She’s a pure mutt, and she knows it. There’s no ego involved—for either one of us.”

“She does what you say,” Mariah said. Princess gazed up at her, tongue lolling from her mouth, eyes sharp, ears alert, tail thumping slightly even though she was sitting down. She seemed to understand every word of the conversation. “That’s worth more than a pedigree.”

“She was well trained,” he told her. “I… inherited her from a friend a few years ago.”

He glanced out over the ocean as if trying to hide the sudden sadness in his eyes. Or maybe she only imagined she saw such an emotion there—when he looked back at her, it was gone.

He held out his hand. “I’m Jonathan Mills.”

His fingers were warm and large and made her own hand seem slender and practically petite. “I’m…” She hesitated for a moment, uncertain of which name to give him. “… Mariah Robinson,” she decided. It wasn’t as if she were telling a lie. It had become true. Over the past two months, she’d acted less and less like Marie Carver and more and more like Mariah Robinson. At least more like the Mariah Robinson she’d heard about from her grandmother. The Mariah her own childhood nickname had come from.

He was still holding her hand, but his gaze had dropped to her breasts again.

“Are you here for the week?” she asked.

He looked up, and for half a second, Mariah thought she saw a flash of embarrassment in his eyes—embarrassment that he’d been caught staring. But it, too, was quickly gone. This man was a master at hiding his feelings.

“I’m here until my hair grows back in,” he told her.

Mariah gently pulled her fingers free from his grip. “Well, that’s one way to handle a bad-hair day.”

Jonathan Mills almost smiled. Almost, but not quite. He ran one hand across his short hair. “Actually, today’s a rather good hair day, if you want to know the truth.”

God, had she insulted him? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that your hair looks bad… or anything…” Her voice trailed off.

He finally smiled. “It’s okay. I know exactly what
it looks like, and it looks much better than it did a few days ago.”

He had a nice smile. It was only a small smile, barely playing about the corners of his elegantly shaped lips, but it was very nice just the same.

He looked down at the camera she was holding, its strap still encircling her arm. “Are you a professional photographer?” he asked.

Mariah shook her head. “No, no, I’m… not.” God, what was her problem? It had been two decades since she was a seventh grader, so why was she suddenly acting like one? “It’s a hobby.”

Was it her imagination, or had Jonathan Mills just gone another shade paler?

“I’ve got a camera, too,” he said, “though I’ve got to confess I’m not sure I can get it to work. I bought it a few years ago and don’t use it much. Would you mind if I brought it over sometime? Maybe you could show me how it works.”

Would she mind? “Of course not.”

He looked down the beach in the direction of the resort. “I think I better go,” he said.

He
was
more pale. And perspiration was beading on his upper lip. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. The morning sun was hot, but it wasn’t
that
hot.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He pressed his temples with both hands. “I’m not sure. I’m feeling a little… faint.”

He was a stranger. Mariah knew she shouldn’t invite him into her house. But it couldn’t hurt to bring him up so he could sit for a minute in the shade on her deck, could it?

“Why don’t you come up to the house and sit in the
shade?” she suggested. “I’ve got some iced tea in the fridge.”

Jonathan nodded. “Thanks.”

His entire face was slick with sweat as he followed Mariah up toward the cottage.

Even Princess was subdued, trailing after them quietly.

Mariah walked backward, watching him worriedly. “You’re not, like, having a heart attack on me, are you?”

Whatever was happening, he was hurting. His lips twisted in a smilelike grimace. “My heart’s fine.”

Mariah could see that it took him some effort to speak, so she didn’t ask any other questions. He staggered slightly, and she quickly moved to help him, unthinkingly supporting him by putting her arm around his back and his arm across her shoulders.

He was warm and he was solid and he was pressed against her side from her underarm all the way to her thighs. She may have reached for him unthinkingly, but now that she was in this rather intimate position, she could do nothing
but
think.

When was the last time she’d walked arm in arm with a man like this?

Never.

The thought flashed crazily through her mind as she misinterpreted her own silent question. She’d walked arm in arm with plenty of men—although not recently—but she’d never walked arm in arm with a man like this.

Jonathan Mills was different from all of the men she’d ever known. Including Trevor. Maybe especially Trevor.

“I’m really sorry about this,” he murmured as they reached the stairs that led to her deck.

“Can you make it up here?” Mariah asked.

But he’d already started to lower himself down so that he was sitting on the third step. He shook his head. “Can you do me a favor?”

“I can try.”

“Call my assistant at the resort. His name’s Daniel Tonaka. Room 756. Will you ask him to come and please pick me up?”

“Of course.”

Mariah took the steps up two at a time, leaving Princess sitting and worriedly watching her master.

It didn’t take long to make the phone call. She woke Daniel Tonaka up, but he snapped instantly awake. She gave him directions, and he told her he was on his way. Mariah had to wonder. Did this happen often?

She poured a plastic tumbler of iced tea as she spoke on the phone, then carried it back to the deck. “It shouldn’t take him much more than ten minutes to get over here from the resort….”

Jonathan Mills was no longer sitting on the stairs. He wasn’t on the deck, and she would have seen him if he’d come into the house…

Down in the sandy yard, Princess barked sharply. Mariah went halfway down the stairs and then she saw Jonathan.

He was crumpled in the sand, out cold.

At first she thought he was dead, he was lying there so completely motionless. She set the glass of iced tea down on the stairs but knocked it over in her haste to get down to him as quickly as possible.

She found the pulse in his neck beating slowly and
steadily and she breathed a sigh of relief. His skin was warm and the stubble from his chin felt rough against her fingers. When was the last time she’d touched a man’s face? Surely not an entire five years, back before Trevor finally left? Still, she honestly couldn’t remember.

“John,” she said softly, trying to rouse him but not wanting to shout in his ear.

He groaned and stirred, but didn’t open his eyes.

Mariah could feel the early morning sun already beating down on her head and her back. “John,” she said again, louder this time, touching his shoulder. “Come on, wake up. We’ve got to get you out of the sun.”

He was a large man, but Mariah was no lightweight herself, and she was able to hoist him up by taking hold under both arms. As she dragged him toward the shade, he roused slightly, trying to help her. He opened his eyes, but quickly shut them, wincing against the brightness of the sun.

“God, what happened?”

“I think you fainted,” she told him.

There was a bit of shade at the side of the house, and he sank to the ground.

“Can you sit up?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Still dizzy.”

He lay on his back, right there on the sandy ground. His eyes were closed, and he had one arm thrown across them as if for added protection from the brightness. There were bits of gravel and sand stuck to the side of his face, and Mariah gently brushed them off.

“John, I’m going to go get some cold towels,” she told him. “Don’t try to stand up, all right?”

“Yeah,” he managed to say.

Mariah dashed back up the stairs and into the house. She grabbed two hand towels from the linen closet, stopping only to dampen one with cool water in the kitchen sink.

Jonathan hadn’t moved when she reached him, but he did open his eyes again at the sound of her footsteps. “I’m really sorry about this,” he said. His eyes were so blue.

Mariah sat down next to him, lifting him slightly so that his head was off the hardness of the ground and resting instead in her lap. She pressed the cool towel against his forehead and he closed his eyes. “I really hope whatever this is, it’s not contagious.”

Another flash of blue as he looked up at her. “It’s not. I’m… not contagious, I promise. I haven’t been sleeping that well and… I’m really sorry about this,” he said again.

Someday their children would marvel at the story of the way they’d met…
.

Where had
that
thought come from? It had simply popped into Mariah’s mind. Their
children?
What was
that
about? Still, she had to admit, this made one heck of a good story. They meet on the beach, and he turns green and passes out. It certainly was different, at any rate.