Nora Roberts - Dance Upon the Air

A movement to her left had her wrapping her fingers tight around the stone and turning quickly. Her heart continued to beat in hard jerks as she watched Zack coming down a zigzag of wooden steps.

"Morning."

"Good morning." In automatic defense, she glanced back, uneasy to realize how far from the village proper she'd wandered. The beach was no longer empty, but the scattered people were some distance away.

"Nice day for a long walk on the beach," he commented, leaning against the handrail to study her. "You've sure had one."

He'd watched her, from her dance with the gulls. It was a shame, he thought, how quickly her face could go from radiant to guarded.

"I didn't realize how far I'd come."

"Nothing's really that far on an island this size. It's going to be a hot one," he said easily. "Beach'll be crowded before noon. It's nice to get a little time on it before it's full of towels and bodies."

"Yes, well…"

"Come on up."

"What?"

"Come on up. To the house. I'll give you a bag for those shells and stones."

"Oh, that's all right. I don't really need-"

"Nell-is it cops in general, men in general, or me in particular that worry you?"

"I'm not worried."

"Prove it." He stayed where he was, but held out a hand.

She kept her eyes on his. He had good eyes. Smart ones, but patient too. Slowly she stepped forward and lifted her hand to his.

"What do you plan to do with your shells?"

"Nothing." Her pulse was galloping, but she made herself climb the sandy steps with him. "Well, nothing brilliant. Just scatter them around, I suppose."

His hand held hers loosely, but even so she could tell it was hard and rough. He wore no rings, no watch on his wrist.

No pampering, she thought. No adornments.

Like her, he was barefoot, and his jeans were ripped at the knee, frayed at the hem. With his sun-streaked hair and tawny skin, he looked more beach bum than sheriff. It tamped down some of her anxiety.

At the landing they turned, walked along a gentle slope. Below, on the far side of the rocks, was a sunny inlet where a small red boat bobbed lazily at a rickety pier.

"Everything's a picture," she said quietly.

"Have you done any sailing?"

"Yes. A little," she said quickly. "Is that your boat?"

"She's mine."

There was a sudden wild splashing of water, and a sleek, dark head appeared, cruising around the rocks. As Nell stared, a huge black dog leaped onto the shore and shook herself madly.

"Her, too," Zack stated. "Mine, that is. Are you all right with dogs? Tell me now. I can hold her off and give you a fair head start."

"No, I like dogs." Then she blinked, looked back at him. "What do you mean, head start?"

He didn't bother to answer, just grinned as the dog leaped up the slope in powerful bounds. She jumped on Zack, tail wagging and spewing water, and licked his face. On two short, deep barks she bunched her muscles and would have given Nell the same treatment if Zack hadn't blocked her.

"This is Lucy. She's friendly, but mannerless. Down, Lucy."

Lucy got down, her entire body wagging now. Then, obviously unable to control her joy and affection, she leaped on Zack again.

"She's two," he explained, firmly pushing her down and shoving her butt to the ground with his hand. "Black Lab. I'm told they mellow out some when they're older."

"She's beautiful." Nell stroked Lucy's head, and at the first touch the dog collapsed on the ground and rolled over, belly up.

"No pride, either," Zack began, then looked surprised when Nell just hunkered down and sent Lucy into ecstasy by rubbing her belly with both hands.

"You don't need pride when you're beautiful, do you, Lucy? Oh, there's nothing like a big, beautiful dog, is there? I always-oh!"

In a delirium of pleasure, Lucy rolled, scrambled, and knocked Nell flat on her back. Zack was fast, but not quite fast enough to keep her from being leaped on and licked.

"Jesus, Lucy. No! Hey, I'm sorry." Zack shoved at the dog and lifted Nell to her feet one-handed. "You okay? Did she hurt you?"

"No. I'm fine." She'd had the wind knocked out of her, but that was only part of the reason for breathlessness. He was brushing at her while the dog sat, head down, tail cautiously thumping. He was, Nell noted, frustrated and concerned. But not angry.

"You didn't hit your head, did you? Damn dog weighs almost as much as you do. Banged your elbow a little," he added, then realized she was actually giggling. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, really. It's just sweet the way she's pretending to look ashamed. She's obviously terrified of you."

"Yeah, I take a bat to her twice a week whether she needs it or not." He ran his hands lightly up and down Nell's arms. "Sure you're okay?"

"Yes." It struck her then that they were now standing very close, almost embracing. And that his hands were on her, and her skin was much too warm from them. "Yes," she said again and took a deliberate step in retreat. "No harm done."

"You're sturdier than you look." There were long, lean muscles in those arms, he noted. He'd already admired the ones in her legs. "Come on inside," he said. "Not you," he added, pointing at the dog. "You're banished."

He scooped Nell's shoes up from the ground and walked toward a wide porch. Curious, and unable to think of an excuse not to follow, Nell went through the screened door he opened and into a big, bright, messy kitchen.

"It's the maid's decade off." Comfortable in his own clutter, he set her shoes on the floor and went to the refrigerator. "Can't offer you homemade lemonade, but we've got some iced tea."

"That's fine, thanks. It's a wonderful kitchen."

"We use it mostly for heating up takeout."

"That's a shame." There were acres of granite-toned counters, and wonderful rough-hewn cabinets with leaded-glass fronts. A generous double sink with a window over it offered a view of the inlet and the sea.

Plenty of storage and work space, she mused. With a little organization and a bit of imagination, it would be a marvelous…

We? He'd said "we," she realized. Was he married? She'd never thought of that, never considered the possibility. Not that it mattered, of course, but…

He'd flirted with her. She may have been out of practice and short on experience, but she knew when a man was flirting.

"You've got a lot of thoughts going on inside that head at one time." Zack held out a glass. "Want to share any of them?"

"No. That is, I was just thinking what a nice room this is."

"It was a lot more presentable when my mother was in charge of it. Now that it's just Ripley and me, the kitchen doesn't get a lot of attention."

"Ripley. Oh. I see."

"You were wondering if I was married, or maybe living here with someone who wasn't my sister. That's nice."

"It's none of my business."

"I didn't say it was, just said it was nice. I'd take you through the house, but it's probably in worse shape than the kitchen. And you've got a tidy soul. We'll go this way." He took her hand again, pulled her back outside.

"Where? I really should be getting back."

"It's Sunday, and we've hit our day off together. I've got something you'll like," he continued and tugged her across the porch.

It wrapped around the house, edged the side where there was a scrubby garden and a couple of gnarled trees. Weather-worn steps led up to a second-story porch that faced the sea.

He kept his hand over hers and led her up them.

Air and sun washed over her, made her think how easy it would be to stretch out in the wooden chaise and let the day rock away.

A telescope stood by the rail, along with a stone troth that had yet to be planted.

"You're right." She stepped to the rail, leaned out and breathed. "I do like it."