really more a pool kind of gal. Salt water is bad for my hair and all that.”
He grinned at her feeble excuse. “No problem. The pool is good.”
“But you wanted to have a drink.”
“Not really.”
“Look, Rick, you don’t have to baby-sit me. Ginger is free to go off and—”
Taking her hand, he pulled her close.
She drew back. “What are you doing?”
He slid her arms around his neck, and then lowered his head. Before she knew what hit her, their lips met. His felt so warm and insistent, she didn’t care that they were standing in the middle of the beach with at least a dozen people around them.
He trailed the tip of his tongue across her lower lip and then over the seam, increasing the pressure until she opened to him. He tasted incredibly sweet as if he’d just sucked on a mint. His hands explored her back, followed the outline of her buttocks until he actually cupped her against him. He was already hard, his heat pressing against her belly. She wanted desperately to melt into him.
A catcall brought her to her senses.
She drew back, breathless, reluctant. Horribly embarrassed.
Rick brushed the hair away from her face. “I’ve wanted to do that since I was sixteen.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because, kid…” He touched the tip of her nose. “You were only thirteen.”
“Oh.” She smiled self-consciously. He was right, of course. It didn’t matter that she’d convinced her young heart she loved him. Had he kissed her, she would have run and hidden and not surfaced until he’d left at the end of summer.
“Remember how shy you were when we first met?”
She lowered her arms from around his neck, while half wishing he’d protest. He didn’t. “You were the first boy I really got to know,” she said. “You were totally new territory for me.”
“You had a couple of school friends who hung around at the swimming hole.”
“That didn’t count. I grew up with them. They were just pals.”
“And I wasn’t?” He grinned. “I’ll be damned. You did have a crush on me.”
“You were the older boy from glamorous California. All the girls in town had a crush on you.”
His expression got serious. “What about now?”
Her stomach lurched. “What do you mean?”
He smiled. “Has the attraction faded?”
“Well…no.” She folded her arms across her chest and his gaze immediately went to her breasts. An alarming amount of cleavage showed above the sarong and she casually uncrossed her arms. “This is very weird.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Because we have a past. I know that you hate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and chocolate ice cream. And that you didn’t learn how to ride a bike until you were eleven.”
“Shit, how did you remember all that stuff?”
She peered closer. “You still have a scar.”
His hand went to the side of his chin where she’d accidentally clobbered him with the butt of a fishing pole that first summer. “Yeah, you maimed me for life.”
“Excuse me, but if I remember correctly I was defending myself.”
“Right,” he scoffed. “I think it was the other way around.”
“You were trying to throw me in the lake.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Bull.”
His grin was slow and wicked. “Trust me, I wasn’t trying to throw you in the lake.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“Trying to feel you up.”
That startled a laugh out of her. At thirteen she’d just started to develop breasts. “You lie.”
One side of his mouth lifted. “You asked, I admitted. Deal with it.”
“Gee, just as charming as ever.”
His eyes glittered with humor. “We’re getting off track. Why is having a past a problem?”
She sighed, wishing he hadn’t gone back to that subject.
“It makes things sticky.”
“That’s hardly an explanation.” He drew her towards him again, kissing her briefly. She breathed in the pleasant smell of the cocoa butter glistening on his tanned shoulders. “How about we go get that drink and let nature take its course?”
She almost commented on his lack of originality, but all she could think about was how much she wanted him to kiss her again. Judging by the hungry look in his eyes, it wouldn’t take much to coax him.
He released her and then pulled the towel from around his neck and draped it over his arm. But not before she saw the erection he’d been trying to hide.
“Okay, we’ll at least have a drink.” God, she just hoped her legs still worked.
He took her hand, the feeling as natural as if he’d been doing it for a lifetime, and led her toward the hotel.
“I think the pool bar is that way,” she said, pointing in the opposite direction.
Rick squeezed her hand. “We’re not going to the pool. We’re going to my room.”
3
LITTLE, SKINNY, freckle-faced Carly Saunders. Rick shook his head as he got out the miniature bottles of booze from the small refrigerator. This was the last place he would have expected to run into her. Not that he’d given her much thought over the past eleven or twelve years.
Yeah, he’d wanted to kiss her that day they’d gone for a hike and picnic near Little Reservoir, but that had been hormones talking. She’d been far too young for him.
He turned around to look at her sitting on the couch. She sure wasn’t now.
“Either a Bloody Mary or a screwdriver is about all we have the stuff for,” he said. “Or a beer. What’s your pleasure?”
She blinked, and he hoped the same thing crossed her mind as did his. “I’d rather have a soda or water.”
“Even
