Wife Is A 4-Letter Word

by Stephanie Bond

  The young rental man had walked out into the shallows to meet them. Pam reluctantly relinquished her hold on Alan and dropped into the water up to her knees, already tugging at the confining zipper. By the time she reached the warm sand, she’d only managed to peel the rubber suit from one shoulder and she was already exhausted. She fell to the sand, knowing the grit would only make things worse, but she didn’t care.

  Lying on her back, she squinted against the sun and watched Alan extricate his magnificent body from his too-small suit with great sucking sounds as the rubber relented. Her breasts tightened in awareness and desire struck her low as he dragged the suit down, yanking his conservative navy trunks low on his hips. Standing in the sun with gleaming wet skin, his fair hair dry and tousled, he looked healthy and sexy, and Pam acknowledged for the first time that she was very attracted to him. And in more than just a physical sense, although simply looking at him had become a favorite pastime.

  Today when he’d driven the Wave Runner, she had seen a side of him she’d never glimpsed before: carefree and spontaneous. He was actually fun to be with.

  “Need a hand with your suit?” he asked, standing over her and grinning.

  Pam nodded and took the hand he offered her, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. She tugged at the opposite shoulder of the suit and succeeded in budging it an inch or so. Alan reached for the collar. “It’s harder now that your skin is wet and the suit is heavy.”

  His fingers felt like branding irons against the cold flesh of her collarbone. He gripped the thick material and peeled the suit down her arm, turning the sleeve inside out. With both arms free, Pam was able to work the suit past her hips with some self-conscious wriggling, but had to admit defeat at her thighs. Then she lost her balance and sat down hard in the sand. Alan howled with laughter, but before she could get her breath to chew him out, she was thrown to her back because he had yanked her legs in the air to finish stripping off the stubborn suit. Sprawled in the awkward position and at his mercy, Pam felt like a too-big toddler being changed, and bristled at the hoots and laughter of the sparse but rapt audience staked out under umbrellas in the sand around them.

  Alan also appeared to be enjoying her discomfort. At last he held up the pink garment as if it were a trophy and said, “I don’t think this suit will ever be the same,” then gestured to the deformed top of the fatigued-looking rubber suit. The comment brought him cheers from the members of the male gallery within earshot.

  Pam scrambled to her feet, not sure if she liked this new, cocky side of Alan. “Well, while you strut for the other roosters,” she said with a deceptively sweet smile as she brushed the sand from her bottom, “I’m going to find a beer.”

  Then she turned to march back to their blanket and chaise lounges they had rented for the day.

  “Better go after her,” some guy yelled to Alan behind her back.

  “I’ll go,” another male voice piped up, triggering more laugher. But Pam had to acknowledge a little thrill that everyone assumed she and Alan were together.

  “Hey,” Alan said, jogging up beside her with a sheepish grin. “I’m thirsty, too.”

  Pam glanced at him, increasingly alarmed at the pull she felt toward him. “You need sunscreen.”

  He scrunched up his face and rubbed his cheek. “My skin does feel a little tight.”

  “Uh-oh,” she warned. “Wait until after sundown.”

  He stepped in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. With eyebrows raised, he asked, “What will happen after sundown?”

  Pam’s pulse skipped and, not without a certain amount of panic, realized Alan was also feeling the sexual pull between them. His eyes searched her face, and she sensed that, ever the gentleman, he was waiting for a signal. They had reached the sticky point where everything they said to each other could be stretched, warped and misshapen to mean something else, an unstable area that might lead them to ruin unless one of them took control. And since Alan was freshly wounded from Jo’s rejection, he was vulnerable to sexual revenge, even if he wasn’t conscious of his motivation. And it was Pam’s job to make sure that she wasn’t a physical party to his retaliation for being dumped at the altar.

  She forced lightness into her tone, ignoring his invitation to prolong the flirtation. “Sunburns are always worse after sundown,” she said quietly, glad they had reached their chairs. She tossed him a bottle of sunscreen and pulled a short mesh cover-up over her head. Pointing up the sandy incline, she said, “I’m going to get a beer.”

  “Sounds great,” he said, grabbing a T-shirt, but Pam held up her hand.

  “Stay here and I’ll bring them back,” she said, desperate to escape his proximity. She practically ran up the stone path to the grill, but told herself she’d have to find a way to steel herself against the magnetism that had materialized between them—they would be here another four days!

  The grill turned out to be a charming little outside eatery comprising a long bar and three weathered multilevel decks covered with latticed-wood “ceilings” that allowed the sun and wind to filter through. Pam glanced over the crowded tables, then walked to the bar and ordered two draft beers. “Ah, Pamela, we meet again,” came a deep, rolling voice behind her. Pam turned to see the handsome Enrico standing with an umbrellaed drink in his bejeweled hand. “Er, yes,” Pam said, offering him a small smile. As dangerous as the man appeared, at the moment he seemed the safer of two choices.

  “Have you been enjoying the afternoon?” he asked conversationally, straddling a stool next to where she stood. His chest was well-developed and covered with dense, black hair. Pam made a split-second comparison to Alan’s sleek physique, then bit the inside of her cheek when she acknowledged her preference.

  “Sure,” she answered casually, as the bartender slid two beers toward her.

  “A two-fisted drinker?” he asked, his dark eyes dancing.

  “For a friend,” she explained, lifting one of the cups to her mouth with a shaky hand. Her revelations about Alan had her completely rattled.

  “A male friend?”

  Pam nodded.

  Enrico formed a pout with his curvy mouth. “Is he jealous?”

  Pam pressed her lips together, stalling. “I don’t know,” she said, licking the bittersweet liquid from her lips.

  He made a clicking sound with his cheek. “Silly man.” Then he leaned forward and wrapped a long blond lock around his forefinger. “I would never let you out of my si—iiiiIIIIEEE!” Enrico jerked back as a large arm descended between them on the bar with a resounding smack.

  Pam swung her head up and gasped to see Alan standing between them, nursing a smirk. “I was getting thirsty,” he said.

  Anger flashed through her. How dare he show up while she was trying to forget about him! “Alan,” she protested, “what are you doing?”

  He nodded at the dark man he towered over. “Is this guy bothering you?”

  “No!” she snapped.

  “Excuse me,” Enrico said, pushing away from the bar slowly. “Perhaps I’ll see you later,” he said, lifting his bronzed hand in a wave. Then he walked away, sipping his drink.

  Alan watched him, then muttered, “Someone should tell him his back needs a trim.”

  “What the heck was that all about?” Pam demanded.

  “I was defending your honor,” Alan declared hotly. “Again. And a lot of thanks I get—again.”

  “Well, I guess I’m finally getting a glimpse of the real you, Alan P. Parish,” she said through clenched teeth. “Tell me, does the ‘P’ stand for ‘prehistoric’?”

  He glared.

  “Or ‘paternal’?”

  He glared.

  “Or just plain ‘putz’?”

  He straightened and picked up his beer. “I can take a hint—if you want that...that gorilla with all his gold chains, then who am I to stand in your way. But if you start choking on a hairball, don’t come crying to me.”

  A shrill ringing stopped him. Pamela reached inside her p
urse and pulled out her cell phone, then flipped down the mouthpiece. “Hello?”

  “Pam?” Jo asked.

  “Oh, hi, Jo,” she said for Alan’s benefit.

  He frowned and took a huge gulp of beer.

  “I was hoping I could talk to Alan,” Jo said. “You know, explain what happened.”

  “Alan?” Pam asked, raising her eyebrows.

  He shook his head no and waved his arms frantically, mouthing the words “No way.”

  “Uh, you just missed him,” Pam said. “He went to get a beer.”

  “Are you both having fun?” Jo asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Pam said, laughing merrily. “Fun, fun, fun.”

  “Oh, good,” her friend answered. “Would you tell Alan I called and that I hope we can talk when he gets back?” She hesitated. “And that I’m really sorry for how things turned out?”

  “Sure thing,” Pam said, giving Alan a tight smile.

  “And Pam,” Jo said. “Thanks again for being such a good friend to me and to Alan.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Pam answered, then folded up the phone. “Jo said she hopes the two of you can talk when you get back, and that she’s really sorry for how things turned out.”

  Alan downed the rest of his beer, then slid the plastic cup across the bar for a refill. “On second thought, I think I’ll stay right here and get drunk,” Alan said, settling on the stool Enrico had vacated.

  Pam rested one hip on the corner of the neighboring stool. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” she warned with a half smile. “The last time you got drunk, you invited me to go on your honeymoon.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “This is one for the record books,” he said, shaking his head. “Do you suppose I’m the only man in history who won’t get laid on his honeymoon?”

  “Well,” Pam said slowly, “it doesn’t have to be that way.” When his eyes widened, she stammered, “I m-mean, there are lots of women on the b-beach...” Flustered, she swept her hand in the air. “Take what’s-her-name in the hat.”

  “Robin,” he said, then began draining his second beer.

  “Robin!” she seconded, nodding. “Nice teeth.”

  “Cute figure,” he said.

  “If you go for the boyish look,” Pam agreed, still nodding.

  “Nice legs,” he said.

  “Thick ankles,” she murmured.

  “Pretty hair.”

  “Sloppy dye job.”

  “Are we talking about the same woman?” Alan asked, angling his head. “I talked to her for twenty minutes and you saw her for what—twenty seconds? How did you notice all those things?”

  Pam shrugged. “A woman knows.”

  “I thought she was nice.”

  “She was nice,” Pam agreed. “If you’re going to settle for nice.”

  “What’s wrong with nice?” Alan asked.

  “It’s boring.”

  “One person’s boredom is another person’s reliability.”

  She sighed, exasperated. “We’re talking about a beach fling, Alan. Reliability doesn’t even make the list.” She turned and gestured to the crowd around them, deciding she’d have to get the ball rolling for him. “Look—women everywhere—just pick one.”

  Alan turned slowly on the stool. “You make it sound so, so...”

  “Spontaneous?”

  “I was going to say cheap.”

  “What about the redhead in the corner?” she asked, pointing her pinkie.

  “She’s cute,” Alan agreed with a halfhearted shrug.

  “Well, don’t get too excited,” she warned sarcastically. “I suppose you prefer brunettes.”

  “Not really,” he said, draining his beer and smiling. “It’s been a while since I went looking for a woman, but I don’t think I discriminate.”

  Pam finished her beer and accepted a refill. She was already getting a buzz since she hadn’t eaten much all day. “How about the one in the green bikini?”

  He looked and squinted. “She’s kind of skinny, don’t you think?”

  “I thought men liked skinny women.”

  “Slender, great. Curvy, even better. But skinny, no way,” he said, shaking his head.

  “The yellow shorts and piled-up hair?”

  “A definite possibility,” he conceded slowly.

  Pam frowned and gulped her beer. “She laughs like a seal, though. I can hear her barking from here.”

  “Wow, look at the one in the red suit,” he said, leaning forward slightly.

  Pam squinted, then dismissed her with a wave. “They’re fake,” she said with confidence.

  “How do you know?”

  “Can’t you tell? They don’t move.”

  “Well, she isn’t on a trampoline. Besides—” he turned a wolfish grin her way “—I hate to break it to you, Pam, but most men don’t care if they’re real or not.”

  “You don’t have to tell me about men,” she said.

  He adopted an expression of mock remorse. “Sorry—I forgot I was talking to the source.” He frowned. “I’m curious—is there a straight man in Savannah who isn’t after you?”

  She grinned. “Two Baptist reverends, and you.”

  Alan saluted her with his drink. “Gee, thanks—you do wonders for my ego. Ever been married?”

  “Nope.”

  “How have you managed that?”

  Pam ran a finger around the rim of the plastic cup and pursed her lips. Then she gave a little shrug and said, “I’ve never fallen in love.”

  He scoffed. “I think falling in love is a vicious rumor that was started thousands of years ago by the world’s first wedding director.”

  She giggled, then sighed as memories washed over her. “I came close once—I was seventeen and looking for a way out of the projects. He was nineteen and had the world by the tail.”

  “What happened?”

  “He also had two other girls by the tail.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s when I decided it was much safer to play the field rather than risking it all on one horse. And I’ve been hedging my bets ever since.”

  “Hey,” he said, holding up his hand. “Forget the horses—I don’t want to hear about the kinky stuff.”

  Pam giggled.

  Alan polished off another beer. “What’s your secret for staying single?”

  “It’s easy,” she said. Leaning forward, she whispered, “Don’t close your eyes.”

  “What?”

  “When you kiss—don’t close your eyes.”

  He looked dubious. “That’s your secret weapon?”

  She nodded emphatically, and noticed the room still bounced slightly even when she stopped. “When you close your eyes during a kiss, your mind starts playing all kinds of games. You start to imagine a make-believe world where love conquers all. And you forget that most marriages end in divorce—or worse.”

  “My parents seem pretty happy,” he said.

  “That’s nice,” she said, and meant it. “My dad split when we were little, so I barely remember my folks together.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled sadly. “Me, too. That’s why I’d rather stay single and childless than risk dragging kids through a mess.”

  “I’m for the childless part,” Alan noted wryly. “A toast,” he said, lifting his cup to hers, “to keeping your eyes open.”

  “Hear, hear,” she agreed, touching her cup to his, then giggled when beer sloshed over the side. A gust of cold air blew over them and Pam shivered. Dusk was approaching, and the temperature had dropped dramatically. “I think I’ll go back to the room and change.”

  Alan climbed down from the stool slowly. “I need to check in with my secretary and see if she found us a room. I’m not anxious to spend another night in Hotel Hell.”

  “It’s not so bad,” she said as they walked, picking their way carefully back down the unlit path. The clear night and bright moon made the going easier, and the now-deserted white beach str
etched below them like a wide satin ribbon. “Ooh, look at all the stars,” she said, waving her hand overhead. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  “Anything to avoid going back to the room,” he agreed, falling in step behind her.

  She pulled loose pants from her canvas bag and stepped into them, then decided to carry her sandals. “The sand looks like snow,” she said, digging in her toes. The tide was coming in, eating away at the beach and forcing them to choose a higher path. The air felt cool and invigorating and Pam tried hard to focus on anything but the romantic atmosphere as they headed down the beach toward their hotel. Millions of stars twinkled overhead and, as always, simply thinking about the distances their mere existence represented left her breathless. And coupled with the sight of Alan’s handsome face silhouetted in the moonlight, she was left downright light-headed. “Alan, do you really think there’s life on other planets?”

  “Sure,” he said without hesitation. “I think it’s pretty arrogant to think the entire universe was created just for us.”

  She tingled in appreciation of his honesty—she could never broach this subject with any of the men she dated. “I agree—but it’s a little scary, don’t you think?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, if they were going to harm us, they would have done it by now.” Then he grinned. “Besides, with all our societal and environmental problems, Earth is probably the laughingstock of the universe.”

  “What you’re telling me,” she said with a chuckle, “is that I clawed my way out of one slum simply to exist in a larger one?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” he conceded with a laugh.

  “Okay, the ‘P’ stands for ‘pessimistic,’ right?”

  He laughed again, something she was beginning to look forward to. “So I’m not the most upbeat person, especially this week.” He brushed against her accidentally and her arm burned from the contact. They walked past several tall dunes, which cast tall shadows over them, throwing them into almost complete darkness.

  “What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger,” she said, wondering for whose benefit she was speaking—Alan’s or hers? She stumbled on a clump of glass and yelped, grabbing Alan’s arm on the way down. But she caught him off guard and he fell with her. Pam grunted when she landed, then was struck with the thought that being horizontal felt pretty good. She gingerly lifted her head and saw Alan sprawling face first next to her. When he raised onto his elbows, his face was covered with a layer of white sand. Pam burst out laughing.