Stranded With Her Ex (8 page)

Jason grunted a noncommittal response, rowing harder over the last stretch. Sean shut up and followed suit. The feat should have boosted his spirits, but it hadn’t. Knowing the toll his actions had taken on Daniela, he only felt…numb.

The instant they returned to the house, he went upstairs and changed into dry clothes. As he headed back down the hall, he noticed that the door to Daniela and Taryn’s room was slightly ajar.

He paused, rapping his knuckles against it. “Dani?”

“I’m on my way out,” she said, her voice husky.

He ducked his head in. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course.” Her eyes were dark and luminous, her hair wind-tossed and her cheeks flushed from the time spent outdoors. She sat down at the desk with her hands in her lap, waiting for him to speak.

There were no other chairs, so he took a seat on the lower bunk, hunching his back to keep from hitting his head against the upper frame. It was awkward, but it wasn’t as bad as towering over her.

The situation reminded him of their counseling sessions.

For six months after the accident, they’d gone to a grief specialist. At the end of each session, the therapist had asked him to turn toward Dani for “sharing time.” Sean had always made eye contact and listened carefully, but he’d never known what to say.

“I’m sorry,” he said, moving his gaze from her clasped hands to her beautiful face.

She moistened her lips. “For what?”

In the past, his answer might have been, “For whatever I did wrong,” or, even better, “For upsetting you.” While perfectly acceptable, in his mind, those responses hadn’t gone over well with her. This time, he dug a little deeper and told her what he was really sorry about. “For not being there for you,” he said, meeting her eyes.

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. Tilting her head to one side, she asked, “What do you think you could have done?”

“Taken your place,” he said immediately. “You shouldn’t have been driving.”

Her brows drew together. “I suppose you think you could have avoided the SUV spinning out of control across the freeway.”

“No. I meant I wish it had been me. I wish I’d been hurt, instead of you. I’d have done anything to take your pain.”

“Sean—” She broke off, squeezing her eyes shut. The tears spilled out anyway, wetting her thick lashes.

He knew he was screwing this up, the same way he had everything else. His own throat tightened, because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her again. But he continued, needing to have his say. “I’m also sorry if you were scared while I was out in the water. I know what it’s like to go crazy with worry. When you were in the hospital, I went through hell.”

“Yes,” she murmured, drying her wet cheek with one shirtsleeve. “Taryn told me how distraught you were. Did you cry on her shoulder?”

Actually, he’d cried in her lap, but he didn’t want Daniela to know that. He was ashamed of his helplessness, his loss of control and lack of strength. God, he’d been a wreck after the accident. He was glad she hadn’t seen him like that.

“There’s nothing between Taryn and me,” he said, feeling heat creep up his neck.

She stared at him, probably wondering why he would say that. He didn’t know himself. Letting her believe he was involved with Taryn had been a defense mechanism, an attempt to hide the truth from her.

He would always feel vulnerable around Daniela.

The day she’d signed the divorce papers had been the second worst of his life. Even now, a year later, his gut clenched at the memory. The torn-up pieces of his heart had just begun to knit together, and every moment he spent with her tested the seams.

She moistened her lips, looking up at him with big brown eyes.

Sean pulled his gaze away, his chest tight with longing. He still wanted her, but he wouldn’t act on it. If he did, she would withdraw from him. Turn to the side, twist out of his arms, avoid his touch.

He had to stop fantasizing about getting back together with her, and torturing himself by imagining passionate make-up scenarios. It was time to face the facts. She wasn’t going to melt in his arms, sobbing that she couldn’t live without him.

She would never arch her luscious body against his, rake her nails down his back or pant softly into his ear.

If he reached for her, she would only pull away again.

Chapter 8

T
hey didn’t watch the footage until after dinner.

Jason and Sean spent several hours switching out the engines. Brent used the time to do some rough editing, Elizabeth transferred her handwritten research notes to her laptop and Taryn made a couple of pizzas.

Still reeling from the boat accident, and her subsequent conversation with Sean, Daniela immersed herself in work, writing a detailed log of the Steller sea lions she’d observed that day. From what she’d seen, the population was thriving. Tomorrow, she would do a comprehensive head count, and take blood samples to send to the lab.

At the end of the evening, they gathered around the television to watch Brent’s “home movie.” Daniela wasn’t looking forward to reliving the incident, or seeing herself on film, but it would be cowardly to decline.

She’d come here to face her fears, not run from them.

She took a seat next to Elizabeth, who also seemed reluctant to watch. Her posture was stiff and her lips were pursed with displeasure. Taryn, on the other hand, was totally relaxed, curled up on the other side of the couch. Sean lounged on the floor nearby, his forearm propped up on one bent knee, his back resting against the cushioned frame.

Ready to see some action, Jason had sprawled out in the middle of the floor, his hands braced behind his head.

Brent knelt next to the TV, cueing up the clip. “This is a very rough cut,” he warned. “Like watching dailies.”

“Just play it,” Jason said. “We don’t even know what dailies are.”

Brent seemed excited about sharing his vision with them. His boyish enthusiasm made Daniela smile.

He pressed play, and the footage started in an unexpected place, with a conversation between Jason and Sean. Daniela had to admit, Brent knew what he was doing. The natural lighting was superb, his subjects were handsome and the backdrop was spectacular.

In one frame, he’d captured the harsh beauty of the island and the rugged appeal of two of its very charismatic inhabitants.

This was no ordinary documentary.

Jason had his hand on Sean’s shoulder, and they were admiring something in the distance. Their body language suggested they were discussing a beautiful woman, and she felt a pang of longing, wanting to
be
that woman.

A few seconds later, she realized they were talking about the Perfect Wave. Sean wasn’t discouraging Jason from riding it, either. On the contrary, he seemed intent on tasting a slice of that pie himself.

Beside her, Elizabeth clenched her hands into fists.

Daniela waited for Sean and Jason to say they were only joking, but that didn’t happen. Jason shared a serious story about a friend who’d drowned, and the scene ended with a wide shot of the breaking wave.

Elizabeth rose to her feet. “I can’t believe you! Your best friend dies, so you want to follow him? And you—” She pointed a finger at Sean, narrowing her eyes. “You promised you wouldn’t encourage him.”

Sean straightened to defend himself. “I promised I wouldn’t
help
him. There’s a difference.”

She threw her hands in the air.

“Sean did try to talk me out of it,” Jason explained, “and this tricky bastard cut that part out of the footage.”

Brent smiled wryly, guilty as charged.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did he cut the part where you said you weren’t going to do it, too?”

“Not exactly,” he said, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

Elizabeth had heard enough. She grabbed her knapsack off the table and started toward the staircase.

“Keep this up, and I’ll be fooled into thinking you care,” Jason murmured.

Without so much as a backward glance, she went upstairs.

“Maybe I shouldn’t play the rest,” Brent said.

Taryn waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t worry about her. I can’t wait to see it. Some of us
like
a little excitement.” With a pointed glance at Daniela, she smoothed her palm over Sean’s shoulder, giving him a com forting squeeze.

Brent looked from Sean to Taryn to Daniela, catching every nuance. The situation was so awkward it was painful.
Just show the damned clip,
she urged Brent silently. As soon as it was over, she could leave.

The next scene began with Jason’s emergency call. After responding on his radio, Brent zoomed in, getting a tight shot of the three of them inside the boat. There was a moment of chaos, reflected in the choppy images and lack of focus.

A sudden close-up revealed Daniela’s face in exquisite detail. Her expression betrayed a wealth of fear and anguish.

Sean sucked in a sharp breath, and Taryn’s hand fell away from his shoulder.

It was difficult for Daniela to look at herself on the screen. She saw eyes that were too big, too dark, too expressive.

Her terror was so magnified, it was almost grotesque.

Thankfully, the shot widened, and Sean took his shirt off, stealing the scene. His skin was darkly tanned, his stomach corrugated with muscle. There was no denying that he looked fantastic. Like her frightened face, this image was powerful and provocative. Together, they made an odd juxtaposition—his raw sexuality, and her unadulterated fear.

As he began to swim, the shot cut from Sean to the boat and back again, catching her distress and Jason’s support, creating the same tension she’d felt during the initial experience. Finally, Sean climbed out of the water, his chest heaving. His wet jeans clung to his thighs, riding so low on his abdomen that an inch of his pubic hair was exposed.

“Wow,” Taryn said, enjoying the view.

Daniela had to admit, she was just as riveted. Sean’s biceps flexed as he strained forward with the rope, his teeth clenched from exertion. Only Jason seemed unfazed by the display of skin and strength.

Sean arched a brow at Brent. “It didn’t occur to you to put down the camera and come help us?”

“I never would have got there in time. So I waited to see if you made it.”

“Convenient,” Sean muttered, turning his attention back to the footage.

Once the boat was anchored, Brent left the tower. After that, the shot stayed wide and didn’t change. She and Jason pulled in the whaler, foot by foot. It was an exciting sequence. At the end, the three of them lay together on the wet rocks, exhausted.

Daniela almost couldn’t bear to watch Taryn and Sean’s embrace, which appeared even more romantic from a distance.

She expected heartache, not surprise. She got both. Before the gorgeous couple broke apart, a flash of movement caught her eye. There was a dark shape in the water, about a hundred feet from shore.

A fin.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. None of them had noticed the shark at the time.

Its presence elevated an already compelling scene to cinematic gold.

“Did you splice that in?” Sean asked.

Brent smiled. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

Taryn was also disturbed by the footage. Shuddering, she slipped her arms around Sean’s neck and dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

It was a telling gesture, like the belly-to-belly embrace they’d shared earlier, and Daniela had seen enough. Sean claimed he wasn’t involved in a relationship with Taryn, but they didn’t act like “just friends.”

She rose from the couch, hoping for steady legs. “I’m off to bed.”

Brent appeared hurt by her abrupt departure. Perhaps he’d expected his footage to inspire joy and wonderment, rather than shock and awe. “Can we do a short interview? I meant to catch you last night, and didn’t get a chance.”

“Sure,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “Where?”

“In my room. It will only take a minute.”

Jason got up to say good night to her, but he seemed distracted. He hadn’t spoken since Elizabeth left the room.

Sean’s gaze met hers, his expression inscrutable. “Good night,” he said gruffly.

“Sweet dreams,” Taryn murmured, her arms still twined around his neck.

Brent’s room was tiny.

It boasted a single bed that couldn’t have been long enough for his six-foot-plus frame, and a small armchair. Behind the chair, there was a blank screen; in front of it, a high-watt lamp. His camera stand was already set up near the bed.

“Have a seat,” he said.

She did, twisting her hands in her lap.

“I need to close the door.”

“Go ahead,” she said, smiling at his politeness.

The room was so cramped he couldn’t even sit down on the edge of the bed to turn on his camera until he’d shut the door. She fidgeted with her hair while he played with the settings, wishing she’d thought to put on a little makeup.

“Are you camera-shy?”

“No,” she said quickly. “No, I—” She caught the look on his face and gave up. “Yes. Yes, of course I am. I suppose it’s obvious.”

It was his turn to smile. “Not really.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He laughed, glancing through the viewfinder and making one last adjustment. “There’s no reason to be nervous. The camera loves you.”

She shrugged off the compliment. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“No. Taryn photographs well, but she doesn’t have your eyes. You remind me of a silent film star. Very expressive.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. She felt tired and worn-down, rather than pretty.

“Tell me about yourself. What draws you to this line of work? Why seals?”

Daniela took a deep breath. “I was born in Sinaloa, Mexico. It’s on the Pacific Coast, south of Baja. My father was a fisherman, and he took me to work with him fairly often. I loved to swim. He called me
foquita.
Little seal.”

He waited for her to continue.

“There aren’t many seals that far south, but we kept an eye out for them. He told me about the
foca del caribe.
Caribbean monk seal. They’ve been extinct since the 1950s.”

“And that left an impression on you?”

“Oh, yes. I didn’t believe him at first. I couldn’t imagine how an entire species could be wiped out. From then on, I wanted to learn more about endangered animals. Conservation biology seemed like a perfect fit.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“In San Diego. We moved there when I was ten.”

“Did your father continue to fish?”

She hesitated for a moment, surprised by the question. “No, he didn’t. My mother came from a wealthy, aristocratic family, and she wanted the best for us. Fishing didn’t pay enough to suit her. He went to night school and got a degree in finance.”

“Did that pay enough?”

Daniela shrugged. Mamá was impossible to please.

“How did the change suit him?”

“Not very well,” she admitted. “He was much happier in his fishing days. It was almost as if he’d left a piece of his soul out there, on the water.” She smiled sadly, remembering the last time she’d seen him.

“Foquita,”
he always said, wrapping his arms around her.
“No nades tan lejos.”

Don’t swim so far away.

Since the accident, their relationship had been stilted. For months, she’d avoided his company, not wanting comfort from anyone. That day, he’d hugged her warily, as if he were afraid she might break.

“I’m sorry,” she said, blinking back tears.

Brent turned the camera off. “Don’t be. I shouldn’t have kept you up this late. It’s been a difficult day.”

“You’re very kind.”

“No. Right now, I’m thinking about how beautiful you are, and how great this footage will look in my documentary.”

And yet, out of respect to her, he’d stopped filming. “Thank you.”

He grabbed a tissue for her, from the box on the nightstand. Daniela noticed a framed photograph resting next to it. “Is that your girlfriend?” she asked, accepting the tissue and dabbing her eyes.

“Yeah.” He picked up the photograph and handed it to her.

The woman in the picture was pretty, but frail-looking. She wore a colorful scarf over her dark hair, and she was much too slender.

“She has cancer,” he explained.

Daniela almost dropped the frame. “Oh, I—I’m so sorry.”

“It’s in remission, or I wouldn’t have come. I’m hoping to film here a few weeks, and get back home to do the editing. I like to be with her as much as possible. We don’t know how much time she has.”

She handed him the photo, struck by the tragedy of his situation. Hearing about it put her troubles in perspective. She also couldn’t help but feel guilty. She was alive, and recovering, while his girlfriend was dying.

He interrupted her thoughts. “Shall we finish this tomorrow?”

She nodded, leaving the room after saying a quiet good night. It
had
been a difficult day. Her arms ached from pulling rope and her palms burned. Feeling like a zombie, she stumbled into her room.

Taryn wasn’t there.

She was probably downstairs, on the couch with Sean. Kissing his hard mouth. Touching all those lovely muscles. Sitting in his lap.

Telling herself it didn’t matter, and that she didn’t care, Daniela climbed into bed and turned off the lamp. The night-light in the corner flickered gaily, mocking her solitude. Because it belonged to Taryn, she wanted to smash it to bits.

Instead, she turned her face to the wall and stared, wide-eyed, into darkness.

Sean pulled Taryn’s arms off his neck and rose to his feet. “We have to talk.”

Her surprised expression sent up a warning flag. She hadn’t been acting touchy-feely just to irritate Daniela. And what she’d been expecting from him, right now, was a lot more intimate than conversation.

He smothered a groan, calling himself ten kinds of stupid.

She got up off the couch with a small frown, grabbing her jacket and following him out the front door. There was no guaranteed privacy downstairs, and he wasn’t about to take her to his room. Jason was still fooling around with the old engine in the equipment shed, so Sean walked in the other direction.

It was the same place he’d stood last night, staring out at Skull Rock.

He didn’t think he’d encouraged Taryn, and damned if he knew how to discourage her. She was a fun girl, like a cute kid sister.