Stef Ann Holm (13 page)

The disk changer in Drew’s boat switched tracks and cranked out Foreigner’s “Jukebox Hero.” The bass line coursed through her, the energetic beat making it impossible to sit still. Eyes closed, she tapped her bare foot to the rhythm of rock and roll guitar riffs until she felt the sun’s warmth blocked from her body.

She peeked up through the shadows of her lashes.

“Hey, sugar,” Drew drawled above the music. “How’s your day going?”

He stood over her, tall and broad. Her eyelids lifted a little more, languid and lazy as she viewed him.

His chest was void of hair, smooth and contoured. The color of his skin was rich and golden, his nipples like flat pennies. At the base of his throat, his pulse slowly jumped and beat steadily. He had on a pair of smoky Ray-Bans, so she couldn’t see his eyes, simply her own reflection in the lenses.

The white of his shirt was a muted brilliance, the linen fabric looking soft, yet slightly wilted at the bottom. On him, it didn’t look bad. The trunks fit him loosely at the hips. She noticed the line of dark hair that trailed past his navel and below the waistband of the trunks. She glanced at the closure, the soft bulge, then darted her eyes upward as soon as she realized he could read her expression perfectly. Because he had the nerve to grin.

There was no one feeling she could describe when looking at Drew Tolman. She was in the middle of a war with a physical urge. She tried to tell herself
no,
when everything else within her said
yes.
A woman couldn’t force her heart to feel anything, but when it naturally did there was no stopping it.

Lucy realized she was in over her head with him. He was the one man since her divorce who could make her feel, think and live. Not far behind that was the possibility that he could creep into the core of her soul. The very thought petrified her.

She didn’t know him. Why was she acting this way?

“Good,” she managed to reply, her voice sounding scratchy.

“Dave and Sue are good people,” Drew commented, as if to give his stamp of approval on her new friendship.

She didn’t need it.

The little boy with the flyswatter approached, running another lap on the dock. He swished the air, then playfully slapped Drew’s butt.

“Don’t!” he squealed as Drew tried to grab him, but without a lot of effort.

“Hey, squirt.”

Lucy watched the exchange, ignoring the mocking voice in her head that screamed,
Don’t ask.

“Why did you quit baseball?” The question was out before she could stop it.

She had Drew’s full attention once more. He grew somber for a moment, then grinned. “I wasn’t any good anymore.”

She didn’t want to let him off the hook so easily. “Seriously, Drew. Why? There are rumors in town. You had to have heard them.”

He grew quiet, his expression going blank as the music played. Lucy tuned it out and waited for him to answer.

She didn’t think he would, then softly, he spoke. “I had some personal issues I had to take care of.”

“Like what?”

“I wasn’t feeling like myself, so I had to take some downtime. I just never went back. Shit happens.” And that was all she got on the subject. He closed off, put the smile back in place, then, to Lucy’s utter surprise, sat down in Sue’s lounge next to her.

Lucy turned her head to look at him. All she could think to say was the only thing on her mind. “You have a big boat.”

He roared with laughter, his smile white and bright. “Yeah, I do, sugar.”

Why did he have to use that endearment with her? She’d heard him say it to other women in town, and its casual meaning shouldn’t affect her, but it did. The way he drawled that word made her body warm, turning her heartbeat sluggish.

She willed herself to be calm, to not react. Gripping the arms on the chair, she stared straight ahead and clenched her teeth.

Drew gazed at Lucy and inwardly smiled. She sat stiff enough to be a team owner at the World Series. She fought him, fought the feelings he brought out in her; but he knew he could win her over.

Only this was no game.

If he wanted Lucy Carpenter, he had to want her for real. And for a longer time than a few minutes.

Drew knew he was a flirt. Didn’t necessarily think that was a detriment. He wasn’t devious about it. He lived a life of easygoing comments and caresses that women relished. He knew how to treat a woman right, how
she
wanted to be touched and held.

But he also knew that substance was rare. That deep feeling in his gut that said he wanted more. More than just a night, more than just a moment of friendly banter. Needing someone was a lot different than just being with them. It was too soon after Jacquie for him to fully sort out his thoughts on this. But he was sure of one thing: Lucy had a killer body.

She lounged back in the chair, her shoulders pressing into the canvas and her long legs stretched forward. She had long, shapely legs and a waist that was narrow and trim. Her stomach was flat and in good shape. She took care of herself. Pink polish was painted on her cute toenails. He like femininity. In fact, he loved it. Was very drawn to a woman who was girlie. But not showy.

Those twenty-something Laker girls on his boat—they were all show and no substance whatsoever. But good fun.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your friends?” Lucy asked.

Drew frowned. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“Well…no. But I just thought—”

“Lucy, don’t think too much right now. You’ve got creases on your forehead as if you’re trying to figure out the formula for something. Enjoy the day. Enjoy life.”

She sat a little straighter, shaded her gaze with the flat of her hand. “Don’t you ever take anything seriously?”

“Hell, yes. All the time. But not on the first day of docking.” Then he grabbed the leg of her beach chair and slid her closer to him. That he could do the maneuver with the strength of just one hand set her heartbeat racing. His bare feet were so close to hers they almost touched. He got her attention, gave her a smile that he knew would melt her. He wanted to melt her, make her flustered in ways she’d never felt before. “You’re a beautiful woman and you have to have noticed every man here has been staring at you.”

She took a quick look around. “N-no they haven’t.”

“Pete, Joe, Steve, Randy, Adam—every one of them has been looking over here the whole time we’ve been talking.”

“That’s absurd. They’re looking at those women you brought with you.”

“They’re just fluff. You’re the real thing, Lucy.”

A blush worked its way down the swell of her cleavage. He thought about what her skin would taste like. What she’d taste like. Her mouth. The intimate part of her body.

She couldn’t keep her eyes on him, not that she could read his expression behind the sunglasses. She had to glance away.

He felt a strange satisfaction in knowing he could get to her. It had nothing to do with ego. It had everything to do with wanting the moment to be about
her.
Making her very aware she was a desirable woman. To him. To other men. He suspected it had been a long time since she felt that way.

“Why did you get a divorce?” he asked, leaning back in the chair and settling in for however long it took him to get answers to things he’d been wondering about her.

“Have you and Jacquie really broken up?” she countered.

Drew laughed. “So we’ll take turns answering questions, is that the deal?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, I’ll play.” He snorted. “Yeah. We broke up for good. It was mutual and for the best. And you? Why the divorce?”

She stared ahead, her profile delicate, yet resolved. “My ex-husband cheated on me.”

A sliver of anger cut through Drew. He could relate. “That’s a bummer.”

“It was. But I’m over it.”

“Are you?”

“I think so,” she said, and he appreciated the honesty in her tone.

“Okay, next. You got me at a good time. I’ll answer anything within reason.”

This time she smiled. The expression lit up her face, made her so attractive to him it was like a slam in the stomach.

“Why is it you’ve never gotten married?” she asked.

“Nobody asked me.”

“You’re full of it,” she teased.

Drew arched his brows, then answered. “I’ve never been so in love that the woman was a constant thought on my mind, a place in my soul, twenty-four-seven. You need that to make it work.”

After a long while, she mutely nodded.

“How long were you married?” he asked.

“Eighteen years.”

“Long time.”

“Very.” She was lost in thought for a moment, then asked, “Did you love Jacquie?”

He wouldn’t taint the memory of their relationship with a lie and cheapen it. “Yes.”

“I’m glad.”

“Why?”

“Because then you know what love is.”

He slid his foot closer to hers, the warmth of his skin kissing the tips of her pretty toes. Lucy held still, sucked in her breath and slowly closed her eyes. “Sugar, I know exactly what love is.”

Her face was colored by golden sunlight, her lips pink and soft. He absolutely loved the high arch of her brows; they gave her a don’t-screw-with-me look at times. Dark hair fanned around her bare shoulders, and he fought the urge to take a thick strand, feel it between his thumb and forefinger. Her skin smelled like flowers, a faint hint caught on the wind, and he inhaled her scent, his nostrils flaring.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, kept her face forward as if she couldn’t trust herself to look at him.

“Cook for me,” he said bluntly.

She turned her attention toward him.

“I want to hire you. I heard Raul’s been making your life rough around the edges and you haven’t had any business.”

“Does everyone know everything about me?” she said, half in disgust.

“I don’t know jack about you, Lucy, except for what you’ve told me. It’s easy to view the surface—that’s all this town does. But to really look beyond that takes time. And trust.” He inhaled, felt the warm air expand his lungs. “Cook for me.”

He didn’t anticipate her response. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because. It would be a mistake. And I’ve made plenty of them to last me a lifetime.”

“Why would cooking for me be a mistake? You need the work and I need to eat.”

“But you’re asking for the wrong reasons. I’m not a charity case.” Conviction marked her tone.

“I don’t think you’re charity.”

“Good—because I’m not. I’ll get things going. In fact, I’m on the verge of some really big things happening for my business.” She didn’t elaborate.

He didn’t readily believe her claim, but he wouldn’t dispute it.

He wanted to talk further with her, get her to change her mind about cooking for him, but, to his displeasure, they were interrupted.

“Drew!” one of the girls called, and she came over with a cold bottle of beer. “You’re missing the party!”

Lucy raised her brow at the Laker girl, that arch that spoke volumes.

With a half laugh, Drew resigned himself to the fact that this conversation was over. He rose to his feet, the moment with Lucy broken. He had a boatful of guests, and even though they weren’t what he’d call real friends, he was a gentleman and tried to treat everyone in his life as if they mattered.

At that, he momentarily thought of Mackenzie. He wished she were here right now. She’d love this. He wanted to show her his world, a glimpse of what mattered to him. Friends, a sunny day, a ride in his boat and good company.

The corners of Drew’s mouth lifted and he gave Lucy one last glance. “You look great in that bathing suit.”

Then he left her behind, feeling her gaze on his back. It was a moment when he wished a woman would actually follow him.

Only Lucy Carpenter wasn’t the kind to do that. And he knew it. And maybe that’s why he wanted her. Because she was different.

Matt chugged his orange pop, while Jason and Nutter looked in the raft for spilled Cheetos. They’d pulled up at the shoreline, and were waiting for Nutter’s mom to come out of the bushes.

As soon as they took her back to the dock, their plan was to hit the shore again and look for stuff. Nutter said there were probably a bunch of Indians buried around here. Matt wasn’t sure, but it made a good story and he thought it would be cool to find an arrowhead.

Jason and Nutter cracked the tops to their pop cans and came over to Matt. They stood in a row, the three of them gazing at the dock.

“Drew Tolman’s got a boss-ass boat,” Jason said, taking a deep swig of his orange soda.

“I know. That guy’s, like, loaded with big bucks.”

“I wish I was him,” Jason commented. Then exhaled.

Matt squinted at his older brother, thinking Jason wished he were anyone but himself.

They drank their sodas, then Nutter belched. Matt giggled and Jason let a big one go. It sounded like a grizzly bear.

Tightening his chest, Matt burped.

Jason playfully shoved him. “Is that all you got?”

Matt laughed, drank a deep swig of pop and tried to swallow a bunch of air, too. Then he gave it his best shot. This time his burp was really loud and really long.

Jason and Nutter snickered, then his brother said, “Good one, Mattie!”

It didn’t bug Matt that Jason called him Mattie. Because right now, Jason was like the old Jason. He was goofing around, not trying to impress anyone, just being…Jason.

Nutter ate a bunch of Cheetos out of the bottom of the bag and they passed them around. Then Nutter decided it would be funnier if they switched to farting.

So with hands orange from their chips, lips orange from their pop, the three of them had a contest to see who could fart the worst.

Nutter Lawrence won.

Must be all those nut-balls he’d taken had messed with his plumbing down below. Because he was rank, too.

“Good Lord!” Nutter’s mom hollered as she walked down the steep hill between the trees, rocks sliding beneath her sandals, “I can hear you boys all the way up the embankment. Where are your manners?”

“We don’t got any,” Nutter said.