Page 60 of The Art of Loving Lacy
He stood beside the bed looking more handsome and virile than he ever had. Sunlight spilled into the room through the sheer curtains, casting a streak across her stomach. Dane’s hand disappeared into the streak as he lowered himself to the bed beside her.
“What do you want, Lace?” he whispered.
He looked at her with so much love, she felt it like a presence in the room. “You. I want you.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Let me in, baby. Trust me. Tell me what you like so I can be your perfect man.”
Her pulse quickened at the thought of actually saying what she wanted, but his eager eyes, and the way he was caressing her cheek, opened the door, and she walked right through, telling him what she liked as he stripped off her clothes. And the more he gave, the bolder she became. Heat blazed through her with his every touch, his every passionate kiss. Just when she thought she might lose her mind, he drew back and whispered, “I love making love to you, Lacy Snow.”
She closed her eyes, taking pleasure in the masterful, loving attention he gave her, and wondering how she could have ever walked away from him in the first place.
Chapter Nineteen
IT WAS THREE in the afternoon by the time Lacy and Dane arrived at the Salt Pond Visitor Center in Orleans. Lacy couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt happier. Dane had spent the last twenty-four hours helping her through her fears, taking care of his friend, and showing her just how much he loved her. He’d weaseled his way right back into her heart, and as he reached for her hand with a warm smile, she realized that even if she was never able to overcome her fear of sharks completely, they just might be able to be together after all.
In the center of the lobby was an exhibit featuring the Brave Foundation, complete with a reduced-sized model of a great white shark and several billboards of information and photographs.
“This is all about Brave,” she said.
“Yeah. We want the community to understand what it is that we do,” Dane said.
“Speak of the devil,” said a tall woman from behind the reception desk. She smiled at Dane, revealing deep grooves across her forehead and around her mouth. Her skin had a leathery look, as if she’d spent every free moment in the sun.
“We’ll look at it in just a sec,” Dane said. He turned to the woman behind the counter, who looked to be in her mid-forties, with short, sandy blond hair and green eyes. Beside her stood a tall, lanky young man with short brown hair, wearing a park ranger uniform. His eyes locked on Dane.
“Shelley, how are you?” Dane led Lacy to the desk. “This is my girlfriend, Lacy Snow.” He squeezed Lacy’s hand.
Girlfriend?The term took her by surprise, then settled around her until it felt like a second skin.Girlfriend.“Nice to meet you,” Lacy said.
“Hi, Lacy. Nice to meet you, too. I was just telling Tom all about you, Dane,” Shelley said. “He wanted to meet the shark hunter.”
Dane smiled. “That would be me, but I prefer researcher or tagger. Hunter sounds like I might hurt the sharks.” He extended his hand, and Tom’s eyes grew wide.
Tom pulled his shoulders back and said, “Yes, sorry. Researcher. Got it. It’s so nice to meet you. I was looking over the exhibit and…wow. That’s all I can say. Pretty cool stuff.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. We tagged an eight-footer the other day. Hopefully, we’ll gain valuable data and tag a few more over the next week or so. It’s nice to meet you,” Dane said.
“I won’t hold you up,” Tom said. His eyes moved to Lacy. “Enjoy the exhibit, Lacy.”
“Thank you,” she said.
They crossed the room, and Lacy scanned the large orange, black, and blue sign that read BRAVEFOUNDATION, which hung across the top of the exhibit boards with photographs of Dane and Rob lining them. Dane’s dark eyes smiled in every one, his tanned, muscular arms glistening in the sun. In most of the photographs, he was on a boat, leaning over the side, holding the fin of a shark or crouching over a shark that was lying in the center of the boat. She could almost feel the wind blowing his hair askew.
“This is from nine years ago,” she said, pointing to the information posted below the picture of a younger Dane wearing a bathing suit and tank top at the helm of a boat.
“That was a great day. We tagged three sharks that afternoon in Maui. You can just see the edge of Rob’s arm.” He pointed to the right side of the picture. “He was gloating. I remember it like it was yesterday.”
Lacy noticed one common thread in each picture; the exhilaration that radiated from Dane’s eyes was palpable. There was no doubt that the man in those pictures loved what he was doing. She looked at Dane now as he stood beside her studying the pictures, and she knew that he could never give up what he did for a living—and for the first time, she wondered if she could, or if living a life of continuous travel would be overwhelming for her.
“Excuse me, mister?”
Lacy and Dane turned toward the child’s voice.
“Hi there,” Dane said. “My name’s Dane and this is Lacy.”
You included me. I love that.
“I’m Ashton and I’m six. My mom said you were the shark guy, and I wanted to know what you’re tracking on the television. All I see are red dots.” Ashton’s barely there blond eyebrows were pulled together above his startling blue eyes.
