Down on the boardwalk, a solidly built male figure jogged into sight, and she watched in admiration as his legs turned over again and again, thick thigh muscles supporting a trim body with broad shoulders and well-formed biceps. She was high enough up that the details of his face and whatever logo graced his pale green shirt were just a blur, but there was enough to see to keep her interested as he slowed to a walk in front of her hotel.
Something about the way he moved seemed familiar, and Emma found herself on her feet, one hand pressed to the floor-to-ceiling glass as she tried to ease the strange sensation that she’d seen him before. The man turned toward the beach, stepping off the path and moving to a bench surrounded by grayish white sand. When he propped a leg on the bench, Emma got to admire his butt as that niggling feeling at the back of her brain continued to grow.
She must have seen a million people over the past year. Why should one admittedly fine man make her heart start to pound?
She watched him while he watched the birds, a crowd of them swooping in as he pulled something from his pocket and scattered food in front of him.
Another memory struck, and it was crazy, but she abandoned her perch at the window, rushing back through the suite to slip her feet into a pair of sandals, pulling a cover-up around her shoulders, and grabbing her room key before dashing for the elevator.
The mirrored wall in the elevator gave her plenty of time to tell herself she was crazy. Her hair lay loosely braided over one shoulder, she didn’t have a stitch of makeup on, and here she was, racing down to the beach so she could casually spy on some stranger.
Her own dark brown eyes mocked her. She stuck out her tongue and made a face, jerking back to attention as the elevator dinged and the door slid open.
She strolled as casually as possible through the foyer, heading for the entrance that opened onto the beach. The warm air outside struck her skin like a caress, the scent of the ocean filling her nose. She twisted, trying to orient herself, moving confidently to her right and up onto the boardwalk.
No need for subterfuge. The bench was empty, the birds still fluttering around it. As she approached, they scattered, only a few of the bolder ones returning to peck at the breadcrumbs littering the sand.
A sense of sadness struck. Emma leaned her hands on the back of the bench and wondered—
On the arm of the bench a little pile of bread crumbs still remained. The birds hadn’t managed to eat enough yet to destroy what was a distinctly heart-shaped pattern. She pressed her hand to her chest as a wave of memory rushed through her.
Fingers linked with hers. Fumbling kisses in the dark that set her heart fluttering. The freshness and wonder of first love.
Emma whirled, searching the boardwalk for another sign of the dark-haired stranger, wondering if what she was imagining was possible, or if she’d seen a ghost. Dean Colter had been everything to her before their paths had separated. That had been a long time ago, and yet the thought of him was enough to make her simultaneously furious and thrilled.
Whoever the man was, he was long gone, but her curiosity was at an all-time high. She turned back to the hotel, striding quickly.
There was nothing to say she couldn’t take a stroll down memory lane with the help of Google. Maybe she’d find out Dean was back in the south, married and with half a dozen kids.
But then again, maybe not. Life didn’t always follow the expected path. It certainly hadn’t for her.
Although she wasn’t sure what she would do if she found out that after all this time they were both in the same city.
Chapter Eighteen
The margaritas were getting stronger.
Pepper eyed the almost-empty glass in her hand, then glanced up at Suz with suspicion. “Did you have a shaking fit while pouring the vodka into the blender? Sweet sombreros, this is strong enough to peel paint.”
“We’re drinking them, not applying to walls,” Suz said, happily raising her glass in the air and letting the afternoon sunshine sparkle off the ice. “Of course, they’d taste better if we could have them delivered by well-oiled, nearly-naked cabana boys, but that’s probably out of the question.”
“Yeah, Parker would cut off the fingers of any man who tried to deliver me a drink,” Lynn spoke up with a sigh.
“Jack wouldn’t be as nice,” Pepper told her almost sister-in-law. “He’d go for the cabana boy’s ding-dong.”
Suz and Lynn hooted, while Gillian, who’d been silently sipping her margarita, cracked a smile.
“What? You pull them, they make noise,” Pepper insisted.
“The cabana boys, or the ding-dongs?” Suz laughed harder. “Oh, baby, you are one of a kind. Never change.”
Pepper wasn’t quite sure if that was a compliment or a subtle insult, but even insults from Suz were right up there on her “okay by me because it just means you love me” list.