I've ever seen.'
'You're not that different,' she said, but her words faded away when he ran a hand from her toes up her calf, to just beneath the material of her sundress. Breathing became a challenge.
'Really?' he whispered. His fingers played with the back of her knee in a way that made her want to let her legs fall open.
She kept them together by sheer will. 'No. Not that different at all.'
'How's that?' he asked softly, that little smile still dancing around his mouth. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. 'Because I don't cook. And as for kids, I'm not a natural.'
That made her laugh. 'Yes,
'I'm no one's role model.'
'And yet children love you anyway.' His fingers slipped up a few inches higher on the back of her leg, and her words stuttered to a halt. 'Uh…' Where had she been? Oh, yes… 'I know you had a hard time in the press, being labeled difficult-' Those fingers spread wide on the back of her thigh now. 'A-and a prima donna.' Now his fingers tightened imperceptibly before purposefully relaxing. Her gaze shot to his face. 'That one hurt, I bet,' she said, reaching out to put her hand on his chest. 'But the truth is, you're too private for any of those things they say about you to be true.'
'I was not a saint, Sam.'
'Good, because I've never been a saint, either. Saints are boring. In any case, the past is the past.'
'Yeah, thankfully.' His hand danced over her skin to her thigh, his thumb making lazy circles on the very inside of that thigh.
Her blood hummed.
She put her hand over the material of her dress, halting his movement because she couldn't take it. 'And I can say all this to you, because as I mentioned, we're very alike, you and I.'
'I prefer the differences.' His first finger stretched out of her hold and barely, just barely, skimmed over her bikini bottoms.
Her entire body jerked, but she wasn't ready to let loose with him, no matter what her hormones were begging. 'Do you-'
'Do I…?'
She looked at him. 'Ever feel like your life is in a sort of holding pattern? Almost… stalled?'
He went very still, his gaze intent on hers. 'Maybe.'
'I wonder about it, especially since I met you,' she whispered. 'Can people outgrow their life? Because I'm just starting to worry that I have.'
'Maybe we only outgrow parts of it,' he said just as quietly, suddenly as serious as she was. 'And maybe new pieces fall into place.'
'That's pretty intuitive for a man who doesn't like to think about the future.'
'I thought that wasn't a problem for you.'
'Oh, it's not. Actually, it's one of the reasons you're so damn attractive,' she admitted. 'Because this is all very in the moment, very loose and carefree.'
He looked at her for a long moment. 'Right up your alley, is it?'
'Yep. No pressure, no worries.'
'No pressure, no worries,' he repeated softly, and smiled. 'Then why aren't we jumping each other's bones and calling it a day?'
'Because even women with commitment phobias have their boundaries.' She stood up, and smiled down at him. 'And one of my boundaries is knowing what I'm getting myself into. Before falling into bed with someone.'
'Hey, what you see is what you get,' he claimed, but he also stood. She walked to the door, opened it, and hoped like hell he wouldn't touch her again, because if he did, she'd cave faster than a cheap suitcase.
With a sigh, he moved to the door as well. Night had fallen. He eyed it, then her, and then smiled. 'Time flies with you.'
She looked out into the black sky, a little surprised to find it so.
'I still owe you some basketball lessons,' he said. 'And in return, I have a favor.'
'Hey, I paid for those lessons.'
'Relax, this one will amuse you. I want you to teach me to surf.'
She gaped at him, then laughed.
'Is that so strange?'
'No, but…' She shook her head. 'Why do you want to learn to surf now?'
'Because you do it.'
Oh. Oh, how… lovely. 'I've been surfing since I could walk, Jack.'
'So teach me.'
'You're crazy.'
He grinned. 'But you like crazy.'
'I do,' she admitted.
'So you'll teach me.'
What the hell. 'Okay. You teach me some basketball, and I'll teach you to surf.' In the spirit of fun, she thrust out her hand for a handshake. 'In fact, I'll even go first. Meet me here next weekend. Saturday morning, five- thirty.'
'A.M.?'
'A.M.'
Jack stared down at her hand, then into her eyes, his slow smile full of wicked intent as he hauled her into his arms and planted a kiss on her that left her head spinning and her body weeping.
'Make it six-thirty,' he murmured against her mouth.
'Six.' She licked her bottom lip to get the last taste of him. 'Or no deal. The surfing's best first thing in the morning.'
Another sexy smile, along with a sigh. 'Six, then.' Then one more long, hormone-rattling kiss, and by the end of it, her knees were knocking.
''Night,' he whispered.
''Night.'
'Sweet dreams,' and he walked out into the night.
Smiling like an idiot, she dreamily watched him go. This was perfect, surface only, fun only, just the way she liked it.
But at the thought, her smile slowly faded.
9
Halfway through the following week, Heather found her brother in his huge backyard, sitting by his oversize pool. She took one look at the surfer magazine in his hands and burst out laughing.
Jack sighed and tossed it aside. 'So nice of you to knock.'
'If you didn't want me to walk in, you shouldn't have given me a key.'
'You could still knock.'
'Right. Next time.' She plopped down on a lounge chair next to him. 'Want to talk about it?'
'It?'
'The brooding look on your face.'
'I'm not brooding.'
She poked at the surfer magazine. 'Maybe we should talk about Sam then.'
'What about her?'
'Oh, don't give me that carefully blank look. You like surfer girl and we both know it. She's hot, she's also
