More Than Want You
Page 8

 Shayla Black

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In fact, I don’t hate that idea. But we’ll come back to that…
“Sure.” It’s nearing ten o’clock, so most of the tourists who have kids should be tucking them in their rooms. Honeymooners are done with dinner and drinks and probably boinking the night away. All the grandparents were in bed by nine. We should be alone at the shoreline.
The big smile on her face is worth the twenty minutes it will take me to give her a tour of the Ritz’s semi-private beach. She tosses back her wine and leaps to her feet with a wink. “Thanks. If you’re not careful, I’ll think you’re Prince Charming.”
“Once you get to know me, you’ll know better. Let’s go.”
As we walk back through my unit, I swap out my loafers for sandals and slip a condom in my pocket because…well, hope springs eternal. I grab the bottle of wine, tuck my keys away, and take her hand. We head for the big, luminous moon hanging over Honokahua Bay. She’s quiet beside me, holding tightly to my hand, but the rest of her is fixated by the endless stretch of ocean before us. Absently, she kicks off her heels at the bottom of the stairs. I realize she’s more petite than I thought, a couple inches over five feet. Her childlike glee as she darts toward the water and wiggles her toes in the sand makes me smile.
The lazy, back-and-forth breeze makes the trees lining the beach look as if they’re doing a sensual hula to the rhythm of the leaves rustling. The inky sky shines brilliant with infinite stars. The whitecaps glitter like diamonds. Best of all, we’re alone.
It’s perfect.
“Wow,” she breathes, standing inches from the surge of the water as it breaks along the beach. “Every time I see something this beautiful, I’m in awe. The vastness of the ocean humbles me. I’m one speck of a human, but look at the sleek power of all that water. It hosts life. It balances the planet. It’s…” She turns to me, wincing. “I’m babbling.”
Kind of, but not the point. “It’s interesting to hear your thoughts. I never considered it that way.”
“Hmm.” She grabs the wine and takes a long swig from the bottle.
There’s more in her head than she’s sharing with me, but I can be patient. I can coax. I’m not sure why I want to know but I do. “You were being philosophical. Don’t let me stop you.”
Her flirty glance lightens the moment. “I was just thinking. A sight like this reminds me of Victor Hugo’s “The Ocean’s Song.” I don’t remember every word, but part of it goes something like this:
We saw the boundless waters stretch in glory
And heave in power.
O Ocean vast! We heard thy song with wonder,

Whilst waves marked time.
‘Appear, O Truth!’ thou sang’st with tone of thunder,
‘And shine sublime!’”
I mull her words over, then look at the bay again, trying to see it through her eyes. She’s right. It’s majestic. It’s a fucking natural wonder. I’ll have to look at it more often.
“This is the perfect place for me to finally kiss you,” I murmur, bringing her in closer.
Keeley braces her hand against my chest and looks into my eyes. “I don’t have to know everything about you in order to spend the night with you. But I want to understand you. I need to. Help me?”
In most instances, I’d mentally roll my eyes. This is a lot of effort for a piece of ass. But I’m studying her face. I don’t understand why she feels this way, yet I see clearly that she does. Britta’s earlier words ring through my head, and I wonder what I have to lose by getting to know this multi-faceted woman a bit. Besides, if I’m going to convince her to help me with my Griff problem tomorrow, it behooves me to know her in return.
“How can I do that?” I caress her face, startled again by how soft she feels.
“Tell me something about you, something most people don’t know.” She shrugs. “What’s your most prized possession?”
“My professional reputation.”
“That’s not a possession.” The little frown between her brows disturbs me. “The thing you hoard and keep safe above everything else.”
No one has ever asked me that. This girl has unexpected depth. She might be wearing a cheetah dress I would have sworn only a refugee from a ’90s music video would sport, but Keeley is full of surprises. The first is how much she’s making me think.
“My grandfather’s watch. He was an amazing man, served in World War II. He was part of the Normandy Invasion.” And what kind of guts had it taken to storm the beach that day, knowing he might not live to see the next? I can’t imagine. “He rarely talked about it. But Miles Ambrose had grit and honor and…” I get choked up, which is crazy. He died almost ten years ago. But I miss the old guy. “His grandfather gave him a Cartier watch just before he went into the service. Black leather band, white face, roman numerals. Very classic. Growing up, I always thought Granddad preferred my younger brother, despite the fact that my middle name is his first. So I assumed he’d leave the timepiece to Griff. But no. The bastard left it to me, along with a note that said he’d chosen me because I was a man of honor. I just didn’t know it yet.”
With her free hand, she cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek. I’m having a hard time keeping myself together. I can’t even look at her right now. What the hell is going on? It’s as if Keeley has found all my weak spots and is determined to poke at them one by one.
“Do you know it now?” she asks softly.
I think—hard. “I’m not sure.”
The frown that furrows her brow again upsets me. She takes another pull of the wine. “Are you wearing the watch?”
“Never. I keep it in a safe deposit box.”
“Didn’t he give it to you to wear?”
It’s an obvious but somehow baffling question. Granddad probably had, but I’d always thought it was too valuable and breakable. So I locked it away. “No. He gave it to me to keep safe, so that’s what I do. You’ve asked me a million questions. Tell me more about you. Keeley Sunshine isn’t your real name, I’m guessing.”
“No. It’s Keeley Kent. Not much to tell. I’m an open book. Grew up in Phoenix. Since shortly after high school graduation, I’ve moved around, looking for a place that fits me. I started in San Diego. It didn’t feel right—or maybe I hated the letch who owned the restaurant where I waitressed—so I made my way up the coast. Frisco wasn’t for me since all the guys I thought were hot didn’t play for my team. Seattle was too rainy. That’s where I picked up my ex, who suggested Maui. And here I am.”