After they had both sighed over the delicious frozen concoc-tion, Linda leaned back in her chair, looking content. “You’re not going to want to leave, are you? Really?”
“Ocky is counting on me and eventually, I have to pay my way, so a job helps.”
“It’s not a job—you’re one of the owners.”
“True.” Marissa sipped from her drink again, enjoying the sharp chill as she swallowed. “Even more reason to go home. I’ve 48
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a lot invested in Finders Keepers.” Most of the money she’d inherited from her grandmother, as a matter of fact.
“How exactly does a dating service work? I mean, I guess you use a questionnaire.”
“It’s nearly seven hundred questions in fifteen categories. Every year we go through it and fine tune, add more, look at the failures and decide which questions aren’t giving us the data we need.”
“Wow.” Linda stirred her drink. “And how successful are the matches you come up with?”
Marissa knew she was flushed with pride. “Nearly all our matches are still dating after three months and of those that date for a year, better than seventy percent are still together two years later. Since the divorce rate is half . . .”
“The idea of finding the perfect mate through a computer is just not something I thought would work. I prefer the old-fashioned method: search, trap and carry back to my cave. What’s the secret?”
The brown eyes were dancing with laughter and Marissa realized she would not mind in the least being Linda’s prey. She shook herself out of an NC-17 reverie and decided that Linda’s smirk meant she could read Marissa’s mind.
Fighting a blush, she said, “That’s where my stat analysis came in. It’s obvious that staying together is the outcome of the right energy and a lot of positive factors. But relationships don’t end usually because two people with positive feelings toward each other simply no longer want to be together. They end because two people want to be apart.”
“Like my parents? They lived in separate states until my father died six years ago.”
“Sounds like mine were equally happy. The divorce was bitter and unhappy.” Marissa shrugged. “The biggest reason couples break up is contempt of one person for the other, or mutual contempt. They could be perfectly matched in every other way but if there are traits that would lead to contempt, they won’t stay together.”
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“You lost me.” Linda licked a dollop of banana from the end of her straw. “Like what?”
Dragging her gaze from the tip of Linda’s tongue, Marissa took refuge in familiar patter about her work. “Say one person has a very high standard for honesty and can’t abide even the smallest bending of the truth. And the other person thinks social white lies and the occasional fib to get out of a sticky situation is okay. They could be perfect for each other and yet eventually, the highly truthful person is likely to develop contempt for the other person’s ethics, especially if a situation comes along where their different styles come into conflict.”
“Okay, I get it.” Linda shook back her long, thick hair. “And contempt means it’s pretty much over.”
Marissa wanted to touch Linda’s hair rather a lot. Her drink was very tasty. “I think so. Our questionnaire gets at what a person loves and what they hate but when we run the analysis, we screen out the likely match-ups that would lead to contempt first. Then we connect up the good stuff, like what each person finds amusing and so forth.” Marissa paused to sip from her straw.
“In real life, do you think people minimize the things they don’t like about someone if there’s lots of things they do?”
Marissa wanted to ask what Linda would be willing to overlook as a negative in her but she supposed she didn’t have to think about it that hard. Linda was the most active person Marissa had ever known, and she was aware that in all the activities they’d done in the last several days, from hiking to snorkeling, she was holding Linda back. How could someone so . . . energetic, fit, delectable . . . have any erotic thoughts about someone like her?
It was undeniable, how much she wanted Linda to really find her as attractive as all the flirting implied. But she couldn’t believe it. The mirror and tape measure didn’t lie. “Sure. There are lots of assumptions that the other person will change or the friction point won’t come up. But, over time, people are who they are. I guess.”
Marissa sipped again, more nervously. Why did it seem like every word she said warned Linda off? “I’m not an expert. People don’t 50
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change easily. And sometimes they can’t change at all. My father couldn’t be straight.”
Linda swallowed after letting a mouthful melt on her tongue.
Marissa simply could not stop watching. Linda was getting kind of blurry too. “Was that why your parents broke up?”
“Actually, it was because he moved out to be on his own and eventually moved in with Phillip.” Marissa put a hand to her brow.
“This is going right to my head. Wow.”
“Too much sun.” Linda quickly fetched a glass of water from the bar. “Drink up, all that you can. When’s the last time you had to pee?”
“That’s kinda personal, isn’t it?” Marissa dutifully drank from the glass.
“More than two hours? Three?”
Marissa shrugged. “I don’t know. After breakfast.”
“So five hours. You’re dehydrated, you gorgeous idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot.” Marissa listed to one side. “Not gorgeous either. But I might be drunk.”
Linda firmly pulled Marissa upright. “Don’t fall over. Stay right there.”
Marissa watched Linda stride away and it seemed like only seconds before a plate with several sliced cheeses, glazed almonds and the delicious local bread, toasted, was set in front of Marissa.
Linda’s brown eyes were quite commanding. “Eat up.”
Commanding in a nice way, Marissa thought. In a way where the only thought a girl would have was Yes. “You have some too.”
“I will, a little. I ate breakfast, remember?”
“I’ve never been big on breakfast.” Marissa broke off half a slice of strong, dry cheese.
“Skipping meals isn’t good for you, you know.”
“I know, I know, but I try to watch my calories and giving away four or five hundred first thing in the morning means I won’t get an evening snack when I’m really hungry.”
“That makes sense, well, on the surface. But you do most of your aging between your last meal and breakfast.”
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Marissa didn’t really want to debate her dietary habits.
Everyone always got that look on their face that said “If only you didn’t eat so much.” Luckily Linda abruptly changed the subject.
“How’s your head?”
“Better for the food. But I think I’ll take a nap.” If anything, Linda looked faraway and not necessarily in a pleasant place.
“Okay. I was going to go for a hike. I’ll make sure you don’t sleep through dinner.”
“Probably be good for me—the food here is so delicious.”
“You’re only here once and you’re not going to get fish fresher than this. Low in fat, high in protein—it’s all good.” Linda lost the haunted look as she talked and by the time Marissa answered, her smile was back.
“You’re right. I can’t believe I ate raw tuna and I’m looking forward to having more.” Marissa found herself grinning at Linda—
she felt helpless to do otherwise. “It’s good to get away from home, sometimes, because I honestly did not know that goat cheese was the food of the gods.”
“I noticed you were fond of it when you licked it off your fingers last night.”
Marissa blushed into her drink. “I didn’t want to waste it.
”
“It was quite diverting.” Linda arched one eyebrow. “So feel free to do that again with the goat cheese, chocolate sauce . . .”
“You’re wicked.”
“I certainly try.” Linda rose to her feet. “I was thinking of the pounded abalone steak tonight. But I’m going to pass on more breadfruit.”
“All ones from me on that.” Marissa hiccupped and put a surprised hand to her mouth.
“English? And eat a little more cheese.”
“Ones and zeros, binary. All ones means total agreement.”
“Oh, more geek talk. I like it.” Laughing, Linda signaled Marissa to remain sitting. “Finish that up and go nap. See you later.”
Marissa watched her walk away, and took the same inventory she’d been taking every day: long legs, slender hips that still gave 52
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way to a deeply womanly curve at her waist. Shoulders that created a swimmer’s Vee framed a graceful neck. “Unbelievable,” Marissa murmured into the last of her drink, glad that Linda couldn’t hear her.
“You’re going to hurt yourself!” Marissa peered anxiously into the branches of the palm tree Linda had insisted on climbing. The leaves and bark looked sharp. The nap had chased away the dizzy headache and she didn’t feel so helplessly besotted either.
“I’ve almost got it,” Linda called. “Hey! Head’s up.”
A coconut thumped to the ground not far from the hammock Marissa had stretched out in, shortly followed by another, then a third. “That’s plenty.”
“If you say so.” Linda inched her way down the curving trunk.
Marissa couldn’t believe Linda’s thighs weren’t full of scrapes.
She wondered if she could suggest checking them out for Linda, but wasn’t sure she’d find the nerve. She laughed at herself—so much for not feeling besotted any more. She scolded herself, or tried to. So Linda was incredibly desirable. That didn’t give Marissa the right to ogle and lust like some adolescent. “Why are these called the same as the stuff they make chocolate out of?”
“They’re not.” Linda paused in her delicate shimmy move-ments, the firm, lean muscles of her arms tensed. “They look a bit like monkey faces, the three holes. See?”
“Oh. I guess. So the natives named them after monkeys?”
“The Portuguese sailors named them after monkeys.”
“What do they call cocoa beans in Portugal, then?”
Linda swung around the trunk, and dangled there for a moment. “I have no the hell idea.”
Marissa had long enough to admire the curved silhouette before Linda dropped lightly to her feet. “I thought you knew everything.”
“I do not—you’re the brain here. Like, I have no idea how to open these up.”
“Drill?”
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“I was thinking big rock.”
Marissa grinned. “Well, this should be fun. I’ll just be right here in the hammock.”
For the next forty-five minutes Marissa rocked and watched Linda try to bash, kick, stomp, hurl and pummel the coconut open.
She was nothing if not determined, Marissa had to hand her that.
Beyond Linda the surf continued its gentle, endless churning of the sand as tiny, brightly hued birds hopped along the shore.
She didn’t want to go home but all good things came to an end.
Tomorrow morning they would fly to Papeete. By evening she would be in Hawaii and the following morning at home. Linda would be in New Zealand. She didn’t want to think about how far away New Zealand was and the fact that Linda didn’t have a cell phone, e-mail or snail mail address.
Maybe they were just friends, just hanging out. But it would have been nice to have kept in touch after spending this time together. Nice was an understatement. She liked being around Linda. Liked looking at her, being looked at. Her earlier scolding wasn’t the whole truth—Linda looked at her with desire, Marissa was almost certain of that. What else could it be?
Dear Dad:
You’re the only one I can ask.You’re the only person I know who found it and kept it until death did you and Philip part. How did you know? How will I know?
Confused,
Marissa
P.S. Feel free to send a sign.
P.P.S. I really am going to tell Mom.
But if it was desire, then why had there not been another kiss?
Not even holding hands. Just those looks. Sometimes short and quick, between words. Sometimes instead of words.
Marissa tried to talk back with her eyes. It wasn’t just Linda’s 54
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remarkable body she liked but the endless energy to attack each day as a brand new adventure. Linda shimmered with a passion for life that radiated and Marissa sometimes thought she’d get sun-burn from standing too close. Burned, yes, maybe I will get burned, she mused. But it’ll be the kind of burn that . . . heals, not hurts.
Linda knocked two coconuts together with all her might and bits of husk flew in all directions.
“I think you’re getting somewhere.” Marissa wanted to dab away the sweat beaded on Linda’s brow. “You’ve been in the sun a while, though.”
“Oh.” Linda squinted at her. “I didn’t realize it had moved.”
She gathered up her battered coconuts and resettled near the hammock. “My skin won’t forgive me for that.”
“I don’t think you’re burned.” Marissa leaned out of the hammock so she could press two fingers firmly to Linda’s shoulder blade. The white outline of her fingers, when she removed her hand, faded quickly. “You tan wonderfully.”
“All in the genes.”
“I wish I had genes like yours.”
Linda looked up with a little frown but didn’t say anything.
The way Linda reacted to anything that seemed like a compliment about her appearance puzzled Marissa. She quickly said,
“Well, the genes that gave you so little hair on your legs. I’d like those.”
Linda bent her head over the most battered of the three coconuts, lifting one of them between both hands. “That’s not genetics. That’s electrolysis and laser treatments.”
“Really? Maybe I should try it.”
“It’s painful.” Linda slammed the coconuts together, startling Marissa. “Really, really painful.”
Marissa wobbled in the hammock, trying to get her balance back. Linda pounded the coconuts together several more times until with a dull crack, the one in her hands split, spewing coconut innards everywhere.
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“Bravo!” Unwisely, Marissa leaned forward to see the broken inside. The hammock went out from under her and she flipped to the sand, landing with a surprised whoof next to Linda.
“Hey! Are you okay?” Linda dropped the husks, hands coated in coconut milk.
The next few seconds weren’t very clear, later, but Marissa finally drew in a breath successfully and was aware then of the aroma of rich coconut and the heat of Linda’s hands on her arms.
If anyone in her life had ever made her feel the way Linda did, Marissa didn’t remember it. How could she forget a feeling like this?
That look from the very beginning that Marissa hadn’t wanted to believe, hadn’t wanted to think meant anything, was gleaming, bright and true.
Linda said again, her voice soft with concern, “Are you okay?”
Something got broken, Marissa wanted to say. Something broke that I’ve kept strong for a long time. Her heart was ham-mering high against her ears and the warmth of Linda’s gaze was making her believe impossible things.
She can’t . . . she doesn’t . . . she won’t . . . the voices inside whispered. And they kept whispering right up until the moment Linda’s lips touched hers.
Then the voices went silent and the world was still. Even the surf stopped. All Marissa cou
ld hear was the faint sound of their lips brushing softly. Her vision blurred—she closed her eyes.
She could feel the dappled sunlight on her shoulders and it seemed inseparable from the heat of Linda’s body next to hers.
Whatever had broken was vaporizing to ash as cold places inside her blossomed in the warmth.
Linda’s lips brushed hers again, then pressed harder. The still moment ended with a crash of waves as Marissa slipped her arms around Linda’s waist. She didn’t so much open her mouth to Linda as she yielded to Linda’s slow, careful exploration. All of her yielded, including the last vestiges of disbelief.
The moments when Linda had made her feel interesting—
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desirable even—had been like rain on her parched ego. The kiss, the deliberate but light movement of Linda’s hips against hers, threatened to become a hurricane. And she wanted to be swept away.
Linda raised her head and asked again, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” was all Marissa could manage. She found her reflection in the depths of Linda’s eyes and for once it didn’t shock her. She wanted to be the woman Linda seemed to see and it was as scary as much as it was welcome.
“I got the coconut open,” Linda murmured, and she kissed Marissa again, briefly, but with more fire. But before Marissa could react, she sat up and examined her coconut milk-spattered arms.
“Now I’m all wet.”
Marissa laughed—what else was there to do? “I think you may be the biggest flirt I’ve ever met.”
Linda paused in the act of dusting sand off her arms. “Takes one to know one.”
“I am not a flirt, really. I don’t know how.”
“That just means you’re a natural. I had to go to charm school.”
“You graduated summa cum laude, didn’t you?”
This time it was Linda who laughed as she rose gracefully to her feet. “Shower before dinner?”
“A good idea.” There was sand in places that weren’t fond of any kind of abrasion. As Marissa followed Linda to their bungalow, carrying one of the mangled coconuts, she relived the kiss, over and over. Something had broken, something had healed.
Finders Keepers Page 6
