Wife Is A 4-Letter Word (10 page)

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Authors: Stephanie Bond

BOOK: Wife Is A 4-Letter Word
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The computer couple stopped after a few steps and Robin squirmed, pointing to her shoulder. Alan stopped, investigated and brushed away the offending object.
Oh, brother—the old “something's on me, will you get it off, you big strong he-man” trick.
Pam rolled her eyes.
Amateur.
But Alan must have been convinced because he inched closer to Robin as they strolled away. When Pam could no longer see them from her chair, she stood up. When they disappeared past tiptoe level, she walked to the corner of the deck. “Go for it, Alan,” she muttered as she hung out over the edge with her back foot hooked around the railing to keep from falling. “I couldn't care less.”
 
THE POOL AT THE RESORT where Robin was staying glimmered blue and white, interrupted only by a few adults who lounged in one corner, with firm grips around their drinks. Alan sat next to Robin, bored with shoptalk and hoping something conversational would pop into his head. Accepting her invitation to join her at the pool had seemed like a good idea an hour ago, but now he was feeling restless. For some maddening reason, Alan couldn't keep his mind off where and with whom Pam had found entertainment for the afternoon.
“What's wrong?” Robin asked cheerfully.
“Nothing,” he assured her. She was very attractive, and had pulled her chair so close to his she'd pinched her fingers between the two arms. And if he had any doubts she was interested in him physically, they were banished when he felt her bare foot caress his leg from calf to ankle. Startled, he stiffened.
She flashed him a flirty smile. “Want to take a swim? The pool is heated.”
“Sure,” he said, pushing back from the table, suddenly wanting to escape. He followed her into the shallow end, then swam the length of the pool, not at all surprised when she surfaced near him at the other end. With the concrete wall at his back, he closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun.
“Great day,” she said, allowing her body to graze his beneath the water.
“Mmm.” He really should find Pamela and apologize for being so cross yesterday.
“I always stay in this resort when I'm in town,” she continued.
“Nice,” he murmured.
“My room has a fabulous view,” Robin said near his ear, and several seconds passed before her meaning sank in. She rubbed her breast against his arm and his eyes popped open.
Her mouth curved provocatively. “Want to go up for a look?”
Alan glanced at her and realized with a sinking feeling that she reminded him of Jo—in more ways than one. Although Jo had never been as forward as Robin, he experienced the same mild stirring of sexual interest when he looked at the slim woman in her sensible brown bathing suit. All the time he had dated Jo, he'd hoped their relationship would become more sensual, but now he had to admit that their chemistry had never been quite right. And while he had loved Jo from the beginning, he had never been
in
love with her...had never craved her company so much that he experienced physical pain when he was away from her...had never been tempted to get naked with her on a dark beach.
“Alan?” Robin whispered, moving in for a kiss. Her mouth shifted against his pleasantly and Alan tried to conjure up some level of desire, especially in light of his new revelation. He absolutely couldn't be falling for Pam....
Robin's mouth became more insistent and Alan awkwardly pulled her against him, running his hands over her slight curves and waiting for his body to respond.
She lifted her head, breathing heavily. “How about that view?”
Alan's mind raced.
Do it, Parish. Get Pam out of your head and out of your system
. “Um, sorry,” he said, withdrawing and pushing himself up and out of the pool. “I promised Pam I'd...take her shopping.”
Robin stared at him from the water. “You'd rather go shopping with your sister?”
“No,” he said hurriedly, grabbing his towel and gym bag. “It's just that I promised...I'll see you later, Robin.”
“Count on it,” she said pointedly, as if next time he would not get away so easily.
Alan trotted off in relief, then slowed to a walk when he reached the beach. He made his way back up the shore, keeping on eye on the horizon for a Wave Runner rider in an overflowing neon pink wet suit and wrestling with the bombshell of the feelings he harbored for his ex-fiancée's best friend.
Along the way, he noticed several sand castles, some simple, some intricate, and realized a contest was under way. A few hundred yards later, he noticed a loose knot of men had gathered to watch a work in progress. But as he approached, he recognized the fake flower tattoo on the firm hip of Pamela Kaminski. She crawled on all fours and stretched to add yet another tower to the elaborate castle she had created. He smiled wryly at the realization that although her sand fortress was by far the most impressive he'd seen,
Pam's
turrets were gaining far more attention than her castle's.
Seemingly oblivious to the attention, her head was bent in concentration, although she kept brushing back a strand of golden hair that had escaped the high ponytail. The red bikini was a masterpiece, he acknowledged, marveling at the way she filled it to bursting yet managed to keep everything safely in place as she moved around. His body began to harden at the memory of her lying beneath him in the sand. But knowing that train of thought led to a dead end, he forced himself to squash the provocative vision. Uncomfortable with the thought of being a part of the ogling crowd, he stepped forward and announced, “There you are!” in a loud voice.
Pam glanced up and smiled, then sat back on her heels, offering a mouth-drying view of her cleavage. Her breasts were confined by two tiny triangles of cloth that had to be much stronger than they looked. “Hi,” she said, and Alan could almost hear the groans of dismay as the men realized their up-close perusal had come to an end. One by one, they drifted away.
“Are you alone?” she asked, peering around him.
“Yeah,” he said, suddenly wondering how he could have been so angry with her yesterday.
She turned her attention back to the sand castle. “Have you been in bed all this time?”
“Pretty much,” he said, shrugging. “But I feel much better.”
“That's nice,” she said tightly, but she didn't look up.
She was probably still miffed at him for the way he'd behaved yesterday afternoon, he reasoned. “I'm sorry I was so grouchy when you came to pick me up,” he said, not sure why he felt the need to get back into her good graces. “I did appreciate it.”
“It's okay,” she said in a tone that didn't sound okay. Then she glanced over her shoulder. “You got it all out of your system, right?”
“Right,” he said, hoping he looked properly contrite. “Truce?”
“Truce,” she said with a suddenly cheerful smile, then stood and dusted sand from her knees.
“Hey,” he said, studying her design. “You need a moat.” He took one of the buckets she'd been using as a mold and filled it with water, then fed the small channel she'd dug around the perimeter of the castle. After several trips, the moat was filled, and she nodded, satisfied with his contribution.
“That's quite a spread, little lady,” the bartender from the grill said as he made his way toward them. “Nice castle, too,” he muttered to Alan with an envious wink as he walked by. The chubby fellow shook her hand and gave her an envelope. “The best sand castle by far—you two have a real nice Valentine's Day dinner.” Then his expression turned serious. “Be careful after dark, though—I hear we have a pervert on the loose, some naked guy scaring women and little kids.”
Alan frowned, but at least Pam managed to restrain herself until the man had walked away. “Pervert?” She threw her head back and laughed. “Is that what the ‘P' stands for?”
“Ha, ha, very funny.”
“Here,” she said, handing him the envelope and wiping her eyes. “You and Robin have a nice evening.”
“Robin?” He shook his head. “I've spent all the time with her today that I want to. What about Enrico?”
“Somehow I don't think he'd be much of a dinner companion,” she said, and Alan got her meaning loud and clear the man was a lover, not a talker. He tried to stern the jealousy that flooded his chest, but the thought of Pam with another man was crushing. Had she rendezvoused with the hairy homdog last night or this morning—or both?
“Looks like we're stuck with each other, then,” he said with a casual shrug that belied the emotions raging through him.
“Looks like it,” she said, falling a little short of looking happy at the prospect herself.
 
PIER TWENTY-EIGHT was bustling with couples celebrating Valentine's Day. Boasting a large bar, a roving Italian quartet and a great oceanside view, Pam could see why. As they waited at the bar for their table, she noticed Alan's gaze lingering on her again. Although she had hoped his little diversion with Robin would ease the situation, she had felt more on edge than ever while they were getting ready for dinner.
Just to be safe, she had emerged from the bathroom already dressed in a simple deep pink sleeveless sheath, but she'd felt him watching her while she piled her hair on her head with various combs. And she had to admit she struggled to keep her attention elsewhere while he applied lotion to his reddish shoulders before donning a dress shirt.
He did look fabulous, she decided, and allowed herself a bit of pride to be on his arm tonight. When they had attended functions together in Savannah, it had been different—everyone knew he was devoted to Jo, so Pam had never entertained thoughts of what kind of couple she and Alan might make. But now she knew they were garnering a fair share of attention, and she conceded they looked like a classic “match”: tall with blond hair and glowing tans. But looks could be deceiving, she noted with a little twist of her heart.
“Well, if it isn't the newlyweds,” a man's voice said behind her. Pam registered Alan's slight flown before she turned to see Cheek and Lila, the senior-citizen couple who, thankfully, they hadn't seen naked in a while.
“Cheek,” Lila said with a motherly smile. “They're not married, remember? They're just friends, right?”
“Right,” Alan and Pam said in unison.
“Wasn't it a lovely day?” Lila continued, waving vaguely toward the beach.
“Great dress.” Cheek said bluntly, talking to Pam's breasts.
“Er, thanks,” Pam said as Alan cleared his throat.
“You're getting a nice tan,” Lila commented.
“I was on the beach all day,” Pam told her.
“This beach?” Cheek asked in amazement. He leaned forward then glanced around as if he were about to divulge military secrets. “There's a nude beach about twenty miles away,” he said in a conspiratorial tone. “It's five bucks a head, but it's worth it,” he finished with an emphatic curt nod.
“We'll keep that in mind,” Alan said tightly.
The man turned to Pam and said, “If you decide to go, we'd be glad to give you a ride.”
“I said,” Alan said, his tone louder and his expression harder, “we'll keep it in mind.”
“Great,” Cheek said, completely missing the rebuff. “You want to see if we can get a table for four?”
“No!” Pam and Alan nearly shouted together.
“Uh, it's a very special occasion for us,” she said with a smile, leaning into Alan.
He put his arm around her waist and nodded. “We really wanted to be alone tonight.”
“Oohhhhhhh,” Lila sang, her eyes twinkling and her finger wagging. “Friends indeed! Do I hear wedding bells?”
Pam scrambled for something to say to get rid of the couple without embarrassing Alan further. “I guess you could say it was the idea of wedding bells that brought us to Fort Myers, right, Alan?”
He hesitated only a few seconds. “Oh...right.”
Lila laughed delightedly. “Dingdong, dingdong.” Her head bounced left, then right.
Pam tingled at the intimacy and awkwardness of the conversation. Thankfully, their name was called and they said a hasty goodbye.
“
Talk
about dingdongs,” Alan muttered as they followed a waiter to their table.
“They're harmless,” she said, waving off his concern.
“They should be somewhere playing shuffleboard instead of scaring up entertainment for a nude-beach matinee,” he said as he held out her chair.
The waiter handed them their menus, took their wine order and left.
Pam laughed and opened her menu. “Percy,” she said.
“What?”
“Your middle name—Percy?”
He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “No.”

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