by Jan Hudson
But why, she wondered, if she wasn’t his type, did his eyes slowly sweep over her as if he were undressing her? She could almost feel the fabric smoldering under his gaze. And why, if she was immune to his rugged good looks and mesmerizing presence, did she feel as if someone had lit a firecracker between her toes every time he looked at her with that intense, sensual scrutiny?
Maybe she was misinterpreting the signals, she thought. Then their eyes met and held. She could almost feel his hands on her, feel his breath on her face, feel— No, this wouldn’t do!
She broke eye contact, fidgeted with her hat, and looked over her shoulder to Estella, who was on the stairs, watching them.
“Are you ready?” Sunny asked her friend.
“If you two don’t mind,” Estella said, “I think I’ll beg off.” She rubbed her tummy. “Junior here is practicing his punting, and I’d be more comfortable staying home with my feet up and watching the Astros-Braves game on TV.”
“Are you ill? I’ll stay with you,” Sunny said quickly. She was suddenly nervous over the prospect of being alone with Kale.
“Honey, I’m not sick. I’m just pregnant. And I think I’d feel better staying close to a bathroom.”
Looking concerned, Kale said, “It’s not time .
Estella laughed. “Don’t I wish. No, the doctor told me last Thursday that I have at least another two weeks. You two go on and enjoy the day.”
Sunny hesitated. Was Estella playing matchmaker or did she seriously prefer to stay home? She could hardly confront her with Kale present. Shoot! She was making too much of the whole matter. They were simply going to drive to Padre to look for seashells and roast a couple of wienies on a grill. What could happen?
“We’ll be home in plenty of time for Lamaze class this evening.” Sunny cocked her head, then asked Estella, “Do you remember where I put Ravinia’s keys?”
“I saw some keys in the bread box.”
She scooted into the kitchen to check and came back empty-handed and feeling disgusted. “Those were mine.”
Kale walked over to the suit of armor and from the tip of the lance plucked a set of keys with a red-sequined heart attached. “What about these?”
“Bingo!”
When they walked into the garage, Kale stared at the luxurious white car. “What is this?”
“Ravinia’s convertible.”
Kale frowned. “I didn’t think Cadillac was making this model in a convertible any longer.”
“As far as I know, they’re not,” Sunny said. “She had it customized. It must have cost the world, but she loved it.”
They loaded their picnic supplies into Ravinia’s convertible, put the top down, and, with Kale driving, were soon on their way down South Padre Island Drive.
Even though the sky was slightly overcast, enough to keep the temperature from soaring, Sunny pulled a bottle of sunscreen from her tote bag and began slathering it on exposed skin areas. Kale watched from the corner of his eye, appreciating the perfect curves of her legs, the smoothness of her arms, the suppleness of her fingers as they moved over her body, a body that had haunted him since he’d found her in his shower. With only a slight leap of fancy, he could imagine those slender, supple fingers stroking his skin. Allowing his mind to meander a few steps further, he could envision her in his bed, all warm and soft beneath him, moaning his name. He felt himself stir.
“Want some?”
Startled by her question, he almost said, “Hell, yes.” Instead he asked, “What?”
She held up the green plastic bottle. “Sunscreen. Want some?”
“Maybe later.” He scowled and squirmed in the seat. She’s not/or you, Hoaglin. Get your mind out of the gutter.
“I really think you should. With all the scientific evidence about skin cancer, everybody should be wearing sunscreen these days.”
“I’m driving,” he said curtly.
“I can rub it on you.”
“No.” If she started running her fingers up his thigh he’d probably ram into the RV ahead of them.
“You don’t have to be such a grouch. I’m only concerned with your well-being. At least put some on your face.”
“Oh, hell,” he said, holding out two fingers. “Squirt some out.”
When she complied, he made a couple of swipes across his nose and cheeks. “Satisfied?”
“For now.” She smiled and tossed the bottle back into her bag. “When we get to the beach, you can do a better job.”
He shook his head and chuckled inwardly. Sunny Larkin was a piece of work. Who would ever know to look at her sweet, guileless face that she had the tenacity of a bulldog?
He switched on the radio and tuned it to an easy-listening station to keep his thoughts occupied. With his left elbow propped on the window opening and the wind ruffling his hair, Kale headed the car over the familiar causeway that crossed the Intracoastal Waterway between Laguna Madre and Corpus Christi Bay. The car drove like a dream. It seemed like a lifetime since he’d driven anything except an ancient Jeep or some rusted-out truck with sprung seats.
How long had it been since he’d driven this route in a convertible with a beautiful girl beside him? Ten years? Fifteen? He fondly remembered trips to Padre in the Corvette his aunt Ravinia had given him for high school graduation. Lord, how he’d loved that car.
“You smiled! You actually smiled.”
Kale glanced over at Sunny. “I beg your pardon?”
She laughed and clapped her hands. “You smiled. I didn’t think you knew how.”
Indignant, he grumbled, “Of course I know how. Why would you think I didn’t?”
“I’ve never seen you smile. I’ve seen a couple of little twitches and wiggles as if you wanted to smile, but I’ve never seen an honest-to-goodness, lips-turned-up, teeth-showing smile. What were you thinking about?”
“My old Corvette convertible, the pride and joy of my youth. It was black.”
“Whatever happened to it?”
“Somebody stole it about two weeks after I moved to New York. Damned near broke my heart. I felt as if I’d lost an old friend.”
“Didn’t your insurance replace it?”
He shrugged. “Some things are irreplaceable. In any case, having a car in New York wasn’t practical, and when I was transferred to Washington, I leased something plain and functional. On the foreign assignments that came later, it was easier to rent a car or use local transportation. In some of the places I’ve lived, I was lucky to find a donkey cart.”
“You’re kidding.”
He found himself growing relaxed as he drove along Park Drive 22, more relaxed than he’d been in he didn’t know how long. Before he knew what was happening, Sunny was pulling stories out of him about the various strange conveyances he’d ridden in, from rickshaws and pedicabs in the Orient to camels in Morocco.
“I’d love to ride a camel. Didn’t you feel like Lawrence of Arabia sailing across the desert?” she exclaimed, waving her arms expansively.
He glanced over at her and smiled. He’d never met anyone quite like her. She bubbled like a fountain of sunshine. He found that he wanted to dip his hands into her vibrancy, and wash himself with her vivacity. Something about her was magical, ethereal yet elemental. And very appealing. She had a zest for life that had disappeared in him long ago—if it had ever been there at all. Everything about her drew him like a warm, crackling fire on a cold night.
“Camels don’t sail across the desert. They ga-lump. Besides being uncomfortable as the devil, they’re nasty beasts that love to bite and spit. I’d rather ride a horse. Even an elephant is better.”
“An elephant! Oh, what fun. Were you in India?”
“No. As I recall, that happened in Dallas. One of my first assignments as a TV reporter there was to cover the circus coming to town. I rode an elephant from the train to the place they were performing. It’s a hackneyed slant, although it seemed very clever at the time. Linda Ellerbee once said that every reporter she’d ever talk
ed to has done the elephant walk at some point early in his or her career.”
“I suppose my education is sadly lacking. I’ve done my share of dog shows and ribbon cuttings, but I’ve never ridden an elephant to the circus.”
“Give it time, kid.”
“I’m not a kid. I’ve been a reporter for four years.”
He held back a chuckle. “That long, huh?”
She lifted her chin and puckered her lips, trying, he assumed, to show her annoyance. She only succeeded in looking cute and kissable. “I know that I don’t have as much experience as you do,” she said, “but I’m getting there.” She focused her attention on the hotels, condominiums, and beach houses sprawled along the northern end of the island. Her pique lasted only a moment, and then she turned back to him, as eager and fresh-faced as ever. “Tell me about your experiences in Iran and Bangladesh. Was it exciting to report on wars and monsoons in such exotic places?”
He grimaced at the montage of memories that flashed through his mind: smells of arms fire and destruction, sights of maimed and bloated bodies, mewling cries of homeless children with distended bellies, the acrid taste of horror and despair. “I hope you never have to find out. I’d rather talk about camels and elephants.”
She reached over and touched his arm. His biceps bunched at the contact. Her hand was small and soft and comforting. “Was it bad?” she asked quietly.
“Worse than you can ever imagine. You’re better off sticking to the weather and heritage society functions.”
“Hoaglin, I’m tougher than I look.”
She removed her hand, and he gritted his teeth to keep from asking her to touch him again. It was a shame that he’d be here for only two weeks. He frowned at the thought. Hell no, it was a good thing he’d be here for only two weeks. Much longer and he’d start going soft and losing his edge. He’d set his course years ago, and there was no place in it for someone like Sunny Larkin, who despite her protests was a kitten in his world of tigers.
They stopped and paid at the park entrance, then both were quiet as the car sped along the flat road of Padre Island National Seashore, the mid-part of the long barrier island unspoiled by development and noted for its birds and beaches. High grassy dunes, white and wind-rippled, hid the waters of the Gulf on their left and Laguna Madre on their right.
“You want to stop at Malaquite?” Kale asked, naming the beach where the visitors’ center was located.
Sunny shook her head. “Too crowded. Let’s drive as far as we can.”
They drove until the road ended at South Beach, then continued a few miles over the packed sand of the Gulf shore, passing rows of trailers and RVs, families on outings, and groups of teenagers cavorting in and around the water. Kale stopped on a deserted stretch where railroad vine and knee-high grass grew over the dunes and shells littered the beach.
“This okay?” he asked. “It’s about as far as we can go without getting into the four-wheel-drive area.”
“Perfect.” She dug into her tote bag and pulled out the sunscreen. She grinned and held it up. “Bet you thought I’d forget. Want me to do you?”
He plucked the bottle from her fingers and muttered, “I’ll do it.”
While he applied the lotion, Sunny grabbed her yellow straw hat and two plastic bags for shells. She got out of the car and walked to the edge of the beach, watching the waves roll in, listening to the rushing sounds of the water and its subtle changes as it washed the shore, breathing in the fresh, salty air. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin to relish the warmth of the sun and the play of the cooling breeze against her face and neck. She flung out her arms, wanting to hug the wind.
Sensing Kale’s presence beside her, she laughed. “Isn’t it glorious?”
“Glorious.”
She turned to him, and her laughter faded. His gaze wasn’t focused on the water. His sunglasses glittered with her reflection. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could feel their intensity capture her, stroke her. Her breath caught, and a momentary weakness washed over her as if she’d been caught by a wave.
She shook off the feeling, laughed nervously, and thrust a plastic bag in his hands. “This is yours.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Good specimens. Anything unusual. I don’t really know much about shells. One of my nieces has a passion for them, and I’m collecting enough to fill a treasure chest for her birthday.”
“A treasure chest?” he asked incredulously.
She chuckled. “Only a small treasure chest. About so big.” With her hands, she measured the size of a shoe box. “The best time to go shelling is after a storm or in winter, but her birthday is only two weeks away. I already have some collected, and if we can’t find enough today, I’ll fudge and buy the rest.”
For about an hour they walked along the beach, examining and discarding most of what they found.
“I’m about ready for a beer and that hot dog you promised me,” Kale said.
Sunny swiped at her damp forehead and fanned her face with her hat. “Me too.”
They walked back to where the car was parked and dug a shallow pit in the sand for the grilling fire. While Kale lit briquettes they’d dumped in the hole, Sunny took two beers from the cooler, spread towels in the shade of a dune, and sat cross-legged on one of them.
Kale dropped down beside her and plucked a can from her hand. He popped the top and took a swallow, then rolled the can over his forehead. “Man, that’s good. I’ve seen the time I’d have paid a hundred bucks for an icy-cold beer.”
“On assignment?”
“Lots of places I’ve been didn’t have ice or beer. Most of the time I was damned lucky to have tepid bottled water to drink. At least I didn’t get cholera or dysentery.”
“Sounds grim.”
“Foreign news events don’t always develop near a luxury hotel.”
Sunny had the strangest urge to smooth the lines on his brow with her thumb and stroke his rumpled hair. Instead she took a sip of beer. “Where are you going when you leave Corpus?”
He shrugged. “It depends on what’s happening in two weeks. Could be anywhere.” He stretched out sideways on the beach towel and propped his head on his hand. “Tell me about this niece we’re collecting shells for.”
She smiled, thinking about her. “She’s eight, the daughter of my oldest sister, and my namesake.”
“You have another Sunny in the family?”
“No, my name is really Virginia.”
He scanned her face and frowned. “Virginia doesn’t suit you. Why are you called Sunny?”
“Because I was such a happy baby. My dad started calling me Little Miss Sunshine, which got shortened to Sunny, and it stuck. I’ve always been cheerful.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Unlike some people I could name.”
“We can’t all be cheerleaders, Little Miss Sunshine.”
“I was never a cheerleader,” she informed him.
“Why not? You’re a natural for jumping around and shaking pom-poms at the Friday night football games.”
“Shows what you know. On Friday nights I was too busy making hot dogs and hamburgers at the local Dairy Queen. With six kids in the family, everybody had to help if we wanted school clothes and food on the table.” She jumped up. “Speaking of food, the coals should be ready. I’m starved.”
* * *
After they’d eaten and had another beer, they expanded their exploration in a direction different from the one they’d tried earlier, walking a mile or more south of the car.
“Oh, look,” she squealed, kneeling in the sand. “We’ve hit pay dirt.” She picked up several shells and added them to her bag. They gathered specimens for another half hour, walking farther south in their search.
“How about this one?” Kale held out his hand to show her his find.
“Oh, it’s a sand dollar, and it’s absolutely perfect. I wish we had time to look for more, but we’d better go back to the car. We’ve come a long way, and it�
��s going to start raining in a few minutes.”
He looked up at the placid sky and frowned. “It’s not going to rain.”
“Yes, it is. Trust me.”
“It’s not going to rain. I checked with the Weather Service. Let’s see if we can find another sand dollar.”
“But, Kale—”
He glowered at her.
She shrugged. “If you don’t mind getting wet, I certainly won’t melt, but I’d hate for the inside of the convertible to get soggy.”
“It’s not going to rain.”
“That’s not what my ear says,” she mumbled, tugging at her left lobe.
“Your ear? What does your ear have to do with anything?”
She sighed. “Never mind.”
“No, I want to know exactly what in the hell you’re—”
A sudden hard gust caught her hat and snatched it from her head. “My hat!” she yelped, making a grab for it.
“I’ll get it,” Kale yelled, but it sailed past him. He thrust his bag of shells into her hand, ran, and lunged for the tumbling straw, but another gust lifted it and swept it toward the dunes.
They both scuttled up the high sandbank after it. Kale made a flying tackle, but the wind whisked the elusive quarry from his grasp, and he landed on his face. He cursed, spit sand, and shoved himself to his feet.
“There it goes!” Sunny shouted, laughing and tearing up the crest of another dune.
The yellow straw hat seemed alive, playing tag like a mischievous fairy, waiting for them to catch up, then soaring away as they neared.
They spied the yellow rascal at the top of another dune, caught in a bit of vine with chiffon streamers fluttering in the breeze, teasing and taunting.
“I’ve got you now,” Kale ground out, muttering curses and scrambling up the embankment with Sunny on his heels.
Just as the wind tugged it free, he sprang and pounced on the mocking culprit, trapping it like a loose football. Sunny stumbled over him, lost her balance, and started to fall. He grabbed for her, and they both slipped in the shifting sand and went rolling down the side of the dune in a wild tumble of flailing arms and legs, lost sunglasses, and spilled shells.
