15 Shades Of Pink (30 page)

He stopped and rubbed the back of his head, the tips of his tousled black hair moving with the breeze. “Yeah, I’m Finn.”

Catherine clasped her hands in front of her—a familiar gesture from tenth grade. “It’s me, Catherine Greene, from Foxboro High?”

The other girls stood up and walked over while I sat under my umbrella gazing at abs that should be illegal, thick thighs that tensed as he shifted in the sand, and a one-thousand-watt smile that threatened to burn my retinas. I held my breath and wondered if the lifeguard sitting up in his tower had ever needed to administer CPR to someone who wasn’t drowning; I’d forgotten how to breathe.

I watched my friends bouncing on their toes and twirling their hair. They’d regressed at least a decade in maturity around this guy. The quirked corner of his mouth suggested he’d noticed the same thing. Then he glanced over at me sitting under my umbrella. I was always trying to make sure my skin didn’t turn as red as my hair. Makes for a fun time at the beach.

“Who’s that?” he asked, nodding his head in my direction. “I’d certainly remember her.”

“That’s Anna. Her mom didn’t let her go to the cool parties with us,” Brooke said. “Such a shame. She had the cutest party clothes.”

“Come here and meet Finn,” Monica said, waving me their way.

I stood up and brushed the sand off my arms as I walked over. “Hi,” I said, offering my hand.

He shook it a bit longer than necessary; so much for my not turning red. That short introduction to his flesh made me want to escape to the cool ocean. How pathetic that a handshake could make me hot.

He dropped my hand and grinned. “So, you didn’t get to go to the cool parties, huh?”

“My mother was a major party pooper. She always thought we’d get up to no good.”

“And she was right,” Brooke said.

“Sounds like you need to make up for lost time. My buddy Lance is holding an invitation-only grand opening party tonight at Mackie’s, just up the beach. Why don’t you guys join us?”

Eyes widened and promises were made—as casually as possible—to stop by.

“You, too, Anna?” he asked.

I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “Sure. We’ll all come.”

“Great. Just tell the guy at the door you’re friends with me.” And with that he waved and walked off. He looked back over his well-built shoulder. “See you later.”

Approximately fifteen seconds passed before the girls dashed back to their towels, squealing and gathering up their coolers and cover-ups.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Shopping,” Catherine said, like I was an idiot.

“I didn’t bring anything remotely cute enough for a party with Finn Donahue,” Brooke said. “I have the perfect Donna Karan at home, but I’ll just have to settle for something here.” She sighed.

I planted my hand on my hips, hoping to instill some sense back to the group. “He could have a girlfriend for all you know,” I said.

“He didn’t have a ring, and that’s the important thing,” Monica said with a brisk nod. She twisted her lips, thinking. “Was that a line from a movie?”

“Hello, vacation fling?” Brooke said, stuffing her magazines into her beach bag.

“But who gets him?” Catherine asked.

Monica stopped to think, tapping her finger against her nose. “Whose turn is it?”

I made a time-out sign with my hands. “Wait one minute. You guys hooked up with him? All of you?”

Catherine blinked. “Not at the same time.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, seriously, you guys have all been with him?”

Brooke raised her hand. “After a football game senior year. I was wearing this beautiful blue Dolce and Gabbana shirt. I didn’t wash it for a month.”

I looked at Monica, who said, “At one of his parties. It was sooo
Can’t Hardly Wait
.”

“Post prom,” Catherine offered. “And he wasn’t my date.”

I sighed. “He’s a womanizer.”

“Most guys who look like that are,” Brooke said to me slowly, like she was explaining nuclear physics to an airhead.

I closed my beach umbrella and tucked it under my arm. “You guys can battle it out over him, I’m not interested.”

“Did you even look at his abs?” Catherine asked, shaking out her beach towel.

“Let’s not fight over him, girls. Can’t have a man breaking up our friendship. Whoever he picks, he picks. Right?” Monica looked at us expectantly.

“Right,” said Brooke and Catherine.

I just shrugged. I was more allergic to guys like Finn Donahue than I was to shrimp. And just one bite of a shrimp would send me to the E.R. I’d be staying far away from him, because there’s no EpiPen for the damage done by hot men.

We headed back to our rental house, dropped off our stuff, and hit town to check out some of the boutiques. I wasn’t going to the party looking like a slouch, and maybe I’d meet someone else.

We had great fun modeling sundresses and tropical-print skirts for each other, before we each found the perfect party dress. I tried on a strapless aqua sundress that fit like a glove and grazed the floor.

“You look amazing in that,” Brooke told me. “Vera Wang has something just like it this season, but this was half the price!” She clapped her hands in applause.

“Thanks.” Too bad I was no longer interested in the guy who invited us. I could pass up a cute guy, but I was never one to turn down a cute dress, whatever the label.

We got our nails done, then argued over who got the shower first and spent nearly two hours getting ready and another hour finishing off two bottles of wine, before we declared ourselves ready to hit the party.

“This is so exciting! So
Sex on the Seaside
,” Monica said, as we strolled down the street toward the restaurant.

It was less than half a mile away, and not the easiest walk in my new wedge sandals. I imagined it would be even harder on the way back after a few drinks.
What women won’t do for fashion
.

The bar in the restaurant was packed, and I knew each of us was scanning the place, looking for Finn. Just because I didn’t want to touch didn’t mean I wasn’t going to look.

From the smile on Brooke’s face, I figured she’d found him. I followed her gaze, and there he was, leaning against the bar talking to the guy serving drinks.

It hadn’t been a mirage in the sand; he really was as hot as I remembered.

“I can’t believe no one has snagged him yet,” Catherine said. “Come on girls, let’s go get him before the locals do.”

We followed her to the bar, and damn my silly heart for kicking up a notch. A few notches, actually. But I couldn’t argue the truth: Finn was a gorgeous man with a smile that probably anaesthetized his victims.

“Ladies, you’re all looking lovely tonight.” His voice was a deep rumble, laced with testosterone and heat. I imagined his mouth pressed up against my ear and sucked in a breath.

My friends were having similar reactions. The four of us smoothed our dresses and touched our lips, shrugging and giggling like our dates had just arrived for junior prom. Only, we were all vying for the same guy. Well, not me, anyway. I was just looking. It was like the $800 handbag I’d seen while we were shopping—gorgeous, to-die-for, but ridiculous to even consider.

He took his time looking us over appreciatively. “I was just heading out to the patio. I’ll get us some drinks, and then why don’t you join me?” He placed an order with the cocktail waitress and held the door open for us.

I was last to file out, and he smiled at me. “Glad to see your mother didn’t object to a night out. I was hoping you’d come.”

My voice was nowhere to be found, so I just smiled and stepped outside into the warm night air.

We sat around a table, and Finn was seated next to me. With five of us, it was a tight squeeze and his right leg was pressed up against mine. Oh, it was a nice, hard leg.

Catherine flipped her silky black hair over her shoulders and leveled her gaze at Finn. “So, what are you up to these days? You married? Any kids?”

“So much for small talk,” I muttered.

Finn laughed. “No wife, no kids. I’m a firefighter in Quincy.”

We all sucked in a breath at that news. A real life hottie-hero sitting at the table with us. I hadn’t thought the man could be even more appealing.

“For real?” Monica asked, wide-eyed. She had a thing for blue-collar guys. Although Finn could have been a street bum and she’d probably have a thing for him. She started fiddling with her dangly earrings.

He nodded. “I’ve got two weeks off and I always spend part of my summer down here at my folks’ place. They’re in England right now, so I’ve got the place to myself.” He laced his hands behind his head and grinned. “Where are you girls staying?”

“67 Beach Avenue. There’s a spare key under the flower pot on the front step,” Brooke blurted out.

I whacked her arm. Once the girls stopped gawking and started talking—turning their lust down from boil to simmer—we swapped stories from high school and chatted about what we were doing now.

“What do you do, Anna?” he asked. That darn leg of his was still bumping up against mine.

“I’m a middle school art teacher.” I swirled the remnants of my drink in the glass.

“So, you’ve got the whole summer off to play,” he said with a tempting, arched eyebrow.

“Anna doesn’t know how to play. You’re probably repainting your kitchen this summer, aren’t you?” Catherine asked.

Brooke smiled. “Or installing a new fence?”

“Fixing the gutters?” Monica suggested.

I set down my drink. “So, I’m responsible. Sue me.”

“A do-it-yourselfer, huh?” Finn asked. “I like that.” His voice came out in a growl.

I lifted a shoulder. “I bought my first house last year. Let’s just say it was a total handyman special and I’m not handy and I don’t have a man. It’s been an education.”

“She painted a beautiful mural in her bedroom,” Monica said with a nod.

“I’d like to see that sometime,” he said.

A sudden flash of heat had me bolting straight up in my seat. “Anyone need to use the ladies’ room?”

I expected the whole lot of them to jump up and join me like they normally would have. But instead, they looked at Finn and said, “No thanks, I’m fine. I’m good.”

I rolled my eyes and headed back inside.

Monica caught up to me. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Seems like Finn’s interested in you.”

“Right. Because I’m the one girl in the group he hasn’t had. That’s not reason enough for me. I’ll let you ladies scuffle over him. I’m not interested.”

She crossed her arms and jutted out her hip. “Liar.”

I shook my head and pushed my way into the restroom. And sure, I checked my hair and reapplied my lipstick, but not because of Finn Donahue. I just like to look my best, that’s all.

When I returned to the table I was happy to see Finn, Brooke, and Catherine dancing near the outdoor bar. Monica was still seated, and when she spotted me, she waved to me and ran to join them. “Save our table!” she hollered back.

I watched the three of them getting their groove on next to Finn, who wasn’t a slouch on the dance floor. He caught me staring at him and I snapped my head down, studying a splotch of margarita someone had spilled on the table.

When I looked back up, he was watching me. The back of my neck felt hot and I drummed my fingers on the table, glancing around at the nautical decorations. A giant fish net was draped across the exterior of the restaurant. It was a good reminder: don’t get caught by any smooth-talking sharks.

A new song started playing and I bopped my foot to the music. I sensed someone walking my way. It was Finn. He took a seat next to me. “How come you’re not dancing?”

I shrugged. “I’ve been ordered to guard the table. And you’ve got your hands full.”

He looked back at the dance floor and then at me. “But you’re the one I wanted to dance with.”

I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. “Listen. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not another girl to add to your conquests. You can’t have the whole Foxboro High collection.”

He let out a short, surprised laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m the only one in the group you haven’t hooked up with. I’m sure I’m just some sort of challenge for you.”

He dropped his head back, and this time the laugh was loud and long.

“It wasn’t that funny.”

“Yeah, it was. I’m not in high school anymore. You don’t think it’s possible I’ve grown up?”

I crossed my arms. “You’re the only man I’ve ever met who’s been with all my friends.”

“Don’t think every guy in high school wouldn’t have tried. I just happened to be luckier than most.” He turned up his hands and shrugged. “Don’t hate me for being honest. And don’t judge me when you don’t even know me.”

“I know your type.” I pointed a finger at him. “And I just dumped someone like you six months ago.” Which wasn’t totally true. Mitch hadn’t been half as charming or attractive as Finn.

“Oh, and how was he like me?”

I sat up and squared my shoulders. “More interested in the next girl ‘round the corner than he was in me.”

He leaned toward me. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re the only girl I’ve been interested in tonight.” He gestured behind him. “I got dragged out onto the dance floor. But I came back, looking for you.”

Realizing he was right, I struggled to swallow. “Why me? If it’s not to score a perfect hundred from our little group, then what’s your motivation? Never dated a redhead?”

He laughed. “I live in Boston. I’ve dated plenty of redheaded lassies.” He faked an Irish brogue and shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know. It certainly has nothing to do with your beautiful, long, red hair that looks amazing against your creamy skin.” He brushed a strand of hair off my shoulder and I shivered. “And I’m not interested at all in finding out what you’re really like when you’re not trying so hard to act uptight. It’s cute, actually.”

My mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

“And it certainly isn’t those green eyes. Or the way your curves fill out that dress.” He shook his head. “None of that business. I guess I just have a thing for art teachers. Do-it-yourselfer, middle school art teachers.”

I tipped my chin and looked away from him, hoping he wouldn’t notice how easily this creamy skin of mine turned pink with embarrassment. I glanced at my friends on the dance floor. They’d found some good-looking new partners, but they were casting curious looks my way. A little knot of anger burned in my belly. I wasn’t going to be his next fling. My girlfriends might want to have fun, but I wanted more than that.