The Wedding Gift Read Free Page B

you?”
    Another woman would have said that with a wicked little smile. Not Jan. She was so damned innocent. Oh, she’d get it if he pointed it out. She wasn’t completely naïve. But unlike most people, her default wasn’t set to innuendo.
    â€œNo, thanks. I’m getting out for a few.” He levered up onto the side, keeping his back to her until he had his towel in hand.
    Bunching it on his lap, he stretched out on the lounger, flipped open the Enquirer and tried to focus on the latest alien abduction. But his gaze kept flicking to Jan. Her cheek rested on one arm. Her eyes were closed, pink lips smiling sweetly. Her hair, long and shining, trailed in the water.
    She looked happy. Relaxed.
    Fifteen years ago that would’ve been his signal to sneak up and flip the float. Today, he simply enjoyed the view. Long, slim legs. Round cheeks barely covered by her bottoms. And all that soft, silky skin. He’d had his hand all over it.
    Bringing his palm to his nose, he breathed in the scent—coconut laced with Jan.
    Not helping his erection problem. At. All.
    Her hand fanned the water idly, turning the float in a lazy circle. When she drifted to the shallow end, practically under his nose, he closed the Enquirer and stood up. “I’m heading inside.”
    She opened her eyes, squinting up at him. Then she rolled off into the waist-deep water. “I’m sorry, I’m hogging the float.”
    â€œNo you’re not,” he said, instantly distracted by her breasts. In the past, he’d caught a rare glimpse down her one-and-only V-neck sweater. Now they were literally under his nose, pale and pretty like the rest of her, with the added bonus of being breasts.
    He tore his gaze away. “I mean, yes, you’re hogging it, but I was going inside anyway. Gotta shower. We’ve got dinner in a couple hours.”
    She grinned. “Seriously? You need two hours to primp?”
    He tried a smile. It felt plastic. “You know how punctual Julie is.”
    She cocked her head. “You look a little pasty. Are you feeling okay?” She climbed the steps, water sluicing off her smooth skin.
    â€œI’m”— losing my shit— “fine. I just want to”— jump you— “take a shower before you use up all the hot water.” His smile was partly genuine this time. She was famous for long showers.
    â€œHar har.” She— finally— wrapped herself in her towel and plunked down on her lounger. “Thanks for the new Reacher, by the way.”
    He shrugged. “Figured you needed your tough-guy fix.”
    She smiled, putting the sun to shame. “I’ve got a tough guy right here, Mr. Medal-of-Valor.”
    His face heated. “Cut it out.”
    â€œSeriously, Mick. I’m really proud of you.”
    That meant a thousand times more than the medal the mayor pinned to his chest. It also embarrassed the hell out of him, because he knew he didn’t deserve her admiration. Not when he was coming apart at the seams.
    â€œYou should stay in the shade,” he said, and got out of there.
    Back in their room, he dropped his sopping suit in the sink and schooled himself, hard. “You need to calm the fuck down.” He glared at the mirror. “Man up. Get over shit. Forget the fucking fire.” And as for Jan, “For fuck’s sake, keep your filthy mind out of the gutter, and your filthy hands off her panties.”
    Well, shit. Where did that last part come from?
    He forked a hand through his hair. Wrestled with his conscience. Convinced himself a quick peek couldn’t hurt. Her suitcase was on the bench, closed but invitingly unzipped. He snuck up on it, flipped up the lid.
    And there they were, jumbled together, a loose knot of black satin and lace.
    He shouldn’t touch them, but he did, running them through his fingers, breathing in her light, familiar scent.
    Separating one pair from the rest, he