Summer Love: The Best Mistake / Impulse

She stopped, and though he knew she was unaware of him, she might easily have been posing. To taunt, to tease, to invite. As drops of water slid down her, she stretched, lifting her face skyward. Her skimpy suit rested low over her boyish hips, shifted enticingly over the subtle curve of her breasts. At that moment, she was totally absorbed in her own pleasure and as unselfconscious as any young animal standing in the sun. Nothing had ever been so alluring.

Then, slowly, seductively, she combed her fingers through her hair, smiling, as if she enjoyed the wet, silky feel of it. Watching her, he felt the air back up and clog in his lungs. He could have murdered her for it, for making him want so unreasonably what he did not yet understand.

She plucked a long, mannish T-shirt from a straw bag and, after tugging it on, strolled barefoot into the hotel.

He stood there, waiting for the need to pass. But it built, layered with an ache that infuriated him and a longing that baffled him.

He should ignore her. Instinct warned him that if he didn’t his life would never be the same. She was nothing more than a distraction, a momentary impulse he should resist. He should turn away, go back to work. He had commitments, obligations, and no time to waste on fantasies. With an oath, he tossed the broken cigar over the rail.

There were times, he thought, when a man had to trust in fate and dive in.

Chapter 4

Rebecca had hardly shut the door behind her before she turned back to answer the knock. The sun and the water had left her pleasantly tired, but all thoughts of a lazy catnap vanished when she saw Stephen.

He looked wonderful. Cool, a little windblown, intense. For days she’d wondered about him, wondered and wished. She felt her pulse skip and her lips curve just at the sight of him. With an effort, she kept her voice breezy.

“Hello. I wasn’t sure you were still on the island.”

It wasn’t really a lie, she told herself. An offhand inquiry had assured her that Mr. Nickodemus hadn’t checked out, but she hadn’t actually seen him.

“I saw you come up from the beach.”

“Oh.” Unconsciously she tugged at the hem of her cover-up. To Stephen the small gesture was one more contradictory signal. “I can’t seem to get enough of the sun and the sea. Would you like to come in?”

By way of an answer he stepped through and shut the door behind him. It made a very quiet, a very final sound. Rebecca’s carefully built poise began to crumble. “I never thanked you for the flowers.” She made a gesture indicating the vase near the window, then brought her hands back together and linked them in front of her. “They’re still beautiful. I… I thought I might run into you, in the dining room, on the beach, or…” Her words trailed off when he lifted a hand to her hair.

“I’ve been busy.” He watched her eyes, eyes that were as clear as rainwater, blur at the slight touch. “Business.”

It was ridiculous, she knew, but she wasn’t at all sure she could speak. “If you have to work, I doubt you could pick a more beautiful place.”

He stepped closer. She smelled of the water and the sun. “You’re enjoying the resort, and the island.”

Her hand was in his now, caught lightly. It took only that to make her knees weak. “Yes, very much.”

“Perhaps you’d like to see it from a different perspective.” Deliberately, wanting to test them both, he lifted her hand to his lips. He grazed her knuckles—it was barely a whisper of contact—and felt the jolt. She felt it, and he could see that she did, so it couldn’t just be his imagination. “Spend the day with me tomorrow on my boat.”

“What?”

He smiled, delighted with her response. “Will you come with me?”

Anywhere. Astonished, she stepped back. “I haven’t any plans.”

“Good.” He closed the distance between them again. Her hands fluttered up in flustered defense, then settled again when he made no attempt to touch her. “Then I’ll make them for you. I’ll come for you in the morning. Nine?”

A boat. He’d said something about a boat. Rebecca drew in a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. This wasn’t like her—going off into daydreams, feeling weak-kneed, being flooded with waves of desire. And it felt wonderful.

“I’d like that.” She gave him what she hoped was an easy woman-of-the-world smile.

“Until tomorrow, then.” He started for the door, then turned, a hand on the knob. “Rebecca, don’t forget your camera.”

She waited until he’d closed the door before she spun in three quick circles.

***

When Stephen had said “boat,” Rebecca had pictured a trim little cabin cruiser. Instead, she stepped onto the glossy mahogany deck of a streamlined hundred-foot yacht.

“You could live on this,” Rebecca said, then wished she’d bitten her tongue. But he only laughed.