“Easy.”
But what she wanted wasn’t easy—not really. What she truly wanted was Will. To keep getting to know him and having fun together like this. To get naked and roll around in the sand until they looked like powdered sugar doughnuts, then rinse off in the ocean and make love in the waves. But what she found herself wishing increasingly with each passing minute was that this was more than just a fling. She wanted all of him, even his heart. But that was impossible. Her future was the Cairo Museum, not William Anderson.
Pushing down the longing for something out of reach was familiar to Claire. She’d done it her whole life. What she couldn’t suppress, though, was the hope she was feeling—something she hadn’t dealt with before. Something that made her dream about a happy ending for once.
After a shower that left both of them satisfied, and very, very clean—especially certain parts—they shared a plate of cold chicken, Bahamian peas and rice, and white wine on the porch. The sun was setting over the ocean in brilliant streaks of tangerine and magenta, looking more like a painting than real life. In fact, at this moment, with the sea breeze in her face and this amazing man by her side, nothing felt real. Even her impending trip to Egypt. If only…
Claire finished off her wine and set the glass next to her empty plate. God, she felt good. Too good. So good, she was willing to say what had been on her mind since before their shower, something her newfound hope had put there. “Come with me.”
Will smiled across the small table. Wrapped only in a bath towel, and with the sunset reflecting off the skin of his face and broad chest, he looked like a bronze statue. “Where? To the beach?” He arched an eyebrow. “Back to the bedroom?”
There it was. Her chance to play down her blurted out deepest desire, or go all in. All in. “Egypt.”
His smile stayed in place, but everything about him tensed. Not just tensed. It was as if he had recoiled from her one, simple word. Shit. She’d rushed this. It was too soon. Hell, maybe it would never have been the right time.
The high she had felt only moments ago plummeted out of the sky like Icarus, wings blazing. In her happiness, she’d flown too close to the sun.
She would not cry in front of him. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said, wrapping the towel tighter around her and rising from the wicker chair. “I’ll be right back.”
When she got to the bathroom, she slumped to the floor. Surely this wasn’t a deal killer. She’d surprised him. Hell, she’d surprised herself. She did want him to go, but a trip like that was a commitment. Maybe he wasn’t ready to go there yet. After Beth had screwed him over so bad, maybe he would never be ready again.
…
Will paced the tile floor of the porch, feeling borderline panicky, like he did right before a mission.
Why Egypt? There were very few places on earth he refused to go. Egypt was one of them. Never, no matter how compelling the reason, would he ever set foot in a fucking desert again unless it was to defend his country.
Or your heart?
Sand and heat and misery filled his memories. For years, with only a short reprieve in the middle, he’d had sand in his eyes and up his nose. Grit had coated everything he ate—every surface he touched.
Not even for Claire would he go to a desert. Will had very few absolutes in his life, and this was one. And that was the real problem here. He couldn’t go with her, so he wanted her to stay—to give them a chance. He wanted more.
He slumped back down in his chair and buried his face in his hands.
This was a woman who had sacrificed her teens and early twenties to take care of a sick and dying family member. She’d kept her hope alive by dreaming of a trip to a place that had fired her imagination as a child. She’d endured a hell worse than his in many regards. Only where he’d made it through the horrors by imagining a life with Beth at the end of the nightmare, she’d had Egypt as the carrot that kept her going.
And he’d be damned if he got in the way of someone’s dream when he’d had so many of his own shot down. He couldn’t go with her, and she deserved to know why. He had to let her follow that dream, but until that time, he’d make the most of it. Of her. Starting right now.
“Claire, may I come in?” He rapped gently on the bathroom door. Man, he’d handled this wrong. She’d extended her trust and he’d fucking sat there stunned silent and crushed it…again. He tried the knob and it wasn’t locked. He cracked the door open an inch or so. “Hey, I really want to talk to you.”
“Come on in.” She sounded good. Not like she was melting down.