Barbara Boswell - Family Feud

Garrett disappeared down a small hallway that Shelby knew led to the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. Another turn to the right led to the larger master bedroom suite. Her mouth felt oddly dry and she remained in the doorway, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“Help yourself to something in the refrigerator, I’m sure it’s fully stocked,” Garrett called from the back of the cottage. “And close the door. You’re air-conditioning the state of Florida and wasting electricity.”

Leave, Shelby advised herself. Turn around and march out right now. She almost did it. But instead she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She really had no choice. Garrett McGrath was unpredictable; he might simply go about his business after she’d left or he might call her father and report her defection.

And her father was a man capable of great wrath when things were not to his liking. Shelby was quite aware of that because much of what she did was not to his liking. But could pleasing Garrett McGrath possibly be to his liking? Shelby sat gingerly on the edge of the flowered chintz sofa and pondered that astonishing concept. Why was her father trying to ingratiate himself with Garrett McGrath?

She couldn’t buy her father’s fulsome declarations of respect and admiration for the man. Though she’d been living away from Arthur Halford since the age of seventeen, they’d maintained telephone contact and the occasional visit. She still knew her father well enough to know that he considered low-end, fast money-makers like Garrett McGrath the bane of the hotel industry.

“Ready?”

She was lost in thought and gave a startled gasp at the sound of Garrett’s voice. He was standing beside the arm of the sofa, towering above her. Shelby jumped to her feet and moved a safe distance away from him. He had changed into dark blue running shorts and a white cotton tank top similar to her own.

Shelby stole a sidelong, furtive glance at him. His legs were long and muscular and covered with dark, wiry hair. The tight shirt showcased his broad chest and shoulders and his hard, muscled arms. Her gaze slid up to his face, taking in his strong jaw and disturbingly sensuous mouth. Their eyes met, and for one long moment Shelby gazed into their dark, deep blue depths. She felt the frisson of sensual electricity surge between them and immediately turned away.

“You’re going to work out? We have an excellent exercise spa, all sorts of state-of-the-art workout equipment, a sauna, and a masseur.” She paused to breathe. She couldn’t seem to stop talking. “We also boast a fully—”

“I’m going to run on the beach. And since you’re under paternal command to stick to me like superglue, so are you.”

Shelby heaved a martyred sigh.

Garrett laughed. “Don’t even try to pretend this is some big sacrifice for you. You were on your way to run when your daddy summoned you to his royal headquarters.”

“How do you know what I was going to do?” Shelby challenged. “Are you now claiming to be psychic?”

“Just observant. I can tell by the way you’re dressed. You seem like the type who would make a point of dressing correctly for whatever you’re doing and wherever you’re going. So if you were going to play tennis, you’d be wearing tennis whites. If you were going to the exercise spa, you’d be in a bright spandex leotard and tights. If you were golfing, you’d—”

“All right, I get your point! I was planning to run on the beach,” she admitted crossly. “I try to run every morning, although this is later than usual for me.”

“Because your father gave you the morning off,” concluded Garrett. “Until he rescinded it and stuck you with me.”

Shelby shot him an exasperated glance. “Precisely.”

* * *

They jogged in silence along the wide white span of sandy beach, side by side, keeping a steady pace. There were a few bathers sunning themselves on Halford House canvas beach chairs. A lifeguard was on duty in a wooden kiosk but there were no swimmers in the ocean.

“I can tell you run every day,” Garrett said at last.

“How?” Shelby asked dryly. “By my impeccably correct attire?” She was sorry to break the silence that had grown almost companionable as they headed around a curve, out of sight of the Halford House facilities. A long expanse of deserted beach stretched before them.

“You’re not winded and you’re doing a nice job of keeping up with me,” stated Garrett.

“That’s funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”

“I wasn’t patronizing you, I meant it as a compliment.”

Shelby gave him a saccharine smile. “Now why would I ever think otherwise?”

They lapsed into silence once more, jogging farther along the uninhabited beach. The only sounds to be heard were those of the surf breaking and the gulls crying. It was peaceful and quiet, and Shelby felt the tension begin to slowly drain from her, the exercise working its loosening magic.

“So, are you going to tell me what prompted your sudden return to Halford House?” Garrett’s voice shattered the peace.

Shelby tensed again. “I will if you’ll tell me why my father seems to have suddenly become your number one fan.”

Garrett grinned. “Suspicious about that, are you?”

“I’m not as stupid or gullible as you may think, Mr. McGrath.”

“Garrett,” he corrected. “And I don’t think you’re stupid or gullible at all. Quite the contrary.” He stopped running, and because she was at his disposal, Shelby stopped, too.

“I want to cool off. Let’s go swimming.” Garrett stooped to untie his running shoes.

“In the ocean?”

He looked up at her. “Where else?”

Shelby bit back a smile. It had been a stupid question, what with the ocean just a foot away. “I’m not going into the water.”

“Because you aren’t properly dressed for the proposed activity,” Garrett surmised. “I’m going to tell you something shocking, Shelby. You don’t have to wear a swimsuit to go into the water.”

“If you’re talking about taking an uninhibited skinny-dip in the ocean, forget it. I won’t do it. And don’t bother pointing out that my father has placed me at your services. My services do not include—”

“You’re awfully bossy,” Garrett complained. He’d already removed his own shoes and socks and had started to untie the laces of her shoes. He was close enough for his shoulder to brush her leg as he worked. Shelby gulped. The feel of his skin against hers and the scent of his clean male sweat evoked a sharp, hot pang deep within her.

Shelby closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would not, could not, be attracted to this man. What she was experiencing was not sexual excitement but ragged nerves, caused by apprehension and anxiety and lack of breakfast, she assured herself.

When he tried to take off her shoe, she resisted the impulse to kick him and moved swiftly out of his reach. “So, I’m sure a staunch advocate of family fun like you must have a wife and children—stashed away in Buffalo, perhaps? And what will they think of your months’ long vacation away from them? Unless, of course, you intend to bring them to Halford House to join you in the cottage?”

Garrett rose to his feet. “Ah, the inevitable question. Am I married or not? That was a less than subtle approach, Shelby.”

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle.” Her cheeks were fiery red. “And I don’t care whether you are or you aren’t.”

“I see. You simply wanted to know how many towels to supply to the cottage. Well, I’ve never been married and I don’t have kids. Hmm, how can I make this more interesting...?” He paused. “I’ve got it. Thirty-six-year-old, single, white male likes frozen yogurt, burger joints and T-shirt shops—”