The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 2

by Nora Roberts

  “Hey, handsome.” Ginny plopped down on the sand beside him. “Whatcha doing over here all by yourself?”

  “Searching for the meaning of life.”

  She hooted cheerfully. “Well, that’s easy. It’s living it.” She offered him a hot dog, fresh out of the fire and burned to a crisp. “Eat up.”

  Nathan took a bite, tasted charcoal and sand. “Yum.”

  She laughed, squeezed his knee companionably. “Well, outdoor cooking’s not my strong point. But I whip up a hell of a southern-style breakfast if you ever . . . find yourself in my neighborhood.”

  As a come-on it was both obvious and easy. There was her acre of smile, slightly off center now from the tequila she’d been drinking. He couldn’t help but smile back at her. “That’s a very attractive offer.”

  “Well, sugar, it’s one every single woman on the island between sixteen and sixty would dearly love to make you. I just figure I’m getting to the head of the line.”

  Not entirely sure how he was supposed to respond now, Nathan scratched his chin. “I’m really fond of breakfast, but—”

  “Now don’t you fret over it.” This time she squeezed his arm as if testing and approving the biceps. “You know what you’ve got to do, Nathan?”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ve got to dance.”

  “I do?”

  “You sure do.” She hopped up, shot down a hand. “With me. Come on, big guy. Let’s kick up some sand.”

  He put a hand in hers, found it so warm and alive it was easy to grin. “All right.”

  “Ginny’s got herself a Yankee,” Giff commented, watching Ginny pull Nathan toward the damp sand.

  “Looks like.” Kirby licked marshmallow off her thumb. “She sure knows how to have a good time.”

  “It isn’t so hard.” With a beer dangling between his fingers, Giff scanned the beach. Some people were dancing or swaying, others were sprawled around the blazing fire, still others strolled off into the dark to be alone. Kids whooped and hollered, and the old sat in beach chairs exchanging gossip and watching the youth.

  “Not everybody wants to have a good time.” Kirby glanced toward the dunes again but saw no one coming over them from the direction of Sanctuary.

  “You know, you got your eye cocked for Brian, and I’ve got mine cocked for Lexy.” Giff threw a friendly arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t we go dance? We’ll keep our eyes cocked together.”

  “That’s a fine idea.”

  Brian came over the dunes, Lexy on one side, Jo on the other. He paused at the top, took a long, slow survey. “And this, my children, all this, will one day be yours.”

  “Oh, Bri.” Lexy elbowed him. “Don’t be such a grump.” She spotted Giff immediately and felt little toothy nips of jealousy as she saw him slide Kirby into his arms for a slow dance. “I’ve got a hankering for some crab,” she said lightly and started down toward the beach.

  “We could probably escape now,” Jo began. “Kate’s still dragging Daddy down. We could head north, circle around, and be back home before she gets here.”

  “She’d only make us pay for it later.” Resigned, he jammed his hands in his back pockets. “Why do you suppose we’re so bad at social occasions, Jo Ellen?”

  “Too much Hathaway,” she began.

  “Not enough Pendleton,” he finished. “Guess Lexy got our share of that,” he added, nodding down to where their sister was already in the thick of things, surrounded by people. “Let’s get it over with.”

  They’d barely reached the beach before Ginny raced over and greeted them both with loud kisses. “What took y’all so long? I’m half lit already. Nate, let’s get these people some beer so they can catch up.” She whirled away to do so, ran into someone, and giggled. “Well, hey, Morris, you wanna dance with me? Come on.”

  Nathan blew out a breath. “I don’t know where she gets the energy. She damn near wore me out. Want that beer?”

  “I’ll get it,” Brian told him and walked off.

  “I like your hair.” Nathan lifted a finger to brush under Jo’s bangs. “Very nice.”

  “Lexy whacked at it, that’s all.”

  “You look lovely.” He skimmed his hand over her shoulder, down her arm until it captured her own hand. “Is that a problem for you?”

  “No, I ... Don’t start on me, Nathan.”

  “Too late.” He moved in a little closer. “I already have.” Her scent was warm, lightly spicy, intriguing. “You’re wearing perfume.”

  “Lexy—”

  “I like it.” He leaned in, stunning her by sniffing her hair, her neck. “A lot.”

  She was having trouble drawing a full breath, and annoyed, she took a step back. “That’s not why I wore it.”

  “I like it anyway. You want to dance?”

  “ No.”

  “Good. Neither do I. Let’s go sit by the fire and neck.”

  It was so absurd, she nearly laughed. “Let’s just go sit by the fire. If you try anything, I’ll have my daddy go get his gun and dispatch you. And you being a Yankee, no one will turn a hair.”

  He laughed and slipped an arm around her waist, ignoring what he’d come to realize was her instinctive jolt at being touched. “We’ll just sit, then.”

  He got her a beer, poked a stick through a hot dog for her, then settled down beside her. “I see you brought your camera.”

  Automatically, she laid a hand on the scarred leather bag at her hip. “Habit. I’ll wait a while before I take it out. Sometimes a camera puts people off—but after they’ve had enough beer, they don’t mind so much.”

  “I thought you didn’t take portraits.”

  “As a rule, I don’t.” Conversation always made her feel pressured. She dipped into her pocket for a cigarette. “You don’t have to prime inanimate objects with flattery or liquor to get a shot.”

  “I’ve only had one beer.” He took the lighter from her, cupped a hand around it to shield it from the wind off the ocean, and lit her cigarette. His eyes met hers over the flame. “And you haven’t exactly primed me with flattery. But you can take my picture anyway.”

  She considered him through the smoke. Strong bones, strong eyes, strong mouth. “Maybe.” She took the lighter back and tucked it in her pocket. What would she see through the lens? she wondered. What would what she saw pull out of her? “Maybe I will.”

  “How uncomfortable will it make you if I tell you I’ve been waiting here for you?”

  Her gaze shifted to his again, then away. “Very. Very uncomfortable.”

  “Then I won’t mention it,” he said lightly, “or bring up the point that I watched you stand up there between the dunes, and I thought, There she is. What took her so long?”

  Jo anchored the stick between her knees to free up a hand for her beer. And the hand was damp with nerves. “I wasn’t that long. The fire hasn’t been going more than an hour.”

  “I don’t mean just tonight. And I don’t suppose I should mention how incredibly attracted I am to you.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “So we’ll talk about something else altogether.” He smiled at her, delighted with the baffled look in her eyes, the faint frown on that lovely, top-heavy mouth.

  “Lots of faces to study around here. You could do another book just on that. The faces of Desire.” He shifted slightly so that their knees bumped.

  Jo stared at him, amazed at the smoothness of his moves. Certainly that’s what they were, just moves. Any man who could get a woman’s heart tripping in her chest with no more than a few careless words and a grin must have a trunkful of moves.

  “I haven’t finished the book I’m contracted for, much less thought about another.”

  “But you will eventually. You’ve got too much talent and ambition not to. But for now why don’t you just satisfy my curiosity and tell me about some of these people?”

  “Who are you curious about?”

  “All of them. Any of them.”

&nbs
p; Jo turned the dog just over the flames, watched the fat rise and bubble. “That’s Mr. Brodie—the old man there with the white cap and the baby on his lap. That would be his great-grandchild, his fourth if I’m counting right. His parents were house servants at Sanctuary around the turn of the century. He was born on Desire, raised here.”

  “And grew up in the house?”

  “He’d have spent a lot of time in it, but his family was given a cottage of their own and some land for their long and loyal service. He fought in World War Two as a gunner and brought his wife back from Paris. Her name was Marie Louise, and she lived here with him till she died three years back. They had four children, ten grandchildren, and now four greats. He always carries peppermint drops in his pocket.” She turned her head. “Is that what you mean?”

  “That’s just what I mean.” He wondered if she knew how her voice had warmed as she slipped into the story. “Pick another.”

  She sighed, finding it a little foolish. But at least it wasn’t making her nervous. “There’s Lida Verdon, cousin of mine on the Pendleton side. She’s the tired, pregnant woman scolding the toddler. This’ll be her third baby in four years, and her husband Wally’s handsome as six devils and just no damn good. He’s a truck driver, goes off on long runs. Makes a decent living, but Lida doesn’t see much of it.”

  A child ran by screaming with pleasure, chased by an indulgent daddy. Jo crushed her cigarette out in the sand, buried it. “When Wally’s home,” she continued, “he’s mostly drunk or working on it. She’s kicked him out twice now, and taken him back twice. And she’s got one baby on leading strings and another under her apron as proof of the reconciliations. We’re the same age, Lida and I, born just a couple of months apart. I took the pictures at her wedding. She looks so pretty and so happy and young in them. Now, four years later, she’s just about worn out. It’s not all fairy tales on Desire,” she said quietly.

  “No.” He slipped his arm around her. “It’s not all fairy tales anywhere. Tell me about Ginny.”

  “Ginny?” With a quick laugh, Jo scanned the beach. “You don’t have to tell anything about Ginny. You just have to look at her. See the way she’s making Brian laugh? He hardly ever laughs like that. She just brings it out of you.”

  “You grew up with her.”

  “Yeah, almost like sisters, though she’s closest with Lexy. Ginny was always the first of us to try anything, especially if it was bad. But there was never any harm in it, or in her. It’s just a matter of Ginny liking everything, and a lot of it. And—uh-oh. I bet she helped stir that up.”

  He was too busy looking at Jo to notice. Everything about her had brightened, relaxed. “What?”

  “See there?” Jo leaned back against his arm and gestured toward the edge of the water. “Lex and Giff are tangling. They’ve been blowing hot and cold on each other since they were in diapers. Ginny’s mighty fond of both of them and probably did something to have them blowing hot tonight.”

  “She wants them to fight?”

  “No, you pinhead.” Laughing, Jo lifted the sizzling hot dog from the fire, anchored the stick in the sand. “She wants them to make up.”

  Nathan considered, then lifted his brows as Giff scooped Lexy up, hefted her Rhett Butler-style in his arms, and strode—with her kicking and cursing—down the beach. “If that’s how it works, I’m going to have to talk to Ginny about stirring things up for me.”

  “I’m a much harder sell than my sister,” Jo said dryly.

  “Maybe.” Nathan plucked the hot dog off the stick and tossed it from hand to hand to cool it. “But I’ve already got you cooking for me.”

  DESPITE the struggling woman in his arms, Giff kept his pace steady until the bonfire was a flicker in the distance. Satisfied that they were as private as they were going to get, he set her on her feet.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” She shoved him hard with both hands.

  “Same person I’ve always been,” he said evenly. “It’s time you took a good look.”

  “I’ve looked at you before, and I don’t see anybody who’s got a right to haul me off when I don’t want to go.” No matter how exciting it had been, she told herself. No matter how romantic. “I was having a conversation.”

  “No, you weren’t. You were coming on to that guy to piss me off. This time it worked.”

  “I was being polite and friendly to a man Ginny introduced me to. An attractive man from Charleston. A lawyer who’s spending a few days on the island camping with some friends.”

  “A Charleston lawyer who was just about to drool on your shoulder.” Giff’s normally mild eyes spit fire. “You’ve had time to sow your oats, Lexy, and I gave you plenty of space to sow them in. Now you’re back, and it’s time to grow up.”

  “Grow up.” She planted her hands on her hips, ignoring the water that foamed up the sand inches from her feet. “I’ve been grown, and you’re just one of the many who hasn’t had the sense to see it. I do what I want when I want, and with whom I want.”

  She turned on her heel and began to stalk off, her nose in the air. Giff rubbed his chin and told himself he shouldn’t have lost his temper, even if Lexy had been sliding herself around some Charleston lawyer. But the damage was done.

  He moved fast. By the time she heard him coming and turned, she had time only to squeal before he tackled her.

  “Why, you flea-brained idiot, you’ll ruin my skirt.” Furious now, she used elbows, knees, teeth, rolling with him while the surf lapped up and soaked them both. “I hate you! I hate every inch of you, Giff Verdon.”

  “No, you don’t, Lexy. You love me.”

  “Hah. You can kiss my ass.”

  “I’ll be glad to, honey.” He pinned her arms, levered himself up to grin down at her. “But I believe I’ll work my way down to it.” He lowered his head, and when she turned hers aside, brushed his lips over the soft skin just below her ear. “This is a fine place to start.”

  Shudders coursed through her, liquid and hot. “I hate you. I said I hate you.”

  “I know what you said.” He nibbled slowly down to her throat, thrilled with the way her body went lax beneath him. “Kiss me, Lexy. Come on and kiss me.”

  On a sob, she turned her head, found his mouth with hers. “Hold me. Touch me. Oh, I hate you for making me want you.”

  “I know the feeling.” He stroked her hair, her cheeks, while she trembled and strained beneath him. “Don’t fret so. I’d never hurt you.”

  Desperate, she gripped his hair, dragged him down harder. “Inside me. I need you inside me. I’m so empty.” She arched up, groaning.

  He closed a hand over her breast, filled his palm with her, then giving in to his hunger, tugged the scooped neck of her blouse down so he could take her into his mouth.

  The taste of her, hot, damp, pungent, pumped through his blood like whiskey. He wanted it to be slow and sweet, had waited all his life just for that. But she was moving restlessly beneath him, her hands tugging, pulling, reaching. When he closed his mouth over hers again, he couldn’t think, could barely breathe. It was all taste and sound.

  He was panting as he fought with her wet skirt, yanking at the thin, clinging material until his hand could skim up her thigh, until he found her, already wet. She jerked against his hand and climaxed before he could do more than moan.

  “Jesus. Jesus, Lexy.”

  “Now. Giff, I’ll kill you if you stop. I swear I’ll kill you.”

  “You won’t have to,” he managed. “I’ll already be dead. Get these goddamn clothes off.” He tugged at her skirt with one hand, his jeans with the other. “For God’s sake, Lexy, help me.”

  “I’m trying.” She was laughing now, trapped in a dripping skirt, still flying on the fast, hard orgasm, her blood singing so high she could barely hear the sea. “I feel drunk. I feel wonderful. Oh, hurry.”

  “Hell with it.” He tossed his jeans aside, dragged off his shirt and pulled her into the water, skirt and all.

  “Wh
at are you doing? This is brand-new.”

  “I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll buy you a dozen. Only for God’s sake, let me have you.” He dragged the skirt down by the elastic waist and was inside her almost before she could kick her way clear.

  She cried out in shock, in delight. She wrapped her legs around him, dug her fingers into his shoulders and watched his face. Dark eyes, never leaving hers, seeing only her.

  When the wave swamped her, outside and in, she burrowed against him, and knew he would always bring her back.

  “I love you.” He murmured it to her as his body raced toward the edge. “I love you, Lexy.”

  He let himself go, shuddering with her until they both went limp. Then he gathered her close and let the waves rock them. It had been perfect, he thought, free and simple and right. Just as he’d always known it would be.

  “Hey, out there.”

  He glanced over lazily, spotted the figure on the shore waving both arms. Then he snorted, pressed his lips to Lexy’s hair. “Hey, Ginny.”

  “I see some clothes thrown around here look familiar. Y’all naked out there?”

  “Appear to be.” He grinned as he felt Lexy chuckle against him.

  “Ginny, he drowned my skirt.”

  “About time, too.” She blew them elaborate kisses. “I’m walking a while. Gotta clear my head some. Lexy, Miz Kate got your daddy to drop in down at the bonfire. I’d make sure I had something covering my butt before I went back.”

  Weaving more than a little, and chuckling herself, Ginny headed down the beach. It made her heart happy to see the two of them together like that. Why, poor old Giff had been pining away for her for years, and Lexy, well, she’d just been chasing her own tail waiting for Giff to catch hold of her.

  She had to stop a moment, waiting for her spinning head to settle back on her shoulders. Shoulda skipped the tequila shooters, she told herself. But then, life was too short to go skipping things.

  One day she was going to find the right man to catch hold of her too. And until then, she was going to have a high old time looking for him.