by Scott, Lisa
His lips spread into a grin as they crushed against my mouth.
***
Luckily, we came up for air half an hour before the first guests arrived, so we had time to set out plates and napkins, empty buckets for clamshells, and dishes for melted butter. Finn set a fire in the pit, and placed a huge pot of clams over the flames. He left room for two more pots, one for potatoes and one for cobs of corn.
I grazed my fingers over my lips, remembering our very hot kissing session. He smiled at me, and his sultry gaze made me blush. People would definitely be making some assumptions about our disappearance from the beach.
The girls were the first to show up, freshly changed into cute clothes, while I still wore my bikini. Monica set up the mojito station and she and Catherine got to work muddling the basil.
Brooke came over and pulled a sundress out of her beach bag. “Thought you might need this. That periwinkle Liz Claiborne sundress you have at home would have been better, but this is all you brought. Having fun?” she asked, with more than a twinkle in her eye.
I took the dress from her, grateful to have friends who were not only fun, but thoughtful, too. “Thanks and yes, I’m having a very good time.”
She raised an eyebrow. “A very good time?”
“No. Not that good. Not yet.”
Brooke bit her lip. “We should have warned you. No one can resist the charms of Finn Donahue.”
I wanted to protest that this was more than a casual hookup. At least that’s the vibe I was feeling. But she dashed off to say hello to one of her new buddies from the volleyball game.
Or was this really just a vacation fling with no future on the horizon?
I quickly chased away my thoughts and enjoyed the party. I took on the unofficial role of hostess, helping Finn refill drinks, butter, chips, and whatever else was in demand. Hours later the party thinned out and the girls climbed into the hot tub with a few decks of waterproof cards Finn pulled out of a drawer in the kitchen. He left them outside with instructions to turn off the hot tub before they made their way home. Finn made it pretty clear he wanted all the guests to be gone at some point in the evening.
While the laughter bubbled up from the hot tub outside, I started tidying the kitchen.
Finn grabbed my hand. “Stop. Leave it till the morning.”
“Oh. And you’re so sure I’ll be here in the morning?”
He looked down and a shy grin split his face. “I hope so.”
Oh, the look of uncertainty on his face killed me. “Do I even want to know how many women have woken up here in the morning?”
His face paled a bit. “With the old Finn? No. You don’t. But I’m not he same guy, Anna. I thought you’d figured that out.”
I set my hand on his arm. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I can see that you aren’t the same heartbreaker who bagged all my friends back in high school.”
“That doesn’t sound so good, put like that.”
I’m not entirely sure why I said it, but I grabbed his hand and looked in his eyes. “I trust you, Finn.” And I led him back to the bedroom to finish what we’d started a few hours earlier.
***
We woke up in a tangle of sandy sheets, still wrapped in each other’s arms. He opened his eyes and smiled at me.
“It’s the morning,” I said. “And I’m still here.”
He squeezed me tight. “Good. And sorry about the small bed. You’ll be happy to know I have a king-sized bed at my place in Quincy.”
I looked into his eyes, wondering if he realized the truth that small detail held; he was talking about us beyond this vacation. I closed my eyes and finally relaxed in his arms.
Making the walk of shame back to the rental for a shower and a change of clothes at ten a.m. was mortifying. My friends were awake, drinking coffee on the patio.
“You’re up already?” I asked.
“We haven’t been to bed yet,” Brooke announced.
“But it looks like you have!” Catherine chimed in.
“I don’t want a beach fling,” Monica said, in a singsong imitation of my voice. “Oh, this is just like Pretty Woman except you’re Richard Gere.”
I gave her a look. “Uh, not exactly.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “And it’s not a fling. He’s talking like we’re going to see each other after the vacation.”
The girls stopped grinning and exchanged worried glances. “Anna, we’re talking about Finn Donahue. The king of flings.” Catherine pursed her lips.
“It’s just who he is,” Brooke added quietly. She forced a smile. “Just have fun and don’t worry about the future.”
I shook my head. “No. That’s who he was. He’s different now.”
Silence settled over the group.
I ignored them. “Please tell me Monica made one of her famous omelettes.”
“We went out for breakfast with our volleyball boys,” Catherine told me.
“But there’s an awesome Danish pastry inside,” Brooke said.
I was glad we dropped the Finn discussion. They hadn’t seen the man he’d become. They were still thinking about the boy from high school.
***
And he was proving me right. We spent the next two days together. My friends didn’t give me grief for spending our vacation with a guy instead of them. They would’ve done the same thing if they’d met a guy they were falling for. Finn took me to some of his favorite spots on the Cape, and we had a fabulous sunset picnic on the beach. Better yet, each night ended at his place.
That was fine with the girls; Monica snored, so she was able to have her own room since I wasn’t there.
With two days left in our vacation, I told Finn I wanted to spend the day with my friends. We had planned on doing a whale watching tour, then a bit of shopping along Route Six.
“Have fun,” Finn told me, giving me a long, hot kiss that left my lips tingling.
***
Monica clutched the side of the boat and threw up for the third time. “I feel like Regan in The Exorcist. I never used to get seasick when I was little.”
“You didn’t drink alcohol when you were little.” I rubbed her back when she sat down and offered her a bottle of water. “I’ll drive you to the rental when we get back to port. I can’t imagine you feel like shopping.”
She shook her head. “Thanks.”
“No problem. That’s why we brought two cars, in case we wanted to split up.”
We drove home and I helped Monica get settled in bed, then brought her some crackers and soda. I slipped on my flip-flops and headed down for Finn’s place. He’d planned on cleaning up his place and he’d probably appreciate some help.
I walked along the fence in front of the row of rose bushes. I peeked around the corner of the hedge hoping to sneak up on him with a surprise kiss if he was outside.
And he was—along with a beautiful dark-haired woman whose arms were wrapped around him, her head resting against his chest. Then she raised her lips to his. They were standing at an angle, and I couldn’t see his face, but I’d seen enough.
I leave for the day and he squeezes in a quickie with someone else.
Even if they hadn’t actually made it to the bedroom, he was kissing another woman after spending every day and night with me, and talking about our future after the trip.
I’m so stupid. I’d been warned, after all, but I fell for him anyway.
I thought about confronting him, but I didn’t want him to see how badly he’d hurt me. I turned and ran back to the rental. My friends had been right. He was still a smooth-talking shit. I couldn’t face them, and I certainly couldn’t face him. I packed up my things and left the girls a note: Things ended badly with Finn. I’m going home. Sorry, Anna.
I checked on Monica, but she was sleeping, so I didn’t bother to wake her. I took one last look out the back window at the deep blue ocean and wondered if I would drown from the tears brimming in my eyes.
***
The girls called me when I got hom
e. “What the hell happened?” Catherine asked.
I sniffed, my tears all cried out. “I found out that you guys were right. He’s a jerk who was only looking for the next hookup.”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. What did he do?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter. I was stupid. I should’ve listened to you guys.”
Catherine was quiet for a moment. “Do you want us to come up and be with you?”
“No, absolutely not. Don’t let my mistake ruin your trip. Stay. We’ll catch up afterward.”
When I heard a car door slam in my driveway three hours later, I figured they’d ignored me and drove up anyway. But when I opened the door, I almost slammed it; Finn was standing there.
“Go away.” I tried to close the door, but he held it open.
“Anna, I don’t understand what happened. I stopped by and your friends tell me you took off because I was an ass? What did I do?”
I glared at him. “Think hard. You can’t remember your afternoon?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I cleaned up the yard, did some laundry.”
“And who was the brunette helping you?”
His face reddened. “You saw that?”
I stomped my foot. “Yes, I saw that. And I realized what a complete and utter fool I was to believe one word of your ‘Oh, I’m a changed man’ spiel.” I thought about spitting for good effect, but my mouth was dry. And I’m not exactly a spitting kind of girl.
His shoulders slumped. “Can I please come in and explain?”
I turned up my hands. “What’s to explain?”
“A lot. It’s not what you think.”
I rolled my eyes, but I stepped aside. This is going to be good, I thought.
He reached for my arm but I jerked it away. He sat on the couch and I plopped down in the chair across from him.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed. “Remember how I told you we lost one of our guys in a fire?”
“Yes, the cornerstone of your reformation.”
He frowned. “The woman you saw was my buddy’s widow.”
I swallowed hard. “And you hooked up with her?” It was worse than I thought.
He groaned, sounding totally frustrated. “No. She’s confused and lonely. I’d invited her and her son to spend some time at my parent’s place at the beach this summer. She just showed up—by herself—and she made a move on me.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “I think she’s just trying to find someone to fill Danny’s role, and figured I was a good candidate.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face. “It looked like you were kissing her.”
He shook his head. “I was hugging her, trying to comfort her, and she tried to kiss me.” He grimaced. “That’s not the easiest scenario to disentangle from. I didn’t kiss her back, but I didn’t want to humiliate her, either, and make a big scene.”
God, I’m the shit. I let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I just thought…”
He came over to me and squatted next to my chair. “I know why you thought what you thought. I’ve got a history of using women.” He shrugged. “Of course you thought I’d done it again.” He reached for my hand. “But I was serious when I said I want more than that. I want you, Anna. Only you. Are we going to be able to figure this out? Because if you can’t trust me, it’s just not going to work.”
I looked beyond the gorgeous eyes, the killer body, and heart-melting smile. I saw a man wanting something more in his life, trying his best to put his randy past behind him. I reached for his hand. “Can you forgive me for jumping to conclusions?”
He pulled me from the chair and gathered me in his arms. “Of course.”
“So, where are you headed now? Your place in Quincy?”
He shook his head. “Back to the beach. I didn’t close up the house. I drove straight here once I found out you’d gone home. I had a damn hard time getting your address from your friends.”
“They’re protective. They didn’t believe me when I said you changed.”
He nodded. “Understandable. I deserve it. But I’m glad you have such good friends who care about you.”
“If you’re headed back to the beach I should probably go, too, so I can show them everything worked out.”
***
The girls were on the back patio drinking wine when Finn and I walked up.
They looked at us skeptically, probably wondering how Finn had finagled his way out of whatever he’d done. Then I told them the story.
“Huh, who’d have guessed it? Finn Donahue is a one-woman man,” Brooke said.
“It’s like Jerry Maguire,” Monica said with a satisfied sigh.
“Not exactly. I definitely did not have her at hello. She was ready to slam the door in my face,” Finn said.
Catherine patted my hand. “That’s my girl.”
After a glass of wine I stood up and grabbed Finn’s hand. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
Finn put his arm around me. “You’ve got one more day with your friends. Enjoy it together. And then when you get home, you’re all mine.” He kissed my cheek and disappeared into the dark.
The girls collapsed into a chorus of awwws. And then plans were made for a night on the town.
***
We spent the last day of our vacation much like the first: reading magazines, drinking fruity cocktails, and watching boys on the beach.
“We’ve got a solid nine headed our ways, ladies,” Catherine announced.
I nudged her with my knee. “No, he’s a ten for sure.”
Brooke sat up and took off her glasses. “Is that Finn Donahue?” That brought on a round of laughter.
“Well, at least now we’ve all hooked up with him,” Monica mumbled.
I tossed my book at her as Finn walked over and sat next to me. “Don’t I know you?” I said.
“Not well enough. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
The girls sighed and then Monica dropped her drink. “Forget Finn Donahue. You know who just walked by? Michael Sullivan, the actor. That really was him.”
And the girls were up and out of their beach chairs chasing down the other heartthrob from their high school days.
“Don’t you want to go see?” Finn asked.
“Not when I’m sitting next to Finn Donahue.”
He laughed and kissed me. “I’m glad your mother didn’t let you come to one of my parties. I might have kissed you back then when I was an ass and ruined everything.”
I linked my hand in his. “You were worth waiting for. Now back to that discussion about sirens and making me scream.”
But Brooke was the one who squealed. “I found the other Manolo!”
She saved her dream guy on the beach, but now he wants something more…
Washed Up
by Lisa Scott
He woke to darkness and pain, with a pounding head and churning stomach; but soft lips crushed against his, so the night couldn’t have been that bad. His mouth moved in response, and he reached to find the body attached to those remarkable lips. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, while the other trailed further south over her collarbone, cupping a round, firm…
Slap! His eyes opened to an explosion of light. Then he sat up and puked. Seawater spewed from his mouth and someone rolled him onto his side.
“He’s okay, but get the lifeguard!” a woman shouted. She rubbed his arm. “You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
This wasn’t exactly his definition of fine. He blinked away salty brine and fell back on the sand. “What the hell happened?” He looked up at the woman—petite, with dark eyes, and long hair that glowed in the sun.
“I’m not sure. I found you washed up here.”
He winced at the familiar phrase. Just ask his agent, who hadn’t been able to land him so much as a mall opening in the past three years.
“And then you kissed me?” he asked. Crazy fans had tried worse. At least duct tape and handcuffs hadn’t been involved this t
ime; an actor without his sense of humor might have pressed charges.
“Kissed you?” She rolled her eyes. “Ever heard of CPR? I was a lifeguard in high school. You kissed me, and then you tried…” she winced. “Sorry I hit you. Natural reflex, but I think it helped.” She shrugged.
He scrunched his eyebrows as the pieces fell into place. “Oh. Damn, I’m sorry.” He was aware of the crowd growing around them.
“Hey, is that Michael Sullivan?” someone shouted.
“The guy from that movie?”
It was more than one movie, he thought to himself. There were sequels, too.
A squeal split the air and a bikini top landed on his stomach. He frowned at it, then grabbed it to mop off his face.
Dashing over, a lifeguard knelt next to him. “What happened?” he asked.
A woman in high-heeled sandals and a gold sarong stepped forward, jerking her thumb at the girl. “She found him in the sand, and started doing CPR.” She snapped her gum and pointed at him. “Then he kissed her and puked.” She held up her I-Phone. “I taped the whole thing. I’m going to tweet it.”
Shit.
“I took pictures,” someone shouted.
“I just put it up on You Tube,” said another.
He rolled over and puked again.
The woman he’d tried to grope—while she was busy saving him—set her hand on his shoulder. “You took in a lot of water. What happened?”
Michael sat up and hung his head between his knees, tossing away the bikini top. “There was a group of girls following me. They were running, then one of them screamed.” He sighed. “The stalker radar went off, so I swam to get away. They didn’t look like the kind of women who get wet.”
A woman behind him gasped. “Monica, I told you not to chase him!”
“Shut up, Brooke,” another woman hissed. “You were, too.”
He closed his eyes, his stomach rolling worse than it did last Saturday morning from that monumental hangover. “I dove under a wave and next thing I know, I’m here with you.” He looked up at her and gave her a weak smile. “Thanks, by the way.”