The Perfect Indulgence (6 page)

He started walking purposefully back toward her.

She panicked. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

“No.” She put up a hand, warding him off, backing away, not even bothering to tune in to her inner voice. This was fight-or-flight time. “No, you—”

There were few things in the world sexier than being grabbed close for a kiss by a man you desperately wanted to kiss you. As soon as his mouth touched hers, she could do nothing but admit that to herself. Because it was screamingly obvious, even if the feeling only lasted for tonight, that Zac was the most desirable man in the universe and she wanted him with every fiber of her being.

Then the hottest kiss of her life was over. He pulled back and they were left staring at each other with, she suspected, identical stunned expressions on their faces.

Then his hand shot out and pulled off her ball cap. Her hair tumbled down in a wavy mess around her face.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. No wig. No faking now.

“I thought so. Now I’ll really go. Good night, Chris.”

“Good night, Zac. Thanks for a lovely chat and for the delicious food.”

That was what her brain wanted to say. Polite, in control and friendly, as if she barely noticed he’d kissed her. As if kissing like that was all in a day’s work for a pair of good buddies. As if his taking off her hat to release her natural hair hadn’t felt as if he was undressing her.

But all that came out her mouth, on a long, heartfelt sigh, was, “Mmm.”

Zac picked up his gear and continued down the street. He didn’t glance back, but she didn’t need to see his face to know he was wearing an infuriatingly smug smile.

4

B
ODIE
UNZIPPED
HIS
wet suit and picked up his board, aware that women on the beach were checking him out. He didn’t blame them. It was a beautiful, unusually warm February day, and he was a beautiful man.

He swerved to pass a couple of babes, flexing his pecs for maximum definition.

Damn. They were talking to each other and barely spared him a glance!

He should head to Slow Pour later this afternoon, right before the store closed. That Chris chick looked at him as if he was chocolate. He could probably get some from her. He really needed to get laid.

* * *

G
US
UNZIPPED
HIS
wet suit and picked up his board, aware that women on the beach were checking him out, which never failed to amaze him since he’d grown up a skinny dork. But hey, he’d worked hard; he deserved to flaunt his Greek-god physique now.

Behold, most excellent ladies.
He strode past them, puffing up his chest.

Damn. They didn’t seem impressed. Oh, well.

He should head to Slow Pour for some Suja Juice and to talk to Chris later this afternoon, around closing time. He knew after their date playing pool that she was totally out of his league. Hell, he’d known that as soon as he first saw her last fall. But a guy could still dream.

* * *

Z
AC
UNZIPPED
HIS
wet suit and picked up his board. He didn’t surf often, but the rush usually cleared his head, and after last night it sure as hell needed clearing.

“Yum.” A woman called out admiringly from the blanket she shared with her friend as he walked past.

Zac nodded, wanting to roll his eyes. Yeah, she’d say the same about a rib-eye steak.

He should head to Slow Pour later this afternoon for an espresso and to talk to Chris. He was anxious to see her reaction when she saw him today. Last night, that kiss... Man. They’d definitely gotten to a new place, but if his mess of a head was any indication, he wasn’t sure what that place was, or if he wanted to be there. Or if Chris did. Seeing her today might help straighten him out where the ocean, sunshine and breezes had failed.

* * *

“H
AVE
A
GREAT
AFTERNOON
, Chris. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Summer hugged her temporary boss, curious as to what had happened to her the previous evening. Yesterday she’d been her new weirdly blank self, but when she came in for her afternoon shift today, she was sparking energy—except when she caught herself, which was about every five minutes. Then she’d hold still, breathe in, breathe out, relax her shoulders and get on with what she was doing until she forgot and got nutsy again. It would be funny, except people in distress weren’t generally amusing. And watching someone try to fight who she was...that was just weird.

Whatever Chris was going through, Summer hoped she found peace. Maybe with Zac. If Summer had to give up that dream to anyone, Chris was her first choice. Zac and Eva had been perfect for each other, except there was no sizzle between them.

Outside the wonderful coffee-smelling interior of Slow Pour the air was chilly, though the sun had burned off the morning fog. Summer had walked the three miles to work. Her roommate had borrowed her car last night and hadn’t been back by the time Summer had to leave in the morning. So annoying, especially since once Summer realized Janine wasn’t back, she’d had to rush crazily through her morning routine so she’d have time to walk to Slow Pour in the early morning fog.

Now that the sun was out, she was actually looking forward to the walk home, and she set out at a brisk pace, gleefully imagining all the housework she’d demand Janine do in penance for not returning the car. Maybe she could finally get her roommate to clear her unread magazines off the coffee table and pick up the discarded clothes in her room.

“I said, ‘Hey.’”

Summer yelped and whirled around to find Luke hanging out the driver’s-side window of Zac’s blue Prius. Those hybrids were so quiet she hadn’t heard him pull up next to her with Tori Amos streaming through her earbuds.

“Jeez, Luke.” She put a hand to her hammering heart. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He checked the road behind him for cars, then swung those amazing blue eyes back at her, sun glinting off his eyebrow piercing. “You need a ride somewhere?”

She shook her head automatically, heart still beating too fast. “I’m fine.”

“Do you
want
a ride somewhere?”

Summer pointed ahead of her, annoyed by her immediate negative reaction. She’d come a long way toward shedding her girlhood shyness, but it still hijacked her when she wasn’t prepared. Besides which, Luke set off her internal alarm bell. “I’m going home.”

“And...?”

A brief laugh. He’d called her on her indecision. “And so you don’t need to drive me.”

“But do you
want
me to drive you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Luke...”

“Oh, I see.” A corner of his mouth twitched. “You don’t want me to know where you live.”

He was messing with her. Probably flirting, which made her feel sort of pumped up and giddy. When guys who came into Slow Pour started flirting or poured on too much charm, she turned off automatically. But something about this guy made it bearable. Fun, even.

A car came up the road. Luke pulled onto the shoulder and got out, slamming the door behind him, grinning that cocky, infectious grin as he crossed the street toward her.

She sighed, heart speeding again, willing her mouth not to smile back at him, wondering how much he’d really cleaned up his life and attitude. Her last boyfriend had turned out to be a meth dealer. It had taken her three months to catch on. Her boyfriend before that had been arrested for shoplifting electronic equipment from a big-box store. In both cases she’d had the good sense to get out immediately, but what she needed was the good sense not to get into relationships with troubled guys in the first place.

“I just dropped Zac off at Slow Pour. He wants me to pick him up in a couple of hours. Want to hang out? We could drive up the coast, we could go into San Luis Obispo, we could stay here and talk...”

“On the side of the road?”

“It’s a sweet spot.” He chuckled, the way Zac did when acknowledging a joke. “Seriously, want to take advantage of this sweet set of geek wheels and go somewhere?”

Summer looked down at the pavement, unable to make up her mind. It wasn’t as if she had important things to do this afternoon. She’d been planning to make brownies to go with studying for her child-development class. Maybe clean a little. But both those things could wait, and this guy seemed to need a friend.

Maybe she did, too. She hadn’t done anything spontaneous or fun in a while. Not since the night she and Chris got their tattoos. “Okay.”

“Excellent.” He gestured toward the car. “I’ve had no one but Zac for company for the past week.”

“Could be worse.” She crossed back toward the Prius. Luke seemed a lot taller up close than he’d seemed across the counter at Slow Pour, just over six feet, maybe, while Zac was six-three or six-four. “Your brother is a great guy.”

“He’s done a lot for me.” He walked with her around the car and opened the passenger door, an old-fashioned gesture that surprised her. “Sometimes I think I’ll never be able to repay him. Other times I want him to leave me the hell alone so I can make my own way.”

She waited for him to climb into the driver’s seat, again struck by how open Luke was with his thoughts and feelings, even to a virtual stranger. Very different from Zac, who seemed to keep his emotions close. “Weren’t you making your own way when you got arrested?”

“Oh. Well, yeah.” He put the car in gear and moved onto the road. “There’s that.”

“You have a temper?”

“Apparently.”

“With women?”

“Oh, no.” He turned to look at her. “Never like that.”

“The road?” She pointed toward an upcoming curve. “Might want to keep an eye on it?”

“Oh, the
road
, right. I forgot.” He winked at her, that goofy boyish grin combining with his blue eyes and dark lashes to make him irresistible. She’d bet he could have his pick of women.

The thought strengthened her determination not to succumb. Guys like that—handsome, charming and very aware of it—took it for granted that women would fall for them. She didn’t want to be just another number.

“Where do you want to go?”

She thought for a minute and lit on an improbable destination. “In another half mile or so, turn left onto Old Creek Road.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“Whoa, a woman of mystery.” He chuckled, sounding so much like Zac again that she found herself turning to look at him, as if he might have somehow switched places with his brother.

They drove Oak Creek Road through green-brown hills dotted with occasional clusters of low trees.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?”

Summer choked back a surprised laugh. “You don’t hold back, do you.”

“Why should I? I want to know. If you’re dating a guy with a gun and a jealous streak, I’m letting you out at the next corner. If you’re dating a jerk with an attitude, I’ll sock him in the nose.”

“Because that worked so well for you last time.”

“If—” His laughter interrupted. “If you’re dating a geek who wears plaid shorts, I’ll talk you out of him.”

“And if I’m single?” She flashed him a curious glance, wondering how he’d handle that one.

“If you’re single, the men around here are idiots.”

“Thank you.” She was flattered even if it was probably just a line. “I’m single, taking a break from relationships.”

“Yeah? They haven’t been working out?”

“Nope.”

“How come?”

She shot him an incredulous look. “No boundaries with you, huh?”

“You want some, you just have to tell me.”

She thought that one over for a while. His honesty was refreshing, and in stark contrast to her habit of revealing as little as possible about herself. The less people knew, the less they could judge and find fault. “The last two guys I dated both had serious issues.”

“Psychological?”

“Chemical. And with the law.”

“Yeah?” He glanced over at her. “So you like guys who are trouble?

“Let’s say I’m trying to quit.”

He laughed at that. “Yeah, me, too.”

She let a few more miles go by, not wanting to sound too eager to ask her next question. He seemed comfortable with the silence. She liked that, too. “What about you? Are you single?”

“Single as the day my girlfriend left me.” He spoke with a lilting twang, as if he was singing a country song, and shot her a mischievous grin that took her breath away.

Summer would have to work hard on this not-succumbing thing.

Outside San Miguel, she directed him off Highway 101 and to Mission San Miguel Arcangel, a beautiful church complex dating from the late-eighteenth century.

Admittedly, the destination was a test. She was curious enough about Luke to want to know how he’d react to a decidedly low-tech, low-excitement, highly educational and culturally significant site.

He parked the car and gazed at the tile-roofed buildings and chapel. “You’re taking me to church?”

“It’s a beautiful place.” She opened her door. “The monks made wine here. You can pretend it’s a frat house.”

“Sweet.”

They toured the living quarters of the friars, the kitchen, the peaceful quadrangle and the beautiful church, still with its original frescoes. Summer watched Luke to see if he’d act bored and restless, if he’d crack jokes and focus on himself.

He didn’t. He lowered his voice, responding to the hushed, sacred atmosphere, and abandoned his swagger, adapting to the reverent spirit of the place. Luke did let loose one crack that made it plain he’d never become a monk, but that was funny, if not totally obvious.

So he was Zac’s brother after all, with depth, gentleness and intellectual curiosity. It fit in with her personal theory that while pain could alter behavior, it couldn’t change the core of a person.

The only downside was that Summer’s nice, easy reason to dismiss Luke out of hand had been seriously weakened, which made her attraction to him more complicated, and more compelling.

After the tour, they walked back to the car, shoulders and hands bumping occasionally.

“Do you want to go get something to eat?”

Summer glanced at her watch. “Don’t you have to get the car back to Zac?”

“Oh.” He scratched his head, grimacing. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Yeah, she guessed he did, too, and was grateful for the reality check. Maybe he’d just lost track of time, but she’d bet he’d put that responsibility completely out of his mind, and that it was how he usually operated, doing what he wanted when he wanted, without thought to anyone or anything else—a hot button for Summer, who already felt responsible for herself and her younger siblings and sometimes her parents. She wanted to be with someone who’d share in that responsibility, not add to it.

“I’ll drive you home, then.”

“Thanks.” She got into the car and buckled up, feeling confused and crabby.

“You trust me enough to tell me your address now?”

“Yeah.” She sent him a look. “You do anything that pisses me off, Zac will kick your ass.”

He turned on the radio, making a face when a jazz station came on. “I might kick
his
ass for having such bad taste in music.”

“Why, what do you like?”

“Guess.” He shot her a bet-you-never-will look, all mischief and humor, and pulled back onto the highway, heading south.

“Hmm, let me see.” She went through a mental catalog of her brother’s heavy, loud music. “NOFX? Rancid? Judas Priest? Hüsker Dü?”

“Hoosker who?” He shook his head. “Never heard of them. I like more mainstream stuff than that. Linkin Park, Green Day, Panic! at the Disco, Fall Out Boy. What about you?”

“My Chemical Romance, Rise Against, Boys Like Girls. But I also like classic oldies. The Beatles, Motown, and some artists and bands my parents listened to—Joni Mitchell, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.”