Going Overboard

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  The small space between their bodies crackled and snapped in time to the rhythm. Andi forgot everything but the music and the sensuous movements of the man across from her. His transformation, no matter how temporary, had completely captured her imagination.

  Then the music changed to something slower and more languorous.

  Vaguely she heard Bowie’s plea and Nicole’s weary agreement to dance the slow number with him. One dance.

  For a heart-stopping moment, neither Chance nor Andi moved. Then he stepped forward and drew her slowly into his arms, the empty beer can cradled against the small of her back as he wrapped both arms around her in the casual dance position of lovers. She wound her arms around his neck and breathed in the tangy scent of beer mixed with his sexy aftershave.

  Their bodies moved with the lazy rhythm of the music, but she could feel the rapid tattoo of his heart against her breast, and her own heart was racing out of control. Of course, they’d just been doing a very athletic cha-cha. Of course, that was the reason. Not.

  She lifted her head to look up at him. He gazed down at her. She could barely see his shadowed eyes, yet she knew he was looking intently into her face. All that intensity he’d focused on his business was now trained on her like a laser, and she had trouble breathing. The twist of desire in her stomach grew stronger with each moment she spent swaying in his arms.

  His head dipped lower. Her lips parted in anticipation. She closed her eyes.

  Then another set of arms enfolded both of them. “Just carry on,” Bowie said, one arm around each of them as he swayed with the dance rhythm. “Nicole’s really dead on her feet. We’re turning in.”

  The magic between Chance and Andi shattered like starlight on the lake when a pebble was tossed in.

  “Good idea,” Chance said, backing away from Andi as Bowie and Nicole headed for the boat.

  “Yeah, we’ve all had a big day,” Andi said. She could have cheerfully killed Bowie with her bare hands. “You guys all go ahead. We have to take turns in the bathroom, anyway. I’ll stay out here and do a few yoga routines. Can’t abandon my practice, you know.”

  Chance paused. “Is that right?”

  “Well, sure. You have to stay toned, stay flexible, especially if you’re a role model for other people.”

  He gazed at her as if the concept hadn’t occurred to him.

  She felt slightly insulted. “You’re not the only one who has to think about work sometimes.”

  “I guess not. Well, good night.” He turned and headed for the boat where Nicole was trying to hoist herself up to the deck with Bowie’s help. “Hey, newlyweds. Let Uncle Chance help.” He leaped to the deck in one smooth motion and lifted Nicole from above while Bowie steadied her from below.

  “I hate being so awkward,” Nicole complained.

  “Bowie and I consider it a privilege to help you,” Chance said as he drew her up beside him.

  “You’re sweet.” She patted his cheek. “Why don’t you go back and dance with Andi some more? I didn’t mean to break up the party.”

  Andi held her breath. The music still played on the tape deck.

  “I think it’s time we all turned in,” Chance said.

  Andi walked over and shut off the music.

  CLOSE CALL, Chance thought as he switched on his laptop and tried to concentrate on some spreadsheets while Bowie and Nicole got ready for bed. If Bowie hadn’t interrupted him, he’d have kissed Andi. It would have been so easy. Bowie would have been thrilled with that, doggone his matchmaking hide.

  Watch out for Bowie. No kidding, Chance thought Here he was doing his damnedest to keep a level head, and Bowie springs Andi on him. Just thinking about the warmth and softness of her body moving rhythmically against his made him ache. He wouldn’t think about it, or he was liable to go back out there.

  The beer had probably lowered his resistance. He’d give it up for this week. He’d totally underestimated the power of her attraction, and the unconscious—or maybe conscious—provocation of her movements. When she’d stood down by the lake, her womanly figure silhouetted by stars, he’d begun to want her with a fierceness that swept aside all reservation.

  And when she’d come willingly into his arms for a slow dance…when she’d lifted her mouth so invitingly…

  The laptop beeped and the spreadsheet disappeared from the screen. Chance straightened on the bench seat and pressed a few buttons, but the spreadsheet was no longer on the menu. In his clumsiness with the gauze bandages and his preoccupation with Andi, he’d deleted it.

  “Dammit!” He exited the program before he could do any more damage.

  “What’s wrong?” Bowie said, coming out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in one hand.

  Chance grimaced. “Nothing a brain transplant wouldn’t solve.”

  “Is it a problem with Jefferson?”

  “Yeah. Chauncey M. Jefferson the Fourth, to be specific.”

  Bowie came over and sat opposite him. “I screwed up big-time by interrupting your dance with Andi.”

  “Even matchmakers miscalculate, thank God.”

  “Damn. We should have just quietly slipped away.”

  “Oh, right. You should have silently hoisted Nicole four feet off the ground and heaved her onto the boat without either of you making a peep.”

  “She is getting to be a load, isn’t she? And still two months to go. It’s going to be a giant kid.”

  “We should always use two of us to get her in and out of the boat, so nobody gets hurt.”

  “Keep your voice down. She still hasn’t forgiven me for saying essentially the same thing.”

  “Not quite. You mentioned the need for a crane. Women get touchy at a time like this.”

  “So speaketh the expert on pregnant ladies. Is there anything you’re not an expert on?”

  “A few things.” Chance glanced out into the night, where Andi still presented a huge temptation.

  “Go back out there. Turn on the music. Andi’s a great gal, and I think it would do you a world of good to spend some time alone with her.”

  Chance eyed his brother. “Forget it. I had a momentary lapse. It won’t happen again.”

  “I know I’m not imagining things. You’re attracted to her. Go with it.”

  “Doesn’t matter. If you took the time to think it through, you’d see what a mistake it would be for all of us if I get involved with her. She belongs out here, in the wild and woolly west. I’m tied to Chicago, so the relationship couldn’t go anywhere. The most likely scenario is that we’d have a fling and split, which would make the family dynamics even worse than before.”

  “I don’t know. Andi might relocate to Chicago. She misses Nicole a lot, and with their parents always on the move, the two of them really depend on each other.”

  Chance refused to allow himself a smidgen of hope. “If Andi wanted to be closer to Nicole, she would have moved by now. It’s not as if she has a skyrocketing career going here in Nevada. My guess is she likes the weather and the lifestyle.”

  “Dammit, Chance, this seems like a good shot at having a relationship. Dad wouldn’t have expected you to become a monk.”

  “No, but he sure as hell would expect me to find somebody who’d genuinely want to be a corporate wife. That’s not Andi.”

  Bowie frowned. “Unfortunately, you might have a point there.”

  “And that’s why I’m not going back down to the beach. Not tonight or any night this week.”

  “I still think you’re making assumptions that might not be true.” Bowie stood to leave. “Sleep tight, buddy.” He started to walk away and turned back. “Like I have to remind you.” He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

  Chance sighed. Bowie was still Bowie, spouting his favorite philosophy—live for the moment and never face the facts. He walked over to the seat where Bowie had been sitting and unfolded it. For the first time he noticed how quiet the night was without traffic noise and the scream of sirens. Somewhere in the bushes at t
he edge of the beach a cricket chirped, but that was the extent of the excitement. He hoped to God he’d be able to sleep.

  A half hour later he lay in the dark, listening to the same damn cricket. A musician it wasn’t. Same monotonous tune over and over.

  He couldn’t blame the cricket for his insomnia, though. He’d realized’ after turning out the light that Andi would have to walk right past him when she came in. He needed to remind her to lock the door after her. Yeah, that was why he was still awake. She might forget.

  No, that wasn’t it. He might as well admit that he worried about the door lock because it was a safe topic. Worrying about whether he’d speak to her, whether he’d reach for her, whether he’d pull her down to this bed and kiss those full lips—that wasn’t safe. He got up and put his shorts back on, as if they’d act as some sort of chastity belt.

  Then he heard an unfamiliar noise. He sat up. There it was again, and it was no cricket. He knew that yoga involved chanting, but this was no chant, either. More like an obnoxious drunk braying at the moon. Andi was out there, vulnerable to whatever lunatic might be prowling the beach.

  His feet hit the floor and he barked his shin on the edge of the bed. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed the barbecue fork from the table and barreled out the front door onto the deck. “Andi?”

  She was sitting cross-legged in the sand, facing the bushes. She turned and glanced up at him. “Shh.”

  For one wild moment he wondered if she’d made the noise herself, as part of some mystic pagan ritual, but then it came again, from the direction of the bushes.

  Andi might think safety lay in silence, but hiding from danger wasn’t Chance’s style. Wielding the fork, he leaped to the sand. “Who’s out there?” he shouted. “Show yourselves or get the hell out of here!”

  There was a snort and the clatter of hooves. Hooves? Damn drunks must have been riding horses.

  “Hey!” Andi protested, getting to her feet. “You scared them.”

  “That was the idea.” He was breathing hard and his heart pounded from the adrenaline rush. “You’d better come over here, closer to me, in case they circle around and come back.”

  “They wouldn’t hurt us.”

  He stared at her. “What’s that, some New Age trust in your fellow humans? Some drunken bastards riding around the lake on horses don’t sound like the kind of company we want around here. This isn’t the Old West, y’know, where you invite any passing saddle tramp to share your campfire.”

  She began to smile. “They were burros.”

  “Okay, drunks riding burros. That doesn’t make them any less suspicious, in my opinion. You saw how they took off, acting guilty as hell. They were up to something.”

  “Nobody was riding the burros,” she said, her smile widening. “They’re wild. The sound you heard was them braying.”

  He mentally replayed the noise he’d heard. “I thought donkeys went hee-haw.”

  Her shoulders shook and she covered her mouth with one hand. “It’s not quite that neat a sound.” She cleared her throat. “It’s more like eeagh-haugh!”

  “You do that very well.”

  “Thank you.” She continued to grin at him. “I guess you’ve never heard a real one.”

  “No.” He glanced down at the fork he still clutched in his hand. It was tough to imagine how he could have made a bigger fool of himself than by charging out of the houseboat ready to battle wild burros with a barbecue fork.

  “It was really sweet of you to be so ready to defend me, though.”

  He grimaced and walked over to toss the fork back up on the deck. “From fuzzy little burros.”

  “You thought it was a band of drunken desperadoes, and you were ready to take them on with a barbecue fork. That’s pretty gallant.”

  He turned back to her. “Oh, I’m a regular Lone Ranger.”

  She walked up to him. “I think you are, at that. All the cares of the world rest on those Armani-covered shoulders, don’t they, Chance?”

  He shrugged, trying to remain calm. She was dangerously close, and the adrenaline rush seemed to be meshing with a different kind of jolt to his system. He’d be wise to end this little conversation before things got out of hand. “Somebody has to be the grown-up.”

  “Twenty-four hours a day?” Her bathing-suit-covered breasts lightly nudged his bare chest as she moved closer still.

  “You can’t just turn it on and off.”

  She slid a cool hand behind his neck. “Isn’t there an override switch somewhere?”

  He closed his eyes. Her touch was like velvet against his suddenly hot skin. She spread her fingers and ran them lightly up through his hair. He drew in a breath.

  Then she applied subtle pressure to the back of his head, urging him down. “Kiss me, Chance. Trip that override switch.”

  6

  ANDI HAD ALREADY hot-wired his override switch, Chance thought, winding his arms around her and opening his eyes long enough to make sure his mouth would connect solidly with hers. He felt her lips part beneath his hungry assault, and the muffled groan that filled his throat sounded the death knell of his restraint.

  She took the first thrust of his tongue with an urgency that sent the blood pounding straight to his groin. He pulled her closer, wanting her to feel the pressure of his erection. The coconut scent of her suntan oil mingled with the scent of arousal, his and hers. Finally he accepted the truth—he’d wanted this from the first moment he saw her seven months ago. Maybe she’d wanted the same thing.

  She tasted forbidden and lush. The sensual movement of her hips told him she was ready for anything he had in mind, and his mind raced with images of hands stroking, mouths exploring, bodies joining in pulsing completion.

  His lips sought the honey from her warm mouth as he wedged his pelvis firmly between her thighs. She moaned and pushed against him, blotting out all reason.

  He reached for the shoulder strap of the red suit that had tantalized him for hours. The strap offered no obstacle as it slipped down her smooth shoulder. Pushing his throbbing erection against the cradle of her thighs, he abandoned her lips to seek the pulse at her throat. His heart hammered as he worked the bathing suit down and finally cupped her breast in his hand.

  She arched her back, pushing up against his palm. She was matching him desire for desire, and he’d never felt so excited by a woman in his life. She moaned as he leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth. He rolled the sensitive tip against his tongue and felt her shudder. Ah, this was going to be good. Very, very good.

  He pulled the other strap down so he had access to both breasts as she writhed and whimpered against him. He felt her warm breath on the back of his leg. Dimly he realized that would be difficult, given their upright position. He paused.

  Someone, or something, was breathing on him. He lifted his mouth from her breast.

  Andi grew still in his arms. “Chance.” Her voice held a warning.

  The warm air traveled up the back of his legs. Every hair on his body stood erect. “What’s breathing on me?” he whispered.

  “A burro.”

  “Shi—”

  She clamped her arms tight around his shoulders. “Don’t make any sudden moves.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers and tried to stay calm. At least he wasn’t naked. “Do they bite?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not the right answer.”

  “Just stand still.”

  “Easy for you to say,” he muttered. “It’s not licking your leg.”

  “Licking?”

  “Yeah. Probably for the salt, but God, it tickles.”

  “I’m going to try something. Stay still.” She leaned around him. “Shoo!”

  He stared down at her. “Shoo?”

  “You got anything better?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to turn around really fast and yell at him. Stay behind me.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “I do. He�
�s started nibbling on my shorts.”

  “Then it must be a female.”

  “Ha, ha. Okay, on three. One, two, three, now!” He whirled and shoved her behind him. His eyes widened as he gazed at not one, but four burros. “Go home!” he yelled, waving one arm as he kept the other behind him, protecting Andi.

  The burros trotted away a couple of yards and stood looking at him.

  Andi started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “They are home. We’re the trespassers.”

  “Oh. Okay, then go…somewhere else!” he yelled again, waving his arm some more.

  Andi whipped off her sarong and stepped out from behind him. “Shoo!” she said, waving the skirt at them.

  The flapping cloth seemed to do the trick. They spooked and took off into the bushes.

  Chance stared after them, shaking his head. “Burros.”

  “Now that they know interesting stuff is here, they might come back.”

  He glanced at her. She was sliding her arms into the straps of her swimsuit.

  The burros had broken the spell that had caused him to forget everything except the need to make love to her, but sanity had returned, and he was flabbergasted at his behavior. What had he been thinking? “Do you realize what almost happened?”

  She smiled at him. “I think so. I watched all the films in junior-high health class.”

  “Exactly. And in those films, do you remember that little matter of taking precautions?”

  She paused and gave him a long look. “You don’t have anything with you?”

  “No. Why would I have anything? This was supposed to be a family vacation. I didn’t even know you were coming along, and I wouldn’t have brought birth control even if I had known. Our last meeting wasn’t exactly romantic.”

  “But I thought guys always carried something.”

  “Well, they don’t. And even if I had something, what kind of guy would have grabbed a condom on his way out to save you?”

  “One who expected me to be very grateful?”