“Fireworks lost their appeal copared to girls by the time I was ten,” he murmured. His right hand skated over her stomach and upward.
“Ten?” she asked. “Are you sure about that?”
“Early bloomer,” he whispered. The combination of his warm breath and the soft hair that brushed her skin made her gasp.
Matt’s fingers were no longer cool as he slid his hand under the waistband of Abby’s gauzy pants. He traced her hipbone, swirling his fingertips in the hollow to the inside. “You know, I wanted to touch this exact spot that day you had the wreck.” He stroked her freshly healed skin gently before finding the soft hollow once again. “I was supposed to be checking out your injury, and I was restraining myself from this. Is it wrong to be glad you’re biking-challenged, for a variety of reasons?”
Abby laughed.
“I need to taste this spot,” he murmured, pushing her tank-top strap down and kissing a path to her shoulder.
She whimpered and shifted around. The grit of sand beneath her hips made her realize where they were. She cupped Matt’s cheek with one hand as she smoothed her shirt down with the other.
“This isn’t a good place,” she said.
“Why?” His voice was muffled against her skin. “It’s dark. There’s a blanket.”
“And sand.”
“There’s a blanket,” he repeated, chuckling into Abby’s ear.
Abby caught his hands and tucked her chin down until he sighed and lay next to her. He rested his mussed head on one palm and raised his eyebrows. Abby smiled at his obvious impatience. “As much as I’m enjoying the whole From Here to Eternity vibe, sand in the naughty bits is not fun.”
“It’s just a little sand,” Matt coaxed, sliding his hand over Abby’s stomach again.
She slapped it. “One grain is too much. Voice of experience.” She rolled to her feet and extended a hand to him. “Besides, fireworks are over.”
Matt let himself be tugged to his feet. He pushed Abby’s hair away from her ear and kissed the hollow beneath. “The fireworks are over for now.” He scooped up the blanket and Abby’s sandals.
“See? There’s that cocky thing again,” Abby teased. They walked along the sand, their joined hands swinging between them. Sarah’s wicked laugh rang out above the music as they approached the party. They exchanged smiles that turned to twin frowns when the laugh became an angry shout.
Abby could see Sarah in the light of the fading bonfire, surrounded by Tyler and his boys as the last party guests looked on in confusion. She dropped Matt’s hand and took off down the beach, shouting, “Hey! Stop that!”
Before she got near enough for any of the jeering boys to grab her, Matt stopped her and pointed to the figure moving swiftly toward the loose group, closely followed by a uniformed officer.
Tyler grabbed Sarah’s arm, and she shook his hand off roughly. “I said go home, Tyler. You’re drunk, underage, and repulsive.”
“That’s not what you said before,” he said. His friends laughed.
“The lady told you to go home, kid,” a voice said. Tyler turned to sneer at the rumpled man behind him.
“Who are you?” Tyler asked belligerently. “This is none of your business, little man.”
David slid between Tyler and Sarah and shook his head. “See, that’s another reason not to like you. You speak like a comic book thug. Go home, kid.”
“If you’re the boyfriend, you’ve been had, man.”
David rubbed the back of his neck. “Kid, I’m telling you right now. Get out of here.”
“Why the hell do you keep calling me kid?” Tyler asked. “I’m old enough for her to mess around with.” He jerked his head at Sarah. “I’m eighteen.”
“Good. I’m not going to jail then,” David said calmly, then in two compact moves drew his fist back and popped Tyler in the face.
Tyler looked at David in astonishment, bringing his hand up to touch his nose right before he plopped on the sand. The police officer moved forward, wearing a grin, his hand on the butt of his gun as he silently warned the other boys off. He crouched before Tyler and started to examine his gushing nostrils.
“David.” Sarah threw herself into his arms. “I thought he was going to kill you.”
David chuckled, rubbing her back. “Age and experience count in a fight.” He thought for a minute. “It didn’t hurt that he was surprised and drunk, either.” He kissed her mouth passionately, then stepped back to look at her. “Why do you look so shocked? I said I’d talk to you again in a few days.”
She took his hand and held it tightly. “But…”
David pushed his hair off his forehead. “I’ve wanted to come out here since the first time you called, but it took time to find someone to cover for me, and there was a mess with City Council that I had to track down, and a last-minute direct flight from Boston to San Francisco was impossible to find, and…” He sighed. “Life. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about this tonight. I want to go back to my hotel and sleep for several hours. Then I want to talk about all this and about how I don’t want you as a friend anymore.” Sarah’s eyes filled with tears, and David wrapped his arm around her waist. “Come with me.”
Her smile was gigantic.
David noticed Abby then and walked over to hug her. “Good to see you. I’d love to talk, but I’m crashing. Tomorrow?” His eyes flicked to Matt, who was waiting nearby. David put his hand out and the men shook as Abby made the introductions. Soon the mouse roar of Sarah’s Hyundai broke the stillness, and she and David were gone.
Abby and Matt walked toward the house, hand in hand, smiling at each other as they noticed Charles and Claire still curled together in one chair, watching the goings-on with interest.
The couples looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then Charles spoke. “You Yankees know how to throw a hell of a party. Drama, romance, jealousy, fights, sex…” He pointedly looked at Matt’s open shirt and wind-tunnel hair.
Abby snorted, and within seconds, they were all laughing. “It was like a wreck…sort of horrifying, but you can’t look away.”
Claire heaved herself out of Charles’s lap. “Next time I complain my life is boring, darling, refer me to this night.” She hugged Abby and kissed her on the cheek before doing the same to Matt. “Come to dinner later this week, my loves. I can’t promise a show like this one, but the dinner will be fabulous and the company even better.”
After Charles had his turn at hugs, he swept Claire into his arms and strode around the corner of the house, her laughter trailing behind them.
Matt and Abby looked at each other in the sudden silence. “I suppose I should get going too…” Matt made a weak effort to pull his hand from Abby’s.
She wrapped her fingers inside the front of his shirt. “I have plans for you.”
“I suppose I can set an alarm or something, because you know I’m going to sleep afterward.”
Abby’s stomach tightened with need and anticipation, and she backed up the porch steps, towing Matt by his shirt. “No need for an alarm, unless you want one. I want you to stay.”
Matt smiled before cradling her against his body, giving her a slow, soft kiss that left her breathless.
Chapter Thirteen
MATT LEFT THE BEDROOM CAUTIOUSLY, peering across the hall toward the bathroom and Sarah’s open door. He didn’t want to chance running into Sarah in just his boxers.
“Abby?” he called. Silence. “Sarah?”
“Well, shit,” he muttered, grabbing his shirt and heading down the stairs after a quick stop in the vacant bathroom. He called for Abby twice more on his way to the living room, but it was apparent that she wasn’t there. After a check out the back door, Matt faced the fact that Abby was nowhere to be found. A search of the cabinets and freezer revealed filters and coffee, and he settled down to making a pot.
As it brewed, he thought about his first reaction to finding her side of the bed cold: disappointment. He’d fallen asleep looking forward to the mornin
g, to slow kisses and warmth and beginning one day the way he’d ended the last—with her curled up beside him. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself that he was being idiotic for missing her; hell, waking up alone should make him feel free and unencumbered, the way he’d lived his life for a very long time.
He poured his coffee, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that Abby might have been trying to send him a message—that she liked their “no sleepovers” arrangement and that he’d made an ass of himself by staying. It would be no more than he’d learned to expect since childhood: a boardhead shouldn’t expect more than a businesswoman could give.
His reverie was interrupted when the French door opened and Abby entered the kitchen, carrying a box and a newspaper. His rush of relief was immediate.
“Hey, sleepyhead!” she said cheerfully. She toed off her walking shoes and shrugged out of her jacket as Matt took her burden and set it on the counter. Abby rested one hand in the open front of his shirt and reached up to kiss him. “Miss me?”
“You bet your sweet ass I did,” Matt murmured, dropping his face down to nuzzle her neck. “I thought we were going to spend the day in bed.”
Abby laughed. “I guess I’m getting used to slipping away in the dead of night.” Matt felt a pang. “I woke up an hour or so ago. You were sleeping peacefully so I went for a walk.” She reached for a cup.
Matt admired her shape in the shorts and tank she wore. As soon as she put the pot down, he was behind her, kissing her shoulder and running his hands over her hips. “Was that really necessary? I was looking forward to the morning.” He tipped her chin back so he could see her face.
“Perv,” Abby said, dipping her chin to nip at his hand. Matt jumped back, and she turned to lean against the counter. “And, yes, it was very necessary if I want this ‘sweet ass’ to stay smaller than South Dakota.”
“I like you the way you are,” Matt protested.
“And I wouldn’t stay the way I am for long if I didn’t move my arse. I rest my case.” Abby set down her cup and lifted the box lid. “Besides, it makes it possible to have one of these beauties when I get the urge.”
She revealed an assortment of pastries. Matt’s eyes zoomed in on the prize but caught only air as Abby snatched it up.
“No way. The chocolate croissant is mine,” Abby declared, holding it behind her back. She eyed the rest of his outfit. “Nice boxers. What if Sarah had come home?”
Matt feinted left and almost nabbed the pastry out of Abby’s hand. “I would have been really, really careful about the flap. Besides, I couldn’t find my jeans.” He started towing her toward the stairs. “Bed. Now.”
“Hang on, Speedy Gonzales.” Abby grabbed the pastry box and one cup of coffee. “Grab your cup and the paper, will you?”
“Do we really need those?” Matt swooped in for a kiss, making a stealthy grab for the croissant.
“We do. We really do. Because you’re going to need something to occupy yourself while I eat this delicious, chocolaty—” Abby dashed for the stairs with a screech when he lunged.
Taking the steps two at a time, Abby just had time to set the pastry and coffee down before Matt pushed her onto the bed, slid his hands under her tank top, and yanked it over her head. He dropped it beside him, kissing her shoulders and the tops of her breasts.
“Are you telling me you wouldn’t give it to the man who does this to you?”
“Unfair. But, no, I’m eating it.”
Matt grabbed the newspaper and settled against the headboard. He shook out the front page.
Laughing, Abby sat up and curled one leg beneath her. Grabbing her pastry, she took a bite, chewing slowly and moaning in delight before she swallowed. “You’re really going to cut me off over a croissant?”
“Mmm hmm.” He held the paper out a bit further, a smile teasing the corner of his lips.
Abby sighed and took another bite. “That’s too bad. Really.” A glop of filling spread at the corner of her mouth, and she swiped it with one finger as she chewed, popping it into her mouth when she finished. Dipping a finger in the melted chocolate at the center of the flaky pastry, she brought it toward her mouth again, only to find her wrist captured in gentle fingers.
“Although…” Matt dragged the word out as the paper fell to the floor. He brought her finger to his mouth and sucked the chocolate off. “I could be persuaded, if you share.”
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” Abby murmured. “I have to give in?” She scooped up more of the chocolate, daubing it on Matt’s lips.
“You want to give in,” Matt whispered, smiling as he captured Abby’s lips in a deep kiss. She moaned and clutched at his shoulders, unintentionally squeezing the rest of the filling onto Matt’s chest. He grinned and wiped at it, taking the opportunity to transfer some of the richness to Abby’s skin while leaving some on his own. “Darn. Whatever can we do about this mess?”
Muffled ringing sent them both scrambling for cell phones. Abby muttered invectives against her persistent intern, but it was Matt’s phone under the edge of the bed that had interrupted them. He flipped it open and barked a greeting.
“Nice, Matt,” Claire drawled. “Here I thought this would be a good time to call because you’d be all sexed-up and relaxed.”
“The sexed-up part is right,” he responded. Abby whapped him on the head and headed for the bathroom. Claire’s over-bright giggle at his lame joke made him wary, though. “Why do you need me relaxed, Claire?”
“Hear me out.”
Matt sat up straighter and closed his eyes. “Shoot.”
“Well, you know Abby talked to the Peerys, right? Steamer Lane Swell?” Matt said nothing. Claire was incapable of dropping a topic unfinished. “They love your work. So much that they’ve been talking you up in their circle.”
“The same circle as the Bakers, who no longer care for me much. So, no net gain.”
“Not necessarily,” Claire warned. “The smart ones perceive that the Bakers know nothing about fine art, and by extension, they realize that the Peerys know a lot. Anyway, they’ve been talking, and important people are taking notice. Most particularly Mrs. Peery’s father, chairman of the board of directors for the de Young Museum. Guess who happened to find room on the calendar for a private show next weekend? Not the main gallery, of course, one of the private suites. Still…”
“I can’t do it. Nothing is ready. I have two more statues to finish by the middle of September or Baker will have my nuts.”
“Baker’s grip on your nuts is exactly why you have to do this,” Claire insisted. “What do you think the chances are that you won’t piss him off again before you’re finished? I say slim to none.” She paused but pushed on when she got no response. “Matt, these people are big league. You impress enough of them this weekend, and it won’t matter what Baker says. You have all the pieces in my gallery, which I will pay to have transported to the museum. You can’t show the Bakers’ statues, contractually, but you can show the models. I know you don’t consider them your finest work, but they’re damn good and far above the average for pool statues.” She paused for a minute. “Even unfinished, you could show—”
“Not happening,” Matt said flatly. His outright dismissal of showing Abby’s statue didn’t trouble him a bit, but the thought of having to make this decision on the fly did. “Can we wait—”
“Nope. They need to know within the hour so the arrangements can be made. Saying no to this would be the dumbest thing you could do. So?”
Matt’s thoughts raced. A week wasn’t long, but if he pushed, he could have another two models finished. “Yes. Okay. I’ll do it.”
“I thought so.” Claire’s grin could be heard in her voice. “I already took the liberty of telling Doug Peery that when I talked to him this morning. Glad you didn’t make a liar of me.”
“Claire…”
“You love me. Speaking of which, we’ll have to push our dinner party back a week. I’ll talk to Abby when she gets t
o the gallery. If you don’t bring her along, you’re a bonehead McSpazatron. Ciao.” The phone went dead, and Matt snapped it closed.
Abby re-entered the room, wrapped in a towel, hair in disarray around her face. “Was that Claire?”
“Yup.” Matt lounged across the bed and grabbed at her towel. “I love Naked Sunday. Let’s do this every week, minus your going out. Screw exercise. I’ll bring breakfast.”
Abby laughed. “Aside from this being Monday and me having kiddie art school, that sounds like a very good way to spend the rest of the summer.”
They both grew quiet, and Matt wondered if she was thinking about the end of her vacation with as much dismay as he was feeling right then. Abby let him tug the towel out of its tuck and toss it onto the floor. “By the way,” he asked, “how do you feel about spending next Naked Sunday in San Francisco?”
Up early on Saturday, Matt had just started another long day of working on his last mock-up when Abby strolled into the studio. He watched her. There was something in the lines of her body that intrigued him, made him want to cover the statue he was working on and move to his Pretty statue. She came across the room, smiling, and Matt anticipated the first contact her hand would make with his body, expecting her to lean in to kiss him. Instead, she took the knife out of his hand and laid it on the table, careful not to brush it against her clothes.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
Exhaustion made Matt question whether he’d lost several hours somehow. “But—”
“But nothing. You’ve been a machine since Monday night. I know you planned on leaving late afternoon, but we’re going right now.” She started shutting down the big halogen lights that illuminated his workspace.
It had been a very long time since someone had made a decision for him, and it delighted him. As he looked at the organized chaos surrounding him, though, his smile began to fade. “Abby, I can’t.”
The Art of Appreciation Page 18