Love's Last Chance (8 page)

“Not that that affects me any,” she mumbled,
trying to hide a smile.

“You?” He lifted his eyebrows as his gaze
fell on her left hand.

“Nope. Free as a bird.”

“Whatever happened to that hot-shot producer
you were engaged to? Quickie divorce?”

“Quickie break-up.” She licked a little foam
off her lip, watching Johnny stare at her mouth for a moment.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head slightly.
He’s
waiting for details, snoopy bastard.

“Long story.” She leaned back on the bar,
bracing the bottom of her foot against it.

“Highlights.” He shifted his weight then
took another swig.

It’s gonna come out anyway. Everyone’s going
to ask me, especially Mary. Nosy bitch.

“Broke my ankle. No more dance career…no
more engagement. Got it?”

“That’s harsh. What a dumbass.”

Dorrie bristled. “What?”

“For leaving you. Assuming he’s the one who
took off?”

Heat again rose to her face. “Yeah. He broke
the engagement.”
Johnny—only man I know who can insult you while
he’s giving you a compliment.
She chuckled.

“What’s so funny? Doesn’t sound like a funny
story to me.”

“It wasn’t.”

Before she knew it, Johnny reached over and
surrounded her shoulders with his long arm, pulling her into his
chest. He closed the other around her waist, holding her in a tight
hug. Dorrie struggled for a second at the surprise of his
tenderness before she softened against him.
It’s been three
years. Still stings to talk about it.
Then, as quickly as he
grabbed her, he released her.

Color reddened his cheeks.
God, he’s
gorgeous.
He trained his gaze to the floor, and she took the
opportunity to study him. His dark brown, curly hair was just the
right length. Her fingers itched to comb through it. With his
sunglasses off, his bittersweet chocolate eyes glistened with
mischief and something else.
Affection, maybe? Is he glad to see
me?

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

She punched him lightly. “Hey, don’t
apologize for a hug. Never apologize for a hug.” He looked up, and
his grin dazzled her.

“How’s the water?” she asked, changing the
subject.

“Finally warming up. It’s been colder than
hell for the past month.”

“Let’s go.” She put her empty bottle down on
the bar.

“Got your suit on?” He chugged the little
bit remaining in his.

“Would it matter?” She cocked an eyebrow at
him.

“Not to me, but we won’t be alone this
time.” Then she saw it, plain as day. Raw desire glowed in his
eyes, making her shiver.

“I’ll only be a minute.” Dorrie retreated to
the comfort of her room and stripped off her sundress. She slipped
the emerald green bikini up over her thighs and fastened the bra.
Suddenly, what seemed a sexy suit in the store, now seemed far too
revealing in front of Johnny. She swallowed and nabbed her
sky-blue, terry cover-up, throwing it over her shoulders as she
emerged.

A low whistle drew her eye to Johnny,
leaning against the bar, giving her a serious once over.

“What’s under there? Anything?” His eyebrows
rose, and his lips spread into a salacious grin.

“A bathing suit. What did you think?” She
slipped her feet into flip-flops.

“That’s it, burst my bubble.” He opened a
cupboard and took out two towels. He tossed one to her. She laughed
as she headed out the door with him right behind.

This wooden slat walkway was wider than the
skinny one bayside. She and Johnny walked side-by-side. Scrub pines
flourished, hugging the property lines of the small houses,
providing shade for small animals and anchoring the sandy soil.

Dorrie and Johnny walked the two blocks to
the beach, the only sound the slap, slap, slap of her flip-flops.
They fell right into an easy silence, as if five years had not
passed. Johnny went up the steep wooden steps first then extended
his hand to her. She slipped her hand into his warm, dry one,
allowing him to steady her ascent.

“Still haven’t built a railing here?” she
commented.

“How many times did Drake fall down these
stairs, drunk?”

“Hundreds, I think,” she laughed.

He let go when they reached the dunes. Each
year the dunes eroded some, becoming smaller. Dorrie remembered
them being big enough to shelter Johnny and her lying down for a
make-out session at sunset.
Not anymore. You couldn’t hide a
skinny cat behind these dunes.

“Fire Island shrinks when we have a bad
storm. Almost disappears after a hurricane.”

“I noticed. The dunes aren’t even dunes
anymore. Just small hills.”

“Yeah. Too small to be any good,” he
snickered, casting a quick glance her way.

Dorrie smiled in spite of herself.

“Last one in’s a rotten egg,” he called, as
he slipped out of his moccasins and ripped his T-shirt over his
head, dropping it and the towel on the sand.

Dorrie made a face and tugged at her
cover-up.
Damn thing!
She finally got it off and raced to
the water’s edge. Johnny had a big head start and with his long
legs, she had no way to catch up. The waves were cresting close to
shore, but that didn’t stop him. He ran right in and dove headlong
into one.

The water curled in a stunning combination
of white and dark aqua, a little more green than blue. It looked
cold, but she was burning up from the unrelenting, August sun and
the scrutiny of John Flanagan. Dorrie followed him in, taking a big
breath and plunging head first into the surf. When she surfaced,
Johnny was treading water just beyond where the waves break. She
swam toward him.

“Still got your suit?” he asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Hell, I’ve seen more fabric on a wallet
than on you.”

“Are you complaining?” She stayed nearby,
treading water.

He burst into laughter. “Never! Never
complain about an almost naked woman.”

He’s still looking at me like that. Yeah,
me and probably every other girl on the beach.
She frowned as
reality poked its head into her cocoon. She started swimming for
shore, and Johnny kept up with her. As they stood dripping wet,
goose bumps formed all over her body.
God, it’s so good to feel
cold!

“Come on. You’re freezing,” he said,
glancing at her and offering his hand.

She took it and together they padded through
the hard, packed sand to where it became deep, hot, and soft, where
their towels lay. She laid out hers and plopped face down. Slipping
on her sunglasses, she stole a peek at him.

Water ran down in rivulets through the dark
hair on his chest, making her want to dry him with her hands.
He’s been working out.
Always had a good body, but now it
was even better.
Hard to believe he’s improved in five
years.
Unable to stop staring, she jumped when his smooth voice
interrupted her lusty thoughts.

“Earth to Dorrie, are you staying in
Manhattan?” He rubbed his pecs with his hands, pushing excess water
off his body. Dorrie’s breath caught as she watched him.
Let me
do that.

“Anyone home?” Johnny fairly shouted at
her.

“Oh! Sorry. Yes. No. Going back to L.A. in a
couple of weeks. I’m the choreographer for a new movie.”

“Really? That’s great. New career?”

She nodded. “After my ankle, I opened a yoga
and dance studio.”

“Are you settling permanently in
California?”

“Looks that way. If this film’s a success,
they plan to make it a TV series. I’ll finally be able to make some
money again.”
Don’t tell him about New York yet. Was that a
flash of disappointment I saw on his face?

“Congratulations. That’s a real achievement.
Will you be famous?”

“Will you be able to say you slept with a
celebrity? Probably not.”

“Hey! That’s uncalled for.” He turned his
head and stared out at the ocean.

“I’m sorry. That was mean, wasn’t it?” She
reached out and patted his arm.

“I’m doing pretty well on my own, you
know.”

“Yeah?”

“In three weeks, I’ll be Senior V.P., Sales
Director for Atlantic Motors.”

She sat up. “That
is
impressive. My
turn to congratulate.” She brushed his cheek with her lips.

“I only wanted to know if you’d be able to
get back the celebrity you lost. That’s all.”

She put her hand on his arm. “I’m really
sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“A little history rears its ugly head?” He
raised one eyebrow.

Dorrie wrung the salt water out of her long,
auburn locks. “What do you mean?”

“You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” He
faced her, his eyes searched hers.

“Don’t think so.” She lowered her gaze.

“I think so. And I still don’t know why.” He
sat back away from her.

For breaking my heart? For sleeping with me
then moving on to someone else the next weekend? For wanting to
come back into my bed again the weekend after, as if it were my
turn in the rotation? You don’t know, really?

Tears stung at the backs of her eyes as the
memory of her heartbreak returned.
Oh, God, it was five years
ago. Let it go. Damn. Don’t cry.
She took a big, shuddering
breath and turned to face the waves, watching the tide roll out.
“This is still one of the most beautiful places on Earth,” she
said, changing the subject.

“That it is. And it’s even better when
you’re sober enough to notice.” He chuckled.

She grinned at him.
Maybe he’s grown up a
little, eh?

Movement in the sand diverted her attention.
She looked up to see Drake looming large with a big beach
towel.

“How’s the water?”

“Chilly but refreshing,” Dorrie replied.

“Spare towel? Gimme that,” Johnny snatched a
smaller one from Drake’s hands.

“Hey! Get your own!” Drake grabbed for the
towel but missed.

Johnny jumped up, a naughty gleam in his
eye. “You want it? Come and get it.” He took off with Drake in hot
pursuit. Dorrie sat back, laughing at their antics as they raced
around the beach, Johnny always one step ahead.

John faked throwing it in the water, and
Drake leapt up in the air to block it. Eventually, they came back
to Dorrie.

“She’s base,” Johnny said, panting for
breath as he slid down next to her.

“Base hell, gimme my towel!” Drake snatching
it back from Johnny and put it with his things, but Johnny didn’t
move. He slipped his arm around Dorrie, resting his hand on her
bare shoulder, creating a tingle.

“Truce?” he asked, his brown eyes staring
into hers.

“I’m not mad at you.”
Have I forgiven
him?

“If you say so. But you could have fooled
me. Not even a hello kiss…after five years!”

Johnny leaned closer to her. She watched his
gaze move down to her mouth. Instinctively, her hand came up to
rest against his chest.
Big mistake!
Once her fingers
touched his skin, feeling the strong muscle underneath, she knew
resisting was futile. The scent of him mixed with the smell of salt
water lured her. One glance at his lips, and she knew she’d kiss
him.

He brought his mouth down slowly, carefully,
on hers. He pressed gently as the tip of his tongue caressed her
lips then snaked inside for a few seconds when she parted.
Slow,
sensuous, teasing. That was always Johnny. No slam bam thank you
ma’am for him. Always seductive. Always irresistible.

He pulled back. She opened her eyes to peer
into two almost black pools looking back at her with questions. But
she didn’t have answers. Not yet, anyway.

“That’s better,” he whispered, so softly the
ocean breeze almost carried it away.

“Hi,” she muttered, blinking up at him, her
pulse racing.

“Hi,” he stared at her.

Drake came back and shook ice-cold water off
on them. The chill broke the spell.

“What the hell?” Johnny scowled at
Drake.

‘Wake up, lovers,” Drake laughed.

“We’re not lovers,” Dorrie piped up.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled. “You give a good
imitation.”

“Where’s Chrissy?” Dorrie asked, moving the
spotlight away from her private connection with Johnny.

“She’s coming tonight. Staying with the
women,” he said, plopping down on the sand next to Dorrie, turning
his back to John.

“Why? You’re married.”

“Didn’t want her in the house with three
gross guys. And it’s not okay for me to stay in your house.”

“Why not?” Johnny slid his fingers over hers
and closed them around her hand.

“I might see some…uh…undressed ladies.”

“Doubt it would be your first time,
Drake.”

“It would with these women,” he
snickered.

“It’s up to you. Afraid to have your wife
with us studs, Drakie?” Johnny mocked.

“Some studs. Dirty towels everywhere, drunk
guys sleeping on the floor. She’d love it…not!”

The three rose from their towels and shook
them out. They headed back to the house. Drake and John were lost
in discussion about dinner, who was coming that night, who had
planned to arrive the next morning, and the logistics for the
parties they had planned.

Dorrie hung back slightly, listening to the
sound of the crashing waves and breathing in the fresh, salty air.
Whatever happens, it’s healing just to be here, near the
ocean.
She smiled, feeling calmer than she had in a long time
as she trudged through the sand, back to the small house she’d call
home for the weekend.

When Dorrie turned left onto her street, she
was met with a whirlwind of people. Gone was the quiet she’d
relished just two hours before. She sighed and entered, steeling
herself for a raucous time of reunion mixed with partying. A few
new folks arrived while the guys already there mixed a lethal
potion of alcohol and juice in a new, clean bucket. Two women were
building a huge, six-foot hero for dinner.
Guess tonight’s party
is at our house.