unquestionably male in every respect. He commanded her attention even to the smallest detail, the way his lashes outlined his eyelid, the way the scars marred his jaw, the way his lips pressed together. Was he angry?
Or hurt?
Now, there was an odd thought. She’d been so busy being angry with him that the possibility of his hurt had only brushed against her thoughts.
He turned his gaze in her direction, and she caught her breath. Although it was nearly dark, the blue of a summer sky had gotten into his eye, and she lost herself in the endlessness of it.
“You’re staring,” he said. “Do you think I’m a monster?”
“No. You’re handsome, but you can also be rude and selfish and—” She stopped talking before she said anything else. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to speak her mind.
“I am selfish,” he said. “And you…” He paused for a moment. “You are crazy if you think I’m handsome.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have been so blunt, but your question wasn’t fair.”
“It didn’t stop you from answering.”
A raging fire crawled up her face. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Do you think I’m redeemable?” he asked.
What an odd question. How could he need redemption if he was truly blameless? “I don’t know,” she said.
“I think you have the power to redeem me,” he continued.
Oh, that was a seductive thought, but she knew better. “I think you’d have to take redemption up with God,” she said.
Topher snorted a laugh. “I don’t believe in God.”
She held her tongue. She knew better than to say anything else.
He shook his head and looked away, releasing her from the difficult and bizarre conversation.
She cleared her throat and reached for her best professional-architect voice. “Okay, to summarize, you’re good with Carolina Coastal and some number of bedrooms to be determined?”
He pushed up from the chair and moved to the porch railing. He leaned forward on it, the rain from the broken gutter dripping over his fists.
“I want five bedrooms.”
“That many?”
“You don’t have to know why,” he muttered. “I want them because I want them. I don’t need a reason. Remember I’m a selfish asshole,” he said like a petulant child.
“Okay.”
He turned, looming over her. “And don’t think you can soften me up by lying to me.”
Now she was annoyed. She stood up and took a step toward him. “I’m not a liar.”
“You said I was handsome.”
“You are.” And she meant it. Yes, he was scarred, but the beautiful boy was still there, tempered by something that was deep and masculine. Something that appealed to her female sensibilities. And she hated to admit it, but there might be something redeemable beyond the surface.
He shook his head. “No. But you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “That’s the truth. Don’t try to tell me otherwise.” He lifted his hand and stroked the back of his index finger down her cheek. His fingers traced a line of fire over her skin.
He smelled like the trade winds on a summer day, spicy and salty and so delicious that she leaned into him. For a crazy moment, she thought he might kiss her, and she wasn’t even frightened by the prospect.
Instead he took a step back. “It’s late,” he said, even though it wasn’t. He turned, heading for the porch door in his uneven gait.
A wave of disappointment crashed over her with the roar of the surf behind. She wouldn’t have stopped him. Good grief, she wanted him to kiss her.
When he reached the double doors, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “We’ll sail out to the island on Monday, and you’ll show me plans for a five-bedroom house with a porch like this one.”
He turned and let himself out into the storm.
Chapter Twelve
Topher awakened on Friday with a growl. He lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling fan, endlessly turning, sending cool air over his hot, sweaty skin.
He didn’t want to be awake. His leg hurt, and that only reminded him that he was here, sleeping in, while his old buddies were out on the bay racing their boats.
And even worse, the tourists and sailors would be all over town. Howland House was certainly awash with them, and the swimming beach would probably be busy all day.
But he needed a swim in order to clear his head. This morning his mind was consumed with a bunch of unhelpful thoughts.
Starting with the idea that Jessica might have welcomed his kiss. He rolled up in bed as the back of his neck itched and