Moonlight on Monterey Bay

by Sally Goldenbaum

  “That’s admirable.”

  Sam went on almost as if she hadn’t spoken. “I gave her plenty of things, but little of me. And she was very needy, emotionally. I felt … well, sucked dry sometimes, suffocated by her needs. I thought I could be everything my own father never was—a provider, a friend, a good husband, an emotional stalwart. But I greatly overestimated myself. I fell short in a couple of those categories. Turns out I was great at building a business and making money. But emotional commitment? Not great. Lousy, in fact.” He paused, touched her lightly on the end of her nose, and said in a voice meant to be playful, “So now you know the truth about Sam Eastland.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yep,” Sam said. He took another drink of beer, settled back once more against the tree. “Your turn now. I know little about Maddie Ames, other than she’s smart, beautiful, sexy as hell—”

  Maddie sighed, knowing that Sam wasn’t going to reveal more at the moment. “Well, as for me, that’s it in a nutshell,” she said lightly. “Sexy, smart, and beautiful.” She wrinkled her nose, skewered her mouth, and made Sam laugh.

  He lifted a fistful of hair from her neck and let it slide through his fingers, then rested his fingers on the soft skin at of her nape. “Why isn’t this sexy, smart woman—”

  “You forgot beautiful.”

  “—sexy, smart, beautiful woman married with a bunch of kids?”

  Sam felt Maddie’s back stiffen. Fleetingly her face had a look of pain so sharp that Sam felt it in his own heart. Her smile returned, and for a minute he wondered if he had imagined that look.

  “The reason I’m not married,” Maddie said simply, “is that I haven’t met the right man. I’m very, very picky. And I don’t have children … for the very same reason.”

  “But someday?”

  “Someday I will meet the right man, and I will have as many children as my heart and my home will hold.”

  Sam listened carefully. The lightness was gone from her voice. “It’s clear you’ve given your future a lot of serious thought.”

  “Oh, yes.” Maddie brushed the hair back from her flushed cheek. She looked up at him. “The fiercest kind of thought, Sam.”

  They sat in silence then, each absorbing the fringes of the other’s life, the few details thrown out, and the subtle nuances surrounding them. And as the sky overhead darkened, invisible ties thickened, grew, strengthened in the silence. They glowed there between them like electrical wires, brighter than fire.

  “Dessert?” Maddie asked finally.

  “Dessert? Sure, what the hell.” Something cold, he hoped. He glanced up at the sky to see if the moon was full, but it was hidden, obscured by dark thick clouds. So much for the moon being responsible for the way Maddie made him feel.

  Maddie leaned slightly into his side as they walked back toward the center of activity, her hip rubbing his. “Where’d you come from anyway?” she asked. They both knew what she was asking about. And neither knew the answer.

  Shadows hid the expression on her face, but beneath the soft tone to her voice, Sam sensed something else. Fear? He and Maddie seemed to be dancing around each other, tamping down the rising embers of passion, coming together, moving apart. It was something new to Sam, and the newness of it made him both uncomfortable and excited.

  “There you two are!” Lily came toward them, her arms outstretched as if Maddie and Sam had disappeared for weeks. Jack, his chef’s hat angled to one side, was right behind her. He was several years older than Lily, about Sam’s own age, Sam thought, and had a friendly, open look about him.

  “You almost missed dessert,” Jack said, resting his arm on Maddie’s shoulder. “Most folks have left, and if you don’t help us get rid of this shortcake, I’ll be forced to eat it all myself.”

  “Perish the thought, Jack,” Lily said, tapping his midsection.

  Jack captured her fingers and brought them to his lips, nibbling lightly on the tips. “It’s shortcake or you, love.”

  The affectionate interplay left Sam feeling restless and oddly uncomfortable. He rubbed a hand across his forehead. He forced himself to pay attention to what Jack was saying, the friendly chatter, the insistence that he and Maddie stay a little while so he could have his turn getting to know Maddie’s friend.

  “I need to assure myself Lily’s infatuation with Sam is innocent,” Jack said to Maddie with a grin.

  “Nothing about me is innocent, Jack, you know that,” Lily said. “Now sit, all of you, while I see the rest of our guests off.” When she returned a short while later, Sam and Jack were gone. Maddie sat alone in one of the Adirondack chairs on the patio.

  Lily looked around. “You drove them away?”

  “Their passion did. A mutual one. It took them two minutes and twenty seconds to discover they both did stunt flying in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, five years ago, in identical planes.”

  Lily sighed. “And Jack is showing his flying video to Sam.”

  “Bingo.”

  Lily sank into a chair next to Maddie and kicked off her shoes. “Well?” she said.

  Maddie laughed. “Lily, give it up.”

  “Maddie, you know me better than that. Have I ever stopped interfering?”

  “You have a point.” Maddie took a huge spoonful of whipped cream off the top of the strawberry shortcake. “Mmm, this is great, Lily.”

  “Yes. Now about Sam, Mad, tell me about him.”

  Maddie licked some cream from her upper lip. “You know almost as much as I do. I thought at first he was arrogant—he’s not, not really. Well, maybe a little. When Eeyore took to him, though, I decided to give him a second chance. And I like him. I don’t know why exactly, but—”

  “You mean besides the fact that he’s sexy as all get out and every woman in the yard tonight was playing with him with her eyes?”

  “That’s only because he’s a little aloof. They were curious, that’s all.”

  “No matter. I see more than like here, Mad. There’s something about him, I mean, there’s the sex appeal, sure—”

  Maddie laughed, but her laughter was strained. She certainly didn’t need Lily to tell her about Sam’s sex appeal.

  “But I won’t force you to give me your opinion on that.”

  “Thanks, Lil.”

  “As long as you promise me you won’t chase him away without giving him a chance.”

  “I don’t want to chase him away, that’s the problem. And yet getting involved with someone like him makes about as much sense to me as our country’s budget deficit.” Her voice was softer now, almost wistful.

  “Maybe you’re not the best judge. Maybe you should just go with your feelings for once, forget about that damn rating scale you have for men. Maybe what you need, Maddie, is to enjoy yourself without a thought to the future or past or anything. You deserve joy as well as the rest of us. Unmuddled joy. Yes, that’s what you need—a great, old-fashioned, wonderful summer romp.”

  Maddie rested her head against the chair and half closed her eyes. “Mmm,” she said. “Sounds like a grade-B movie. I’m a barrel of fun, Lil, but romping? I don’t know. I’ve never been much of a romper.”

  Lily threw a small pillow at her. “Mark my words, Maddie Ames, if push should come to shove, you can romp as well as the best of them.”

  “Romping?” Jack said. “Who’s romping?”

  Sam was right behind Jack and Maddie caught the smile on his face, the smoothed-out furrow in his brow. He was comfortable, almost at home here. Lily and Jack’s reputation was intact; even Sam had fallen under their charming spell.

  After helping gather up the few remaining plates and glasses, Maddie and Sam left by the front door. “I ate too much,” Sam said. “How about a walk to the beach to work it off?” She didn’t have to answer. They moved in sync, two bodies carried on the same rhythm.

  Sam stopped at his car and pulled a sweater and a blanket from the trunk, then reclaimed her hand and headed down the street in the soothing silence of the night.

/>   It was a dark heavy sky. “It’s going to rain,” Maddie said as they neared the beach.

  “Good. I like rain. Years ago I used to go up to Oregon during the storm season. A friend had a cabin there and we’d hole up for days, with nothing but beer and frozen pizzas and these overwhelming storms crashing all to heck around us. It was great. When the sky finally cleared, we’d comb the shoreline to see what the storm left behind for us—bottles from Japan, exotic-looking driftwood, all sorts of treasures.”

  Maddie could see he was amused by the memory, touched by his own youthful adventure.

  “It’s odd,” he went on. “I’m not a saver usually, but I still have a Japanese bottle we found. I had almost forgotten about it. Hadn’t thought of it for years.”

  “You’re going soft and sentimental on me, Sam.”

  “Never.” He growled into her ear until the soft skin in the hollow of her neck puckered with goose bumps.

  They crossed the street and walked down the dimly lit concrete steps to the beach. Small groups, mostly college kids, were huddled here and there around fires that licked dramatically at the heavy black sky. A stereo threw out the strains of a song, the voice of Jerry Garcia, then some rock group Maddie didn’t recognize, and from an unseen pocket of the beach the smell of roasted hot dogs rose up and was carried on the breeze.

  When the wind picked up, Sam slipped the sweater over Maddie’s shoulders and led her to a spot away from the others, separated and protected by an outcropping of angular rocks, a private little space on the edge of the cove. He spread the blanket out on the hard sand. Maddie slipped down onto it and wrapped her arms around her bent knees; Sam sat down beside her, his back against the rocks, his legs stretched out in front of him. Ahead of them was the black sea, its only definition the broken white lines that outlined the tops of waves. He put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer into his side. “This must be the real meaning of awesome, all that vastness out there in front of us.”

  She nodded against his shoulder. She felt dreamy now, happy, secure. Neither spoke for a while, content to sit and soak in the sight and sounds and smells that filled their senses. “This makes me feel like a kid again, being down here late like this,” Maddie said a while later.

  “Yeah. I haven’t made out on the beach since I was a horny teenager. That was a million years ago.”

  “Is that what we’re down here for, to make out?” Maddie held her head back and looked up into his face. It was shadowed by the flickering gaslights along the upper edge of the cove.

  “It’s an option,” he said, and rubbed his thumb along the side of her neck. “It’s kind of cold to swim, too dark to surf. I guess we could play cards, if you have any. Roast hot dogs maybe.”

  “No cards … not hungry.”

  “That doesn’t leave much.”

  The music had picked up and Maddie tried to concentrate on the words to the song, but all she heard was a jumble of guitars and voices mixed with the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. She dropped one hand down to Sam’s leg and her fingers rubbed lightly, creating designs along his thigh. “ ‘Making out’ is such an odd expression, Sam. What does it mean, anyway?” The muscles of his leg tensed beneath her touch.

  Sam let the sweater drop from her shoulders, then looped one finger beneath the strap of her tank top. He shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe we could improve on it, come up with our own words.”

  “Like what?” Maddie’s voice was strained, and she could hear her own desire coating the meaningless chatter. “I can’t say I like ‘hanky-panky’ much.”

  “No, too old-fashioned.” Sam slid the strap down her shoulder. “Mmm, you smell so good, Maddie.” He lowered his head to her shoulder, and his breath ran hot over her skin. He rubbed his cheek against her bare shoulder, then dropped small kisses where his cheek had been.

  Her body was going limp as a beanbag, Maddie thought, weightless, airy, wonderful. Lily’s words hummed somewhere inside her head: unmuddled joy. She finally found her voice and asked breathlessly, “So … this is it then, making out?”

  He shook his head, rubbing his lips across her skin, then pulled back an inch and said, “No. I think this is fooling around. I’ll let you know when we get to making out.” He found silk-covered buttons running down the back of her top and unbuttoned them, then slipped it off completely, casting it aside. Her breasts, carved and still in the hazy light, hung free. Sam sucked in his breath, then cupped one breast in the palm of his hand as if it were a gift. “Oh, Maddie—” His voice was strained. “You’re so beautiful.”

  She waited, not breathing, her body drowning in sensation while Sam’s head slowly lowered, his lips coming down upon her pale smooth skin, touching, kissing. He circled her nipple with his tongue and she thought she would die, right there on the sandy, damp beach. She wanted it to go on and on and on, this unmuddled joy given to her by this unlikely man.

  Sam stripped off his own shirt and slid them both down, their bodies lining up on the rumpled blanket. She was so natural in her nakedness, he thought, so beautiful and unaffected. The sudden feeling that if he didn’t touch her she might disappear was so strong that he reached out and rested his fingers on her cheek. She smiled at his touch, then reached over and laid her palm across his chest, her fingers exploring the contours of his body from one side to the other, then settling in the thatch of sandy hair.

  Sam was immobile as long as he could be, absorbing the rhythm of her touch and the waves of arousal it set off. When he bent to kiss her, she was waiting, lips slightly apart. He pulled her close, kissing her slowly at first, and then with the hunger of a starved man, pausing only for quick breaths.

  Maddie kissed him back eagerly, pressing into his kiss, her mind blocking out all reality save for the delicious sensations that surged through her, as strong as the sea.

  “I think this is it,” Sam said, struggling to get out words.

  “Making out?” she whispered.

  He nodded solemnly, then nibbled on her bottom lip.

  Maddie’s throaty laughter slipped between them, heating his lips. “I think … I think it’s nice, this making out.…”

  Sam’s fingers trailed down her breasts, circling them, tracking lines of fire. The wind picked up and threw a small sprinkling of sand across her bare skin, and he carefully, reverently, brushed it away. His fingers dipped beneath the band of her skirt.

  Maddie tensed.

  Sam felt her body tighten. He looked up, into the green sea of her eyes. “Maddie?”

  Her hands splayed out across his chest. The smile wobbled slightly. “Sam, I—”

  The noise she thought was her heart grew louder then, carrying away the rest of her unspoken thoughts, and they both looked up, just in time to meet the first large drops of warm rain.

  Sam shook his head. “Some timing.” He roughly threaded his fingers through his damp hair, then sat up and reached for his extra sweater. “Here, you wear this, Maddie.” He helped her pull it over her head.

  She smiled gratefully and grabbed her tank top, folding it into a small patch and tucking it beneath her arm.

  Sam grabbed the blanket and bunched it up, and as the thunder rolled in on the waves, they ran hand in hand across the now deserted beach and up the steps to the street.

  In minutes they were back at Maddie’s house, standing beneath the streetlight, their bodies drenched and their emotions raw. Rain fell warm and heavy all around them, puddling around their shoes and running down the sidewalk in wavy rivers.

  “Sam—” Maddie looked up into his eyes, her smile fading. She licked a raindrop from her upper lip. She had let it all go to hell, all her resolve. She probably would have made love with him right there on the beach. She had craved his closeness, wanted it desperately. But it wasn’t just the closeness that she had wanted, or the completion of that sweet, incredible desire. It was him. It was Sam. She had wanted Sam Eastland.

  Sam brushed her damp hair back from her face and looked into her eyes,
trying to read her emotions. He caressed her cheek. “What do you suppose is going on here, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

  “But you want to go in now. Alone.” It wasn’t a question. He could read it in her eyes. Once the rain fell, reality had sunk in. There was more going on here than a one-night stand—and it frightened the smile off her beautiful face. She needed space, he could see, some time to think about it. Maybe he did too.

  “It’s late.” Maddie reached up and touched Sam’s hair, then slid her fingers through the wet, loose strands. His hair was longer now than when they first met, just long enough to take off that austere businessman edge. Touching him felt so good. He felt so good.

  Unmuddled joy was perhaps not so unmuddled after all.

  “It’s not that it wasn’t a great evening—” she began again.

  Sam nodded, then silenced her murmurs with the soft touch of his mouth, a lingering sweet kiss.

  When cool air fanned her face, she stayed in place, standing there at the curb in the rain, unmoving. And when she finally opened her eyes, Sam was in the car, his hands on the wheel, his mesmeric blue eyes holding her in a warm embrace. His smile tugged at her heart. “Go on in, Maddie,” he said, his voice rough. “You’ll drown out here.”

  She ran up the stairs and inside, his words echoing behind her. No, she wouldn’t drown. Never again. No matter what, Maddie was a survivor.

  NINE

  Maddie slept fitfully, arguing endlessly with herself. She hadn’t been with a man in five years.

  And the realization that she wanted to be with Sam so desperately was destroying the order she had painfully brought to her life. The man she would give herself to—another foolish, ambiguous expression, she thought—would be someone she could trust completely. And someone who felt as strongly about family, about children, as she did. Sam Eastland was none of those. And yet he was there. He had slipped into her heart on silent, sure feet.