“Do you think I’m some sort of hard-ass?” he asked with mock indignation. “Someone who doesn’t have a sense of humor? I’ve got tons of humor.”

“You do, huh?”

He leaned back against the bench. “Absolutely.”

She watched his lips as he spoke. She’d never noticed but the man had perfect teeth. “You have a lovely smile. It was one of the first things I noticed about you. It lights your face.”

His smile came, slow and seductive. “Are you trying to be nice now?”

“When haven’t I been nice?”

He shrugged. “The other day, when you blew me off. You walked off the beach without even saying hello.”

“Me, not nice? Excuse me? I came to the beach to meet you. Like we’d arranged.”

He raised one brow skeptically. “You were late. Very late. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I got held up at work.”

“So why did you walk off? I know you saw me wave.”

Carson picked at the rim of her cup, suddenly tongue-tied. “I . . . well, I saw you with someone else and I didn’t want to intrude.” She sipped her chai, not wishing to say more.

“Someone else?” His face shifted to reveal his confusion. Then understanding dawned, and that crooked smile slowly eased across his face and his eyes sparked with amusement. “Ah, yes. Her.”

Carson felt the burn of a blush beginning. She took another sip of her tea.

“She’s just someone who hangs out at the beach all the time. She’s a friend.”

A friend? They looked more than friendly . . . Carson didn’t know if she should believe him. “Whatever,” Carson said. “She had her arms all over you. I just assumed.”

He didn’t reply, which only made her cheeks flame brighter.

“Looks like we both assumed wrong.”

Carson met his gaze and tried not to smile. “Looks like.”

He reached out for her hand and turned his palm over to wrap his fingers around hers. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

They slowly released hands but she could still feel the tingling in her palm. She was glad that the tension between them had dissipated, to be replaced by this new warmth that was running in her veins. She liked him, more than she’d thought she would. There was something open and honest about him that made her feel comfortable, even safe.

“Tell you what,” Blake said, stretching his long legs out before him and crossing his ankles. “Let’s you and me try this over again. How about I call you the next time the wind is good? Say, after work?”

Carson followed his example and leaned back, crossing her legs. “Sounds like a plan.”

He pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?”

So, now they were exchanging numbers, she realized. A big step. She pulled out her phone as she recited her cell phone number. “Yours?” He told her his.

“We know where we live,” he said with a slight chuckle.

Carson smiled as she punched his number into her phone. “By the way, Harper said to thank you.”

“No thanks needed. I think we both know I did it for you.”

Carson’s hand froze and all humor had fled, to be replaced by a sincerity that unnerved her. This was suddenly moving all too fast.

On the street a car backfired, causing her to startle. It broke the moment, for which she was grateful. Carson tucked her phone back into her bag. “I was just thinking, you know a lot about me, but I know virtually nothing about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, what do you do for a living? How’s that for starters?”

“Classic,” he replied. “I’m with NOAA.”

“The National Ocean . . .” She trailed off, not knowing the correct name.

“Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration,” he finished for her.

She cocked her head as she looked at his face, considering. “What area? Oceans, water, reefs? Wait, are you a weatherman?”

“Would it surprise you if I was?”

She chuckled. “A little.”

“Dolphins,” he said.

Carson’s smile disappeared and she was suddenly alert. “What about dolphins?”

He looked slightly perplexed at her reaction. “I work with cetaceans. Tursiops truncatus, to be specific. Atlantic bottlenose. Our locals.”

Carson sat forward and turned to face him, her heart beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “What do you do?” she asked.

He took a long breath and crossed his arms. “Well, actually I do a little bit of everything. My primary work is research on the effects of environmental contaminants, emerging diseases, and stressors on the health of marine mammals. That’s a mouthful to say I study dolphins—their health and their habitat. There’s a lot to do and not enough time. Or money.”

“So you’re a biologist?”

“That’s right. I have my Ph.D. in molecular marine biology.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t quite digest that her friendly kiteboarding buddy was also a doctor—of dolphins, no less. Mr. Predictable should have been Dr. Predictable.

“Are you interested in dolphins?” he asked her.

Carson didn’t know where to begin. “Yes,” she blurted. “Very much. Now, anyway.”

“Why now?”

She waved her hand. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time, if you do.”

Carson told him about the shark. Even on this fourth telling of the story she felt the same sickening sensations she had when she stared into the shark’s deathly eye and felt the girth of the sandpaper-rough body when it bumped her. She’d never forget that sense of terror. Blake went very still and his brows furrowed as he hung on every word.

“That’s a pretty amazing story. I’ve heard of incidents where dolphins protect swimmers, of course. They’re well documented. But I’ve never seen it happen.”

“Exactly. It’s kind of like a near-death experience. It’s cool to hear about, but when it happens to you, not only do you never doubt they exist, but it’s life-changing.”

“I guess it would be. To be honest, I’m kind of jealous.”

Carson appreciated that he was taking her story seriously. She’d have been crushed if he’d laughed it off as her imagination or flatly disbelieved her.