“You’re hot enough. Come on!”
She started walking toward him with slow and teasing steps, but the sand was burning hot, and she ending up racing the last twenty yards and on into the surf. The water broke white and frothing across her thighs. She splashed on through the smaller breakers, following Jack. Then a big wave caught her across the chest and sent her reeling backward.
She stood back up, resisting the undertow and shaking sand from the lining of her suit. Jack was laughing at her. She could see that Tom Sawyer grin of his, his laughing eyes, his broad shoulders—and then the ocean lifted in a towering, white-crested wave above her, and she held her breath and dove right through it. The power of the wave swept along her body like a hand drawing over her, head to toe.
She surfaced laughing, shaking her golden hair back from her face. Jack waved, way out now, beckoning, and she swam to him with smooth, steady strokes.
Now they were past the point where the breakers crashed. She swam close and wrapped herself around his body. She rode him like a raft, resting on his chest, her legs locked around his hips. Leaning back, she spread her arms. Even through closed lids, she could see the sun; its brightness filled her head.
The ocean tugged at them, rising and falling. Salt dried on her face. When Jack reached behind her and lifted her back up into his arms, the kiss he gave her was salty. She ran her tongue over his lips.
“Let’s swim awhile. I’ve got to stretch out these muscles,” Jack said, and he lifted high and tossed her into the water.
He swam hard, paralleling the beach, and though she matched him stroke for stroke, she soon fell behind.
“Oh, what the heck!” She giggled. “That’s too much like work.” She rolled over onto her back and did a slow, lazy backstroke. One arm up, flutter kick, other arm up, kick, just a slow, lovely rhythm of movement through the cool, lovely water. Beads of water dropped from her arms across her face. Her cheeks felt hot and tight; behind her lids were sparkles of bright color.
She flipped over to her stomach, then pushed her head and shoulders under the water, feeling its coolness slide along her scalp. And with a kick she swam down, down, the water so clear, she could see the rocks on the bottom. Suddenly a quick, dark shape swam into view and Jack came up from below her, scaring the breath right out of her.
She broke the surface gasping and sputtering. “That’s a helluva thing to do, Gallagher!” She pushed his dark head back under the water, feeling a rush of excitement after that split second of fear.
When he came to the surface she kissed his laughing mouth, their tongues and lips sliding over each other, her body wet inside and out. He must have known it, because he took hold of the ruffled edge of her suit and pulled it down, and the water was cold against her bare breasts but his mouth was hot, and she thought she would drown from the delicious dizziness of it all.
Instead she went wiggling away from him, laughing and splashing at him, keeping him at bay with one hand while she tugged her suit back up with the other. “Gallagher! You’re awful! There are people around!”
“No one near by but us minnows.”
“Ha! Shark is more like it—Oh, Lord, you made me say that word out here. Oh, you are the worst!” She did a three-hundred-sixty-degree turn, scanning the rippling surface of the water. “I’m getting out while the going is good. Jack, come with me,” she called, already swimming toward shore. “It’s not safe to swim alone.”
“I’ll be in.”
“Gallagher!” She sputtered, overcome with exasperation. “Now!”
One dark brow lifted. His mouth curved in an amused smile. “I’ll be in.” He was treading water, his powerful arms circling shoulder high.
“Oooooh …” Muttering furiously to herself, Abby swam toward shore. She caught the crest of a good-size wave and rode it in, but the next came crashing down on top of her before she could get her footing, and she went rolling under, collecting sand in the most annoying places. She scrambled to her feet, dug in against the undertow, and then used the push of the next wave to propel her to the beach. Hands on knees, hair dripping in her eyes, she looked back out to sea.
She saw his dark head, the wave of one arm, and then he caught the crest of a huge wave and body-surfed it in to shore. Striding against the undertow, he reached her side.
“Not the Colorado, but it’s not bad!” He shook sea spray in a wide arc and smiled down at her. “See how tame I’m getting? One word and here I am, darlin’.”
“Impossible!” she muttered, and walked back down toward the surf.
“Where are you going now, woman?”
“To get the sand out of my suit! You, of course, have no such problems! Men!”
They built a sand castle with cups and plastic spoons. Three little boys came over to join in, bringing “professional” tools: plastic pails and shovels. When it was all finished, they built a moat with a canal running to the surf, and cheered when the sea filled it up. Then they walked miles along the beach, holding hands, bumping their hips together and laughing. As the wind picked up, Abby had to hang on to her wide, floppy beach hat.
“You still under there?” Jack asked teasingly, bending down to kiss her freckled nose. That pale, delicate nose, with its sprinkling of freckles, held some strange power over him. One look at her on a day like that one and it was as if someone had taken a sandbag and hit him smack in the stomach. He wanted to lift her in his arms, carry her away, never let her go.
The question was, would she ever let him? Would she ever trust him, admit that she needed him, that much? He gave her hand a quick, hard squeeze and kept on walking.
By four in the afternoon the wind was strong enough to tip over their umbrella. Abby shaded her eyes with the flat of one hand while Jack chased and caught the umbrella, then stowed it beneath his chair.
“Look at that.” Abby pointed out to the horizon. There, where the sky met the sea, was a black line of clouds. “Big storm out there,” she murmured. Then, looking up, she smiled. “How about treating this lady to a good cold drink at the pool bar?”
“Love to,” Jack answered.
They gathered up their towels and lotion and paperback books and took the wooden boardwalk up to the deck.
The bar was a thatched-roof affair, four countertops surrounding one tattooed, slow-moving bartender. “What’ll it be, folks?” she asked, sliding her eyes up and down Jack in open admiration.
“Longneck Bud for me. Abby?”
“A piña colada, please,” Abby said, biting back an urge to laugh.
Her drink was plopped unceremoniously in front of her. Jack’s was delivered so neatly, the woman had time to brush her fingers against his as she set the bottle down. “Longneck for you, handsome.”
Abby felt the giggles bubbling in her throat like soda-pop fizz. Giving up, she hid behind a napkin, coughing fiercely while she grabbed her drink and swung round on her barstool. Jack cupped his hand around her elbow and led her to a distant chaise longue.
“Thought that was funny, huh, sweet thing?”
“Longneck for you, handsome,” she drawled, giggling again. Then she tipped her head to one side, her spell of silliness disappearing. “Sometimes I think these days with you are a dream, Gallagher. It’s so wonderful to be happy. I just wish I could figure out how to feel like this all the time, how to tie all the parts of my life together. Most of the time I feel I’m being torn in ten different directions. There’s my parents, and Jeanette, and money and bills and the Paradise, and now Simon. Sometimes I just don’t know what to do.”
“I understand, Abby. But maybe you try to do too much. Maybe you ask too much of yourself—”
“And how much is too much?” she asked. “It all depends on me. It’s my responsibility!”
“Why does it all have to be yours? Sure, help your family—you’re lucky to have them; they’re lucky to have you—but do they have to be the center of your life? Same with the business—”
“Oh, you’ll never understand! Forge
t it. Just forget I said anything.”
“I can’t forget it, Abby,” he said with a growl. “It’s always there between us.”
“What a nasty thing to say!” she snapped, turning away. She took a swallow of her drink and licked her lips. When she looked back, his demanding eyes were still on her.
She met his gaze with her own stubborn stare. “Sometimes you make me feel so pressured. Like I’m not—not—” She frowned, feeling guilty and defensive and angry all at the same time. “Like I’m not giving enough, or something!”
“That’s not at all what I mean.”
“Then what? You think I’m too committed to my restaurant, my parents, my sister?”
“No,” he insisted with that same maddening control. “I just wonder if you’ve decided where I fit into all that.”
Her eyes widened. “Right in the middle! Right at the heart of everything.” With sudden shyness she reached out and touched his arm. “Don’t you believe me?”
“I want to.” He stood up. A strange, almost vulnerable look came into his eyes, and then he turned away and walked over to the deck railing.
Abby jumped up, spilling her drink all over the table. “Jack!” She ran and grabbed his arm. “Jack, don’t be mad at me. Please!”
“Hey, I’m no kid.” He towered over her, frowning and dark. “I’m not ‘mad at’ you, as you put it. Abby, I’m thirty-five years old, and before I met you, I was happy with my life. Happy alone with my rivers and mountains. But now I love you; I’ll love you forever. You’ve taken over the center of me, and I stay here waiting to see if I’m your center.” His eyes seemed to bore deep into her. “But I still don’t know, and, darlin’, despite all the lovin’, I don’t think you know yourself.”
Jack leaned back against the railing, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve never been very good at waiting. And, woman, you’ve given me more practice in this short time with you than I’ve had in all my years.”
“I know,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. But sometime soon you’re going to have to do something much more difficult: You’re going to have to decide. I’ve put everything else on hold—but it can’t stay that way forever.” His gaze was silent, powerful. And then it was as if he took hold of himself and stepped back to give her space. His eyes softened, and he smiled. “But it’s not this minute. Right now you look like a little fried clam.”
“How romantic.” Her eyes filled with grateful tears at his teasing. “Maybe I’ll go up and hop in the shower and come out gorgeous—and I’ll make up for being such a crazy lady! What d’ya think?”
Jack nodded, tipped her chin up, and kissed her fiercely on the mouth. “Go ahead. I’ll be up soon.”
“Now, stay away from my competition, Gallagher!” She forced a smile and rolled her eyes toward the bar.
“I’ll try,” he said, returning her smile.
Abby fell back against the elevator wall, fanning her face with the brim of her hat, keeping her mind carefully empty. An aspirin! My kingdom for an aspirin, she thought. When the door slid open, she clattered down the hall to their room. Two aspirin later, she wrapped herself in her robe, tossed the wet things on the chairs out on the balcony, and flopped down across the bed. Now, if I just nap for ten minutes, everything will be okay.… She closed her eyes.
A constant, loud tap-tapping woke her. “Ohhh,” she groaned, sitting up and trying to get her eyes to focus. “Jack?” she called, and hurried to the door. No one was there. Puzzled, she glanced down at her watch. “Six o’clock!” She frowned. “Goodness, I really fell asleep,” she said to the empty room. And then the tap-tapping came again, and she realized it was coming from out on the balcony. Had Jack come up while she slept?
Crossing the room, she yanked the curtains back. The wet end of one towel slapped against the window. Abby smiled. “Chicken!” she said aloud.
She slid the glass door open, and the wind filled the room. It lifted the drapes and pushed her robe against her legs. The sky was growing dark with storm clouds, black shapes galloping in over the beach, their edges illuminated by the eerie play of lightning on them. It wasn’t raining there yet, but out over the ocean she could see the streaked gray curtain of the rain.
And then her eye was drawn to a lone figure on the empty beach. “Jack!” she shouted, but her voice was blown back in her face.
After pulling on shorts and a T-shirt, she rode the elevator down and ran out toward the beach. The wind blew her hair in her eyes, but she raced along the boardwalk and down onto the sand.
When she saw him, a strange feeling of fear enveloped her.
Jack was standing at the ragged edge of the surf. His feet and legs were buried in wet sand up to his calf muscles, so she knew he had been standing there a long time, not moving, simply looking out to sea. The towering clouds, black as night, reached up from the horizon to the top of heaven.
The surf was coming in strong, crashing against him, so that she could see the muscles tighten across his thighs as the waves smashed into him. She could see him jolted back, yielding, and recovering his balance, waiting for the next onslaught.
What was the man doing?
That unnamed fear reached down to her heart.
“Hi!” she yelled. “Jack! Jack!” She ran to him, kicking up sand that blew back to sting her legs and face. “Jack, hi!” She grabbed his arm, swung his torso around. “Hey, what are you doing, Gallagher?”
Jerked from his thoughts, Jack looked down at her, smiled gently, and pulled her snugly against his side. He looked back out to sea. “I really miss it,” he answered.
Abby gave a frantic little laugh. “You mean we don’t have enough water for you in Florida?”
“You know what I mean, Abby.” Kicking his legs free, he turned and wrapped her in his arms. He stared over her head at the gathering storm. “This is the way I like things, with a bite to them! Trouble is,” he whispered, rubbing his chin against her hair, “where I come from, nature had the bite but my women were soft. Down here, damned if I haven’t run into the opposite!”
“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” she cried. She locked her arms around his waist and clung to him. “You’re going to go back.”
Prying her loose, he looked down at her face. “I’ve got to return. I have a business to run, too, and I need to help with the lodge. Besides, I want to see it all again. I miss it. I miss the power, the excitement, the beauty of it all. I miss Pop and the lodge and the sheer cliffs and the wild valleys. I’m tired of sand. Tired of the heat and the bugs and the air conditioning. I’ve got to feel the cool wind off the mountaintops—”
“But you won’t come back! You’ll forget me—or get yourself killed on some river!”
“Preferably the latter?” He grinned and brushed his hand over her cheek.
“Don’t laugh at me, Gallagher!”
“How can I help it, when you’re funny? I told you I love you—”
“But that isn’t always enough.”
“How do you know, Abby? You’ve never given it a chance.”
People were starting to gather in the lobby, and when Jack pulled the door open and the wind whipped in, their voices rose to a new level of excitement. Abby caught the words hurricane and Bahamas as she held tightly to Jack’s waist on their way to the elevator.
She wanted to be allowed to hold tightly to him without having to explain or offer anything. What a foolish, selfish person I’m becoming! she thought. She couldn’t find a thing to say the whole, silent ride up. She just held on.
When they got to their door, Jack hugged her to him. “Relax, Abby. You’ve got yourself all strung out. You know, some old river rat once said you’ve got to go easy over the rough spots. Just ride ’em out, darlin’.”
Abby slumped against his shoulder. “Is that some old river rat I know?”
“Intimately.”
Inside they flipped on the TV. Sure enough, the weatherman was tracing the r
oute of the season’s first hurricane on its wild way to the islands. Three days of solid rain were guaranteed for south and central Florida.
“Jack, I’m just going to call home and make sure everything’s okay,” Abby said, reaching for the phone.
“Good. Then I get the shower.” Jack pulled the muscle shirt over his head and stepped out of his trunks. Naked, he walked around the room, looking for his deodorant and after-shave. Abby misdialed. His body was so beautiful, so amazing and powerful. He sat down on the bed next to her, watching the news, and her heart filled with a bittersweet desire at the touch of his bare hip. Abby dialed again, and the phone rang once, twice. She lightly touched his shoulder, and he turned and kissed her neck. “Oh, Jack,” she breathed, “I do love you—Hi, Jeanette!” she said loudly.
Jack rose and went into the bathroom.
“Jeanette, how’s everything?… What? It’s me, Abby. Who do you think is is?… Very funny, Jeanette.”
When Jack stepped out of the shower, Abby was leaning against the vanity, waiting for him.
“That’s a surprise!” Jack said. “But you could have come on in. I’m very informal in the shower.”
“Jack, I’ve got to ask a favor.”
Jack shook his head, his face clouding like the sky outside. “Don’t tell me. You want to go home.”
“Please, Jack. Simon’s been calling all day—he says he’s got to talk to me immediately. I can’t even imagine what he’s up to now, but Jeanette says he sounds even stranger than usual and—”
“Can it wait till morning, at least?”
“But it’s going to rain anyway, and we won’t get back down on the beach—”
“I wasn’t worried about the beach.” He stepped close, resting his hands on the vanity top on either side of her, so that his hard, wet body pressed against hers. “Sometimes you are really dense, my darling.”
She blushed. “I know.” Then she looked up at him beseechingly. “Jack, I know it’s a lot to ask.”
“You’re damn right it is.” He bit back the rest of his words. “Okay, pack your bag. I’ll go down and pay the bill.”
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