“So he was that guy, was he?”
“And then some.” She sighed, hugging her cooling coffee close. “It’s such a typical story. The kind of thing that happens in movies.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “The worst part is, I put so much faith in him for so long, that when it all came crumbling down, I didn’t feel hurt. Not at all. I didn’t ache like my heart had been broken, I felt stupid. I feel stupid.”
She lowered her eyes, not bothering to fight off the ache of that stupidity as it welled up in her. She was an idiot, one who ran away from her problems, thinking a summer in an expensive house all alone could cure her. Well, the alone part hadn’t worked out. The rest of it probably wouldn’t either.
She was halfway through sliding down into even deeper despair when Spence inched closer to her. He set his coffee down, plucked her mug out of her hands and deposited it beside his, then cupped her jaw with his free hand, turning her head toward him. As she met his eyes, he brought his mouth down against hers.
The sensation of lips against lips, warm skin pressing so close, took her by surprise. He was gentle, yet confident. She could smell the salt of the sea on his skin. He teased his tongue along the line of her lips until she opened to him. He tasted of coffee and dinner, and the promise of starlit summer nights. She could float away on a kiss like that.
Instead she leaned into him, resting her fingertips against his side. He tensed, caught his breath—so subtly she could have imagined it—then redoubled the passion as he explored her mouth with his own. Every delicious instinct she had pushed her to snuggle closer to him, to dance her tongue alongside his, to drink him in. She could get lost in a dream like this. Her, clueless teacher, Tasha Pike, making out with Spencer Ellis.
Reality slammed back into her with the force of a train. She gasped and pulled back.
“Wow,” she breathed, struggling to pull herself together. “What was that?”
“A kiss,” he answered. If she wasn’t mistaken, his composure had slipped a little. Warm patches of color spilled across his cheeks.
“That much I got.” She grinned, still not quite believing it. “Why?”
“Why kiss you?”
She nodded.
He shrugged. “Can’t a man just feel like kissing a woman?”
“Sure,” she said, though what she thought was, not Spencer Ellis, not kissing me.
“Besides.” He brushed the back of his fingers along the line of her jaw, drawing her closer before letting go and sitting straight. “You looked like you could use a kiss.”
That was a good thing, right?
“So, do you usually go around kissing women who look like they need it?” She did her best to act cool, as if he hadn’t just raised the temperature in the entire state of Maine by ten degrees.
His sheepish laugh only made things worse. “No. Not really. I am glad you let me, though.”
“You are?”
He nodded. “I’ve been trying to break down the wall you put up for five days now. Looks like I finally did it.”
“Looks like,” she answered. She didn’t know whether to laugh or brush the whole thing off, or lunge at him for a repeat performance.
The problem was solved for her when Spence retrieved both of their coffee mugs, handing hers over.
“Thanks,” he said with a smile before taking a sip.
“Any time,” she answered. A second later, she realized what that implied.
He lifted his brow as if accepting her challenge.
She hid the swirl of butterflies that followed by drinking her coffee. What a difference a day made. She’d learned her lesson: being a stupid jerk earned no kisses, but getting over yourself did. As she settled back to watch the last of the sunset, Spencer’s solid heat beside her, she wondered what other rewards she could earn for good behavior that summer.
Chapter Five
New days were meant for new starts, or so Tasha had always tried to convince herself. Waking up to the sound of the ocean, with the sea breeze blowing into her room and the memory of Spence’s kiss still on her lips was enough to convince her it was true.
Of course, new starts were one thing, and flat-out delusions were another. Being kissed by a celebrity was all well and good, but it wasn’t anything to build up hopes over.
“He was just trying to be nice,” she texted Jenny from the kitchen as she waited for her morning coffee to brew.
Jenny was at work, but that had never slowed down her replies. “A kiss is more than being nice. Jump that man!”
“Ha ha,” Tasha texted in return. “It wasn’t like that.”
She set the phone down and pulled two mugs from the cupboard. Two mugs. The same way she had taken one down for Brad on mornings when he’d stayed at her place.
“I don’t think so,” she said aloud, putting one away. “Not falling for that again.”
When she checked on her phone, a message from Jenny was waiting. “Okay, then what WAS it like?”
“Nice,” she typed her reply. “Like friends.”
Seconds later, Jenny replied. “Friends? Come on!”
Tasha sighed, checked the coffee maker, and typed. “I just want to be friends with him. We started out on the wrong foot. I want to make up for being a jerky loser.”
The coffee finished. She put her phone down and fixed a cup, sniffing it before taking the first drink. Spence had brought the coffee with him. It was something fancy, something she was sure she could never afford. Even if she’d had the money, she never would have thought to spend it on something as sensuous as gourmet coffee. She’d probably have squirreled her riches away in a savings account. One that didn’t even have a good interest rate.
“You were a jerk, but for the last time, you’re not a loser.” Jenny’s reply was waiting for her when she picked up her phone on the way out to the porch. Another message popped up on the heels of the first one. “Jerky is as jerky does.” And seconds later, another. “Not that I blame you. Completely.”
“I was upset,” Tasha typed with one hand, sliding into the porch swing. The sun was warm without being hot yet.
“You know what you should do?” Jenny texted after a brief pause.
“Do I want to know?” Tasha replied, chuckling as she anticipated all the things her friend might say. She would probably come up with something daring and fun—something Jenny. Something Tasha would never dream of doing.
“You should totally have a fling with him. Sex in every room, and on the beach.”
Yep.
“That would show Brad,” Jenny added in another message.
Tasha’s throat tightened. It would serve Brad right. Who would be the loser then?
She stared at her phone, sipped her coffee, then typed, “Bad idea. I like Spence. I’m not going to revenge f*$@ him to get back at Brad.”
After she sent the message, she smiled. It was a step in the right direction. One more degree removed from the jerk that she’d been.
Jenny texted back, “Your loss. He’s hot. Think of the stories you would have.”
“Right. Stories of how I slept with a star to get back at my ex?”
“Exactly.”
Tasha laughed aloud. She shook her head and typed. “No way. If I’m gonna sleep with Spence, I’m going to do it for the right reasons.”
“So you ARE going to sleep with him them?”
Heat flooded Tasha’s face, racing down to her core. Could she? Their kiss the night before had been more than a casual peck. Was Spence trying to tell her something? Was he leaving some kind of door open? Even after she’d been such a pill?
She searched out over the morning misty beach with a sigh. If only she had the guy-sense that Jenny had. She’d been too nice to cheat on Brad all those years even if she’d known he had cheated on her. Now she felt like the kid who’d missed a month of school because of mono and couldn’t quite catch up to everyone else.
She took a sip of coffee, bit her lip, and texted, “Let’s just say I won’t rule it out.”<
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“That looks like a fun conversation.”
Spence’s gravely morning voice right behind her made Tasha jump so hard she nearly spilled coffee down her pajamas.
“Must be something good,” he went on.
Tasha scrambled to hide Jenny’s message of, “Go for it, babe! Fuck his brains out!” before Spence could get so much of a peep at it. Her face glowed a guilty red.
“It’s nothing.” She turned off her phone, but kept it pressed to her chest as Spence circled around the swing and sat beside her. “Just being silly with Jenny.”
He nodded with a knowing smile. “Never get between a girl and her best friend,” he said as if it were sage wisdom. “How is my good friend Jenny?”
“She’s fine,” Tasha answered, a little too fast, and with a definite squeak.
Silence. Spence was either too polite to reply or still half asleep. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles, and smiled out over the beach. Only a few people were out this early, walking or running in the space left by the tide. Tasha gave them only a fleeting glance. She was more interested in the shadow of stubble covering Spence’s jaw, the soft lines of his lips. He had kissed her.
“Do you have any plans today?” he finally asked, facing her. When he noticed she was staring, he smiled. “What? Do I look that bad?”
“No.” Far from it. She forced her eyes forward and sipped her coffee. “I was just going to go down to the beach today, relax, read, maybe go for a walk.” He’d kissed her. He looked like he could do it again too. But no, the goal here was to be friends. Friends. “Wanna come?”
“To the beach?” His sleepy brow rose.
She blinked away her more than friendly thoughts. “Of course, the beach.”
He hummed and stretched, waking himself up even more. His expression tightened as he watched the waves lap at the shore. “I guess I could go down to the beach,” he said at last.
Tasha twisted sideways. “Have you been down to the beach since you got here?”
He peeked at her sideways, as if she’d caught him out. “Not yet.”
“But you’ve been here for, what, a week now?” He nodded. “The beach is right there and you haven’t set foot on it?”
“I’ve been spending most of my time in the house reading scripts,” he confessed.
Again, she blinked. “You’re not planning to turn into one of those weird, reclusive celebrities who locks themselves away on a ranch in Montana or something, are you?”
He laughed. Laughed, but didn’t answer outright.
Tasha shook her head. She’d spent the first five days of her vacation hiding in her shell because things hadn’t turned out the way she envisioned them. She’d been rude to Spence, and, if she was being honest, had made herself miserable in the process. This vacation was not about being miserable and resentful. It was about getting over those things. It was time she got her head out of her butt and Spence’s feet off that porch so that they both could have a good time. The days of Brad were over, dammit. It was time to play in the sun, no matter how much of an effort it took to get there. Jenny would approve.
“That’s it,” she said. “We’re going down to the beach after breakfast, whether you like it or not.”
Spence laughed, but there was still a feeling of reluctance radiating from him. “Well,” he reasoned. “It’s a Friday. I don’t suppose the beach will get super crowded on a Friday.”
“It’s only June,” she said. “Just wait until the crowds start arriving for the Fourth of July next week. Until then, it’s just the regulars.”
“Good.”
His answer didn’t sit right. In fact, it was downright awkward.
“Are you worried about being recognized again?” she asked.
He shrugged, winced. “I’m going to be recognized no matter where I go. It’s all a matter of how big a scene my presence causes.”
“Don’t let it cause a scene,” she said. Celebs had to have some kind of control over that, didn’t they? He’d said so himself at Pete’s. And the kids at the ice cream stand yesterday started things because they were kids. There would be more adults on the beach and they would be more reasonable. She was sure of it.
He smiled at her as if she was one of her students who had just said something charming but ridiculous. “The worms are out of the can now anyhow.” He stood and stretched. “I’m going to get some of that coffee.”
“Good.” She stood with him. Even unshowered, he still smelled good. She could just slide into him, wrap her arms around him and squeeze.
No, she told herself, stepping away from him toward the porch rail. Friends. Anything else would be ridiculous. And it would never last.
There was a chance he was going to regret this.
Spence prepared to venture down to the beach the way he would prepare for war. He drank coffee and fixed himself and Tasha a fortifying breakfast. He would need a full stomach if he was ambushed by more girls like Monica. Then he showered, shaved, and dressed in his most nondescript swim trunks and t-shirt. No Speedos for him, not unless he wanted to end up on the cover of a tabloid.
As he walked down the wooden stairs from the house to the beach with Tasha—beach chairs slung over one arm, a tote with towels, extra sunscreen, and the latest script he was attempting to slog through in the other—he argued with himself that he needed an attitude adjustment. It was a day at the beach. Everything about that implied fun and relaxation. He’d even gone out on a limb and left his cell phone up at the house, though he was sure he’d have about a thousand messages from Yvonne when he got back. No, for the day, at least, he was going to be a normal guy enjoying an afternoon at the beach.
With a cute girl he was trying to impress.
“I usually like to put my stuff further up the beach, past the line where high tide last reached. That way you can be reasonably sure the waves won’t surprise you when you’re reading,” Tasha said. She marched across the sand to a spot between the rocks that marked the bottom of the cliff where Sand Dollar Point stood and the long, concrete barrier that divided the beach from the sidewalk and the road. “When I was a kid, we were always at the other end of the beach, but it’s more or less the same from there to here.”
“This looks like a nice spot,” he said when they stopped. Far enough from the sidewalk not to be obvious, close enough to the stairs leading up to Sand Dollar Point to make an escape if he needed to. “Let me know where you want your chair.”
She had carried down a bright blue beach umbrella and planted it in the sand like a pro while he unfolded the chairs. As soon as she was satisfied with the umbrella, she grabbed a chair from him and put it where she wanted. When that was done, she told him where he should put his and where he would do best to spread his towel. Spence had the feeling she would have done well in a director’s chair in L.A. He was glad she was about as far from all that as he could get, though.
“So what do we do now?” he asked, sprawled in his chair and with his feet buried in the sand.
She straightened from where she had been rummaging through her tote bag, coming out with a book, and stared at him over the top of her sunglasses. “We relax, hang out. Haven’t you ever been to the beach before?”
Plenty of times, but not with her. The last twenty-four hours had been such a nice change from, well, everything about his life, and he wasn’t ready to let her sink back into ignoring him in favor of a book.
“Not really,” he twisted the truth.
“Never?”
“I grew up in Oregon.”
“They have beaches there, don’t they?”
He shrugged. “I spent a lot of my summers working.”
She shook her head and settled back in her chair. “A man who doesn’t know how to hang out on a beach.” She cracked open her book.
He wasn’t going to let her go that easily. “Well, if we’re here, why don’t we go swimming?”
She glanced at him over the top of her sunglasses. “I don’
t go in the ocean.”
“You came all the way down here to the beach, but you don’t go in the ocean? Now who’s the unbelievable one.”
Her lips twitched and the frown she’d tried to put on didn’t stick. “The water this far north is pretty cold,” she warned him. “It’s early summer still.”
He shrugged. “We’ll keep moving, keep the blood pumping.”
The faint blush that touched her cheeks hinted that she’d found a double meaning in his words. He hadn’t planned it, but if she wanted to think like that, he wasn’t about to stop her.
“I always used to spend my summers reading on the beach, not playing in the water. The boys were the one with the water obsession.”
“So?” He sat forward, ready to spring up and run to meet the waves. “Did you set up this vacation so that you could relive the past?”
Her expression tightened. He’d hit her where it hurt. Hopefully not too hard.
“I did not come her to relive the past. The good parts are already safe in my memory and the bad are ripe to be forgotten.”
She still held her book, fingers marking her place. He wasn’t quite there yet.
“Fine. So instead of recreating what’s already happened, let’s make some new, cozy memories to go with the others.” He stood, turning to face her. “The waves are waiting.”
“I’m not—”
She stopped dead when he tugged his t-shirt up over his head. It was a dirty trick and he knew it. The demands of half a dozen action roles had required him to be in top physical shape. He’d spent a lot of money and countless hours with the best trainers in the business to get the flat stomach and defined chest that made cute teachers lose the power of speech.
“Come on.” He pretended he wasn’t aware of her open-mouthed reaction and held a hand out to her. “The words on those pages aren’t going anywhere, but the waves might.”
At last she closed her mouth and cleared her throat. “The waves aren’t going anywhere either.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Come on.”
She made a noise, somewhere between a growl and a sigh, that sent his pulse soaring. Better still, she set her book aside. Victory.
Summer with a Star (Second Chances Book 1) Page 7
