Free The Good Enough Husband by Sylvie Fox Page A

like they’d seen a lot of miles. She’d never looked more beautiful to him.
    “Do you mind if I bring Cody? He could use a little exercise,” she said by way of greeting.
    Ben shoved his quaking hands in his pockets. He’d never been more jittery with a woman. It had been a lot of years, but he knew the feeling. He really liked her and dreaded saying something or doing something that would scare her away. Something in her aloof nature suggested he wouldn’t get many chances with Hannah. He watched as she grabbed the dog’s leash, probably oblivious to his tension, and ushered them out of the house.
    “I scouted out some locations this morning. I think we can catch the light if we hurry.” She turned her back on him, and guided the dog down a narrow beach access path. Ben watched her walk away. Hannah had done nothing to restrain the golden brown hair that curled wildly around her head in the damp air. The baggy clothing did nothing to hide her slim figure, especially her small, round butt that he knew would fit perfectly in the palms of his hands if she rode him during lovemaking. She led them all to a small cove on the deserted beach. Off leash, Cody occupied hi mself picking up and discarding seaweed, small crabs, and running back and forth from the water.
    ***
    Hannah busied herself choosing a lens and fiddling with controls on the camera. Despite years of having one Canon or another as the extension of her right hand, she fumbled with the dials. She gave up and watched him. Ben played with the dog, chasing him, and throwing some object Cody had found. He’d shrugged off his leather jacket, and dropped it carelessly on the beach. He looked so naturally athletic and in tune with the dog. He wore an off-white shirt and gray cords, and she could see the muscles of his shoulders and back move against the thin cotton. She couldn’t help but notice that the shirt was a good contrast against his olive skin. He hadn’t bothered to shave and the two day old stubble added a little bit of the rogue. This she observed with her photographer’s eye.
    She wanted to drop the camera, drop the pretense. Her fingers itched to grab his hand and pull him into a long embrace, and have his long, lean body warm her, warding off the chill. She wanted to look into those blue-gray eyes and see desire flare. She wanted him to bend his head and kiss her, blotting out the setting sun and da rkening clouds looming to the north. If she were looking at him with the eye of a potential lover, she’d have dropped the guise of the camera and suggested they give sex on the beach a try. But she wasn’t. She swung the camera back up to her eye, and the control knobs came as second nature to her again.
    Hannah gave in to the impulse to release the shutter, snapping as many candid shots as the camera could handle. The pounding waves drowned out the snap of the shutter and the click of the lens. She hastily looked at a few of the shots on the viewfinder. This was going to be good. She was glad that she had lugged her Ma cBook with her. The satisfaction of looking at large scale images of Ben was waiting around the corner, even if she couldn’t print anything to tack up on the walls. In her home office, the setup was perfect for making prints with the large printer she often used for house flyers. Thoughts of her home in Newport Beach rose like bile in her throat. She swallowed the unwanted feelings. Hannah closed her eyes for a long moment, willing thoughts of Michael and her Orange County life away. She made her one last candid shot, then caught Ben’s eye.
    “I discovered this afternoon that ‘black sand’ was a bit of a misnomer,” she said hoping he didn’t hear the quaver in her voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to bring something for you to sit on.” Standing ten feet away from him fully clothed, she was more ner vous than she had been halfway to naked on the small couch in the house.
    “It’s okay,” he said, lowering himself