The Sapphire Affair (A Jewel Novel Book 1) (5 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

She’d had the piercing for years. So long she didn’t even think about it anymore. She was barely aware of the sky-blue starfish belly ring that dangled along her stomach.

She ran her thumb across the sparkly surface. “I practically forgot I had this. Got it when I was sixteen.”

“So a few years ago?”

“Ha ha ha,” she said drily. “More than a few years.”

“Well, you might have forgotten about it, but I could barely take my eyes off it,” he said, his deep voice going low and sexy. Then he feigned seriousness. “I meant, while I was being a perfect gentleman and not checking out your smoking-hot body when you bent down to pick up the dart—that’s when I noticed the starfish.”

She tingled all over from the compliment. There was something so enticing about this kind of praise from this kind of man. He was tall, built, strong, and with the kind of jawline that made a woman want to reach out and touch that face. That made
this woman
want to run her thumb along his sandpaper stubble, feel it brush against her chin, and mouth, and lips.

His brown hair boasted golden streaks, and his green eyes crinkled at the corners. Something about the whole package, sans the Tommy Bahama shirt, said
strong and rugged
. Which was an utterly delicious combination, one that made her skin warm up all over and her mind wander just a little further into
let’s-picture-him-undressed
land. Yup, she could see him clearly in her mind’s eye: hard planes across his chest, grooves in firm abs, arms so strong she couldn’t even wrap a hand around them.

She blinked, like she was a computer rebooting, as she tried to chase away the dirty thoughts landing in her head. But that body. Oh Lord, that body could cause some kind of sin.

His body should come with a warning.
Gaze upon said hotness and arousal will be yours.

She needed to focus on why she was here on this island. Recon. Information. Getting the lay of the land before she connected with her stepdad. The thought that she’d find out he’d screwed over her mom in an even worse way made her shoulders tighten. Only the hope that she’d uncover something else, that it wasn’t what it seemed, could help them ease. She’d stopped in the Pink Pelican on a hunt for a sweet but flighty gal named Penny, who had tended bar last time Steph was here. Penny preferred to spend her days kiteboarding and rock climbing. Penny’s sister Marie was manning the taps now, and Steph hadn’t even had a chance to say a proper hello.

“Well, thank you for saying that.”

“My pleasure. And it is also a pleasure to meet you, Ariel,” he said, extending a hand to shake.

Don’t think about pulling him against you. Stop imagining what his body would feel like above you. No more staring at those full lips and wondering how they taste, and feel, and . . .

Fuck it.

This man was hot and fun, and that was a mixture she liked
a lot.
After the extreme focus she’d placed on rehabbing her business in the last few years, a little bit of sexy flirting was a welcome relief. Maybe her mom was right. Maybe Steph did need to have a little fun.

“Is it really Jake?” she said, not letting go of his hand, enjoying the way his name sounded. “Or did you pick a fake name, too? Because Jake is the perfect name for a totally hot guy a woman meets in a bar.”

He smiled widely, and she loved that it seemed to light up his whole face, all the way to his green eyes. He was handsome and then some, but the reaction, so genuine, was lovely to see. So rare to compliment a man and to witness the evidence of his enjoyment of it. “Yes, the name is really Jake, and thank you. Seems we have a mutual admiration society at work here.”

“Yes,” she said with a small grin. “There is much admiration, and I’m glad it’s mutual.” As she let go of his grip, her eyes drifted to a white, raised mark on his forearm. “By the way, cool scar. Is it a new acquisition?”

He tapped his forearm. “Yes it is. Wish I could say the acquisition was intentional.”

“It wasn’t?”

He shook his head.

“What happened?” She flung her hand to her forehead, like a fortune-teller reading the cards. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You got in a knife fight in an alley, Jason Bourne style? You’ve gone rogue and the CIA is after you? Or better yet, you slipped while gutting a fish after one too many beers?”

He pointed at her. “That one.”

She mimed tossing a basketball. “She shoots. She scores.” She tilted her head. “But seriously?”

“What can I say? Fishing and beer go together, but not when knives are involved.”

She wagged a finger at him. “You gotta be careful there, Jake.”

“I know, I know. Maybe if I catch anything tomorrow, I could find a mermaid to help me.”

“Mermaids don’t like it when you catch fish. Or turtles.”

“That is true. Pretend I never said that. I would never catch a fish. I’m absolutely not here on a fishing trip. In fact, I’m here to admire the gorgeous scenery.”

She nodded approvingly. “Much better answer.”

He pointed to her glass, nearly empty. “Can I get you another whiskey?”

“It’s iced tea, actually, and I’m trying to cut back, so I’m all good.”

“Been hitting the caffeine too hard?”

She nodded solemnly. “Evidently, when I drink too much, it makes me say things I shouldn’t say. Like
totally hot guy
in a bar.”

He grinned and held up the glass as if to ask for more. “Let’s make it a double,” he said, and after they chatted more about fish and the sea and the Islands, he pointed to the dartboard. “Since you have that dart certification and all, any chance you can give me a few pointers?” he asked, standing up to grab a dart from the board. He returned and held it out to her. She rose and moved closer, and when she reached for the end, he wrapped a hand around her wrist and tugged her in close.

Just like that. The gauntlet was thrown. The move was made. She was in his arms.
Poised.
For something more. For this moment to unspool into something else. A ribbon of heat raced through her body as she catalogued everything. His gaze held her hostage. His green eyes blazed darkly as he stared at her like he wanted to eat her up. That fierce look made her shudder. She was so close she could breathe him in, and his skin smelled so damn good. Like sunshine and showers. And he was hard everywhere. Not just
there
, because she wasn’t exactly in that spot, but his arms, and his abs, and his legs.

His fingers curled around her waist, gripping her as Jack Johnson sang about banana pancakes and pretending it’s the weekend all the time.

“Three things,” he whispered, his voice all rough and hot, turning her on before he even uttered another word. “One, I want to kiss you. Two, I’m going to kiss you. Three, if you don’t want me to, say no now. Otherwise . . .”

He inched closer. She parted her lips, and a small sigh escaped. “Yes.”

She closed her eyes and waited. In that second before his lips met hers, the wondrous thrill of anticipation weaved through her body. The hope that kissing a stranger named Jake in a bar would be worth it. That he wouldn’t kiss like a slobbery Saint Bernard, all tongue and exuberance. Nor like a schoolboy, hell-bent on vacuuming up her lips. Call her greedy, call her needy, or just call her a woman who hadn’t been kissed well in a long while.

But she wanted
that
kiss.

The kind that made your knees weak.

That sent your heart fluttering.

That spread warmth on a sweet, shivery path through your chest.

His lips met hers. His were so damn soft, and full, and delicious. He didn’t rush it. He took his time, exploring her mouth, brushing his lips over hers, tasting her. That tingly sensation sped up, shooting through her, like an injection of pure, unadulterated pleasure as she melted into his kiss.

He was snug against her, and she savored it—the delicious press of his body as he swept his lips across hers, his touch making her moan. The kiss deepened as he ran his fingertips along her bare arm, igniting her skin. He dropped his hand to her lower back, angling her closer, and oh, how she’d craved this kind of closeness. Badly. She wanted to climb him. She wanted to feel him above her, moving in her, holding her tight. This rampant desire was a matchstick. Roping her arms around his neck, she curled her fingers into the ends of his hair.

Oh, that soft hair.
God, it felt good between her fingers as she slid them through his golden brown strands, tugging lightly.

He groaned and yanked her even closer. The quick shift in tempo moved the kiss up the heat ladder into something hungrier. He held her face in his hands, a thoroughly possessive gesture, as he kissed her so hard his stubble left a whiskery burn.

The evidence of a consuming kiss.

Her mind spun wild with images. Pictures of this night turning into something else. Kisses under the stars. Hips, legs, lips moving together. Him wrapping her tighter in his caress, whispering sweet, dirty things he wanted to do to her. In the heat of his kiss, in the urgency of his touch, she had the raw materials to feed her imagination.

Her heart raced. Her blood pumped. She craved him fiercely.

Which was absolutely loony, since he was a total stranger.

But maybe that’s what fueled her desire. They had no history. They had no past. There was no damage or pain between them. He hadn’t hurt her, he hadn’t lied to her, and he hadn’t tried to fling her business into the trash. No, he had one agenda, it seemed. The same one she had.

Let’s spend the night together.

He backed her up against the wall, next to the dartboard, her spine hitting the wood with a thump. The sound of it was like a door shutting. Like the moment when a kiss turns from
we’re trying this on for size
to
this kiss won’t stop at kissing
. He cupped the back of her neck, and his other hand clasped her hip, yanking her against him, so she could feel
him
.

She could feel
all of him.

Lust skyrocketed in her, on a mad dash to cloud her reason, her judgment, to ambush all remaining sanity. To simply crush the logical, thoughtful portions of her brain. Lock them up and throw away the key, so she could go somewhere, anywhere, with Jake and let him—

His phone rang.

A Taylor Swift song.

Instantly, he broke the kiss and sighed deeply, a frustrated sound.

“One of your fishing buddies rescuing you from the woman in a bar who won’t give her name?” Steph asked, catching her breath as she arched an eyebrow.

He shook his head and scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “My little sister. That’s her ringtone.” He swiped his thumb across the phone. “Kylie, give me five seconds,” he said into the phone, then covered the screen. He quickly scanned the bar, on the hunt for something. Steph wasn’t sure what he wanted, and she was still punch-drunk on that kiss, so her brain wasn’t fully processing. He shot out his arm, grabbed a napkin, and handed it to her.

“Give me a number. So I can call you later,” he said.

Did she want to give him her number?

A sob sounded from the phone. Her heart raced with worry. She hoped his sister was OK. She pointed in the general direction of the bar. “I’ll leave it with Marie. I have somewhere I need to be now anyway. But you can reach me later, I guess,” she said, the words coming out in a stumble, like a car sputtering to turn on. Her brain clearly needed a few seconds, maybe even minutes, to string language together again.

“I’ll be back,” he said, then he walked out in a rush.

Steph let out a breath and stared at the empty space where he’d been, then she replayed the last few minutes and knit her brow.

On the one hand, he’d asked for her number.

But on the other hand, he was . . . gone.

Little sister?
Was that the new excuse? The escape hatch to jettison a man from a bad date? She had no clue because she’d been out of commission for a couple years. Was that what guys said when they didn’t like the way a woman kissed? What if
little sister
was an eject button or something? Absently, she raised her fingers to her lips. They still tingled. She ran the pad of a finger over her bottom lip.

“Steph!”

She swiveled around, spotting Marie behind the bar. She had been waiting on tables when Steph first walked in. “It’s been too long,” Marie said, then flashed her a naughty look. “But I see you’ve already gotten to know Jake the Fisherman. Looks like you two were going to gobble each other up.”

A huge grin spread across her face. That was all she needed. Nothing wrong with her lips. That kiss had blown her mind, and likely his, too. Mutual gobbling and all.

She wasn’t going to let self-doubt rule the day. Nope.

“Do me a favor, Marie?” she asked as she snagged a pen from the register and wrote a few words on the napkin. No number for him just yet. If Jake wanted to see her, he was going to have to follow her trail.

“Of course.”

“Actually, two favors. Tell Penny I can’t wait to see her.”

Marie nodded. “She’s camping. Should be back in a few days.”

“She’d better call me while I’m here. Then give this to the hot fisherman if he comes back in here. But don’t tell him my name, OK?”

Marie rubbed her hands together and winked. “Ooh, lover games. And I get to be the messenger. Count me in.”

Steph handed Marie the note, then took off for her first stop on her self-appointed job.

CHAPTER SIX

Pacing along the street with his cell phone pressed to his ear, Jake used his best big-brother voice to try to calm Kylie. “Everything is going to be fine. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Kylie gulped, like she was hyperventilating. “I don’t know what to do. I barely understand a word the physics professor says. It’s like he’s speaking a foreign language. I don’t know how on earth I’m going to finish school without this science requirement. I suck at science. I can’t do this, Jake. I can’t do this at all.”

“You’re going to do fine. If you don’t understand the subject matter, we’ll get you a tutor,” he said as he walked past a surf shop with signs in the window for adventure tours.

“But what if it doesn’t help?” His little sister’s voice shot high up into the sky. Kylie, to put it lightly, was prone to worrying. She’d always been the nervous one among the bunch, and that intensified when they lost their parents. The baby of the family, she was seven when the four of them were orphaned and went to live with an older aunt who managed a restaurant in Key Largo. Truth be told, Kate and then Jake had done most of the parenting. Despite their best efforts, Kylie had grown up a world-class worrier, and that anxiety had manifested in her schoolwork all through high school and now into college. The best way to help her through it was to give her very clear instructions. That also meant phone calls with Kylie required lots of time and patience, which was why he’d had to extract himself from the bar so he could focus on his family. They came first and always would.

The aftereffects of Ariel still lingered, though, because that had been one hot, intense kiss that was on the cusp of rocketing quickly into so much more. A tremor of lust started to roll through him with the memory, so he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his damn brain to focus on family matters, not primal ones.

He was here for work, not
personal
needs. Even on a job, he still needed to look out for his little sister. Take care of her, help her. Guide her step by step.

“You’re catastrophizing, Kylie. You need to stop assuming it won’t work before we even hire one. We’ve talked about this before. You can’t get worked up over what hasn’t happened. Got it?”

“I know, I know,” she muttered.

“Now listen,” he said, turning down the block. “I need you to ask around at your school. Get some names. Share them with me. I’ll talk to them, and we’ll find the right tutor for you.”

“I’m such a fuck up,” she said, another sob threatening to rear its head. “You probably never struggled in school.”

“You’re not a fuck up,” he said gently, but in a voice that brooked no argument. “Stop beating yourself up. You just need some help. That’s all. Nothing wrong with that. Do some research, get me the info, and I will take care of it. I promise you.”

“But tutors are so expensive.”

“Kylie,” he said, stopping in his tracks, slicing a hand through the air. He didn’t want her to spiral like this. He needed to yank her out of this with some tough love. “What have I told you before?”

She sighed. “Not to worry about money.”

“Exactly. So stop it right now. No more of this. No more talk of being a fuck up, and no more stressing about money. Your job is to focus on school. My job is to focus on taking care of the school bills. Just let me do that,” he said, and after she took a few calming breaths, she asked him about his work and the weather in the Caribbean.

“It’s beautiful here.”

“What were you doing when I called? Did I interrupt a tanning session on the beach?”

He laughed. “Just talking to someone I met playing darts.”

“A girl?”

“None of your business,” he said playfully.

“That definitely means you met a girl, then,” she said, teasing him like she was a schoolkid. He let her, not denying it this time, because it seemed to take her mind off her school anxiety.

After she finished a thorough ribbing, he told her he loved her and said good-bye.

He glanced up at the sky. The sun had started to dip toward the horizon, pulling streaks of orange and pink like a tail. He checked out the time.

Fifteen minutes had passed.

Maybe Ariel was still at the bar.

Maybe fish could fly.

But a man could hope, and a man could pick up the pace just in case. Jake turned up his speedometer and jogged past a jewelry shop selling seashell necklaces and silvery trinkets, then a store full of sundresses, then one with the sign for tours in the window. He nearly did a double take when he spotted a poster with a familiar name for a cove on the beach.

He filed the name away in the mental banks.

When he returned to the Pink Pelican, he scanned left, then right, then up and down. The woman he’d wanted to take home for the night was nowhere to be found.

His shoulders sagged, and he cursed himself for not having grabbed the number before he left.

But he just might have one more shot. Because the world’s most helpful bartender was calling him over. Marie’s eyes lit up with excitement. He recognized that look. His sister Kate had it from time to time when she tried to wear her matchmaker hat.

Marie waved the napkin in the air, brandishing it like a prize. “A pretty lady gave me this for you.”

Straightening his spine, he unfolded it, then chuckled when he saw what she had done. No number. Just a clue. He liked clues. Oh hell, did he like clues.

Especially this one.

The pictures at the snorkel shop taunted her.

They told the story of the luckiest man she’d ever known. On top of the frames, the proprietor of the shop had stenciled a mantra in blue paint on the wall:
K
ISS A RAY AND GET SEVEN YEARS OF LUCK
.

In a trio of images, her stepfather’s magnetic smile shone through. In the first shot, a young, blond, and tanned Eli Thompson pressed his lips to the smooth, silvery skin of a stingray. Steph hadn’t partaken of the kiss fest, because she was only seven at the time and kissing any sort of creature, underwater or above water, was certifiably gross. But in the background of the photo, she laughed at her stepdad, sharing the same sense of adventure that the man had possessed. Growing up, she’d considered him her hero. He’d been the man who made her mom happy again.

Her mother had been devastated when her husband—Steph and Robert’s father—had died so unexpectedly. Widowed at a young age, with two toddlers, her mom didn’t have the easiest time of it. But she made do and soldiered on, and a few years later she met Eli.

The man had made her mom laugh again. Made her feel happiness. He was like that. Delight seemed to be his native language. Now it made Steph’s chest twinge to think it was all part of his routine—cover up his straying ways with his sunshine smile.

In the next stingray lip-lock photo, his hair was a touch thinner and a bit darker, but his light blue eyes had that same confident spark. Steph had inched close enough to blow a kiss to the stingray in that one. “You’ll kiss him next time,” Eli had said to her.

The final picture was taken during a family vacation—she’d joined Eli and her mom here after her junior year of college. On that visit, Steph had gone all in and puckered up to the stingray for the first time. But she’d missed right when her lips would have landed on its skin.

The ray had slipped away. Taking her luck with it, too.

She moved closer to the photo and quirked up the corner of her lips as she peered at the image she hadn’t seen in years, flashing back to all their trips here. Eli had taken them here nearly every year. This island became a second home for her new family growing up, and her stepdad had glad-handed with all the locals. He’d been the man about town. Like an ambassador who everyone loved and was delighted to see when he descended on the island. He’d brought good fortune to them, they said.

Always tipping well, always partaking of all the local customs, always embracing the legends.

Maybe her stepdad was right to believe in this legend. Perhaps she should have kissed a stingray sooner or held on longer for the last one. She should have insisted on her luck, the way Eli seemed predestined to claim his.

Breezing through life, flashing a grin, taking what he wanted because he could. Because he had that thing known as charm.

Duke had that, too. She’d fallen for him because he had an easy way about him. The second things didn’t go his way he’d turned into a complete asshole.

She winced, hoping, praying, that Eli wasn’t all bad. Not like Duke. That’s why she was here in the Islands early. To find out which side of her stepfather was the true one.

She drummed her fingers against the counter, waiting for Devon to finish up with his customer. She’d known Devon since she was that towheaded seven-year-old, and he’d been running this snorkel shop next to Stingray City Sandbar for even longer. His rough, dark skin told the tale of his years as a sun worshipper, and the steady stream of traffic in his store showed that he’d made a damn good living renting gear and operating boat tours for visitors to mingle in the crystal-blue waters with the world’s friendliest stingrays.

“But don’t they, you know, sting you?” a woman with big sunglasses and gold hoop earrings asked him in a Jersey accent.

He waved a hand to reassure her, then mimed petting a dog. “Nah. They’re like little puppies. They know you have food, so they get all excited and cuddle up next to you.”

“I do like puppies,” the woman said, standing taller.

“’Course you do. Now, go enjoy the puppies of the water,” he said in his cheery voice.

The customer thanked him, then headed out to join the rest of the tour group.

Devon held his arms out wide and flashed a huge grin at Steph, his white teeth gleaming. “Give me a hug. It has been far too long,” he said as she embraced him. He stepped away as if taking her in, like a family friend who hadn’t seen her in a long time. Of course, in many ways, that’s what he was. But he was also
her
friend and had been since she’d started up her business. He’d stood by her even when times had been tough. He’d always put in a good word for her when he could, and she’d done the same for him.

Guys like him almost erased the memory of guys like Duke.

“I know. I miss you all,” she said softly, since losing her traction here had hurt her heart the most.

“Then get your butt down here more often,” he said, pointing wildly to the floor, the ceiling, the window that offered the most gorgeous view of endless blue water and sky.

“I’m doing my best. I’ve got a tour next week, and you know I’ll be bringing them here to your shop,” she said with a wide smile, grateful to chat about work for the moment. Getting to the heart of her visit would be tougher—intel about Eli.

“Hey! Can we do that thing we used to do? Where we plant a little treasure chest on the sandbar?”

Steph cracked up, clasping her belly at the memory of their antics. On a few of their guided stingray city tours, they’d actually lugged a wooden chest into the water and lined it with huge, and clearly fake, gems. Visitors had gotten a kick out of the notion of discovering a pirate’s booty. Funny thing was, despite all the tales and stories of buried treasure and pirates, in reality there weren’t many documented findings of treasure maps or undersea discoveries throughout history.

Only fiction. Only lore.

“We have to do that again. That was our greatest hit.”

He scratched his chin. “Hey, I have a private group at the end of the week. A short couples-only visit to the stingrays. Want to help out?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I would love to. Text me the details?”

“Absolutely.” He tipped his forehead to her in question. “So you came to town early? Any special reason?” He fixed her with a stare that said he was waiting.

Nerves skated across her skin. She took a breath and segued into the real reason for her stop.
Recon.
This was odd for her, since she’d never needed her local friends for information before. But now she did, and she’d have to ask in a way that didn’t reveal her true motives—to find out what her stepdad was up to and whether any of his actions suggested he’d been up to no good with other people’s money.

Sure, she planned to call him later and make plans to see him. But she needed to be smart and gather some info first. It wasn’t like she could just show up at Eli’s house asking about his finances. Even inquiring about how business was going would raise a red flag, since they’d never had those conversations in the past. He was far too shrewd to fall for that sort of questioning. That’s why she was going in through the side door, tucking away potentially useful details before she saw him.

“So, Devon,” she said, clearing her throat. “I need your honest opinion on something.”

“Uh-oh.”

“It’s not bad.”

He arched an eyebrow. “It’s never good when someone says they want an honest opinion.”

Devon was Switzerland. He had nothing against her stepdad. Eli had been a reliable customer for years, so she had to be careful, to tread a fine line. “I want your unbiased opinion. Now that business is picking up for me again, I need to do everything to run a tight ship and make sure customers are happy. So when someone on a tour asks me about the nightlife . . . ,” she said, then made a rolling gesture with her hand.