A Glimmer of Hope: A Novella Prequel to Isle of Hope by Julie Lessman

gone from honor-roll choirgirl to temptress in the blink of a semester. But he already knew the answer.
    The California she-devil.
    He watched the little brat float on her back while she splashed and sang off-key, and exhaled a weary sigh, shaking his head. Because after he left for school tomorrow, there wouldn’t be a single thing he could do about Nicki’s influence.
    Except pray.
    And, oh, how he prayed it would be more than enough.
    “Uh-oh, you’re doing that grinding thing with your mouth again—which means you’re way too tense.” She tipped her head, batting water-spiked lashes in that playful way that always breached his defenses. “Why not cut loose with a warm moonlight swim?”
    Yeah, that’s exactly what he was afraid of—warm moonlight, warm water.
    Warm bodies.
    Exhaling a reedy thread of air, he latched his thumbs in the pockets of his paint-stained cut-offs and slacked a hip, his tone that of a responsible and well-grounded pastor’s kid hoping to heed the call on his life. The one from God and not the girl in the water. “Come on, Lace, you know that’s not smart.”
    “I don’t know anything of the sort, Jack O’Bryen,” she said, the hint of hurt in her tone only one of the many indications she’d butted heads with her father again. “Nicki says you’re still living in the Dark Ages, Brye, and I agree. An intimate moonlight swim is no big deal.”
    No big deal? A would-be pastor diving into danger? Jack blasted out a noisy sigh, venting his frustration in one long, ragged breath that shuddered his body.
    Talk about temptation in the flesh.
    A malaise seemed to settle over her like a morning fog on the river, dousing the sparkle in her eyes. “Besides, I love you, Jack,” she whispered, “and I need to feel close to you tonight.”
    “Aw, Lace …” He shifted on the dock, his defenses slipping as always when Lacey was in one of her hurt and needy moods. A neediness triggered by another fight with her father, and then exacerbated by Jack going back to school. He squatted to extend a hand, understanding her moods better than she understood them herself. “Come on, babe,” he said quietly, “let me cuddle you in the chair.”
    Like a chameleon, her mood changed in the space of a splash. Dipping her head in the water, she flung her hair back with a daredevil look in her eye. “I’d rather cuddle in the water, Pastor O’Bryen. You know, two bodies afloat in a sea of love?”
    He rose and stood in a casual stance, hands perched low on his hips with a crack of a smile. “Sorry, kiddo,” he said, hoping to tease her out of it, “but I’d sink like a 500-lb. anchor in your so-called sea of love.”
    She resorted to a jut of her lower lip, employing that sad-eyed pout that always took him down. “Come on, Jack, you’re leaving me for a long, long time. The least you can do is give me a memory to seal our love.”
    He couldn’t help it—he shook his head and grinned. No question, Lacey Anne Carmichael had to be the biggest little brat on the Isle of Hope. But she was also everything Jack had ever wanted. Intelligent, warm, and brimming with life and fun and adventure, the perfect complement to his serious and sensible self. Half tomboy, half vamp, she was an adorable little girl in a woman’s body whose heart had always beat in time with his own. A best friend as deep as the Skidaway River who sparkled and shined on the surface with a sense of humor that made him laugh.
    Until now. He folded his arms, his smile suddenly flat. “I thought that’s what the promise ring was for—to ‘seal our love.’”
    She splashed away to float on her back again, gaze pinched as she extended her hand to stare at the pledge of his love, a speck of diamond barely bigger than a grain of sand on the shore. “It is, Brye,” she said softly, her playful mood dimmed by the melancholy in her tone. She lowered her hand as her gaze connected with his, a sheen of moisture glistening in her eyes