A Good Man Walks In

by Ginna Gray

  Unexpectedly, Travis cut loose with a long, low wolf whistle and followed it up with a grin—a devilish grin that was a flash of white teeth and a twinkle in his eyes, the kind of grin that Rebecca had never thought to receive from him. Suddenly, absurdly perhaps, she felt on top of the world.

  "I take it you approve," she said, chuckling at his foolishness.

  "Oh, yeah. I definitely approve." The words rumbled out of him in a low, sexy growl that sent a wave of gooseflesh rippling over Rebecca's skin, but the little thrill that shot through her was short-lived.

  No sooner had he spoken than he sobered, as though he had suddenly recalled to whom he was speaking and wasn't quite comfortable with their banter.

  His manner immediately became impersonal. Rebecca felt a stab of disappointment, but she stifled it. She could live with impersonal. It was, after all, a vast improvement over his previous treatment of her.

  Travis fitted her with scuba gear and patiently explained the procedure and the rules of safety. The brush of his fingers against her bare skin caused a fluttery sensation in the pit of Rebecca's stomach. Gritting her teeth, she scolded herself for the foolish reaction and concentrated for all she was worth on his instructions.

  When at last he was done, she clomped to the side in the awkward flippers. Behind her, Travis made a sound that was suspiciously like a snort, and she felt a pang of disappointment. She turned to face him, braced for criticism or ridicule, but encountered instead an amused smile and laughing eyes that invited her to share the fun.. "What?"

  "Oh, nothing. It's just that you look like a duck walking through molasses."

  Her heart gave a little flip. Teasing came as naturally to Travis as breathing, but he'd never bothered to kid around with her before. "Is that so?" she parried, feeling almost giddy. "Well, you don't exactly move like Rudolf Nureyev yourself, you know."

  "Tell me about it," he groaned, and high-stepped toward her, his flippers slapping the deck with the resounding "splat-splat" of a clapping seal. "But the difference is, I didn't think anything could make you look clumsy."

  Bemused, Rebecca could only gawk at him. She could hardly believe her ears. It was a backhanded compliment, to be sure. But it was a compliment. Another first.

  All afternoon it was the same story. Most of the undercurrents of hostility and tension were gone, and once in a while Travis's natural mischievous nature slipped through and he teased her or flashed his devastating grin, but mostly his manner remained merely polite and pleasant, always falling just short of true friendliness.

  At first, Rebecca found his attitude disconcerting. However, once they were in the water, swimming side by side in the calm cove, she scarcely noticed.

  As she propelled herself through the crystal clear waters, every last bit of lingering tension in her body faded away. All she could think about was the incredible beauty she was viewing. In less than five minutes, she was thoroughly hooked on the sport of scuba diving.

  Enthralled, Rebecca gazed through the glass plate of her mask at the many plants, undulating sinuously in the gentle currents, the fragile-looking coral formations that sheltered a multitude of underwater creatures. She saw starfish and abalone, crabs scuttling along the sandy bottom, tiny creatures that darted back into their shells or burrowed into the sand at her approach. She swam through myriad schools of fish of every shape, size and color—some silver and bulletlike, some flat and round as a pancake, some piteously plain and unremarkable, others striped or dotted and sporting extravagant translucent fins that fluttered with all the coy flirtatiousness of a fan dancer.

  Rebecca darted from place to place, her excitement and delight at each new discovery firing her with energy. She was so caught up in the eerie beauty of the underwater world, she was hardly aware of anything else. Except for those times when Travis touched her arm to warn her against getting too close to the razor-sharp coral or to guide her around a less-than-friendly undersea creature, she scarcely noticed that he was around.

  Time had little meaning in the quiet splendor of the underwater world. It seemed to Rebecca that they had been swimming for only a few minutes when Travis nudged her and signaled that it was time to quit.

  The instant they broke the surface, Rebecca shook back her hair and pulled the mouthpiece out of her mouth. "Why are we stopping so soon?" she demanded. "We were just getting started."

  Travis grinned and tapped his watch. "Wrong. We've been swimming for almost two hours."

  "Two hours! It seems like only a few minutes."

  "I'm glad you were enjoying yourself, but it's time to head for the Freewind."

  "But I'm not in the least tired," she protested.

  "Well I am. And you will be, too, when your adrenaline high wears off. Plus, we don't want to risk getting cramps. So c'mon."

  "Why do I have to quit just because you're tired?"

  "Because it's safer to swim in pairs, that's why."

  'But-"

  "Forget it, sweetheart," he said amiably enough, but there was a touch of pure steel in his lazy drawl. "Haul that cute little butt back into the boat. Right now."

  Rebecca struck out for the Freewind without another word, conscious, in a way that she hadn't been while they were exploring the underwater life of the cove, of Travis cleaving through the water right beside her.

  Once back on board she discovered that he was right. She was suddenly so exhausted it was all she could do to stand. Gripping the side rail for support, she hung her head and gasped for air, her chest heaving.

  "You okay?"

  "Ye-yes. I'm fine. I'm just more tired than I thought."

  "Why don't you go below and shower and take a nap?"

  She gave a weak laugh. "I'll take you up on that shower later. Right now I don't have the energy. If it's all right with you, I think I'll just crawl up on the foredeck and sunbathe for a while first."

  "Suit yourself."

  He loped down the steps and disappeared below deck. Groaning, Rebecca hauled herself up onto the Freewind's foredeck and stretched out on her stomach on a towel. Two seconds after her cheek settled onto her stacked hands, she was asleep.

  It seemed like only a minute later when something nudged her in the side. "C'mon. Wake up.?'

  Rebecca shifted and made an irritated sound, but the nudge came again, harder. She opened her eyes a slit and saw a bare foot poking her ribs. Lifting her eyelids a fraction more, she encountered a hairy leg and followed it upward to the frayed edge of a pair of cutoffs. Above the denim shorts was a corrugated belly and a broad chest covered with a pelt of golden hair. Above that, Travis's face loomed, looking concerned.

  "G%non. Wake up sleepyhead."

  "Go away," Rebecca mumbled.

  Travis squatted on his haunches beside her. His voice softened with a trace of amusement, and this time he shook

  her shoulder gently. "C'mon Rebecca. You've been out here almost an hour. You're going to burn to a crisp if you don't get out of the sun."

  "S'okay," she mumbled sleepily. "I used a sunscreen earlier."

  "And most of it washed off in the water."

  Rebecca sighed. He was right. Though her hair was a dark mahogany color, her skin was fair. Without gobs of strong sunblock she burned, and with it she barely tanned. Despite the past couple of weeks of swimming and sunbathing, her skin had taken on only a slight peach tint.

  "Your back is looking pink alrea... Hey. What the devil is this?"

  Rebecca felt his finger trail over her lower back, and she came awake instantly. When she'd put on the low-cut maillot she'd forgotten about those tiny raised nubs of flesh. She sat up, twisting around to face him and shielding her back from his view. "It's nothing," she said quickly.

  "Nothing? Those look like scars to me."

  "They are. Old ones. They're from an accident I had when I was a child."

  Travis's eyes narrowed. "What kind of accident?"

  All day he'd treated her with the politeness of a stranger, but there was nothing in the least im
personal or distant in his manner now. His gaze bore into her as though he was determined to see into her soul.

  "I fell off my bike."

  "You get scrapes from falling off a bike, not pea-size welts."

  "That depends on what you land on. Don't you remember? The curved driveway in front of our house was made of white gravel. One day after a storm, before the yardman had had a chance to fill them in, I hit a pothole with the front wheel of my bike and went flying up into the air and landed flat on my back."

  "Then why are the scars only along your waist?"

  "Why... actually, you see, I landed at the edge of the drive. The upper part of my body hit the grass."

  Travis studied her with unnerving directness. "I don't remember you taking a bad spill or getting hurt, other than an occasional scraped knee or elbow."

  "Heaven's, Travis. What is this? An inquisition?" She gave a nervous laugh and shook her head. "A lot of things have happened to me that you know nothing about.

  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take that shower." She reached for the towel and started to stand, but Travis stopped her with a hand on her forearm while she was still on her knees. He searched her face, and Rebecca's heart thumped painfully.

  Only inches separated them. She could feel his breath feather across her cheek, see each one of his ridiculously long lashes, the tiny chips of charcoal that seemed to float in the silvery irises. The scent of soap and clean male drifted to her, and she realized that Travis had showered while she slept. She felt each hard finger wrapped around her forearm, the heat emanating from him.

  Her attention settled on his chiseled lips, so serious now, and she found herself wondering things she hadn't given a thought to in years.

  To Rebecca's horror, her heartbeat doubled and she felt a shameful quickening at the heart of her femininity.

  "Rebecca."

  He said her name softly, still she started, her pupils dilating when her gaze jerked up to meet his.

  "Just tell me one thing?"

  "Wh-what?"

  "Those women who looked after you as a child. Did any of them abuse you?"

  She blinked, too astonished to answer for a second. Re-teasing a long breath, she chuckled, all the tension going out of her. "No, of course not."

  "If so, you can tell me, you know."

  "Travis, I swear to you, none of our housekeepers ever abused me in any way." Her hand covered his where it gripped her forearm, and she smiled and added softly, "But I do appreciate your concern."

  Once again they looked at each other in silence. Rebecca's smile faded as the seconds ticked by. Travis's gaze dropped to her lips, and her heartbeat slowed to a heavy thud.

  They were too close, only inches apart. She told herself to move, to get up and go below. She couldn't.

  Travis's silvery gaze flickered to hers, then lowered again to her mouth. Slowly, his head tipped to one side and descended. Rebecca's breathing shuddered to a stop. Her eyelids drifted shut.

  His lips settled softly on hers. They moved in a warm caress that was scarcely more than the brush of flesh against flesh. The whispery touch sent a flood of shimmering sparks cascading through Rebecca's body.

  Her nipples puckered against the satiny cloth of her swimsuit. Buried within its folds, her fingers clutched the towel in a death grip.

  There was nothing threatening about the unhurried kiss. It tested and tasted and invited her to do the same. Ever so softly, his lips rubbed and nibbled, while his agile tongue stroked and swirled with gentle persuasion, effortlessly gaining entry into her mouth and engaging hers in a tantalizing dance of discovery.

  Rebecca felt on fire and shaken as the sweetest pleasure she had ever known showered through her.

  The kiss ended as gently as it began. Travis raised his head, drawing his lips from hers slowly, coming back for a lingering last nibble, then easing away again. Rebecca opened her eyes and looked into his. They were the color of slate, watching her, waiting, questioning. Neither of them moved.

  "Why did you do that?" she whispered. Travis raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips, and, after a moment's consideration, shrugged. "It seemed right."

  She laughed. She couldn't help it. The nonchalant answer was so typically Travis. "Right? How do you figure that?"

  "Well...how about...you'd hurt yourself, so I kissed it better?"

  The corners of his mouth lifted, and a mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. Rebecca had to struggle to keep her own grin under control. She was still shaken from the kiss, but when Travis turned on the teasing charm he was irresistible. "That was years ago, Travis. It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

  "But I didn't know about it then."

  She gave him a dry look. "You'll have to do better than that."

  "Okay. How about...you looked pretty and kissable, so I kissed you."

  "I see. So you make a habit of kissing women whenever the mood strikes, do you?"

  "Hell, no. Do I look crazy to you? I'd get my head knocked off." He leaned closer and grinned. "But in this case I was curious. Haven't you wondered what it would be like between us, after all these years?"

  "I...no, of course not," she lied in a flustered rush. "Why would I? You've always made it perfectly clear that you couldn't stand me. Anyway, you've already kissed me once. At Pepe's. Remember?"

  "That doesn't count. I didn't know then that you had a crush on me."

  Rebecca rolled her eyes and groaned. "I knew it was a mistake to tell you. I knew it. You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

  "Maybe," he replied cheerfully, and stood up. Grinning at her over his shoulder, he walked around the sidedeck and jumped down to the cockpit. "Then again, maybe not."

  She scrambled to her feet and hurried after him. "The operative phrase there is 'had a crush.' Had, Travis. H-A-D, had."

  This time his grin was wicked. Sticking his fingertips in the back pockets of his cutoffs, he sauntered to the stern to check his fishing line, whistling a jaunty tune between his teeth.

  Torn between outrage and-laughter, Rebecca stored at his broad back. In the end, laughter won, but she managed to storm below deck in a credible imitation of a woman in a huff before giving in to it.

  "Travis McCall, you are an incorrigible flirt." The pronouncement bounced back at her off the fiberglass walls of the tiny bathroom. Fighting back a grin, she turned her face up to the warm shower spray. He was also, and always had been, an irrepressible, shamelessly appealing, charming devil. Try as she might, she couldn't be angry with him; it Mt too good to be on the receiving end of his teasing banter for once.

  Besides, for all his maddening devil-may-care ways and his past overt dislike of her, he was a kind man. He'd not only seen to it that she didn't spend her birthday alone, he'd made it memorable. He'd taught her to fish and to scuba dive. He'd made her laugh. He'd made her feel happy and alive—really alive—for the first time in years. Because of him, for a few hours she'd been able to forget about the past and the worrisome uncertainty of what lay ahead. How could she be angry with a man like that?

  * * *

  The kiss on the bow of the Freewind seemed to mark the beginning of change between them. It was nothing major, and they weren't exactly friends yet, but with each passing hour they grew more at ease with each other. For the remainder of the afternoon they fished off the back of the boat, exchanging only an occasional word or comment, but those held none of the stiff politeness of the morning, and the prolonged periods of silence were now companionable.

  For Rebecca's part, she was aware of an underlying hum of excitement deep inside, but she wasn't concerned. After all, in many ways the day had been the fulfillment of an old, hopeless fantasy, just as that surprising kiss had been. A little excitement was surely a normal reaction. After she'd given the matter some thought, deep down she was even relieved to know that she could still respond to a man on a physical level.

  None of it meant anything, of course. Rebecca didn't kid herself about that. This was
just a space out of time. Tomorrow, when their truce ended, things would be as they'd always been between them. In the meantime, she would enjoy his company and the lovely day.

  "Looks like rain," Travis said, breaking into her thoughts.

  Following the direction of his gaze, Rebecca saw that dark clouds had begun to form on the horizon.

  "Do you think if s heading this way?"

  "I don't know. Those clouds are too far away to tell. But to be on the safe side, we'd better pack up and head for home. It'll be getting dark in a couple of hours anyway."

  Rebecca's spirits drooped. She hated for the day to end, but she obediently followed Travis's example and reeled in her line. She helped him stow their gear and toss the remainder of the bait overboard. When everything was battened down and they were ready to get underway, she climbed up onto the flying bridge with him.

  Standing next to Travis at the control console, Rebecca took one last wistful look around the quiet cove. It was so tranquil there, so beautiful, with the green island rising to the rear, the headlands curving around on either side like sheltering arms and the sapphire gulf stretching out beyond. She wished they could stay forever.