“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he said.
“Good.” She tilted her head back and sighed, her body thrumming from the touch of his strong hands on her breasts, her stomach. “Because you’re exactly where I want you to be, too.”
* * *
THE BOATmoved along at quite a clip, the sails billowing in the strong wind. Kyra stood at the front, her arms out to her sides,Titanic-style, as they flew over the vivid blue sea.
Her hair whipped around her face in a mass of tangles. Her nose shone with a coat of yellow zinc oxide. Her T-shirt was stuck to her skin from the ocean spray. She felt wonderful, almost giddy, and she turned around to smile at Tony. “This is fabulous!”
He looked up from the back of the boat where hewas busy doing something, then cupped his hand to his ear.
“Fabulous!” she repeated, and he nodded.
“Wait a sec,” he called. She stayed put, stifling the urge to touch anything until he told her to, and fearful that if she moved toward him she’d get whonked in the head with some moving part. She watched him work, enjoying the way he moved and the way the sun glinted off the purely masculine angles of his body. After a few moments, the boat slowed to a stop, the sails hanging slack, and she realized he’d dropped the anchor. She’d been so caught up watching him, she hadn’t been paying attention to what he was actually doing.
“This seems like a good place for our picnic,” he said.
She blinked, dragging her mind back to reality as she took a look around. In the distance, she could make out the shoreline of Intimate Fantasy. To her left—port, he’d said—waves were frothing, breaking on a reef that rose up to skim the surface of the tantalizingly clear water. Clouds moved in the sky, billowy mountains of cotton playing peek-a-boo with the sun. “It’s perfect. I’ll get the basket.”
The restaurant had packed them a lunch, and she made her way down below to the tiny cabin under the deck. The place was adorable—a little apartment in miniature, complete with a tiny portal window. Shecranked it open, letting in the breeze, then grabbed the basket and went back up top.
He’d spread a blanket on the deck, and now he was stretched out, his sunglasses tossed aside as he lay back basking in the sun. For a moment, she just stood there, mesmerized by the way the sweat glistened on his bare chest. Already, from just their few days together, he’d gone from slightly pale to a rich bronze. Her throat hitched, and she tamped down a wash of sadness for this wonderful man who’d been hiding himself from the world inside because of one stupid accident that had left him scarred, inside and out.
Thankfully, he was becoming less and less self-conscious. She glanced at his sunglasses, thrilled he’d taken them off with absolutely no chance of shade. He trusted her, knew she couldn’t care less about the angry scar that rimmed his eye. Knowing he felt that comfortable with her made her feel warm and special.
Ironic, really. A week ago, she’d been alone. At least, it had seemed that way. And now she had two men in her life who made her feel like the center of the universe.
She tamped down a twinge of guilt. She was never the kind of girl who could date two men at once, could never understand how those girls in high school did it. Kyra had always become too involved, unwilling or unable to spread herself too thin. But now she was spreading herself between Michael and Tony, and the situation made her feel strange and awkward.
That was silly, of course. No matter how special Michael might be, he was still a fantasy, still anonymous. And no matter how dear Tony was, there was nothing physical between them. They were just friends, that’s all they’d ever be. The thought made her a little sad, and she frowned, trying to shove away her melancholy mood.
She plopped down next to him and started unpacking the basket. When everything was spread out, she gave his foot a gentle nudge. “Hey, sleepyhead. You hungry?”
He rolled over, mumbling something, and she was struck with an odd sense of déjà vu—like she’d woken up next to him before. She shook her head. Silly. He just had the same build as Michael, and they’d spent so much time together that now everything about him seemed familiar.
Another kick, this one a tad more forceful. “I’m going to eat everything and there won’t be anything left for you.”
He sat up blinking, looking adorably like a sleepy little boy. “Even my brownies?”
“Well…” She grabbed the brownies in question, holding on to the foil package.
He scooted closer. “It’s dangerous to keep a man from dessert,” he whispered, his voice low, menacing and oddly familiar.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, all innocence as she clutched the brownies closer.
“Careful, little lady.” He grabbed her around the waist, tickling, and she gasped, the feel of his arms around her both playful and exciting. “Come on, sweetheart. You know you can’t win.”
With a massive effort, she focused on their game, not the riot of sensations rippling through her. “Help!” she squealed, “I’m being attacked for my dessert!” She rolled backward, pulling him down with her while still holding the brownies against her chest. He was just inches away, so close she could feel the press of his body against hers and the warmth of his skin. Her breath came in jagged bursts and she tried to get a handle on her confused emotions.
“Got you,” he said. His hands brushed her breasts as he reached for the brownies. His face was only inches from hers, his touch and scent both welcome and familiar. They were both breathing hard. For a moment, everything else disappeared. The sound of the waves, the whisper of the wind against the sails, the call of birds overhead. All gone. Just her and him, alone.
Her lips parted in some unconscious invitation, but then she caught herself and snapped her mouth shut, blinking and shivering. Suddenly antsy, she shifted beneath him, unsure and needing to get away. Maybe he felt it, too, because he pulled himself up, flashed her a weak smile, and took the package of brownies to the far side of the blanket.
“Want one?” he asked, so calmly it irritated her.Didn’t he feel it? Or was her overwrought libido playing tricks again? “They’re good,” he added.
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. “No thanks. I’m fine.” She wasn’t fine. She was a long way from fine, but she didn’t intend to share that little fact.
After a minute, she grabbed a bottle of water out of the ice chest and took it to the front of the boat, letting the strong wind whip around her, beating away her frustrations. She glanced back over her shoulder, but he hadn’t followed. Instead, he had his face tilted up to the sky, his eyes closed, looking perfectly at peace with the world.
