Barefoot Season Part 26

"I went out on a fishing boat yesterday. I haven't done that in years." He glanced at her, amus.e.m.e.nt brightening his eyes. "Too many landlocked a.s.signments."

"You should have joined the navy."

"You didn't just say that."

"Sworn enemies?"

He leaned back in the chair. "Just not as good."

"Why do I think they'd say the same about you?"

"They probably would. Swabies are incapable of original thought."

"If you settle here, you can start going fishing regularly. Maybe get a boat."

"If I stay here, I can do a lot of things."

Was he flirting with her? She'd been single for so long, she wasn't sure. Between Gabby and work, there hadn't been time for a man, and it wasn't as if she was turning them away. Except for Robert and Leonard, most of the guys she met were with someone, away for the weekend. She was less enthused about dating local guys. She knew most of them from high school, which meant they had expectations she had no intentions of fulfilling. Anyone eligible who moved to the island was quickly snapped up. Not that she'd been looking or was interested.

"What are you thinking?" he asked. "You're frowning."

"Nothing important." Mentioning her pathetic lack of a love life seemed foolish. "How are you liking our town?"

"It's nice. Friendly people. You still have to show me around."

"Sure, just not today." She wiggled her toes. "There's not a part of me that doesn't hurt."

"You've been on your feet for three days, haven't you?"

Longer, she thought, ignoring the insistent throb. "It's part of the job."

Sam shifted from the seat to her ottoman. He grabbed her feet before he sat and rested her heels on his thighs. Even as she told herself to pull back, he had her right foot in his large hands and was expertly rubbing the tender skin.

She wanted to tell him to stop, that they were in plain view of everyone and this was hardly professional behavior. Then his thumbs dug into the ball of her foot, finding the place that hurt the most and ma.s.saging it.

"You're good," she whispered, holding in a moan.

"I've had practice."

"Those two wives you mentioned?"

He laughed. "Among others. You'd be amazed what a good foot rub will get a guy."

"Seduction through ma.s.sage?"

"Uh-huh."

He squeezed her toes, then pressed his thumbs into her heel.

"I can see how it would work," she murmured, closing her eyes and giving in to the treatment.

She would tell him to stop in a few minutes. She would pull herself together and be strong. But for now, she couldn't find it in herself to say no. Everyone had a vulnerability and apparently resisting foot rubs was hers.

She knew Sam's type-more from instinct than practice. He was charming and fun, in it for the moment. Not someone who would settle on one woman permanently. Not that she was looking for Mr. Right. But if she accepted what he was offering, she would have to remember that it was going to be fun while it lasted-nothing more.

He switched to her other foot, repeating the process and making her relax all over. Her eyelids got heavy and she found herself drifting again.

She was warm and comfortable, the sun playing peekaboo with the trees. A gentle breeze brushed against her skin. Soft laughter drew her back to the present.

She opened her eyes to find Sam standing.

"Come on," he said, holding out his hand.

"What?" She blinked, confused. Her shoes were back on. When had that happened?

"You're falling asleep. You need a nap."

"I can't. I have work to do."

"Not today."

She let him pull her to her feet. As she rose, she realized he wasn't that far away, which meant when she was standing, they were very, very close. Close enough for her to see the various colors of blue that made up his irises. Close enough to see the tiny scars on his eyebrow and chin. Close enough to feel the heat of his body. Heat that beckoned her, tempted her, made her want to walk a very dangerous path.

"Maybe I should lie down," she murmured, stepping away and trying to catch her breath.

This was crazy, she told herself. Sure, she hadn't been with a guy in a long time, but so what? She was used to doing without. Being around Sam wasn't a big deal. Only she found herself aware of every breath, of the slight brush of his arm against hers. Visions of being held by him, being touched by him, filled her brain. She wanted-no, craved-that skin-on-skin contact. A man over her, in her, taking her.

She shivered as the hunger became real. Talk about confusing. Despite her reputation, she'd never been very into s.e.x. Well, not counting today.

"Cold?" he asked, putting his arm around her. "Where are your keys? You okay to drive home? Should I take you?"

"I live here," she said. "In back."

Probably not the smartest thing to say, given her condition, she thought as he led her inside.

"Point the way," he told her.

She did and they went down the hallway. At the door marked Private she fumbled with the lock, then managed to open the door.

Sam guided her inside, then stopped in the middle of the room.

"Given the circ.u.mstances," he said, "I'm going to stop here. Getting you ready for bed would test me in ways that I would definitely fail."

He shifted in front of her and put his hands on her waist. "But when you're feeling better, I sure would like to have you show me around."

She wasn't sure if he meant the town or something more. She knew which she wanted to believe, but wondered if that was wishful thinking on her part.

He stared into her eyes and swore. "Just once more," he whispered. "You can slap me if you want, but I have to-"

He lowered his mouth to hers. Carly saw the kiss coming and had plenty of time to back away. To resist. As if that was going to happen, she thought, raising her arms and wrapping them around his neck.

She had a feeling he only intended to repeat the kiss from before, but she wasn't sure how long it would be before she had a man in her arms again, and she planned to take advantage of the situation.

When his mouth settled on hers, she was ready. She tilted her head and eased forward until they were touching everywhere.

G.o.d, he felt good. All hard planes and muscles. She'd forgotten what it was like to be held by a man, to have strong arms supporting her and a firm mouth brushing against her own.

It didn't take him long to get the message and deepen the kiss. She parted when she felt his tongue touch her bottom lip and met him stroke for stroke.

Between her legs, blood rushed so hot and fast, she practically hurt. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s swelled and her nipples were hard peaks of come-touch-me pain. Hunger exploded. Wanting grew, filling her, making her want to beg and claw. If she'd been able to consume him, she would have. As it was, she could only hold on and pray that kissing was going to be enough.

He drew back slightly and cupped her face in his hands. "Carly, are you-?"

Sure, ready, in the mood? She had no idea what he was going to say and she suddenly didn't give a d.a.m.n. She needed him now. Naked, ready and taking her as fast as possible. In case he was confused by her intent, she pulled off her V-neck sweater, tossed it aside, then undid her bra. After grabbing his hands, she put them on her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"You're my kind of woman," he whispered, before claiming her with a kiss that made her toes curl.

It turned out he was her kind of man, as well. He got her naked in about sixteen seconds, then locked the door, stripped off his own clothes and led her to the sofa.

He kissed her all over, lingering between her legs. She arched toward him, feeling the perfect rhythm of his tongue, then lost herself in an o.r.g.a.s.m that poured through her like liquid pleasure.

He moved to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, sucking deeply, teasing the hard tips, at the same time rubbing her c.l.i.toris with his fingers. She came again, this time longer and louder. When he finally fumbled in his jeans pocket for a condom, she caught her breath long enough to push him onto his back next to the coffee table.

He slipped on the protection; she straddled him and rode him until they were both groaning and breathless.

Sweat coated her back and between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She had a feeling she was flushed and a little raw in places. A quick glance at the clock told her less than ten minutes had pa.s.sed since she and Sam had walked in the room. She should probably be embarra.s.sed. And she would be. Tomorrow. Right now she felt too good.

She slid off of him and sat on the carpet. Clothes were scattered everywhere. The empty condom wrapper was by her knee. She picked it up and held it toward him.

"Former Boy Scout?"

He sat next to her, bare legs stretched out. "Tradition. I've had one with me since I was a hopeful teenager."

"It's not the same one, is it?"

He gave her a very satisfied grin. "No. Not that same one."

She knew that there were a couple of stretch marks from her pregnancy and that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s weren't as perky as they had been a few years ago. That her tummy wasn't flat, and hey, like most women alive, she hated her thighs. But right now she didn't care. Besides, Sam's body was good enough for both of them.

She knew she should probably say something. Explain that she didn't usually have s.e.x with strangers, nor was she usually so...o.r.g.a.s.mic. But then she decided it didn't matter. They were both single adults who'd used protection. It wasn't anyone's business but theirs.

"I need to get back to work," she said.

"You going to dress first? I'm not saying the male guests wouldn't love the show, but I'm not sure how their wives would feel."

"Good point. Clothes, then work."

He stood and helped her to her feet, then pulled her close and kissed her again.

"Thanks," he told her.

"You're welcome. I needed that."

"Anytime you need it again, just let me know."

"You're a giver."

"That's me."

She appreciated his lighthearted att.i.tude. Her mind was still in o.r.g.a.s.m fog, so she wanted to say as little as possible. Sam was great and she was thrilled by the close encounter, but wasn't sure she wanted or needed anything more. Better to err on the side of caution.

They dressed, then he kissed her one last time before slipping out. She would follow in a few minutes.

As she waited, she leaned against the door and smiled. That had been perfect, she thought, her legs still a little weak. No matter what else happened, today was going to be a very good day.

Monday night, Mich.e.l.le stayed late to go through the receivables for the weekend. Every aspect of the inn had done well. They'd put a lot of items in the gift shop on sale. Not huge discounts, but ten or fifteen percent. Those big sale signs had worked. They'd moved nearly three thousand dollars' worth of merchandise.

The restaurant had been jammed, with people in line for both breakfast and lunch. Carly had logged tickets in and out with the servers before every shift. From what Mich.e.l.le could see, they matched up perfectly with the cash register, so that was a relief. The inn's bank balance would be a happy number come the morning, which meant bills could be paid and the extra put away for winter.

Carly walked into her office, a bottle of red wine in one hand and two gla.s.ses in the other. She held up both.

"Come on," she said. "I'll buy you a drink."

Mich.e.l.le hesitated, then nodded and shut down her computer. She followed Carly out to the back patio.

It was nearly nine. The sun had just set and the sky was a blend of pinks and blues, with a bit of orange near the horizon. The air was still and not too cool.

A small table stood between two padded lounge chairs. On it were a wine opener and a plate of brownies.

"Nice," Mich.e.l.le said, taking a seat and stretching out her leg. The dull ache faded to something better than manageable.

"I was going to go to bed early," Carly admitted as she went to work on the bottle. "Gabby and I made these after dinner. She was exhausted from camp and went to bed but suddenly I wasn't tired." She handed Mich.e.l.le a gla.s.s of wine.

Carly settled into her lounger, then reached for a brownie. "No nuts," she said. "I remembered you don't like them."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Carly sipped her wine, then took a bite. "We had an amazing weekend."

"We did. The restaurant did great. I appreciate you following up on the tickets with the servers."

"All the money's accounted for?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good. I figured we'd have a big crowd. This was not the weekend to be losing money."