Page 8 of Sexy as Sin
The world had narrowed to this. To the two of them, this tiny table, flowers and fruit and scent and color. To her gaze fixed on his face. “You hate the sea,” she said slowly. “Yet you were on the beach, in a suit. Why?”
Exactly where he didn’t want to go. But if you had this moment, you had to take it. “Because it was time to try. I don’t hate the ocean, or not just the ocean. I hate the water, when it’s powerful.”
“There’s a reason,” she said.
A pause. “My father drowned in a river,” he said. “A long time ago. I was there. It was thirty years ago. Time to leave that fear behind.”
Wonderful. Now she felt sorry for him. Never your desired response. “Which you did,” she said. “You were out there to your waist, pulling that little girl in. Pullingmein.”
“Not exactly pounding a great white shark on the nose.”
“No. But close enough.”
A long moment, when they floated there. And then she started, asked, “What time is it?” and he looked at his watch, which had survived the traumas of the morning, as per advertised specifications, and said, “Almost ten.”
She closed her eyes and mouthed something that could have been a curse, and he stood up and said, “You need to get started.”
“Yes. I do. That event. Those rich wankers spoiling the countryside. I need to feed them.” She smiled, painfully now, and said, “You think you weren’t as brave as you wanted to be. I think it every day.”
“When can I see you?” he asked.
A sigh. “Tonight. If you’ll buy the pizza and pay for the stupid movie we stream, because that’s all I’ll want to do. If you’ve got a couch to lie on, though... I’m there.”
He glanced down at himself. The slogan didn’t look any better upside-down.Chill the Fuck Out.Never his mantra. “I’m an exclusive kind of guy,” he said, not that he wanted to say it.
“You’re not a resident kind of guy, though,” she answered. “Or are you?”
“Not even close. And yet.”
She smiled faintly. Ironically. And said, “Then not tonight, I reckon. You’ve caught me midstream, it seems. Reality bites, hey. You can keep the clothes.”
An hour and a half later, and another change of clothes. Whyhadshe worn that dress? Why had she invited him to breakfast? Why had she done any of it? Call it temporary insanity, or the aftermath of the shark. Or maybe just his insane attractiveness, even in Gordy’s ridiculous clothes.
What was it? That he knew who he was, and that who he was—wassomebody.He was powerful. That was the only word for it. Batman hadn’t just been a joke, and bloody hell, but that was sexy. And it was the way he paid attention. The way he’d listened, the way he’d looked at her when her dress had fallen down...
How carefully would a man like that kiss you? How long would he want to look at you? How seriously would he take the slow, sweet job of pleasing you? He’d want you to sit in his lap while he kissed you, too. She’d bet money on it. And he’d be so deliciously possessive.
How warm could you get in an air-conditioned van?
She needed to break up with Gordy. You couldn’t help your thoughts, but these were too many thoughts for a woman in love. There was only one answer. She wasn’t in love. Why hadn’t she faced it before? Because she’d wanted to have somebody. Bad reason.
She couldn’t have lied and said she wasn’t entangled. How would she feel if she found out he had? Horrible, that’s how. Betrayed. And if the way he’d drawn back on hearing it only made her want him more—well, that was those thoughts again.
He was American, he was nowhere close to being a resident, her fantasies were just that, because she had no idea who the bloke really was, and the episode was over. She didn’t even know his name. And, yes, if she’d been thinking faster, she could have said she’d get herself disentangled, but she so rarelydidthink that fast. Anyway, it would have sounded so desperate. Was a night on the couch with him worth feeling desperate? Plus whatever she’d feel afterwards?
“Nah, mate,” she muttered aloud. “Not so much.” You didn’t get into the match when you could already see you’d be bowled out.
Never mind. She’d see Gordy on Sunday night, and they’d have the talk. Too late for Mr. Hotness, but at least he’d shown her what she was missing. Meanwhile, it was time to get back to the part of her life that was actually going somewhere, which was why she was steering the white van off Coolamon Scenic Drive and onto a gravel road over which a brand-new white banner moved with the breeze.
Coorabell Heights
The Place of the Four Winds
Luxury view homesites selling now
The potholes on the onetime farm track had been filled, and the gravel was newly laid, probably about the same time that the rosebushes in their half-barrels lining the drive had been lifted off some truck. The rolling hills, though, in shades from lime to emerald, that unfolded like a rumpled patchwork quilt all the way to the sea in a hundred-eighty-degree view of serenity, space, and peace, were the same as always, and so were the birds calling from the trees, all trills and squawks and liquid melody, making her wish for a camera and a free afternoon.
Serenity and space and peace for now, that is. You could see the Cape all the way over to the right, and you could even see the lighthouse. That would add a half million to every overpriced property, she was sure.
