Chapter 2

Mac's POV

I can't believe how warm it is when we step off the plane and onto the tarmac. 82 degrees, just a handful of clouds and a cool ocean breeze that make the palm trees scattered across the perimeter sway gently.

It's been an abnormally cold Winter in Washington, the kind that begins too early in the season and will likely push into the Spring. Although it's perfect for hot chocolate and nights spent by the fire, Holidays in the tropics might be my new, favorite thing.

There's a car waiting for us with a driver that takes our bags and whisks us off on a half an hour drive that terminates on a property called Coconut Cay. It's apley deserved as palm trees full of the fruit are spread all over the land.

The house - err 'bungalow' as Harm called it is painted in white with pastel blue trim. It's small and cute with a porch he urges me to follow that wraps around to the back. It opens up to a wooden deck partially covered by a pergola where a bougainvillea has draped it's thorny vines through.

My God if this doesn't look like something out of a postcard, I don't know what does. The grass is freshly cut, lush and green with more palm trees than I could count. There's a path that leads through a wall of seagrapes to the sand and beyond that, the inviting Sapphire Blue waters of the Bahamas that lap the shore.

I was regretting the impromptu packing, the multiple flights and the man using me as his last resort. All of those thoughts vanished with the sound of the waves and the scent of salt and sea.

"Welcome to Coconut Cay." Harm's barefoot when he approaches wearing swim trunks and a tacky Hawaiian shirt. He presses a cold glass into my hand, a tropical drink with a pineapple resting on the rim. "It's a virgin piña colada made with coconut from the farm." He states stirring his own drink that I assume has rum.

"Oh, thank you." I wonder when he had the time to make these until my internal clock kickstarts and I realize I've been sitting outside for nearly an hour. "This is wonderful, thank you."

He blushes and then nudges my shoulder with his. "Whadda think? Better than Christmas in DC, right?"

"Much better. We're just missing a tree." I'm joking of course but the look in his eyes is just the opposite.

Harm smiles that sexy, zillion megawatt smile and nods. "Mom has lights and ornaments stored in a closet and I'm sure we can find a tree in town."

"Oh, I didn't mean…I was joking."

"I'm not. It's Christmas, Mac. A tree is tradition." Harm stands and walks out on the lawn, his eyes studying the coconut filled trees as if he's taking stock.

Something is different.

There's an air about him that is much more relaxed, carefree and I realize it's this place. On the flight over he explained that Frank's family was Bahamian and the trees around the property were still part of a working coconut farm that took up most of the land.

The bungalow was originally built for workers and eventually modernized with all of the creature comforts anyone would wish to have. I can't believe anyone would choose to leave a place like this but then the Burnett's live in an oceanfront home in California. Other than cooler waters, the views are still stunning.

"Go get changed, Mac. I'll pull a couple of loungers out to the beach and get us all set up."

"Really?" Oh, lounging on the beach sounds so delightful that I nearly spill my drink as I pop up.

He grins, "Unless you plan on sitting right here all week."

"Hah, no. You're funny." I'm almost through the sliding glass door when Harm asks me to grab beach towels from a closet in the hall.

Harm's POV.

I must have stood and watched her for an hour. The way Mac stared at the ocean with such contentment on her face filled me with a sense of pride. Some of my best childhood memories were made on that beach, in that water and across the land when it was time to harvest the fruit.

This home comes with a bit of magic that's impossible to duplicate and only understood when you bask in the natural beauty. I'm glad I can share this with someone I care for and instantly feel like a heel when I think of all the women I called. None of them could hold a candle to her and although we're not romantically involved, just sitting next to her meant more than a meaningless romp in the hay.

I pull the loungers out of storage and drag them to the beach, angling them where they face the ocean. A little round table that doubles as a stand for a huge umbrella is propped between them and when my task is done claim a lounger and glance back towards the house.

Mac is heading down the path holding the remainder of her drink with one hand and a rather large yellow bag in the other. She wears a sarong that covers most of her and stops a little lower than mid-thigh. What I love the most is her smile.

It's wide and beautiful, like she's been given the best Christmas present of her life. She needed this therapy, the only one that comes from the sand and the sea. I needed it too but while I was avoiding the cold, Mac was running away from so much more

I help with her burden and laugh when she snatches her hand away, the one holding her drink. Mac blushes and then laughs along with me and I feel something ruminate in my heart at the sound. "Liked it that much, huh?"

"Never had one so fresh. Admittedly, I hate coconut." She wrinkles her nose as if some smell has offended her and then drops onto the empty lounger. "Something about the taste is a little offensive."

I understand, artificial coconut extracts have given the fruit a bad name. "The real stuff is different, not as sweet and is really good for you. Studies have shown it can help with dehydration, it's good for your skin and-" Her brown hits her hairline and I realize I'm rambling facts she's probably not interested in. "I'll have Eric, the grounds keeper, put two coconuts in the fridge. I'll make you convert."

"If you insist."

Now, I'm a man that appreciates the female figure and I've tried, really tried to not be the guy that gawks at a girl just because she has a killer body. Well, I'm gawking.

I've seen Mac in a bikini before, a tiny neon green thing that we bought in Miami and was purposely risque in effort to entertain our target. It worked, of course and though I may have noticed how good she looked, work gave me little time to really appreciate her body.

The sarong comes off in slow motion falling onto the lounger. Beneath was a blue bikini, the bottom with thin straps that rested high on her hips. The top was merely two triangles held together by another set of equally thin straps that barely contain her breasts.

Mac is oblivious when she bends over to pull two towels out of her bag, handing me one and stretching the other over her chair. She pulls out a book, finally sits down and while I hope that would stop my blood from rushing south, her bare legs are far too incredible to ignore.

Fuck.

I'm physically attracted to her and have been since we first met. She's an incredible woman, a knockout but when I brought her on this trip it wasn't about our unresolved tension or sex. I was a friend helping a friend and I don't think I'll make it a week when she looks so good