Page 85 of Kiss an Angel

“Go on.”

“You have a really great body.”

“A great body? Is that it? That’s the second-best thing you can come up with about me?”

“I didn’t say it was the second-best thing. All I’m doing is telling you something good about you, and that’s something really good.”

“My body?”

“It’s terrific, Alex. It really is.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The pounding of the surf filled the brief silence that fell between them.

“You, too,” he said.

“What?”

“Your body. I like it.”

“Mine? But there’s not one great thing about it. My shoulders are too narrow for my hips, and my thighs are too fat. My stomach—”

He shook his head. “The next time I hear a woman going on about how neurotic men are, I’m going to remember this. You tell me you like my body, and what do I say? I say, thank you. Then I tell you I like yours and what do I hear? A long list of grievances.”

“It’s the burden women bear who’ve grown up playing with Barbie.” His grunt of disgust somehow pleased her. “Thank you for the compliment, but—be honest. Don’t you think my breasts are a little small?”

“This is a trick question, right?”

“Just tell me the truth.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes.”

“All right, then.” He caught her by the shoulders so that she was facing the ocean, then stepped behind her. His arms slipped around her and he cupped her breasts. Her skin prickled with need as he gently squeezed and molded the flesh. He ran his thumbs down their soft slopes and brushed them over the hardening tips.

Her breath quickened. His lips feathered her earlobe as he whispered to her, “I think they’re perfect, Daisy. Just the right size.”

She turned, and no force in the world could have kept her from kissing him. Clasping her arms around his neck, she went on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his, her lips soft and yielding. His tongue teased and hers responded. She lost all concept of time or even of separation. Her body became a part of his and his part of hers.

“Looky there, Dwayne! It’s them two from the circus.”

Daisy and Alex jumped apart like two teenagers caught necking by the cops.

The owner of the strident voice was a plump, middle-aged woman dressed in a lime green floral outfit and carrying a big black purse. Her husband’s blue net gimme cap concealed what was probably a bald head. His slacks were rolled up to his calves and his sport shirt pulled tight over his belly.

The woman beamed at them. “We saw your show. My Dwayne, he didn’t believe you two was really in love. He said it was all fake, but I told him you couldn’t fake somethin’ like ‘at.” She patted her husband’s belly. “Me and Dwayne been married thirty-two years, so we know somethin’ about true love.”

Next to her, Alex had stiffened like a poker, leaving Daisy to smile at the couple. “I’m sure you do.”

“Nothin’ like a good marriage to keep your feet on the ground.”

Alex gave the couple a curt nod and grabbed Daisy’s arm to pull her away. Daisy turned and called out to them. “I hope you have thirty-two more!”

“You, too, hon!”

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