Delicious Do-Over. Debbi Rawlins
He leaned in and kissed her.
Not a quick one, either. He lingered, slanting his mouth over hers, his lips supple and coaxing. Startled, her senses swimming, she felt the tip of his tongue tease the corner of her mouth, and she parted her lips.
He slid his tongue inside, slow and hot and demanding, making her forget where they were. He moved his hand to her thigh, up high, where her shorts ended. His thumb slid just under the hem. Coming from somewhere in the haze she heard a woman’s faint laugh.
Lindsey froze, and realized with an element of shock that they were sitting at the bar in full view.
She broke away, not knowing where to look, what to do. She wanted to hide her face in her hands. Instead, she grabbed blindly for her mug and took a long cool sip of beer.
“Relax,” Rick said, his hand still resting on her thigh. “Lots of honeymooners around. No one even noticed.”
She kept her hands wrapped around the mug, and stared down at the amber brew. It wasn’t the kiss, exactly, that had her flustered. It was how quickly the fire inside her had ignited, how quickly the heat had surged through her veins and settled low in her belly. It seemed almost unnatural.
Good grief, it wasn’t as if she’d been living in a convent for the past six years. There had been other men she’d liked, a couple of them well enough to have become intimate with, but no one had ever made her feel as if nothing around her mattered, as if the only reason for her next breath was to feel his touch again. But wasn’t that exactly why she was here? She wanted to relive those eight hours, stretch them out to a week.
Rick reached for his beer. After taking a sip, he rested an elbow on the bar and just looked at her. “So where are you living these days?”
A giggle rose in her throat. After that kiss, the question struck her as ridiculously funny. “Chicago.” She cleared her throat. “No, New York, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I’m in the process of moving.”
His brows drew together in a frown that said he didn’t believe her.
She’d already lied to him about her name. It wasn’t a stretch to think she didn’t want him to know where she lived. “It’s the truth.”
A smile tugged at one side of his mouth, and his gaze fell to her lips.
Her heart thumped wildly.
Excellent. He was going to kiss her again.
2
LINDSEY, RICK REMINDED himself as he watched her nervously moisten her lips, not Jill. It was going to take some serious mental gear-shifting for her real name to sink in. If he hadn’t thought about her over the years, it might’ve been different. But that night on the beach had turned into more than a simple one-time hookup. Should’ve been nothing more, he knew. He’d had his share of them. Went with the lifestyle. In his sphere, chicks loved surfers. And if a guy was lucky enough to make money at it, the women seemed all the more willing.
“Were you transferred?” he asked, steeling himself against the fathomless depths of her blue eyes. Damn, he wanted to kiss her again.
She blinked. “What?”
“Your job was in Chicago. Now you’re moving to New York.”
“Oh, yes, I mean no.” She wrinkled her nose, something she seemed to do when she was frustrated with herself. He liked it. “I wasn’t transferred. I quit.”
“Yeah? What kind of job was it?”
“Accounting.”
He hadn’t seen that coming. Sticking her behind a desk seemed like a huge waste. With her long blond hair and big innocent blue eyes, she was a stunner. Great body, too. Not as skinny as six years ago. Her hips and breasts seemed more filled out. But he couldn’t let his mind go there, not yet. “Tired of corporate America, huh? Man, I get that.”
“I liked the company I worked for. They’re old and stable and have a great pension plan….” Her voice trailed off, and she briefly looked down at her hands. “I’m going into business with my college friends, Mia and Shelby. You didn’t meet them last time.”
“Good for you. Taking a small risk now and then is good for the soul.”
“Small risk?” She let out a laugh.
He grinned. “Ah, right, the pension plan.”
“Having no income until we make a profit?” she said defensively. “Excuse me, but that’s more than a small risk.”
“You’re right.” He held up his hands. “My bad.”
“What about you? What have you been doing?”
“A lot of surfing lately, though we’ve probably seen the last of the really big waves for the season.”
“I meant work.”
“I know.” He paused, watched Keoni schmooze with his customers. “The prize money for competition surfing is pretty good. It usually carries me through the year.” He shrugged. “Since I’m flexible, I spend a few months on the mainland, see my family, go skiing.”
The questions in her eyes multiplied. No surprise there. He was twenty-nine. Most people figured at that age a man should settle down, start thinking about a career, family. They weren’t necessarily wrong, but he had too much to do yet.
“Weren’t you an engineering student?” she asked, more curious than judgmental, which he appreciated.
“Yep, got my degree, checked out the job market, managed to get a few offers.” He took a swallow of beer. “But I just couldn’t see myself sitting in an office watching the clock.” He leaned back. “You look surprised.”
“I am. You seemed excited about going into engineering.”
Rick chuckled. “I was excited.” He stroked the silky smooth skin just below the hem of her shorts. “It had nothing to do with engineering.”
She blushed. Something else he liked about her. Women didn’t seem to do that anymore. “You’re bad,” she muttered, and brought the mug to her lips. She took a small sip and smiled.
Keoni returned, grabbing the towel that was draped over his beefy shoulder and mopped the moisture their mugs left on the bar. With a jerk of his broad chin, he asked Rick, “You ready for another one?”
“Nah, I have to drive.”
Keoni shrugged, saw that a customer at the far end of the bar was signaling for his check and started backing away. “How’s the shoulder?”
“A little stiff.” Rick gingerly touched the spot where he’d gotten banged up. “Not too bad.”
“Don’t be stupid about it, brah. You’ll end up bartending, like me.”
Rick watched him paste on a smile for the customer and pass the man his tab. No, Rick wouldn’t end up being a bartender, forcing smiles for the tourists, even if he quit surfing tomorrow. He might be easygoing but he wasn’t foolish. He’d made sure he was set for life. Not that it was anyone’s business. The more people knew about him, the more they expected of him. He didn’t need that crap.
“What’s wrong with your shoulder?” Lindsey asked, her eyes filled with concern.
“I hurt it a while ago. It’s good now.”
Her gaze touched his shoulder, moved to his chest, slid down to his belly. Then her high small breasts rose and fell with her soft sigh.
They needed to find some privacy. “Let’s go,” he said, and she eagerly nodded.
He pulled a twenty out of his pocket, slapped it down on the bar, anchored it with his mug and grabbed her hand.
LINDSEY