Going Overboard (5 page)

“Thirty years ago.” Funny how he could still remember
the claylike scent of the paint and the cool squish of the colors beneath his hands. He’d used his palms, his knuckles, even his wrists to make designs.

“I wish I’d bought some to bring on this trip.”

“I think our niece is still a little young, don’t you?” He’d meant it as a joke, but the minute he said the
our niece
part he got a tingle of awareness. Uncle Chance. Aunt Andi. They’d be linked together even more closely once this child was born. He felt himself sinking deeper into inevitability.

“I meant fingerpaints for us,” Andi said. “It would’ve been a fun thing to do this week.”

“Yeah, I can picture you and Bowie getting into that.”

“I wasn’t picturing Bowie. I was picturing you.”

He grew uneasy. “Oh, yeah, right,” he said sarcastically.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s too childish for me now.” He winced at how crude his response had sounded. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right. I meant that—”

“You meant exactly what you said. But the thing is, I’m not insulted at all. As a matter of fact, I feel sorry for you.”

That brought him out of his chair. “
Sorry
for me?” He faced her. “What in hell do you mean by that crack?”

“Chance, watch out,” she said.

“Ah, the peaceful tranquillity of twilight,” Bowie said. “The call of a nightbird. The indignant shout of my brother.”

“She feels sorry for me because I don’t want to fingerpaint!” Chance said, backing up.

Andi started to get out of her chair. “Chance, don’t—” Her skirt caught on the arm of her chair, pulling the chair over and knocking her off balance, toward him.

As he stumbled backward in the process of trying to catch her and stay upright at the same time, he tripped over some rocks and figured they’d both land on the ground. Miracle of miracles, he staggered but stayed vertical, and so did she. Maybe his luck was changing. He released her with a sigh of relief at another disaster averted. “She feels sorry for me,” he said to Bowie and Nicole. “Can you beat that?”

“Sure,” Bowie said, standing. “I feel sorry for all of us. You just backed into the grill. Our steaks are in the coals.”

“Oh, hell.” Chance turned to the fire. Instinctively he reached to grab a sizzling piece of meat and singed his fingers. “Dammit!” He stuck his fingers in his mouth. So much for changed luck.

“Here’s a barbecue fork,” Andi said, waving the pronged instrument dangerously close to him.

“Keep your distance, woman!” Chance held up both hands. “Next thing I know, I’ll be impaled on that thing.”

“I was trying to warn you about the fire! Do you need first aid?”

“Mustard’s the best thing to put on it,” Nicole said, getting out of her chair with a small groan. “I’ll—”

“No, I’ll get it,” Bowie said. “After two beers I’d need a crane to help me hoist you back on the barge, sweetheart.”

“Bowie Jefferson, you take that back!”

“Yeah, Bowie,” Andi said. “You try smuggling a watermelon and see how spry you are.”

“My apologies, ladies.” Bowie swept them a bow and went over to kiss his wife on the cheek. She glared at him. “Chance, buddy, I think we might want to retreat to the boat, get your fingers taken care of, and return with more libations and the salad while these gorgeous,
petite,
talented women pull our steaks from the fire. Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll find it in their hearts to let us eat dinner by the time we get back.”

“Don’t count on it,” Nicole called after them as they trudged through the sand.

Chance followed Bowie toward the boat. “Hey, I’m sorry 1 knocked the steaks into—” Sharp pain interrupted his apology as his toe collided with a piece of driftwood. “Dammit!”

“What?”

“Stubbed my toe.”

“I guess it’s been a long time since you’ve walked barefoot on the beach, huh, buddy? You gotta watch where you’re going.”

“Bowie, right now I feel as if I’m standing in the middle of a damn minefield.”

“Just relax, buddy. You’re among friends.”

“And some are more dangerous than others,” Chance muttered.

A
NDI WAS SO HUNGRY
that she didn’t even care that the steak tasted like charcoal on the outside. Everyone balanced their plates on their lap. After attempts to cut the steak with a knife and fork nearly tipped her plate upside down in the sand, Andi picked up the piece of meat in her fingers. “If it was good enough for my ancestors, it’s good enough for me,” she said, biting into the steak.

“Fine for those of you who have working fingers,” Chance said. Bowie had wrapped three of his with gauze.

“I happen to know you can drive with one hand,” Bowie said. “I’ll bet you can eat one-handed, too.”

“Ah, yes,” Nicole said. “The old one-handed driving technique. The left hand for the steering wheel, the right hand for taking liberties with us, your dates. I remember it well.”

“And they always thought they were being so subtle,” Andi said. “They’d be staring straight ahead, like they didn’t even know you were there in the car. But the hand would come creeping over like Thing in ‘The Addams Family.’”

“You wanted us to
look
at you?” Chance said. “We’re not about to take our eyes off the road and risk wrapping our pride and joy around a telephone pole.”

“Yeah,” Andi said, laughing, “and you might wreck the car, too.” She noticed that Chance was on his second beer, and it was having a good effect. He was definitely
loosening up. If she could just avoid another mishap, she could build on that “I’m going down to the lake to wash my hands. Anybody else need to do that?”

“I’ll just lick my fingers,” Chance said.

“If I play my cards right, I can get Nicole to lick my fingers,” Bowie said.

“In your dreams, Romeo,” Nicole said. “Andi, would you bring me back a wet napkin? I don’t think I can move from this spot.”

“Anything for you, toots.” Andi grabbed a couple of napkins and stood.

“You’re tired, my little cabbage?” Bowie asked Nicole.

“Exhausted. Don’t forget, it’s two hours later, Chicago time. It’s been a long day for a pregnant lady.”

“Then I guess dancing wild and barefoot on the sand is out,” Bowie said.

“Get Andi to dance with you,” Nicole said as Andi started down toward the lake.

“What about Chance?” Bowie asked.

“Get him to dance with you, too. Just let me sit and digest that charred steak in peace.”

Andi hadn’t considered the prospect of dancing on the beach. Would Chance finally abandon his sedate corporate image, or would he let Bowie be the life of the party, as usual? This night could get very interesting indeed.

She walked to the edge of the lake, the sand cool under her feet near the waterline, and discovered that the lake was filled with stars.

Fascinated, she rippled the water with her fingers and watched the stars become streaks of light, like a thousand comets dashing across the liquid surface. Then she looked up and found that she was standing under a bowl of stars reaching all the way to the horizon. Overcome with the
beauty of it, she reached her arms up to the sky. “Hallelujah!”

“Amen, sister!” Bowie called back.

“Have you chowhounds looked up from your plates long enough to notice all these stars?” Andi asked.

“They’re gorgeous, Andi,” Nicole said.

“But nothing compared to you, my sweet Nicole,” Bowie said.

“Cool it, Bowie. I’m not dancing with you, and that’s that.”

“It’s as if Liberace swirled his cape over the sky,” Andi said, staring upward until her neck hurt.

“Let me know if you see Elvis walking across the lake,” Bowie said. “In the meantime, I’m putting on a dance tape. Despite my heavy-lidded wifelet, the Lake Mead Jefferson Houseboat Party is just getting started.”

As Andi dipped napkins in the lake, the sound of marimbas and guitars filled the air. She smiled as she listened to Bowie trying to get Nicole to dance with him.

“Aw, come on, Nic. One little turn around the sand,” Bowie coaxed.

“Forget it, Fred Astaire. Head on down the line.”

Andi turned just as Bowie gyrated rhythmically over to where Chance sat.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, still holding his beer in one hand.

To Andi’s amazement, Chance got to his feet. Taking occasional swigs of his beer, he started executing a credible cha-cha with his brother.

“Ooh, have we got style!” Bowie cried. “Have we got rhythm!”

“Have you drunk way too much beer!” Nicole said, laughing.

Andi stood, the wet napkins dripping on her bare feet,
almost afraid to move for fear the spell Chance was under would break and he’d make some excuse to go type reports again.

“Come on, Andi!” Bowie called, whirling in her direction and snatching the wet napkins. “Cut in.”

Breathless and smiling, she entered the dance in Bowie’s place. All she could see of Chance’s face in the dim light was the white flash of his grin as he matched his steps to hers. They didn’t touch, yet they seemed to know when to pivot, when to turn in time with each other, as if they’d been dancing this way for years.

The small space between their bodies crackled and snapped in time to the rhythm. Andi forgot everything but the music and the sensuous movements of the man across from her. His transformation, no matter how temporary, had completely captured her imagination.

Then the music changed to something slower and more languorous.

Vaguely she heard Bowie’s plea and Nicole’s weary agreement to dance the slow number with him. One dance.

For a heart-stopping moment, neither Chance nor Andi moved. Then he stepped forward and drew her slowly into his arms, the empty beer can cradled against the small of her back as he wrapped both arms around her in the casual dance position of lovers. She wound her arms around his neck and breathed in the tangy scent of beer mixed with his sexy aftershave.

Their bodies moved with the lazy rhythm of the music, but she could feel the rapid tattoo of his heart against her breast, and her own heart was racing out of control. Of course, they’d just been doing a very athletic cha-cha. Of course, that was the reason. Not.

She lifted her head to look up at him. He gazed down
at her. She could barely see his shadowed eyes, yet she knew he was looking intently into her face. All that intensity he’d focused on his business was now trained on her like a laser, and she had trouble breathing. The twist of desire in her stomach grew stronger with each moment she spent swaying in his arms.

His head dipped lower. Her lips parted in anticipation. She closed her eyes.

Then another set of arms enfolded both of them. “Just carry on,” Bowie said, one arm around each of them as he swayed with the dance rhythm. “Nicole’s really dead on her feet. We’re turning in.”

The magic between Chance and Andi shattered like starlight on the lake when a pebble was tossed in.

“Good idea,” Chance said, backing away from Andi as Bowie and Nicole headed for the boat.

“Yeah, we’ve all had a big day,” Andi said. She could have cheerfully killed Bowie with her bare hands. “You guys all go ahead. We have to take turns in the bathroom, anyway. I’ll stay out here and do a few yoga routines. Can’t abandon my practice, you know.”

Chance paused. “Is that right?”

“Well, sure. You have to stay toned, stay flexible, especially if you’re a role model for other people.”

He gazed at her as if the concept hadn’t occurred to him.

She felt slightly insulted. “You’re not the only one who has to think about work sometimes.”

“I guess not. Well, good night.” He turned and headed for the boat where Nicole was trying to hoist herself up to the deck with Bowie’s help. “Hey, newlyweds. Let Uncle Chance help.” He leaped to the deck in one smooth motion and lifted Nicole from above while Bowie steadied her from below.

“I
hate
being so awkward,” Nicole complained.

“Bowie and I consider it a privilege to help you,” Chance said as he drew her up beside him.

“You’re sweet.” She patted his cheek. “Why don’t you go back and dance with Andi some more? I didn’t mean to break up the party.”

Andi held her breath. The music still played on the tape deck.

“I think it’s time we all turned in,” Chance said.

Andi walked over and shut off the music.

C
LOSE CALL
, Chance thought as he switched on his laptop and tried to concentrate on some spreadsheets while Bowie and Nicole got ready for bed. If Bowie hadn’t interrupted him, he’d have kissed Andi. It would have been so easy. Bowie would have been thrilled with that, doggone his matchmaking hide.

Watch out for Bowie.
No kidding, Chance thought Here he was doing his damnedest to keep a level head, and Bowie springs Andi on him. Just thinking about the warmth and softness of her body moving rhythmically against his made him ache. He wouldn’t think about it, or he was liable to go back out there.

The beer had probably lowered his resistance. He’d give it up for this week. He’d totally underestimated the power of her attraction, and the unconscious—or maybe conscious—provocation of her movements. When she’d stood down by the lake, her womanly figure silhouetted by stars, he’d begun to want her with a fierceness that swept aside all reservation.

And when she’d come willingly into his arms for a slow dance…when she’d lifted her mouth so invitingly…

The laptop beeped and the spreadsheet disappeared from the screen. Chance straightened on the bench seat
and pressed a few buttons, but the spreadsheet was no longer on the menu. In his clumsiness with the gauze bandages and his preoccupation with Andi, he’d deleted it.

“Dammit!” He exited the program before he could do any more damage.

“What’s wrong?” Bowie said, coming out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in one hand.

Chance grimaced. “Nothing a brain transplant wouldn’t solve.”

“Is it a problem with Jefferson?”

“Yeah. Chauncey M. Jefferson the Fourth, to be specific.”

Bowie came over and sat opposite him. “I screwed up big-time by interrupting your dance with Andi.”

“Even matchmakers miscalculate, thank God.”

“Damn. We should have just quietly slipped away.”

“Oh, right. You should have silently hoisted Nicole four feet off the ground and heaved her onto the boat without either of you making a peep.”

“She is getting to be a load, isn’t she? And still two months to go. It’s going to be a giant kid.”

“We should always use two of us to get her in and out of the boat, so nobody gets hurt.”

“Keep your voice down. She still hasn’t forgiven me for saying essentially the same thing.”

“Not quite. You mentioned the need for a crane. Women get touchy at a time like this.”

“So speaketh the expert on pregnant ladies. Is there anything you’re not an expert on?”

“A few things.” Chance glanced out into the night, where Andi still presented a huge temptation.

“Go back out there. Turn on the music. Andi’s a great gal, and I think it would do you a world of good to spend some time alone with her.”

Chance eyed his brother. “Forget it. I had a momentary lapse. It won’t happen again.”

“I know I’m not imagining things. You’re attracted to her. Go with it.”

“Doesn’t matter. If you took the time to think it through, you’d see what a mistake it would be for all of us if I get involved with her. She belongs out here, in the wild and woolly west. I’m tied to Chicago, so the relationship couldn’t go anywhere. The most likely scenario is that we’d have a fling and split, which would make the family dynamics even worse than before.”

“I don’t know. Andi might relocate to Chicago. She misses Nicole a lot, and with their parents always on the move, the two of them really depend on each other.”

Chance refused to allow himself a smidgen of hope. “If Andi wanted to be closer to Nicole, she would have moved by now. It’s not as if she has a skyrocketing career going here in Nevada. My guess is she likes the weather and the lifestyle.”

“Dammit, Chance, this seems like a good shot at having a relationship. Dad wouldn’t have expected you to become a monk.”

“No, but he sure as hell would expect me to find somebody who’d genuinely want to be a corporate wife. That’s not Andi.”

Bowie frowned. “Unfortunately, you might have a point there.”

“And that’s why I’m not going back down to the beach. Not tonight or any night this week.”

“I still think you’re making assumptions that might not be true.” Bowie stood to leave. “Sleep tight, buddy.” He started to walk away and turned back. “Like I have to remind you.” He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Chance sighed. Bowie was still Bowie, spouting his favorite philosophy—live for the moment and never face the facts. He walked over to the seat where Bowie had been sitting and unfolded it. For the first time he noticed how quiet the night was without traffic noise and the scream of sirens. Somewhere in the bushes at the edge of the beach a cricket chirped, but that was the extent of the excitement. He hoped to God he’d be able to sleep.

A half hour later he lay in the dark, listening to the same damn cricket. A musician it wasn’t. Same monotonous tune over and over.

He couldn’t blame the cricket for his insomnia, though. He’d realized’ after turning out the light that Andi would have to walk right past him when she came in. He needed to remind her to lock the door after her. Yeah, that was why he was still awake. She might forget.

No, that wasn’t it. He might as well admit that he worried about the door lock because it was a safe topic. Worrying about whether he’d speak to her, whether he’d reach for her, whether he’d pull her down to this bed and kiss those full lips—that wasn’t safe. He got up and put his shorts back on, as if they’d act as some sort of chastity belt.

Then he heard an unfamiliar noise. He sat up. There it was again, and it was no cricket. He knew that yoga involved chanting, but this was no chant, either. More like an obnoxious drunk braying at the moon. Andi was out there, vulnerable to whatever lunatic might be prowling the beach.

His feet hit the floor and he barked his shin on the edge of the bed. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed the barbecue fork from the table and barreled out the front door onto the deck. “Andi?”