“Great, so you’ll go camping with me?”
“I’ll cancel my plans.” And definitely rein in the hormones.
~~~
Maryanne walked into the clinic Friday morning. There was a box of chocolates at her workstation. She opened the notecard.
I feel so happy when you’re around. I’m glad we can be friends, Lucas
A smiley face followed his signature. She caressed his signature and sighed.
“Are you nuts?” Vera slapped her purse on Maryanne’s desk. “I set you up with the hottest guy in the valley and you’re camping with funny man?”
Maryanne opened the box. “Here, have one.”
“No, thank you. Listen to me. Ryan likes you. He’s the pastor’s son. Blond, blue-eyed, six-foot-four. We met him at the spaghetti outreach a few months ago. Remember?”
Of course she did. He was drop-dead gorgeous. Maryanne popped a white chocolate truffle in her mouth. “I thought he had a girlfriend.”
“Had is the operative word. She broke it off, and he’s finally open to dating again. I told him you’re meeting him after the game.”
Maryanne smoothed the foil into a crinkly square. “I already promised Lucas.”
“Oh, come on! Ryan wins hands down.” Vera picked out a chocolate cherry. “Call Lucas and cancel.”
“I don’t want to hurt his feelings.” Maryanne didn’t want to be anyone’s rebound, least of all a preacher boy’s extracurricular project. She looked out the window and logged onto her computer. “Dr. Lee’s walking up the path. Talk to you later.”
“You just want to win the bet.” Vera threw a wad of wrapping paper at her. “You’ll never get laid with Lucas. He’s probably a repressed virgin.”
“Then it’s stalemate with you and your church boys.” Maryanne opened a patient’s chart as Dr. Lee stepped into the clinic.
~~~
Saturday morning, Maryanne packed her bikini, and pulled it out again. Should she wear it under her clothes? Or would there be privacy to change? Maybe not. She pushed extra underwear, a towel, a pair of jeans and two camis into the bag, and put on the bikini and a handkerchief top to cover. Workout pants or shorts? Her legs were still pretty pale. She pulled on the workout pants and threw sunscreen into the bag. This time she’d wear her jogging shoes, but she packed flip-flops and water shoes to be safe. She twisted her hair with an elastic band, checked her makeup, and spritzed body spray on her pulse points. Nobody said anything about bees at the beach!
Maryanne made Lucas’ picture the background image on her phone. She hadn’t had a male friend since high school when holding hands was enough, and guys were satisfied to spend hours on the phone talking. Sex complicated everything. No lingering kisses or long walks once a guy got between her legs.
Lucas tapped on the door at exactly nine o’clock.
“Ready?” He took the bag from her. “What did you pack, rocks?”
Now that they were just friends, she didn’t mind his silliness. She locked her apartment and followed him down the stairs. “Do you always forget to say ‘hello, how are you?’”
“Oh, sorry. How are you?” He unlocked his Outback and opened the passenger door.
“I’m fine, but you haven’t even kissed me.”
“I didn’t think friends should kiss.”
She placed her hands on his waist. “But I like kisses and hugs.”
“Chocolates aren’t enough?” He touched the side of her face, his gaze lingering on her lips.
“They’re a substitute.” She could stare into those eyes forever. The opposite of Medusa, he turned her insides to jelly. She licked her lips and swallowed.
He bent his head and met the side of her mouth, but she turned her face and caught his lower lip. Luscious and hungry, she sucked gently and opened her mouth and licked. A moan rolled from his throat as he pressed her closer. She wrapped her arms tighter and held on, as if never wanting to let go. His lips, so full and sensual, caressed her, cherished her, then pulled away, abandoning her.
She panted to catch her breath. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh… nothing. We better get going.”
She slid into the passenger seat while he went around to the driver’s side. Nothing wrong my big toe! Maybe he is a repressed virgin.
He started the car and turned on the radio. It played smooth jazz. “Do you get carsick?”
“Huh? Oh, no.” She twirled her hair. “I’m good.”
“Great, we can take the scenic route. It winds around a lot, but it’s beautiful.”
“You seem to know your way around better than I do. How long have you lived here?”
“Arrived in March. I had some money saved and didn’t have a job the first month, so I traveled around and joined a triathlon club. Lots of backroads for training.”
“Hmm… I’ll bet.”
They headed west on CA-84, crossed the Bay and passed through Woodside. The day was bright and sunny, but once they climbed up a steep grade full of hairpin turns, the sun was entirely blocked by towering redwoods, their dark brown trunks and dark green foliage casting shadows over the roadway.
Maryanne gripped the passenger armrest and swallowed the edge of nausea. The dizzying turns alternated with marvelous views of the valley below. The road curved past the rustic town of La Honda and hooked a sharp left toward Pescadero Creek Road. Thankfully the navigator showed the upcoming loops, but it didn’t alleviate the lurch in her stomach each time the car swayed.
“Can we open the windows?” Maryanne asked in a small voice.
Lucas slowed into a turnoff, and several cars passed. “You okay?”
“How can they go so fast?” She pointed at the flash of colors and departing taillights.
“Oh, they’re either local or daredevil. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“I’m good.” She squeezed his hand. It was just like him to be concerned. Other men would have taken the turns even faster to impress or scare her. She shook off the image of John’s wicked grin. He had dumped her when she threw up in his Porsche.
The dense redwood groves gradually gave way to coastal oaks with an occasional eucalyptus thrown in, and the road descended toward the farming community of Pescadero. Lucas stopped at the solo gas station to fill his ice chest. He bought her a soda. “If you get tired of camping, we can either head back or find a motel in Half Moon Bay.”
A motel? But knowing Lucas, he meant it innocently. She twisted the cap off the soda. “I’d rather camp, unless there are bugs.”
“We won’t camp near the seaweed where the sand fleas are. I know a dune further up, sheltered under a rocky ledge.”
“Sand fleas?” She scratched her arms. “Did you bring insect repellant?”
“Don’t worry, I have everything we need.” He started the car and made a right turn. The terrain was relatively flat with thick reeds on the right and a hillside full of pampas grass on the left. Interesting how different the vegetation was, separated by a mere road. He turned into a small parking lot. It was unattended with a single outhouse in the center.
“This it it?” Maryanne stepped out. “It looks deserted.”
“That’s the fun of it. Getting away from the crowd.” He hefted a backpack over his shoulders and locked the car.
They crossed the bridge over the estuary and descended rickety steps to a sandy beach littered with seaweed. Several ramble tumble shelters made with driftwood were piled like beaver homes on the bank. Maryanne and Lucas followed the trail inland along a levee.
A half hour later, they turned into a sheltered arch made of a jumble of thick branches that grew horizontally and curved around each other before making L-shaped turns upward.
“What a strange tree,” Maryanne said.
Lucas hung his backpack on a branch. “This is Andorra the weeping tree.”
“Why is it weeping?”
“Because the branches are drooping to the ground like they’re too sad to stand up. Come on.” He helped her climb onto a low
branch and put his arm around her.
The scent of eucalyptus whispered from the shivering leaves. Lucas’ lips hovered near her ear. “Listen carefully, you’ll hear the voices of two lost lovers, an Ohlone and a Korosta from opposing tribes, who chose death rather than a life apart. Let’s see if we can hear them.”
Maryanne closed her eyes and nestled against Lucas’ chest. The branches of the tree creaked in the wind, and she wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but a faint low whistle, like someone blowing over a bottle opening moved within the branches.
“You hear it?” he whispered.
“Yes.” She held him tighter. “I hope our story will be happier. You know I have Ohlone in me?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, and everything else, Mexican, Irish, French, Chinese.”
“Chinese?” He chuckled and rubbed his chin. “Bet you can’t guess what I am.”
She hummed. Not about to step into that trap after his comment about the radio station. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not really.” His body tensed. “My birth father’s white, Australian.”
“Have you met him?” She really should quit, but she was curious.
“No, he died last year and left me money, but never came to see me.”
“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand.
“Don’t be. I bet you’re wondering how I came about.”
“Well… okay, sure. I want to know everything about you.”
“I was born May 1985, nine months after the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. My mother was an alternate for the US track and field team, and my father was an alternate for the Australian swim team. Since neither of them competed, they had a love affair.”
“Sounds romantic.”
“If I hadn’t come along, it would have been a nice memory. But of course, I was a complication.”
“Awww, so not true.” No wonder he overcompensated by appearing confident. Poor guy.
“You don’t know my mom. She never competed again. Being an alternate in the Olympics was her crowning achievement.”
“How about your father?”
“He, of course, kept competing, won medals and titles. But he wasn’t about to change his lifestyle because of some black brat he fathered.”
Maryanne swallowed a growing lump in her throat. “You sound bitter.”
“You’d be too if your stepfather kept referring to you as the white sheep of the family. I wish I knew why I was born. Seemed nobody was happy about it.”
“Well, I’m glad, because if you hadn’t been born, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now.”
“But why do you like me? Is it my body? That’s what most girls want from me. If they close their eyes, they don’t see my freckles, or my dark skin, whichever doesn’t fit their fantasies. That’s why I don’t give in to their desires.”
Maryanne’s face heated, and she pushed away. “Are you saying I only want your body?”
“No, sorry,” he stammered. “You did agree to be friends.”
“That’s right. I also don’t care what race you are, and you’re definitely not some type of fantasy.”
“That came out wrong. I never seem to fit in with anyone.” He sounded dejected. It must have been hard for him growing up different, and wondering why his father had rejected him. Maybe that’s why he joked around so much.
Maryanne tugged his sleeve. “Lucas, I like you the way you are. Honestly. You’re a wonderful man, caring and considerate, like this morning when we were driving. You didn’t take the turns too fast because of me. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
He glanced at her. “What do you see?”
“A man I want to get to know, because he has a kind heart.” She kissed his cheek. “I care a lot about you even though you pull silly pranks and say the wrong things.”
“I care about you too.” He put his arms around her. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am when I’m with you.” Maryanne melted into his embrace. Ghostly voices blew through the mass of branches, whispering secrets to her heart, as if she were already in love.
Chapter 5
It was late afternoon when Lucas and Maryanne returned from the hike. He unpacked the car and set up a tent in a remote location far from the parking lot. Overnight parking and camping were not allowed, but Lucas knew of a spot hidden behind a cove of rocks where nobody would look.
He returned from moving his car and found Maryanne sitting on a sand dune. The sun was slowly making its descent. She looked like a goddess, her hair highlighted around her glowing face. She waved with both arms and beckoned him to her side.
He raised his camera and shouted over the roaring surf. “Can I take pictures of you?”
“Sure. Should I go in the water?”
Lucas rolled his head back and laughed. “The water’s freezing cold. This isn’t the Caribbean.”
“I wore a bikini for nothing?” She untied her hair and let it fly in the wind.
Maryanne had a bikini under her clothes? That thought sent his blood pulsing. He snapped a couple of pictures of her. “You don’t have to go into the water to model it for me.”
Pushing the sunglasses over her head, she approached in a slow, slinky model’s walk. His imagination stripped her naked, and he wanted to pull her onto the sand. He needed a distraction.
“Look, sun’s going down.” He turned the camera toward the cascade of colors. Orange, purple, crimson and blue. The tides rushed over the rocks, creating lacy sprays of mist.
Maryanne calmly peeled the camera from his hands and slipped it into the front pocket of her hoodie. “Enough pictures. Get in the position.”
“Position? Right here?” He let his arms drop to his side.
“For sunset watching. We can’t stare at the sun and damage our eyes.” She nudged him down to a flat rocky ledge and climbed into his lap. “Much better. Me in your arms, not the camera.”
“You’re staring at me, not the sunset.”
She stroked his jaw. “Don’t worry. I can see the colors out the side of my eye, like a painted background, but I want to be ready, right when the sun dips into the sea.”
Lucas shifted his weight, hoping she wouldn’t notice how much she affected him. Her lips hovered near him, and the scent of her perfume invited him to close the gap. This wasn’t fair, the way she teased. He peeked at the horizon.
The slanted rays reflected off the wispy clouds, and the sky glowed bright orange over the murky grey and blue ocean. The golden cone of the sun, the salty sea scent, the relentless crash of the surf over the rocks, and the soft, satiny woman in his arms caught his heartbeat and stole his breath.
The sun winked into the ocean, and Maryanne’s lips crested over his. He opened his mouth and closed his eyes, allowing billows of warmth to drown him in the essence of Maryanne Torres.
~~~
Maryanne held Lucas’ face gently and kissed him, alternating between his upper and lower lips. His stubble rubbed against her, stimulating her tongue to explore. He was not aggressive, not jockeying for dominance. She pressed in, unable to get enough of him.
He massaged her shoulders and the back of her neck. He had to be feeling something—the passionate way he held her, his hand appreciative, yet never venturing to more sensitive zones. She broke off the kiss before he had a chance to disengage first.
He inhaled through his nostrils. “I love the sea breeze. Cleared my nose.”
Nice way to avoid the obvious. She tapped his upper arm, making a motion of depressing a syringe. “You’re not going to give me any credit?”
“Umm… of course, you deserve all the credit.” His eyes claimed her attention. Deep and lustrous.
A purple glow emanated from the dark water, and the evening breeze chilled her. She couldn’t figure out what Lucas wanted. He said friends, but that kiss said more. She rubbed her arms and hugged herself. “What happens now?”
“We eat.” He looked at his backpack and moved to stand. �
�I bought sandwiches and veggies from the store. No open fires allowed.”
She reluctantly eased off his lap. “Too bad. I can imagine a big bonfire and us snuggling under a blanket.”
Lucas took the food out of his pack. “Bonfires aren’t all that healthy. Once I was on the Jersey Shore sitting around a bonfire, and the next thing I knew, I was in the emergency room.”
“You must have been allergic to the wood they threw in.”
“Possibly. My throat was swollen, and I had hives all over. I was on steroids the rest of the week. Stayed in the cabin and missed the fun.”
“I would have stayed in the cabin with you.” And had all the fun. She wouldn’t have wanted to miss anything with this fascinating man. After dinner, he popped out a bag of marshmallows, and they pretended to roast them until the fog rolled in.
When it was time to go to sleep, Lucas set up the two man tent and let Maryanne crawl in first. The sleeping bag was unrolled and unzipped with a pillow at the head. She tucked herself in. The soft sand held the lingering warmth of the day, but the fog had definitely dampened the surroundings outside.
“You decent in there?” Lucas called, shining a flashlight at her.
She shot her flashlight back at him. “What if I wasn’t?”
“Aw shucks, I was hoping to find you in the bikini.” He crept into the tent and sat on the tarp next to her.
“Where’s your sleeping bag?”
A wide grin cracked his face. “You’re in it.”
“Guess you’re out of luck.”
“Then I’ll freeze. I always sleep naked.” He clutched his arms and shivered exaggeratedly.
“Too bad, so sad.” Maryanne tucked herself further into the bag. The thought of him getting into the bag with her made every nerve sing with excitement.
He started to pull his shirt off. “Close your eyes. Wouldn’t want to offend you, but it’s my tent.”
“If you’re offering a free show, go right ahead.”
He flicked off the flashlights. “No show, missy.”
Aww, shucks! He was such a square. Most guys would flaunt their assets. Darkness enveloped her, so dense she could almost touch it. A warm, make that hot, body moved not two feet from her. His breathing was shallow with sounds of disrobing. A delightful thrill skittered over her. He was so close. The air fluttered with the motion of another blanket, and his bulk was at her side, but not touching.
Hidden Under Her Heart Page 4
