Beach Colors by Shelley Noble Read Free Book Online Page A

two-masted sailboat appeared at the end of the Point, leaving the marina. She turned to a fresh page and captured it with fast deft strokes of her drawing pencil.
    She scooted around on her butt in order to follow it out to sea, but a nearby movement caught her eye. A man stepped out of the woods and onto the pebbled beach, disturbing her concentration, not to mention her peace and solitude.
    She shrank back, not wanting to disturb or be disturbed, but she didn’t stop watching him. He sat down and took off his shoes. Then he pulled off his shirt and stood up.
    Margaux blushed at herself for her unabashed voyeurism and the curiosity that made her wonder if he was going to shed his shorts, too. Her mouth went dry as he stretched his arms wide as if he were exalting in being free from the bonds of clothes.
    He was amazing, not the lithe, gym-defined model of GQ, and not the sculpted freak of bodybuilding. But something so strong and masculine she couldn’t look away.
    He didn’t strip, but walked into the water until it was waist high, then dove into the waves, as graceful as a dolphin.
    A shiver ran up her spine and she was hit with a deep primal longing that shocked her, even as she recognized him. She shouldn’t be reacting this way to a man she didn’t even know and who she probably wouldn’t like if she did. She shouldn’t have that kind of feeling about anyone. She was still married, even if she was married to a lying, cheating, absconding . . . but she didn’t want to think about Louis.
    She wanted to watch the chief of police swim through the calm waters. His head popped up several yards farther from shore. He shook himself, at home in the water. And she wondered how he ever became a law officer. He belonged in the wild, free and—
    She brought herself up sharp. You are losing your mind. Yeah, she had every right to, but not over a man she’d hardly ever seen, much less talked to. How could she be thinking like this? She never had these kinds of thoughts when she was working. Not even about her husband.
    The realization hit her like a tidal wave. When had she stopped loving Louis? Long before he’d stolen her life. When had he stopped loving her? If he ever had. Because how could someone who loved a person, even if that love had faded, how could he have done that to her?
    And how could she be sitting here indulging in totally inappropriate thoughts about a stranger?
    She ordered herself to get up and skulk away before he came back, but she didn’t move. He swam parallel to the shore with strong, graceful strokes. She only got a glimpse of his head and sometimes his shoulders as he cut through the water, but it was mesmerizing.
    She didn’t know how long she watched, but suddenly he straightened in the water, his head bobbing out of the waves; then he dove again and disappeared beneath the surface.
    It was her chance to get to the other side of the jetty out of sight, but she sat still, holding her breath, waiting to see where he’d reappear. And jumped when he rose out of the water not ten feet away.
    He stood there with the water sluicing down his body, looking toward the shore, tan and muscular and— He turned, saw her, his movement arrested like a startled stag.
    And she was getting way too fanciful. He was a guy, nothing more. Right, so why was her heart racing like a bad case of stage fright. He cocked his head slightly, either a question or an acknowledgment of her presence. He began moving toward her but stopped when he was knee deep in water.
    “I was just, uh . . .” Her brain froze; there was a gaping silence.
    “Enjoying the view?”
    Was she ever. But was he flirting with her or talking about the landscape?
    “I was sketching.” She held up her sketchbook, realized he might think she was drawing him and said hastily, “The sailboat.” She pointed toward the water, knowing full well the sailboat had dipped out of sight at least ten minutes before.
    “I see.”
    Even though his