by Liz Talley
“I don’t have to keep my eyes open. She’s renting a condo in my complex. We’ve already run into each other.” Or rather, she’d tripped over him naked on the beach. He probably shouldn’t tell his mother that, though. Not something she’d want to share with her Church of Christ knitting circle/Bible study.
“Does she know who you are?” His mother sounded worried.
“At first she didn’t recognize me. I had to reintroduce myself.” And try not to throw up on her or overly expose his junk … which he’d likely have done. He’d had a lot of tequila and rum that night. “Why are you so concerned?”
“No reason. How strange she’s living in your complex. It’s truly a small world,” his mother said, clearing her throat. “So what did she think about your new career?”
“She said she liked my boat,” Ryan said, unwinding the towel from his waist, sliding it from beneath him, and tossing it onto the leather bench at the foot of the bed. His skin itched to pick it up and toss it into the washer. But he quelled the urge. He forced himself to look at crumbs on the countertop and swore off organizing his canned goods according to daily vitamin allowance and seed type. He eyed an uneven toenail as he sat naked on his bedspread … another forced action.
“Oh,” his mother responded.
“Actually, I’m going dolphin watching with her today.”
“She’s divorced,” his mother said. She made it sound like Jess had gonorrhea or something.
“Thank God. Her husband was an asshole.”
“Ryan James, watch your language,” his mother said, her tone turning sharp. Martha Reyes had taught school for thirty-five years. She could freeze anyone with a mere look. “I must run now. I have to take a tuna salad to Mrs. Montgomery. She fell and broke her hip last month and is still having trouble getting around.”
“Thanks for calling and wishing me a belated happy birthday,” he said, eyeing his body in the mirror. He sucked in his stomach. Still flat, but he needed to watch the cheeseburgers. He’d worked so hard in the gym to perfect his body. No use in making more work for himself.
“’Bye, Ryan,” she said, hanging up.
No I love you or I miss you. Just, “’Bye, Ryan.”
He set his cell phone on the bedside table, centering it on the JAMA he’d received in the mail last week. Then on second thought he bumped the phone so it slid halfway off the magazine. Then he walked away.
An hour later he pulled up at the Holiday Harbor Marina. Morgan sat beside him, smelling like coconut suntan oil and looking like the subject of a country song. Her bikini top looked like if he hit a big pothole, the stitching would pop. Her cutoff jean shorts were, well, short. He had a good shot of seeing her hoo-ha when she bent over. She also wore very impractical wedge sandals. Logan had texted he would pick up Jess, which didn’t make much sense since she lived in the same complex as him and Morgan. Guess the man really thought this was a date.
And by the looks of Morgan, she did, too, which aggravated him. They’d had the conversation about being friends. Why couldn’t Morgan accept what they had? She was like the swallows who built the nest on his deck—nothing would dissuade.
Jess stood by the huge ice machine wearing a tank sundress that skimmed her thighs and a pair of thong sandals. Her hair had been braided, and she wore lip gloss. Guess she thought it was a date, too.
Damn it.
“Hey,” she said, donning a smile. “Logan went to talk to the guy who is taking us out.”
Morgan said hello to Jess, but she was a bit cool about it. He’d never seen the happy brunette act standoffish with anyone. One of the reasons he liked Morgan was her sunny disposition and enthusiasm for everything … even grocery shopping. Ryan equated grocery shopping with the flames of eternal damnation. All that disarray, suspect smells emanating from the freezer section, and deli harboring pathogenic bacteria waiting to climb into his luncheon meat.
Logan came out of the marina. “Okay, folks, it’s all set up. Captain Buddy’s our guy. He knows where all the bottlenoses hang out.”
“Didn’t we just do this yesterday?” Ryan asked, trying to stanch the sour grapes in his tone.
“Yeah, but who cares?” Morgan said, studying her nails before blinding him with a smile. “This time it’s a date, and Logan mentioned going to the beach afterward. We can play beach blanket bingo. It’s my favorite game.”
“It’s the name of your beach house,” Jess said.
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Duh, that’s why it’s my fave.”
Captain Buddy, a guy Ryan had never met, came out and pointed out his boat, a flat-bottomed skiff. The man looked like Santa Claus and Jimmy Buffett had had a baby. He wore a bright Hawaiian shirt, baggy shorts, and deck shoes. His stomach hung over, and he had the habit of rubbing it while he talked. They all put on life jackets and climbed into the boat.
It was an hour of … watching dolphins.
Ryan liked dolphins well enough, but he saw them all the time. They frequently followed his boat, jumping in the wake. Not to mention Buddy took them back to Big Lagoon, where they’d docked the day before. Jess seemed to enjoy it, pointing out the rolling fins and beaming at Captain Buddy as he talked about dolphin adventures he’d had over the years. Logan watched Jess like a hawk searching a field for prey. Morgan played on her phone. Overall, Ryan would rate the date a C plus only because Jess smiled a lot. He remained silent, noting the way the captain piloted the boat more than watching the dolphins.
After an hour they motored back into the marina, bought some beer, and piled into Logan’s jeep. Fifteen minutes later they walked along the white beaches of Perdido Key, which sat east of Orange Beach near the Florida state line.
“This is so gorgeous. No matter where you go on the Gulf Coast, it’s paradise,” Jess said, bending and scooping the crystal sand and letting it pour through her fingers. “I still can’t believe I’m here and not looking at the muddy pond in the middle of Morning Glory.”
“Morning Glory? Is that even a place?” Morgan asked.
Jess’s forehead crinkled. “No, I’m making it up, Morgan.”
Ryan tried to hide his smile, but Jess caught sight of it. Something in her eyes glowed triumphantly. The old Jess was somewhere inside the shell she seemed to have become. No, not shell, but the vulnerability Jess displayed was similar—luminescent and secretive—and so not what came to mind when he pictured her. He wanted that Jess back, the one who lifted her chin, argued when she knew she was right, and elbowed her way past the stragglers in life.
Morgan seemed oblivious to Jess’s jab and pointed to an unoccupied pavilion on the state beach. “We can put our stuff over there. I brought a towel even though I didn’t know we were going to the beach.” She shot an annoyed look at Ryan.
How was he supposed to know? Wasn’t like Logan had called him and they’d planned the day like a couple of adolescent boys on their first shebang. Ryan had been coerced into this double date … which he didn’t consider a true double date. Not for him, anyway.
Logan headed over to the pavilion. “The day is too nice to go back home and do laundry. We’re young. Let’s play.”
Morgan and Jess dumped their beach bags. One swish of her shapely hips and Morgan was beach ready in a matching bikini bottom. Jess watched as Morgan tiptoed out to the pounding surf. Then with a slight lift of her shoulder, she wrenched the tank dress overhead.
“Nice bikini,” Logan said.
That was an understatement.
“Uh, thanks,” Jess said, clasping her hands between breasts that were tastefully covered. Her bikini was not as revealing as Morgan’s, having more substantial material and an almost modest cut, but her body was amazing.
He thought about the Jess he’d fantasized about all those years ago while lying in his twin bed staring up at the constellations that clustered on his ceiling—another educational Christmas gift from Santa Claus that he didn’t have the heart to pull down. Her Morning Glory cheerleading uniform showed her long, tanned legs
and clung perfectly to her breasts, nipping in at her slim waist. She had amazing collarbones, and her arms were somehow both elegant and athletic. He’d adored her then, dared to brush her arm whenever he added boric acid to the test tube. He’d breathed deeply when she was near, sucking in the scent of her perfume and shampoo. Jess had been his ideal girl.
And now she stood in front of him, no longer girlish, but splendidly woman.
“Okay, I’m heading into the water,” she said with a smile that looked a bit forced.
“Me, too,” Logan said, ripping off his shirt and following her toward the surf. The fool hadn’t even put on sunscreen. He’d be a lobster tomorrow.
Ryan grabbed a beer and sank onto the bench, watching Jess cautiously step into the water. Her hands fluttered at the sides of her swim bottoms as if she were afraid the strong swell of waves might make short work of her suit. He’d seen plenty of boob and ass thanks to the ocean. But Ryan didn’t want any cheap glimpses of Jess’s no doubt extraordinary flesh. He wanted to earn his view the honest way. No cheating.
And right there as he sat on Perdido Beach watching Logan make an ass of himself trying to impress Jess by jumping waves, Ryan decided he was done with friendship. Screw chapter fifteen. His gut told him Jess was attracted to him. He didn’t want to tread on what they had, but he was prepared to stomp all over that shit for a chance with Jess. He wanted her in and out of that bathing suit. No one-night stand. No one-week fling. As long as she stayed in Pensacola, he wanted her to be with him. And only him.
He still had a half year of debauchery in his plan for his new life, but Jess was worth smashing the plan into smithereens. Because she had always been his ideal.
And that was enough.
Jess stood in the surf and watched Morgan and Logan play in the water. Ryan remained on the beach under the pavilion, looking contemplative. Along the white sands, families frolicked. One little girl threw a Frisbee for a golden retriever. Another man scooped shells into a bright-orange bucket. All simple pleasures on a Sunday afternoon. And she stood on the edge, afraid her bathing suit might get compromised by the strong waves, struck by her inability to charge into the fray.
Oddly enough, back in Morning Glory, people hadn’t really noticed how unsteady she was. To them, she was the same Jess they’d always known. Not even Rosemary had noticed her reticence, her lack of interest. Eden seemed to see how much she’d been rocked a bit more, but then again, Eden was sensitive to emotional undertow. It was easier for Jess to pretend she was okay. She sat on the same pew each Sunday with her family, balancing her niece on her knee. She went to Stitch and Bitch at Rosemary’s shop on Thursday nights, shopped at the Piggly Wiggly on Mondays because Benton worked all day and had Rotary Club on Monday night. Less likely to run into him. She still went to baby showers, bridal showers, and dedications. She existed, pretending nothing had changed. She was good ol’ Jess.
But standing in the Florida surf, wearing a red bikini while on a date with a guy she didn’t want to be with, it became very obvious she was full of chickenshit.
She was tired of herself.
Women got divorced all the time. Their husbands cheated all the time. The scumbags came home and told them, divorced them, and took the dog all the time. Jess wasn’t special. She was one of them. United by fear, hate, disgust, sadness, and loathing. Some of her kind got mad and got even. She’d read The First Wives Club. Some went crazy and slept with half a football team. She was sure there was a book about that, too, but she’d not found it yet. And others grew morose and started herb gardens and adopted stray cats. No one wanted to read about those women. So, no, Jess Culpepper wasn’t special.
She had to stop sitting on the sidelines.
Glancing back at Ryan, she made a decision.
No more just friends with Ryan. He wanted her. He’d always wanted her, and now that they were both grown-up, single, healthy (okay, somewhat healthy) people, there was no reason to back off. She wasn’t staying in Pensacola, and he rarely came home. Wasn’t as if they would enter an awkward stage where for years down the road they’d not be able to meet each other’s eyes. So why the hell not?
Why the hell not?
That should be her new mantra.
She unwrapped her arms from around her stomach and stiffened her back. Making her breasts stand out. They were nice breasts, the perfect C cup, still perky. Looking up to where Ryan sat, she called, “Come play with me.”
And she meant every word.
Morgan didn’t hear, and her date, Logan, seemed to be more interested in the buxom brunette than he did her at the moment, which made her feel better about yelling a totally suggestive thing to Ryan. And like the good puppy he was—no, strike that, there was nothing puppylike about Ryan any longer. He was a full-grown man … who stood up and shucked his shirt.
Which made her tummy flutter.
Dang, he looked good enough to sop up with a biscuit.
“How’s the water?” he said, wading out into the crashing waves.
“Wet,” she said.
His lips curved into a smile. She wished he weren’t wearing sunglasses. She’d love to see the sparkle in his green eyes. Or maybe they’d smolder. She’d love to see them dilated with passion, half-lidded and focused on her. “You were always a keen observer.”
“That’s why I always kept the lab log in chemistry.” She waded into the emerald water, dodging a few pieces of Sargassum seaweed that floated by. For a while she let the waves push her along, darting glances at Ryan, who bobbed along with the waters nearby. Morgan and Logan were farther out and seemed to be in deep conversation.
Ryan moved closer to her. “So what do you think about Logan?”
“He’s nice.”
“Just nice, huh?”
“I don’t know him well enough to render another opinion. He seems to like dolphins a lot. And numbers. He said he likes being an accountant. Just the thought of staring at tax forms all day breaks me out in hives,” she said, digging her toes into the sand so she stayed close to Ryan.
The former geek extraordinaire of Morning Glory High gave her a sexy smile that curled her toes deeper into the sand. “So you’re saying he’s boring?”
Jess darted a look toward Logan. “Shh. I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it,” he said, moving closer still. He pulled his sunglasses off and let them fall to his chest, dangling by the glasses strap.
She could see the five o’clock shadow that somehow made his eyes even greener. Or maybe that was the water. Either way, those eyes looked like sea glass. “I didn’t imply anything other than the fact I don’t like doing taxes.”
His hand brushed her side. “Who does?”
Her stomach leaped at the contact. She caught his hand underwater. “What are you doing?” She said it in a breathless Marilyn Monroe voice.
“Making sure you don’t get knocked over by the waves,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers.
Never had hand-holding seemed erotic, but his callused fingers sliding against the sensitive flesh of her palm was somehow unnerving. Yet she didn’t pull away. Because Ryan made her feel warm and gooey inside. Like a chocolate chip cookie. Or perhaps a turned-on woman who needed to get laid in the worst possible way. No, the best possible way. With a guy who wasn’t merely okay, but made her want to kiss the corner of his mouth … to slide her hands across his abs of steel … to grip his tight ass as he—
“Hey,” Morgan trilled. “Y’all finally made it out here. Isn’t the water nice?”
Jess wrenched her hand from Ryan’s. Crap, she was on a date. With Logan the accountant. She had no business playing, uh, handsies under the water with Ryan.
Both Logan and Morgan moved their way.
“It’s very nice. I like it in late summer. Like taking a bath,” Ryan said, pressing his hand against her rib cage in a possessive manner. Or perhaps it was a message. One that said, We’ll get back to this later.
A sweet ache of desire had awakened in
side her. That feeling was something she craved. She needed to be loved again. She needed to feel the world fall away as a man touched her, stroked her, made her shatter against him. Yeah, she was horny, and it wasn’t for the accountant. It was for the nerd who’d fashioned himself into an Abercrombie and Fitch model.
“I was telling Morgan that there’s a place down the beach that sells the best piña coladas. You two want to walk down and get some with us?” Logan said, moving toward her.
“I’m actually going to towel off and sit in the sun a bit,” Jess said, planting her feet under her and moving toward the beach. “I’m fine staying here.”
“I can get you one,” Logan said, offering her a gentlemanly smile. He truly was a nice guy, but not what she needed in her life. Of course, she wasn’t sure if she actually needed Ryan, either. She glanced over at him, at the way droplets clung to his deeply tanned shoulders, the way his piercing gaze moved over the slopes of her breasts.
Yeah, she kinda needed him.
A lot.
“Ryan?” Morgan asked, dodging a wave, her big boobs bouncing as she giddyupped trying to avoid a wipeout. “You coming?”
His lips curled in a secret smile. “Not yet.”
Morgan made a confused face.
“I mean, I don’t want it right now. Maybe later.” He slid a glance toward Jess.
She knew his words were sexy repartee, picking up where they’d left off. Flirting was wonderful, getting down to business even better. Nothing had to be spelled out—Ryan wanted her. She wanted him. Pregame warmups were over. Let the game commence. They’d waited long enough.
Logan looked at Morgan. “You still up for going?”
Morgan looked at Ryan and then looked at Jess. A little furrow gathered between her eyebrows, and then she looked back at Logan. Her gaze lowered, taking in the man’s white—albeit flat—belly and long legs. Something flickered in her eyes. Jess liked to think it was acceptance and interest in a new conquest. “Yeah. I want to.”