Rough Harbor by Andrea Stein Page B

trying to keep busy,” he said. “It’s not really my thing, you know, but I thought since I was moving to New York, it would be nice to have a place to go, you know, where everyone knew my name.”
    “So you decided to open a restaurant?”
    “It’s really Tony’s. I’m just the silent partner. Plus I always get a table. And free appetizers.”
    She looked at him. “What about a percentage of the profits?”
    Noah laughed. “Tony said there wouldn’t be any. At least for a year. So I get free apps instead.”
    “I hope you made a better deal when you sold your company,” Caitlyn said. Her eyes were worried.
    Noah reached out and took her hand. He felt her wanting to take it back, felt the heat crawling up his skin, and not because she had been running.
    “Don’t worry; I did. I can afford to work on my passion projects now.”
    She laughed. “That sounds very Californian of you. Are you sure you want to move back East? I think we’re a little more serious-minded here.”
    Noah took a step closer to her, so that they were almost touching, not just his hand and her arm, but just inches away, face-to-face. He felt his breath quicken as he looked into the deep blue of her eyes, wanting to brush back a curl of the black hair that escaped from her cap, twine it around his fingers, feel its softness.
    Her back was against the solid bulk of the rock, and he had her caged by his arms. Her cheeks were flushed, and he could hear the heavy sounds of her breath. He took one hand and slowly undid the zipper of her fleece, exposing an ivory V of skin where her shirt dipped down.
    Caitlyn watched him, eyes locked with his. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but she wasn’t making a move. Noah took that as an invitation and trailed his fingertip against her exposed skin. Just skimming it along, but he saw her eyes flash and she convulsed.
    “You were saying something about being serious,” he whispered, leaning in over her. Even now she smelled clean, fresh, a hint of apple, maybe some wood smoke.
    “I don’t remember…” Her hands went up, running up his arms, tracing the breadth of his shoulders, coming to rest around his neck. She looked at him a moment, invitation in her eyes. Noah went for it, bringing his lips down to meet hers. She rose up to meet him, their lips joining. At first, it was slow and hesitant, but all of a sudden he wanted more, all of her, the part of Caitlyn he’d never gotten. He pushed her up against the rock, raising her up so she was on his level, letting him kiss her, harder now. He could feel her fingers running through his hair and the soft murmur of his name that became a moan.
    “Noah…”
    And then it became “No, no.” He stopped, suddenly jumping away from her. His breath was coming hard and fast, and he could feel himself aroused.
    “God, Caitlyn, what are you doing?” he said, running his fingers through his hair. It was chilly this morning, and he suddenly noticed the wind whipping in from the water, the sand dancing in the air.
    “What am I doing?” Her eyes snapped, and she took a step forward and then back from him, so she was clear to run. “You’re the one who…”
    “What?” he asked. He was calmer now, watching her. Surely he hadn’t been imagining the want in her face, the desire he’d felt.
    “It can’t be this way.”
    “What way?” He was puzzled.
    “We’re not teenagers anymore, Noah. I’m not going to shag you on Sailor’s Rock for the whole world to see.”
    “Oh, so you mean you were considering it?” Noah felt himself getting ready again, but Caitlyn held up her hand.
    “We snuck around once. I won’t do it again. Noah, you’re my boss. Been there, done that.” Caitlyn started to walk away, her feet shaking loose the stones on the beach.
    “No. Sam Harris is the boss. Think of me as an observer. A disinterested one,” he took a few steps to follow her, and she spun around.
    “I’m not like that, Noah. I don’t just date any