by Julie Kenner
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” He smiled, a touch amused, a touch devious. “I think I’ll just sit here and watch you fumble about with your gear.”
Her eyes widened. “Fumble? Okay, fella,” she said with a laugh, “now you’ve thrown down the gauntlet. You’re going to see some of the most graceful scuba practice you could possibly imagine.”
He sank back in the chair, fading into the shadows as if he were dug in for the afternoon. “I can’t wait.”
She was wrong, of course. Not only did she soon discover that graceful and bulky jackets latched on to heavy air tanks were mutually exclusive—especially out of the water when they were doing the basic skills stuff—but with Tony watching, Kyra felt even more self-conscious.
Every time she looked up, he was smiling at her, the corner of his mouth turned up with just a hint of amusement. He appeared completely relaxed, his large frame filling the lounge chair as he gazed in her direction, as if there was nothing else in the world he could possibly want to do other than watch her learn about buoyancy and controlled ascents.
His attention should have been disconcerting—after all, she hardly knew the man—but instead she found herself flattered, and wishing more and more that he were with her instead of simply watching her.
The instructor, David, stood up and clapped his hands for attention. “Okay, folks, time to buddy up. We’re not fully certifying you guys, but we still need to make sure we’ve got down the basics for an emergency. So we’re going to practice buddy breathing. That way if anything happens to your air supply when you’re underwater, you can share with your buddy to get back up to the surface.”
Kyra had already noticed that most folks were taking the class in pairs—probably couples who’d met through their fantasies. But like her, a few were going it alone. She wondered if one of the single guys was the man Merrilee intended to pair her with if Michael intended on staying away. After all, sharing a mouthpiece underwater, holding tight to each other, and depending on your buddy for pure survival…well, that was both adventurous and intimate.
She sighed, her morning sadness returning for the first time since she’d joined Tony. If Michael wasn’t coming back, she wasn’t sure she wanted to continue with the sensual aspect of her fantasy. Sun and surf, sure. But sex…
She shook her head. Mona was right. She wasn’t the casual-sex type. She’d fallen hard for Michael, anonymous or not. And if she couldn’t have him, she’d just as soon be alone.
On the pool deck, David started matching up all the singles. A nice-looking man with glasses and red hair smiled at her, nodded slightly. She looked away. Probably a perfectly nice guy—and certainly good-looking enough—but she wasn’t interested. Not one little bit.
David pointed to a blond guy, about thirty, with a perfectly toned chest and a matching perfect tan. He was moving toward her from the other side of the pool. “Joe,” David called, “why don’t you be Kyra’s buddy?”
Joe’s gaze skimmed up her body, and she stifled the urge to reach for a towel to cover herself. “No problem,” he said.
No way. She’d much rather hang on the beach with Tony. “That’s okay,” she said. “I’ve changed my—”
“I’m the lady’s buddy.”
She spun around to find Tony standing behind her, gear dangling from one arm, his free hand near his face, clumsily shading his left eye.
Joe crossed his arms over a massive chest. “The dive-master said I was, man.”
“The divemaster’s wrong.”
David looked down and checked his clipboard. “You’re not signed up for this class, Moretti.”
“I’m not interested in the class. But I’m the lady’s diving buddy. If she’s going to practice, she should practice with me.”
For half a second, Joe and Tony locked eyes. Kyra tensed, afraid there was going to be a fight, and more than a little baffled that she might be the reason for it. For a moment, the air held a charge, like the calm before a storm. Then Joe backed away, his hands held up in surrender.
“Hey, whatever, man. She’s not worth a fight.”
“Well, that’s why I’m with her,” Tony said. “I think she is.”
He sat down next to her, his feet dangling in the pool. “I hope you don’t mind me muscling my way into your class.”
“No,” she said, succumbing to a wash of pure happiness. “You can muscle in any time.”
* * *
THEY DEVELOPED a rhythm—slow, sensual—thirteen feet under the water, with nothing to rely on but each other. Their eyes locked, and the complete trust he saw reflected in her slate-colored eyes warmed his soul. This was the woman he wanted in so many ways. And she wanted him, too.
She just didn’t know it.
With a firm grip, he held on to the vest she wore over her swimsuit that held her air tank and her regulator. They were practicing sharing a regulator, and her mouthpiece was dangling free. Her lips were pursed, and she blew a tiny stream of bubbles.
Through the wall of bubbles, she looked at him, her eyes clear through the thin plastic of her mask. Right then, she was totally reliant on him, and he knew with absolute certainty that she trusted him completely.
He inhaled a second breath, then guided the mouthpiece to her. She took it, her hand covering his, and pulled in two breaths of air, her eyes never leaving his.
His free hand held on to her vest, and he could feel her breasts move as she inhaled, the gentle press of her skin against his fingers setting his fingers to itching. He wanted so much for her to know who he was—for her to want him, to want Tony, as much as she wanted Michael. But he knew that was impossible.
He’d learned from Amy the hard way that Tony Moretti wasn’t lover material, and certainly he hadn’t caught any signals from Kyra that she was interested in being more than friends. Hell, he should feel lucky he even had her friendship.
She cocked her head and made an okay sign with her fingers. He nodded, realizing his mind had drifted. Count your blessings, boy. Isn’t that what the doctor had said?
Well, maybe Dr. Johnston was right. Maybe he should just be satisfied that this wonderful woman considered Tony a friend. Maybe they could even stay in touch once their week was over. A friendly correspondence over the Internet, maybe.
Yes, that was the best solution—cultivate her friendship during the day, and force himself to stay away at night.
She passed the mouthpiece back to him, then gestured to the surface with her thumb.
He nodded, and they linked arms, kicking to the surface together, trading air as they went, their bodies as close as lovers.
It would be hard, getting through the nights without her. But in the end, falling in love with her while she fell for a man who both was and wasn’t him…well, that would be even harder.
* * *
“YOU STILL haven’t told me if I was right,” Kyra said. They were baking in the sun, turning golden brown like French fries. Totally unhealthy according to everything she’d read lately, but it seemed almost criminal to go to an island and not go back with a tan.
Tony propped himself up on one elbow, his skin glistening from a layer of sunscreen, the muscles in his arm and shoulder well defined as he turned to face her, sunglasses covering those chestnut eyes she’d learned to read so well while they’d been underwater. She frowned, trying to figure out whom he reminded her of. It was, right on the tip of her—
He pulled the glasses off, and she lost it. Damn.
“What?”
“I was trying to figure out who you remind me of,” she said. “I almost had it, too.”
For a second, he looked almost troubled. “No. I meant what did you mean by ‘were you right’?”
“Oh, that.” She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the lounge chair and digging her toes into the sand. It felt cool, a nice contrast to her overwhelming body heat. She blamed it on the sun, but a tiny, hidden part of her wondered if it didn’t have a bit to do with Tony as well. She’d been so thrille
d when he’d shown up to be her buddy. And practicing the dive with him, sharing the very air they were breathing, had been so…intimate.
And now they were lying side by side on the beach and he was so very, very male. She stifled a shiver. Surely she just had sex on the brain. What other excuse could she possibly have for getting all hot and bothered about sharing a regulator with a friend?
“Are you cold?” He started to roll off his towel.
“No. I’m fine. Just a bit of a breeze.”
“Well?”
She frowned. “Well, what?”
He twirled his hand, urging her on. “What was it you were right about?”
“Oh, sorry. My mind’s wandering.” To forbidden places. This erotic fantasy thing was getting way out of control. “Your back. Wasn’t I right that your back did okay in the water?”
He nodded. “Nurse Cartwright, that was a right fine treatment you prescribed.”
“Really?”
“Really. A little twinge when we were on the poolside, but when we were underwater, everything was a-okay.”
His eyes twinkled, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking only about his back.
She pushed away the thought. He’d obviously been through something traumatic recently. The last thing he was probably interested in doing was getting involved with some woman.
This wellspring of passion she’d discovered with Michael was beginning to color her perception of all men, and she needed to rein it in. She and Tony were friends, and that was it. Besides, she didn’t want anything more with him. He was decidedly real, not in the least anonymous, and anything more than friendship would be completely out of bounds.
With a flourish, she picked up her daiquiri from the table between them. “To island friendships,” she said, holding the glass out.
He grabbed his, and they clinked glasses. “To friendship.” He took a sip, then caught her eye. “So, buddy, do you want to grab some dinner with me tonight?”
She thought about it. An evening with Tony, telling jokes, passing the time, enjoying each other’s company. A perfect evening, normally.
She slipped her drink back onto the table. “I can’t.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Other than that she was sitting on the beach with this wonderful man while decadent images of a night filled with Michael filled her head.
“Uh-huh.” He raised an eyebrow and looked down pointedly.
She followed his gaze and realized she was twisting her hands in her lap. “Oh.”
“Wanna tell me about it?”
She gnawed on her lower lip. Yes, she wanted to tell him, but something was holding her back. Something? No, she knew exactly what it was: guilt. But that was silly. There was nothing but friendship between her and Tony. There couldn’t be anything else. So why should she feel guilty for wanting to meet up with her fantasy man? After all, that was the point of Fantasies, Inc., right?
“Kyra?” he prodded. “I take it you don’t want to tell me?”
“It’s nothing. Really. I just want to get some rest. Call it an early night.” She shrugged one shoulder lightly. “I’m not used to spending a full day in the sun, and I’m pretty tired.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Guess I’m just not a party kinda girl.”
“Guess not.” From his tone, she was sure he didn’t believe her. Even more, she had the feeling he was disappointed in her.
And frankly, she was disappointed in herself. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, Tony deserved better than some casual brush-off.
She took a deep breath. “I lied.”
“No kidding.”
“There’s more to my fantasy than just having an adventure.” She licked her lips, trying to find the words. “Or, I guess I should say, I’m not here just for adventures you might find on the ESPN.”
“So you’re telling me that at least part of your fantasy leans toward The Playboy Channel.”
Her cheeks warmed and she realized she’d twisted her hands up in the towel she held on her lap. “I’m not sure about that. But R-rated, at least.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Somehow talking about…well, that…with a man like Tony made her insides flutter even while the rest of her felt foolishly guilty.
“Only R?” His voice was light and teasing, and not the least bit judgmental.
“Maybe a touch X-rated.” She tried to meet his eyes head on, couldn’t, and ended up looking at her hands again. “I mean, I did come here for a fantasy, after all.”
“Yes, you did.” He moved from his chair to hers and sat next to her. Her breath caught, his nearness disconcerting. But, again, that was just the product of her overactive libido.
“You probably think I’m some sort of loose woman just looking to have a wild time on a tropical island,” she said.
“No. I don’t think that. But even if that were your fantasy, would that be so bad?” He leaned closer, and she realized she was holding her breath. “I mean, hedonism is a highly underrated hobby,” he whispered conspiratorially.
She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. The man had a marvelous way of relaxing her. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m trying to be serious here.” She gave him a look of mock firmness, and he saluted briskly as he sat up straight again.
“Roger, that.” He took her hand and moved it to his lap. His fingers curled around hers, warm and safe. “Seriously, you want to tell me about it?”
That was the tough question. And what made it even tougher was that she knew the answer so resolutely. “I haven’t really told anybody all of it, not even my best friend.”
He squeezed her hand, and she wished she could draw on his strength. “No pressure. You just looked like you might want to talk. But if you—”
“No.” She turned to look him in the eye. “I mean, yes. I want to tell you. I don’t know why, but I do.”
“Just my boyish charm, I guess.” Immediately, he cringed. It was a bad joke, but he’d needed to cover. Just the fact that she felt compelled to share something so personal made him feel special, and he didn’t want to do or say the wrong thing.
“I don’t know how to say this without sounding sappy,” she said, then frowned, her brow furrowing. “The thing is, I don’t have that many friends. I guess I’m sort of a loner. My mom died when I was really little, and my family life is pretty intense. My work schedule is even crazier, and that doesn’t leave a lot of time for socializing.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Do you?” She gnawed on her lower lip, then reached up to tentatively trace her fingertip along the edge of his scar. He held his breath, sure she was repulsed. “You said you got this in your job?”
He nodded, but she’d already continued, not waiting for his answer.
“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that…well…the friends I do have—the close friends, I mean, like me and Mona—we just sort of met and hit it off right away. Blam! Instant friendship.”
“Like love at first sight.”
She blushed, the very tops of her ears turning red. “Well, yeah, I guess you could think of it that way.” She turned to face him more directly, tucking her leg under her. “The thing is, I feel that way about you—friendship-wise, I mean,” she added hurriedly, even as his insides swelled.
She shrugged, just the tiniest motion of her shoulder. “So, do you think I sound like a sentimental idiot?”
“Not at all.” What he thought was that he could fall in love with her, and those were dangerous thoughts, indeed. “I feel the same way.” He squeezed her hand, wanting her to realize how much he meant it. “An instant connection.”
“It’s not at all like me. I’m the most organized person you’ll ever meet. Mona calls me anal. I have lists for everything. It’s funny that I’ve made all my closest friends in an instant. Everything else I analyze down to the smallest little detail.” She laughed. “It’s pretty pathetic, but it’s worked for me so far.”
“And what is it that you analyze so carefully, Ms. Cartwright?” he asked, leaning back to get a better look at the way the afternoon sun glinted on her sweat-slick skin. His fingers itched to touch her, and he fought the urge. “What do you do when you’re not making friends on remote Florida islands?”
“My family owns a chain of radio stations in Texas. We have a syndicated show.” She told him a bit about the program and about the day-to-day aspects of her job.
“I know that program. An excellent show.”
“Thanks.” She looked around, almost distracted, then stood up. “Do you want to walk down to the water?”
“Sure.” He got up, resisting the urge to reach for her hand, and followed her to the surf. “Do you still want to tell me about your fantasy?”
“I’m getting there. I guess I just wanted you to realize…” She shrugged. “I mean, I know we hardly know each other, but—”
He put a finger over her lips, silencing her. “I understand.” Even more so than he could explain. He didn’t get close to people easily. Hell, maybe that’s why Amy left. Certainly he’d never felt this connection with her, not like he felt with Kyra. The trick, of course, was figuring out if it was real, or just a product of lust and island magic.
She told him her fantasy, then. About wanting a sensual adventure…and about why: her father, Harold, her decision to marry. At the word marriage, he cringed. He’d known all along there was nothing real between them—couldn’t be anything between them except friendship. But to know that she was practically engaged…
“What does your dad think?”
She rolled her shoulder with the slightest of movements, as he’d discovered was her habit. “He thinks it’s wonderful, of course. He and Harold get along great, he knows we dated for a while when I lived in New York, and his new son-in-law-to-be is going to save the station.” She smiled. “What’s not to like?”
“Your dad doesn’t know, does he?” Tony asked, feeling cold inside.
“Doesn’t know what?” The question was spoken innocently, but her face revealed that she knew exactly what he meant.
“That you’re marrying this guy out of obligation, not love.”