Delicious Do-Over (13 page)

She cringed just thinking of how slutty that sounded, and then gave herself a mental shake. Sex was a natural healthy impulse. Though they didn’t sleep around, Mia and Shelby were sexually active. No one judged them, and no one should. It was time to cut herself some slack.

She had only four full days left in Hawaii. There was no reason she couldn’t ignore that stupid brain of hers and simply enjoy herself.

But then she flashed back on the stunning women she’d seen strolling the North Shore beaches, not tourists, but local women with hard tan bodies that could make a grown man weep, and her incredibly foolish brain went to that dark, dark place. North Shore seemed to be a small community. How many of them were sleeping with Rick?

She’d bet none of them would refuse Rick a darn thing. Or blush over his sexy suggestions. Why would he chase anyone out of his house for her? Was she simply a novelty? Flavor of the week? Her heart sank like an anchor to the pit of her stomach. Darn him for having made her feel so special, for making her romanticize that she was the only one in his life. Even if it was for one measly week. He was with her, not any of them, she reasoned. Couldn’t she just enjoy the fantasy?

So much for turning off her doubts.

Caught up in her one-woman pity party, she hadn’t realized he’d cut the engine and was staring at her. He reached for her hand, gave her a sad resigned smile. “What’s wrong, Linds? You’re not yourself.” When she was too busy kicking herself to answer, he said, “You expected a nicer house, maybe?”

She hoped her glare told him what she thought of that remark. Then she just sighed. “When I was a kid, I never once heard the word
sex
spoken at home.
I
never even said the word until I was in my twenties. It was crazy.”

He blinked, gave a short laugh. “Okay.” He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. “Don’t know how to respond to that.”

Lindsey slumped against the seat, embarrassed and frustrated. “I don’t know why I said that out loud.”

He caught her chin, brought her gaze back to him. “We pushed some boundaries last night,” he said quietly. “It’s probably normal for you to be thinking back on things you were raised to consider taboo.”

It wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be gorgeous
and
understanding?

“You’re having regrets, aren’t you?” he said, weaving his hand through her hair.

She thought about it for a second. “No, I’m not.” She gazed deeply into his eyes and swallowed around the lump in her throat. “You look as if you are, though.”

“My only regret would be if I hurt you in any way.” His hand slipped around to cup her head, and he drew her toward him. He gave her a chaste kiss on her lips.

“Then—” She almost said “don’t,” but stopped herself just in time. “Then hurry up and show me your house.”

The truth was suddenly crystal clear. She would inevitably end up hurt, but it would be her own damn fault.

She glanced over at him when he appeared from the back of the house. “If I lived here, I would never leave this place. This spot.”

“My bedroom has the same view.” From behind, he circled his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder, pressed his cheek to hers. “Want to see the rest of the house, or do you want to make out?”

Lindsey laughed. So did Rick.

She crossed her arms over his and leaned back against his chest. “It’s quiet here.”

“Occasionally the traffic noise can be annoying, but at night it’s pretty cool, you can hear the waves break.”

“You lucked out finding this spot.” She knew real estate like this was pricey, which made her curious, but not enough to be rude and ask. “Did you have the house built?”

“Nope. It’s actually twenty years old, but the previous owners had it totally remodeled.”

“Aren’t you afraid someone will build in front of you and block your view?”

“I own the land all the way to the highway. The beach is public. So, yeah, I really did luck out.”

“What about hurricanes? Isn’t it scary to be this close to the water?”

He hugged her tighter, and she could feel his smile against her cheek. “Even paradise isn’t perfect, sweetheart. But damn sure worth the risk.”

That was one of the many differences between them. Rick wasn’t just willing to make changes or take risks, he took the initiative, while she hid in the corner of her safe little life, watching the world go by, content knowing that her future was secure as long as she didn’t step over the line. When she thought about it like that, her existence back in Chicago seemed rather sad. All the more reason to be glad she’d thrown in with Mia and Shelby. Taking the risk would probably end up being the best decision she’d ever made.

“Want a tour?” he asked. “Only two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a closet-size office and the kitchen. Won’t take long. Then we’ll hit the beach.”

“Oh, great.” She glanced down at the pale contrast of her arms against his. “I’m so ridiculously white maybe I’ll get lucky and blend into the sand.”

He leaned away to look at her, an eyebrow cocked in amusement. “Blend in? No way. You’re one of a kind. Come on.”

She smiled in spite of herself, then let him take her by the hand to the back of the house. He hadn’t been kidding about the place being small. Though the master bedroom was large with that killer view of the ocean, and the adjoining bath had a big ol’ whirlpool she had every intention of sinking into. But the other bedroom was smaller, hosting a double bed, no headboard, no nightstand. A brass lamp sat on a cardboard box.

The tiny office surprised her. Unlike the sparsely furnished rest of the house, a desk, two computers, and wall-to-wall shelves crammed with books crowded the room. Oddly, it wasn’t messy, just sort of overflowing. In fact, the house was impressively neat and clean. She wondered if the woman he’d chased out had done his housekeeping.

No, not allowed. She wasn’t going to go there and spoil the rest of her week. With some effort she replaced the doubts with white noise, and preceded him to the kitchen.

The incredibly state-of-the-art kitchen.

“Whoa.” She stopped abruptly in the doorway, jolted into taking a step when Rick ran into her. “This is amazing.”

“Yes, and no, I don’t cook.”

“Then why?” She swept an arm toward the stainless steel appliances, not the inexpensive models, but the subzero, convection brands that serious cooks dreamed of owning once they won the lottery. There was a large butcher-block island, lots of gleaming black-and-white tile and gray granite.

“This is the way the house came. Boosted the price, but that’s okay. I’ll get it back and more on resale.”

“You’re thinking of selling?”

“Not right now, but that could change.”

For whatever reason, that he could even consider selling shocked her. “This place suits you,” she said. “Yeah, I mean the house certainly, but this whole area, with the beaches and laid-back lifestyle…”

“For now it does.” He shrugged. “Look at you, moving from Chicago to New York to start a business. Two years ago did you imagine you’d be taking this step?”

She faked a shudder. “I can’t imagine I’m doing it now.”

Rick grinned, and gestured toward the back door. “It’s good to shake things up. You don’t know where you’re going to land but it might be a better place.”

“Or in an alley somewhere.”

“Quite an imagination for an accountant.”

Through the window over the sink, she saw something outside, a sunroom maybe, but the way the sun was shining into the window it was hard to tell. “What’s out there?”

“Um, it’s supposed to be a patio/outdoor living area, or whatever you want to call it.”

She could see a fire pit and a massive barbecue island partially sheltered by flowering plumeria trees and lush ferns. “May I go see?”

“I don’t know.” He peered between two parted blinds with a doubtful frown.

“Sorry.” She stepped back. “I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

“It’s not that. Besides my office, that’s my favorite place to hang out. The problem is that I’m not sure what kind of condition it’s in.”

“From the weather?”

He snorted. “A tornado can cause less damage.” He let go of the blinds. “Occasionally I let a few of the kids that work at the shop crash here. My office and back there are supposed to be off-limits, but sometimes they get carried away and…” He shook his head, plowing a frustrated hand through his hair.

“The place looks clean,” Lindsey remarked.

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure how it looked a few hours ago.” He noticed a water ring on the granite countertop and used a dishtowel to rub it off. “Before I left for Waikiki I specifically said no one could crash here until further notice. I didn’t want you coming back with me and thinking I was this total slob.”

She grinned. How adorable was that?

He opened the refrigerator and offered her a choice between a diet cola and a beer. She took the cola. He got another one out for himself. “Some of the kids around here have pretty bad home lives. I’m not stupid about it, but I do have an open-door policy to a select few. They’re generally respectful of my things, and then again I don’t keep much stuff around. But sometimes other kids follow them over here and things get out of hand. I’ve only had to call the cops twice.”

Her brows shot up. “Only?”

“That’s in four years. Trust me, with the kind of crap that goes on with some of these kids, that’s not bad.”

“Opening up your home like that is incredibly nice of you,” she said, meaning it. She didn’t think she could be that generous with her personal space.

“What am I supposed to do when a kid has no place else to go? They can only sleep on the beach for so long.” An apologetic smile chased the concern from his face. “Hey, enough about that, how about we go to the beach now?”

“Or we could clean up the patio if need be. I don’t mind helping.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” He touched a finger to her lips. “We have too little time together. I’m not wasting any of it, especially on cleaning. Besides, I’ve got the kids who sometimes do it.”

Lindsey’s thoughts shot back to the store parking lot, and she stared at him, registering reality in measures. “That phone call earlier, I thought—” She clamped her mouth shut, quickly turned away and snapped open her can of cola.

“You thought what?”

“Nothing. I—I overheard something I shouldn’t have.”

Rick moved around the butcher-block island and cut her off. “You want a glass?” he asked, studying her face.

“No, thanks.” She forced herself to meet his probing eyes.

“What did you think, Lindsey? You were obviously upset at the shop.”

“It was really stupid, okay? Can we please drop it?” Her cheeks had to be redder than a cherry tomato.

He said nothing for a horribly long five seconds, and then asked, “You have your swimsuit on under that?”

She nodded, sighed quietly with relief.

“Then let’s go surfin’.”

“Oh, God, I hope that was a figure of speech.”

Rick chuckled, looped an arm around her neck, kissed her mouth hard. He reared his head back and smiled at her. “I’m going to show you why there is no place on earth like the North Shore.”

They got out of the Jeep, but Rick didn’t unload his board. He leaned back on the hood, his arms folded, and from behind dark glasses, he stared out at the waves. Lindsey’s breath caught just looking at him. All bronzed and chiseled, he looked as if he should be on a magazine cover.

Two guys heading toward the water with surfboards under their arms yelled something to him about Waimea. He nodded, made some kind of hand sign she didn’t understand.

“Are you really going into the water?” she asked, a bit nervous for him.

He smiled at her. “I don’t have to. I can stay here on the beach with you.”

“But if I weren’t here, would you be surfing?”

He caught her hand and pulled her closer. From his pocket he withdrew a tube of sunscreen. “Probably.”

“You know I can’t go in there, right?”

“I wouldn’t let you.”

She raised her brows in reproach.

“Excuse me. I meant to say that I would highly discourage you from going in with waves this high.” He tried to hide a smile while he unscrewed the cap. “We should have put this on back at the house. Take off your top.”

“Does that line usually work?”

“You’d be surprised.” He squirted the white cream into his palm.

Lindsey blinked at his insensitive response. That wasn’t like him. He probably hadn’t been thinking. He had seemed a bit preoccupied since they’d left the house. “I don’t know…I might leave my shirt on.”

“You want that kind of tan line?”

“No, I guess not.” She pulled up the hem of her tank top, then peeled down her shorts and threw them both into the Jeep. She glanced down. The bronzing lotion she’d now used twice had helped some but not enough. “I think I might be the whitest human being on this side of the island.”

Rick took her by the shoulders and turned her around. He rubbed the sunscreen down her back, and whispered into her ear, “You look terrific.” He slathered the cream across the back of her thighs. “Good enough to eat,” he added, trailing the tip of his tongue inside her ear.

“Stop it,” she said, laughing and trying to pull away. “You know that tickles.”

He banded his arms around her, kept her rooted to the spot.

She gasped, glanced around to check for an audience. “You have no shame.”

“None,” he agreed.

“Rick, you know these people. I don’t.”

“That’s right. So don’t worry about it.” He turned her around and leisurely kissed her, before refilling his palm and rubbing the sunscreen on her chest. Although he was discreet, he wasn’t shy about reaching into the bikini cups and making sure her skin was covered with the cream.

When he swept his palm across her ribs, she sucked in her stomach and shivered a little. Everything tightened—her nipples, between her legs…

He smiled, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses, and maybe that was for the best.

“I can get my legs after I sit down. Let me do your back,” she said, half expecting him to balk.

He squirted more of the sunscreen into his hand, and then gave her the tube and his back while he rubbed the cream into his face and chest.

“I didn’t know you could wear sunscreen and get this tan.” She massaged his shoulders and back, loving the feel of his bunching muscle under her palm, and staring at the four-inch tattoo, a Hawaiian symbol he’d gotten in memory of a friend, a fellow surfer. She glanced nervously at the waves.

“I spend a lot of time in the sun.”

“Do you ever work at the shop?”

“I have a back room where I’m playing with a new board design.” He turned to face her. “Which isn’t public knowledge, by the way.”

She nodded. “How is that coming?”

He shrugged. “Let’s go find a spot.” He grabbed the towels and tossed them over his shoulder.

“I’ll take those. You’ve got your board to carry.”

He unloosened the strap. “I figured you’d take it for me.”

Her eyes widened on the surfboard. It had to be six or seven feet long, who knew how heavy. “I’ll try.”

Rick lifted the board and sent it nose-first into the sand in front of her. “Here you go.” By his beginning smirk she knew this was some kind of test or joke.

She gingerly took hold, careful to keep it balanced, and then jerked her head up. “It’s light. It’s like…foam.”

“Yep.” Grinning, he took the board from her. “Everyone expects them to be heavier than they are. The old ones were made of wood. Those suckers were heavy.”

“Dude, where you been?” A man—early twenties, his dark hair and brown skin dripping wet—approached them. He planted the point of his board in the sand. “I figured the shoulder had you taking it easy and drowning in six-packs.”

“No way.” Rick greeted him with one of those weird handshakes that made Lindsey think of sign language.

“You missed it this morning, dude. Sets of twelve-footers, amazing.” With the back of his wrist, he wiped the moisture from his face and eyed Lindsey.

“I’d introduce you, Pono,” Rick said, sliding an arm around Lindsey, “except you’re a dog, and she’s off-limits.”

The man laughed, his dark brows shooting up in surprise. “Ha, dude, must be serious.” He picked up his board. “Later,” he said, winking at Lindsey as he headed toward a group of parked cars.