Instead, he studied the beautiful woman next to him. In the flickering lights of the torches set out by the restaurant hosting the barbeque, she seemed almost ethereal, as if she might vanish between one moment and the next. She gave every appearance of having a good time, but he’d noticed that she hardly ate anything, pushing the food around on the plate but rarely bringing the fork to her lips. He thought she looked pale, too, although it was hard to say in the tremulous torch light.
Of course, maybe she was just thinking about her work and her lack of progress finding answers. Dave, the guy who invited Marcus in the first place, had already mentioned that he was planning to finally give up the fishing boat he’d inherited from his dad—too few fish to keep going, he’d said. And Frank, who loved the sea almost as much as Marcus’s father did, confessed that he was worried about having the money to send his kid to college, since he’d already taken out a second mortgage on his house. Frank’s wife, Nancy, laughed and said if necessary, she could always take up prostitution. But you could tell that, under their cheery exteriors, they were all worried.
They changed to more pleasant topics of conversation, but Beka just looked grimmer and grimmer. Marcus wasn’t having any of that.
When there was a break in the chatter, he leaned over and said quietly in her ear, “Are you okay? If you’re not having a good time, we don’t have to stick around for the fireworks.”
She gave him a startled look, blue eyes wide. “I’m having a great time,” she said. “I’m just a little tired from the dive earlier. It took more out of me than I thought, I guess.”
Marcus wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t sure how deep she’d gone, but her return journey to the surface seemed to take forever. By the time her head had broken through the water by the dinghy, he’d been on the verge of jumping in to make sure she was okay. Only her periodic tugs on the rope between them kept him from doing so, and by the end he’d been sweating and agitated from the wait.
“You should probably take a couple of days off,” he suggested, although he hated the thought of not having her on the boat. When had he grown so addicted to her company?
“Maybe,” she said. “I could use the break to do some research. I’m not sure I can learn anything more from diving anyway. I’ve replaced all the samples I got originally, and I can’t dive any deeper than I did today.”
The fact that she didn’t argue with him made him even more concerned. Beka always argued with him. She must be feeling lousy indeed. Maybe she was coming down with one of the summer colds that was going around. They’d warned his father at the hospital to stay away from anyone who showed signs of being sick. All the more reason to keep her away from the boat, dammit.
Marcus suddenly had enough of being social. “This has been great,” he said to the group they were sitting with. “It’s been really nice to see you all again. But I think we’re going to take off for now. Thanks again for inviting us.” He stood up and Beka stood with him, smiling at everyone and adding her thanks.
“Aren’t you going to stick around for the show?” Frank asked. “It starts soon.”
His wife Nancy elbowed him in the ribs. “I think maybe Marcus would like to spend a little time with Beka without all us old married people cramping his style.” She nodded toward the bonfire where a local band played an eclectic mix of rock, swing, and jazz. A dozen couples had kicked off their shoes and were dancing on the sand. “I’m guessing he’d rather dance with his beautiful date than sit around talking over the good old days, most of which you guys made up anyway.”
Frank studied Beka a little too earnestly, about one beer over his limit. “Hell yeah, I see what you mean.” Nancy elbowed him again, harder this time, and everyone else guffawed. Eventually they managed to get away, and Marcus could feel his face burning like the fire they were heading toward.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered. “They meant well. We don’t have to dance, of course.”
Beka stopped walking and put one hand on his arm. Electricity shot through him where her flesh touched his. “Does that mean you don’t know how to dance?” she asked, a sly twinkle in her eye.
“I’ll have you know that I am the best former Marine–fisherman dancer on this beach,” Marcus said stoutly. The fact that he was probably the only one didn’t make it any less likely that he would step on her feet, of course, but if the music stayed slow enough, he could probably keep up without making an ass of himself.
Her laugh trilled lightly above the notes of the flute player, flying up like lightning bugs into the night sky. When they reached the circle around the band, the tune changed to something quiet and slightly mournful from the eighties; Billy Joel, maybe. He wasn’t sure. All he knew for certain was how right Beka felt in his arms, her face turned up toward his with a smile, the silk of her hair brushing against his skin as he twirled her around.
The rest of the world vanished into the distant background, until there was nothing left but the salty breeze off the ocean, the warmth of Beka’s presence, and a music that seemed to come as much from the stars and the moon and the rare bubble of happiness in his chest as it did from any human hands.
Until someone tapped him on the shoulder and a familiar voice said, “May I cut in?”