She gave a slight gasp. “You knew?”
He just laughed and tossed her in the air once. “Put me down, Hank.”
“I don’t think so.” He kept walking into the water. Deeper. “Remember my rum? Those bananas flambé? Remember the missing brandy? The whiskey bottle you used for target practice?”
“Hank...”
“Any last words?”
She looked at the water, then gave him a narrowed look. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I won’t, sweetheart.”
“You’d better not.”
“I won’tthink.”He swung back and threw her into the next wave, then waded back to the beach and turned around, his hands on his cocked hips as he watched her surface, coughing and sputtering.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked up the beach, whistling. When he got to the rise, he stopped and turned back.
She was trudging out of the water, muttering. “Hey, Smitty!”
She stood on the beach, wringing the water from her skirt.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “I won’t think. I’ll leave all the thinking to you.”
* * *
The following morningMargaret walked down the beach with determined steps. She was wearing a makeshift bathing costume. She’d tucked the tattered hem of her skirt into a belt so it fit her like gymnasium bloomers. She stood there, waiting for Hank to notice.
He rode a wave to shore, then froze in the waist-high water the moment he saw her. He didn’t smile. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at her as if he didn’t want to stop looking for a long, long time.
Her mouth grew dry again. She wondered how she appeared to him. She wanted to look confident, as if she didn’t care that half her body was bare.
After all, she wasn’t some shy young girl. She was a woman. A professional... intelligent... woman. “Want some company?”
He laughed and began to walk out of the water. She was no fool. She tossed him his cutoff pants. Then she turned her back and waited. “Aren’t you finished yet?”
“Yes,” he said so close to her ear that she jumped. She spun around, half expecting him to be holding the pants. He wasn’t. He’d put them on.
She looked up into those dark eyes, that dark smile. She forgot what she was going to say. She took a deep breath, then blurted out, “I’ve got a craving for more oysters.”
He cocked his head and crossed his arms over his chest, which she was staring at.
“Oysters, Smitty, or pearls?”
“Oysters, actually, but more pearls would be nice, too.”
He held out his hand. “Then come with me.”
She stared at his open palm, then slid her hand into it. She didn’t move, just stared at their hands as his closed about hers. His was rugged and tanned, his fingers thick, and his palms huge. Her hands were paler, her fingers long and slim. So different, she thought.
“Come on, Smitty.”
They ran into the water, holding hands even when the waves slapped against them. “We need to swim out a short distance, then walk along the sandbar, and I’ll point out the oyster bed.”
She nodded as another wave rolled past them. “Those oysters were marvelous. One of my favorite foods.”
He laughed. “I could tell.”
