Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(22)

***

For the first time since going on vacation, Bront? spent a day in the sun and enjoyed every moment of it. She played in the waves, lay out on the sand, hunted for seashells, and laughed her ass off when Logan built the sorriest looking sand castle ever. They played like children all afternoon, right down to making sand angels and wrestling in the water.

Once out of the water, Bront? put her bra and boy shorts back on, not quite brave enough to run around stark nak*d. To her relief, Logan followed her lead, and they walked up and down the beach a few times examining debris floating in the water and talking. They were covered in sand and their underwear was more wet than dry, but they didn’t care.

Eventually, they grew tired of frolicking in the water, and Logan suggested they make the SOS signal.

“I suppose we should,” Bront? said mournfully, looking at the setting sun. She didn’t want the day to end.

He must have noticed her reluctance, because he regarded her for a long moment, then said, “There’s enough driftwood on the beach that we could build a fire and hang out here a few hours more.”

She brightened. “That sounds like a lovely idea.” Her stomach, however, ruined it by growling.

Logan’s lips twitched with amusement. “How about I work on the SOS and building a fire, and you go and get dry clothes and something to eat and drink?”

Bront? snapped her fingers at him. “Now that sounds like a plan. I’ll be right back.”

“Take the flashlight,” he told her, and picked up a heavy piece of driftwood, dragging it forward into the sand.

She did, and raced up the dune, spraying sand as she walked. She’d seen bottles of wine earlier and thought it might be pleasant to enjoy one on the beach. They had sticks of beef jerky taken from the gift shop, and she could probably find some cheese in the restaurant somewhere. Wine, cheese, and a quasi– beef product. Not bad. Of course, if they were going to have a fire, they should have s’mores. With that in mind, she went to the restaurant and raided the kitchen until she found exactly what she was looking for—graham crackers and marshmallows. With the foodstuff and a few bottles of water to round things out, along with a spare blanket that they’d left out to dry earlier, she headed back down to the beach.

While she’d been inside, the sun had set even lower, turning the orange skies into a deep, smoky purple. On the beach, she could see that Logan had spelled out a SOS in driftwood, and set up a pyramid of wood on the far end of the beach. She headed there and made it to his side just as the fire caught.

He glanced up at her with satisfaction as he got to his feet and continued to feed small pieces of wood into the burning pyramid. “You look great.”

She laughed at that, glancing down at her bare, sandy legs, clad only in aqua shoes. She was now wearing a lemon-yellow Bahamas T-shirt that was two sizes too big and went down to her thighs, and she was pretty sure that her hair was one big snarl. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I know. But you still look great.” The look he gave her was appreciative. “I’m glad you’re back.”

She hefted the wine bottle. “I brought drinks, food, and dessert.”

“I’m a lucky man.”

“And a flirt,” she teased back, but she couldn’t help smiling. “But I think that’s a forgivable offense.”

They spread the blanket on the ground and set up the food, taking bites out of the jerky, crackers, and cheese and drinking straight from the wine bottle.

The sun disappeared below the horizon, and the sky grew dark. Soon, the only light glittering for miles was their small fire. It made Bront? feel very small and alone, and she moved closer to Logan.

He mistook her gesture and passed the wine bottle again, glancing over at her. “Thirsty?”

She took another sip of wine, grimacing at the strong taste of the red. She’d grabbed the most expensive bottle—because hey, why not?—and it was rather strong. She was more of a boxed wine kind of girl anyhow. “Just thinking.”

“Thinking about?”

“How there’s no one around for miles.” She stared off into the dark skies and uncrossed her legs, stretching them out on the blanket. “And how that can sometimes be a little frightening.”

His hand went to her ankle, and he gave her a gentle squeeze before caressing her skin. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, and Bront? sucked in a breath. After a moment, Logan said, “Don’t be frightened. I’m right here next to you.”

“I’m glad,” she told him softly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

“You’d probably still be in the elevator.”

She frowned. She didn’t like to think about that. If he hadn’t been here . . . she shook her head. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

His hand remained on her ankle, his thumb lightly gliding over the skin in a way that made her feel nervous and restless and aroused all at once. He wasn’t doing anything else, though, just touching her. She stared down at that hand and then blurted, “Do you want s’mores? You know, chocolate and graham crackers and marshmallows? They’re the perfect camping treat.”

He glanced at the fire, then at her on the blanket. “I suppose this is a lot like camping, isn’t it?”

“Right down to the campfire,” she said with a grin. “Do you have a stick for my marshmallow?”