Touched by Lightning [Dreams of You] (Romantic Suspense) by Tina Wainscott

The group of people ooh’d and ahh’d at the pup’s bandaged leg, but when they looked up to see who the dog was with, they turned away. Adrian didn’t seem to care. He planted the two bottles of water he bought in a shady spot, then pulled off his jacket and set it on the light brown sand, gesturing for her to sit on it.
    She almost laughed at the gesture but managed to curb it into a smile. God, but it had been so long since she’d seen that kind of chivalry. Even Jack had been too selfish to do such a thing. She sat down, pulling off her own coat and hugging her knees to her chest. Adrian took off his shoes and socks and leaned back, letting the sun caress his face. His dark curls danced in the breeze, and she fought an irresistible urge to reach out and touch them. They looked soft and silky.
    Sunlight glistened off the cerulean blue water, a thousand diamonds scattered for the taking. Waves lapped up the sand, washing up with a swoosh, then retreating silently.
    She let her head roll back and closed her eyes, smiling up at the sun. Oh, but it was strange and wonderful to feel as young as her twenty-six years instead of the old lady she looked and felt like in her daily existence. When she opened her eyes again, Adrian was leaning on his side watching her. In those brown eyes lingered a smile, the same one that was on his sensual lips.
    “You’re enjoying yourself,” he said.
    She nodded. “I love coming down here.”
    “I know. I mean, I could tell. I’ll bet you were a real beach bunny once.”
    She looked at him, wondering how he could ever guess that. “I was down here all the time, if that’s what you mean.” Almost every day when she was young, building sandcastles or playing out Barbie adventures.
    “That’s what I mean.”
    He rubbed a hand across his forehand, then pulled off his sweater. Beneath he wore a T-shirt that stretched tight across his chest. His arms were tan and muscular. She caught herself staring and looked at Crackers sniffing around some piles of seaweed.
    “You said you were in construction. What kind?”
    He took a stick and made lines in the sand. “Mostly houses. Some remodeling.” He looked at her, his gaze holding hers. “What about you? What did you do before…” He gestured vaguely, but she knew what he was talking about.
    “I wanted to be a professional photographer.” She looked out at the ocean, narrowing her eyes. “Then I went through some tough times and had to stop.”
    Tough times. How could she call what she’d been through ‘tough times’? When your mother is blown to bits in front of you, and you think you are going to die, too. She shook her head, disgusted.
    The touch of his hand on hers jerked her back to the present. “Are you all right?”
    She nodded, not wanting those memories to spoil her day. She had plenty of time to think about that. His finger caressed the mottled skin on the back of her hand. She pulled it back, not wanting him to see the ugly scar tissue.
    “Does that scar have anything to do with your tough times?”
    “No,” she answered too quickly. “Yes. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “Fair enough.”
    She saw understanding in his eyes, but also a flash of something fierce and determined. Then he took her hand, that scarred hand, and pressed it to his mouth. His kiss sent shockwaves through her body, but she didn’t pull it back. Three years ago flames had licked at her hand, and now they were again. This time they were blissful, but just as searing. He kept his gaze on hers and she wondered what he saw.
    Still holding her hand, he grazed her cheek with the back of his other hand. Her chin trembled. Her heartbeat pounded through her as he moved closer. He pulled the ponytail holder from the bottom of her braid and loosened her braid. The wind pulled it gently over her shoulders.
    He drew his fingers up the length of her neck until they reached her chin. His mouth looked soft. His hand felt soft. He could see right