Not Quite Enough (Not Quite series) (10 page)

A noise from inside the house, and Ginger lifting her head, answered his questions about Monica.

He sensed her eyes on him before she stepped beside the open French doors. “So was that a four?” he asked.

She chuckled. “Hardly. I just can’t sleep.”

Trent looked over and caught his breath. Her hair was ruffled from sleep, her eyes still half-open, or maybe half-asleep would be a better description. She wore tiny sleeping shorts and a soft pink T-shirt that said “Classy” over her breasts. Breasts that were not held up by a bra. He noticed her pert nipples through the thin fabric at the exact moment he realized he was staring.

After shifting his gaze to the landscape, and not that of the beautiful woman standing in his home, he said, “It’s a nice night not to sleep.”

She walked around him to the other cushioned chair and curled her legs under her as she sat. “It’s nice out here,” she said just above a whisper.

“In about thirty minutes it’s going to be even better.”

“Oh?”

“Sunrise.”

Monica leaned her head back with a sigh. “I don’t think I’ve watched a sunrise. Plenty of sunsets on the West Coast.”

“Do you live by the ocean?”

“No. I’m an hour and a half from the shore. I wouldn’t mind moving closer, but coastal living is so expensive.”

They sat in silence for a while. Monica was alone in whatever thoughts were running through her mind, and Trent was stealing a glance at her bare legs and comfortable presence. It dawned on him that if she wasn’t with him at that moment, he’d wonder where she was… what she was doing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and wished the thought away. His skin heated just thinking of her.
It’s chemistry.
Nothing more, he told himself. The brief affairs he’d had while living on the island were always with a tourist visiting for a week, maybe two. Mutual sexual satisfaction that never ended up with the woman sitting across from him watching a sunrise in his home.

Monica might not be a tourist, and she certainly wasn’t there on a pleasure trip, but she was
just
as temporary.

“I was thinking—” Monica interrupted his thoughts. “You fly the helicopter for tourists, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Does this mess mean you’re out of a job?”

Not hardly. But he understood her question. “In a way. Tourists won’t return anytime soon.”

“Are you going to stay here? Will you lose your home?” There was real distress in her voice.

“Nothing so dire. Blue Paradise has other locations.”

“Oh, so you think they’ll transfer you?”

He chuckled.

“What’s funny?”

“I’m part owner of Blue Paradise.”

Her lips formed a perfect
o
. She shifted her gaze back to the ocean. “Will you stay here and help rebuild?”

He shrugged. “Probably not. Getting groceries is going to be a problem and living on a generator long-term is a lot like camping.”

“It sucks that you’ll have to leave your home.”

And his sanctuary. “I’ll be all right.”

Now she laughed softly. “You’ll find another place for shorts and flip-flops?”

“Maybe.”

The dark sky started its slow dance toward light. The faint glow of blue stretched out on the horizon and grew steadily until orange and red rays filtered through the distant clouds. He glanced over and saw the wonder on Monica’s face. Her bright ice blue eyes never left nature’s opening act. Even the crickets seem to hold their breath, and the birds held off their morning song, as the sun rose.

“Wow,” she whispered.

He shivered. Just watching her sent a different sort of chemistry through him.

She caught him staring and offered her smile.

He knew then that messing with Monica wouldn’t be a simple exercise in sexual relief. No, it would get complicated… very complicated.

“I’ll make some coffee,” he said suddenly, pulling himself out of the tractor beams of her gaze as he left the patio and escaped into the house.

Monica watched as Trent fled the patio as if she were the head “pregnant” cheerleader walking into the high school football team’s locker room, and he was the quarterback.

Even Ginger popped her head out of her paws to watch him leave.

“What’s with him?” Monica asked the dog.

Ginger released a deep sigh and settled back down.

Monica returned her attention to the sunrise and smiled. It really was spectacular. For a brief moment, she forgot why she was in Jamaica and just enjoyed the sky.

Noise from the back of the house indicated that Trent fired up the generator so he could brew the coffee.

Her mouth salivated with the thought.

Her limbs started to twitch with a need to move. Letting Trent do all the work didn’t feel right. Monica unfolded from the chair and walked inside. Trent stood over the sink, one hand poised on each side. He was staring out the window lost in his own thoughts.

He was a million miles away… and Monica was disturbing him.

She started inching her way back outside when Ginger took that moment to bark from behind Monica.

Trent’s eyes traveled to her and narrowed before they slid down her frame.

Monica wasn’t sure if it was admiration or discontent, but she knew something about the man had changed from the moment she stepped outside to watch the sunrise. She crossed her arms over her chest, aware for the first time that she wasn’t dressed for mixed company… especially with whom she wasn’t intimate. “Did you need some help?”

Trent shook his head and turned away, opened a cabinet. “I got it.” His tone was gruff.

She suddenly felt very exposed and extremely unwanted. “I’ll shower then,” she said just as quickly.

“The water’s not warm yet.”

“It’s OK, a cold shower will wake me up.” Besides, this room was cold enough to chill her. Being alone with cold water would feel better.

She started toward the guest bathroom when Trent’s voice stopped her. “Monica?”

A rush of unwanted and unexpected tears filled her eyes. She hesitated and felt her throat clog. “On second thought,” she said with only a slight tremor in her voice. “A quick run will give me the jolt I need for today.”

He called her name again, but she fled to the room she’d slept in and closed the door behind her. She wasn’t sure what had changed… changed before either of them could act on the sparks that were obvious between them, but she was glad for it. She didn’t do tears and heartache.
Disappoint them first.
Leave before either of them could care was even better.

Apparently she and Trent would be a “leave him with only a thought,” which was better.

He’d probably be terrible in bed. A sloppy kisser. All wet with no meat.

Two minutes later, she pushed out of her room, her running shoes on and the one pair of running shorts donned. She’d seen the stairs that led down the steep cliff below Trent’s home and let the early morning light lead the way. She didn’t hear anything in the house as she snuck away.

Not long after her shoes hit the beach, she heard a bark behind her.

Ginger.

Thankfully Trent wasn’t behind the dog. The tightening in her chest was relief and not disappointment, or so she told herself. A quick run would clear her head; bring her back to her own level of homeostasis. A word she didn’t know existed before she went to nursing school. Her state of normalcy had always included a void of some sort in her life.

Even those years when she lived with Jessie and Danny, life had never been truly complete.

Monica called the dog and took off at a fast run.

Just thinking of Jessie reminded Monica of home. Home being nothing more than an empty apartment in an inland suburb of California surrounded by other people just trying to make a buck and pay the rent. The apartment was empty now that Jessie had moved to Texas, and it appeared that Katie and Dean would be moving back to Texas as well since Dean’s construction company was expanding. The move made sense. Both Katie’s and Dean’s families lived in the big state and they couldn’t get enough of their daughter, Savannah.

For Monica, however, not having Katie nearby, and with Jessie spending less and less time in California, made her feel strangely empty.

Where did that leave her?

In a go nowhere place, way too close to her mother.

If there was one person on the face of the earth that didn’t get her it was Renee. Her mother shacked up with whoever the latest guy was, and moved on when the sex grew stale.

Monica didn’t even know her dad. He left when she was hardly out of diapers and she certainly didn’t remember him. He was an enigma. A useless mystery, but a giant question mark in Monica’s life nonetheless.

In short… everyone that should mean something to her had moved on.

Monica leapt over debris swept up by the tsunami and kept running. Ginger thought it was a game and ran ahead only to stop, pant, and keep going when Monica caught up.

People moved on.

Just like Monica would do with the people she’d come in contact with here on the island.

Just like with Trent.

She’d known him for what, three days? Why did she care that he’d seemed desperate for her to leave his space?

Because rejection sucked.

I should be used to it by now.

Monica pushed her body harder, dodged the foamy sea as it rushed her way, and kept going.

The sea stopped her progression with an outcropping of rocks, forcing her to turn back.

She wasn’t ready, but unless she wanted to go for a swim, she’d have to run back to Trent’s home and suffer his indifference through a stiff coffee and a ride back to the clinic.

She’d find a way to avoid him after that.

And she’d be all right. The Ice Queen didn’t crack.

Trent sat on the steps leading to his home. Waiting for her.

Monica slowed as she approached him, but was ready to blow past him with the need for a shower ready as her excuse to avoid him.

She knew he saw her, but he kept his eye on the sea. He glanced at her feet when she wasn’t two yards from him. There was a cup in his hand. “It’s probably cold by now,” he said.

She took it from him anyway. “Iced coffee is the thing back home.” She tried to laugh off his gesture.

One sip and she knew he paid attention. There was a slight taste of sugar mixed with a strong, albeit cold, java. “Thanks,” she said.

Turning her back to him, she took another swallow of the coffee.

“You left,” he finally said.

“I needed to clear my head. Get ready for a crazy day.”
Starting with you and ending with God knows what.

After an obscene amount of silence, Monica needed to break free.

“I’ll shower and then… can you take me back to the clinic?” Last night she didn’t feel the need to even ask, but for some reason she did now. The lack of control in her life made her shake. It wasn’t
as if she could call a cab… or anyone. She had Walt’s number, but there was no guarantee he was still at the clinic, or that he could retrieve her.

“Of course,” he said as he stood.

Her throat tightened again.
So much for the run clearing my head.

He stood rooted on the step so she attempted to move around him. His hand caught her forearm. His touch felt like fire. Hot with a current of its own.

“Monica?”

She stopped and felt the air around her disappear. He stood close, too close to breathe. The pull of his gaze wasn’t avoidable. When she looked, his eyes were focused on her.

Something behind his eyes spoke of sorrow.

He loosened his hold and lightly traced the inside of her arm.

She shivered and felt her breath catch again. In a bar, or a local hangout, the feeling swimming inside her and settling deep in her core would have been welcome. But here, on the beach with the sunrise a recent memory, with more life and death than anyone could ever imagine filling every corner of her world, Monica didn’t welcome it.

It scared her more than being in a helicopter with a barefoot pilot en route to the end of the world.

It scared her more than living life alone. She closed her eyes.

Trent’s warm hand traveled up her arm and he stepped closer.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered. There was no reason to deny the sparks. She hoped he wouldn’t make a fool of her by saying he didn’t know what she meant.

She couldn’t look in his eyes. His chocolate brown eyes would see through her and call her out.

When his hand dropped, she released a breath she didn’t realize she held, and fled up the stairs.

Chapter Eight