Sex On The Beach

They’d nearly finished dessert by the time she worked up the nerve for another attempt. Sliding her foot out of her flip-flop, she edged it forward under cover of the table until her toes encountered something firm, warm...another foot. Bingo.

Flush with success, she didn’t grasp the significance of the puzzled expression on Julie’s face, and only realized her mistake when her friend jerked her feet up, clutching her knees to her chest and peering sideways under the table.

“I think something just crawled over my foot!”

Alan ducked under to look, too. “I don’t see anything. Was it a bug or something?”

“I don’t know. Not a bug, something bigger. Gah!”

People at the neighboring tables were looking their way, a general groundswell of consternation beginning to surge from the epicenter that was Amanda’s hotly blushing face.

“No, Jules. No, that was...uh, that was me. Sorry. Sorry, everyone.”

The crowd’s attention slipped away, but Julie’s was suddenly focused on Amanda.

“The fuck?”

“I was...stretching?” No effect. “Just, you know, making fists with my toes. Like a reflexology thing. Trying to relax. Still kind of have a headache.” If she threw enough options out there, one of them was bound to help eventually. Apparently it was the headache bit.

“Oh, honey. Why didn’t you tell me? I thought it went away hours ago. And here we were eating seafood in front of you.”

Which would have been a problem, when the headache was still in full force. Now that it was just slinking around in the background, food and smells were no longer the enemy. “I’m fine. Really. It’s much better than it was. Sorry I startled you.” By accidentally playing footsie with you instead of Alan. God, what has my life become?

“You know the best place to make toe-fists?” Alan asked. “The beach. And fortunately for you...voila!” He gestured to his right, toward the expanse of sand and ocean next to the open-air restaurant. And then he smiled in a quite charming way, reminding Amanda just how cute he was.

Once the bill was settled, Julie and Alan dragged her out to the beach, the three amigos walking with linked arms, kicking up sand, laughing too loud. Alan’s body was warm against her shoulder, his T-shirt wicking away the light sheen of humidity on her skin. He was slimmer than her taste, but not in a scrawny way. He had a nice laugh and beautiful eyes. That charming smile. There were fruity umbrella drinks, moonlight on the water, the sand between their toes and the scent of exotic flowers in the air. There was a lot of romantic material handy, basically, and she could work with it. She would work with it.

Then it happened again. A random stranger by the water’s edge turned toward them and, even in the moonlight, Amanda thought she saw Jeremy’s face. Was she doomed to see him everywhere she went, even when she knew he was thousands of miles away? Even when she was finally, possibly, just maybe, about to get naked with somebody for the first time in almost a year?

Fuck.

The stranger stopped in his tracks, mouth falling open in surprise for a moment before he snapped it shut. He started to cross his arms over his chest, then stopped himself and put his hands in his pockets instead.

He didn’t just look like Jeremy. He was Jeremy. Here. In Hawaii. On her vacation.

The world shifted under her feet, the surprise and the alcohol combining to knock her awry. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Oh my God! He’s the mystery jogger!” Julie and Alan had stopped beside her, and now Julie’s words brought Amanda back to reality.

Alan sucked in a breath, a reverse hiss of awkwardness. “Whoa. This can’t be a coincidence.”

Amanda stepped away from him, feeling a chilly draft against the side of her body that he’d been keeping warm. She was suddenly disgusted with herself, with the idea that she’d been planning to use him for sex. With her own desperation, because one look at Jeremy was enough to prove that she wasn’t over him. Not even close. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Jeremy waved, clearly not willing to cross the final distance over the sand. Maybe he just didn’t want to encounter her friends. He had probably been planning to approach her when she was alone, maybe to send a note or something. It was clear he hadn’t expected to see her there on the beach at that particular moment.

Damn, he looked good. She’d never seen him with a buzz cut before, and was surprised by how well it flattered him, gave him an almost military edge. Although that might have also been the muscles, which were also new and a surprise. Jesus, what were they feeding them in Seattle? How was she ever going to resist that? She’d had a hard enough time thinking straight around the old Jeremy, the one who was starting to develop a soft belly because he spent all his time in front of the computer. She’d found him hot enough back then, and got giddy from the attention he gave her. Now that he looked like a Daniel Craig body double, she was doomed. Doomed.

Because he hadn’t come all the way to Hawaii just to clear the air. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t want her to reconsider, would he? Maybe he thought she would magically want to move to Seattle now that she’d had time to regret her decision. Because that had been the only solution he’d been able to accept to their location problem, and that was why they weren’t married right now. Why she hadn’t seen him in ten months. Fuck.

“So...are you gonna go talk to him?” Julie asked. “Or do we all just stand here looking at each other across the sand? Awkwardly? Like we’re doing right now...”

“Fuck. I just wanted a damn vacation.” Amanda was pleading, but she wasn’t sure with whom. Herself, maybe? Jeremy, who had taken a hesitant step toward their uncomfortable little group? “And maybe some action. Was that really too much to ask? Really?”

“Oh, he’s coming over here. Please go talk to him.”

“Fuck.” As much as she dreaded talking to Jeremy, she didn’t want her friends to be part of the conversation. He’d stopped again, so it was apparently up to her to close the distance. Probably that symbolized some deeper truth about their relationship, but her brain was too muddled to decide on a meaning.

She had to go talk to him. Even with no idea what might ensue, she had to. So she went.

What the fuck are you doing here?

Are you out of your damn mind?

Who the hell does something like this?

Amanda’s mind was full of things she might say, possible approaches to her problem. What came out when she and Jeremy were finally face-to-face was, “Hi.”

“I can explain.”

“Okay...” Should she really even be listening to an explanation? Shouldn’t she just kick him to the curb? The breakup itself hadn’t been so egregious, mostly cold and full of sickening disappointment followed by intense sadness. But him showing up uninvited to her vacation was way over the top, getting into creepy-stalker territory. Damn, he looks good.

“Wow. All right. I had a whole thing planned out for tomorrow morning but I guess I can wing it.”

“That’d be great, if it’s not too much trouble. Wouldn’t want to put you out or anything.”

“No, it’s not—”

“Far be it from me to deviate once again from whatever script you had in mind for me.” She wasn’t sure where the rush of indignation came from after so much time, but she didn’t care. It felt good. She should have unleashed all this months ago instead of retreating into herself.

“I didn’t. There was no script.”

“On my vacation. What the fuck are you doing here?” Oh, there it is. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

She reined herself back in, startled but oddly satisfied to have actually said, for once, the stuff she’d thought up to say beforehand. The only thing she left out was, Who the hell does something like this? It was obvious; Jeremy did.

“I think I am a little out of my mind, yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the sand, scuffing a circle with one toe. No, not a circle. A question mark. “It all seemed like a much better idea before I actually got here.”

“How could this possibly seem like a good idea?” She knew how, though. Movies. Television. Novels, even the nonromantic kind. The hero swooped in with one big final gesture and rescued the heroine from a lifetime of loneliness. Their problems magically worked out, with a few minutes to spare at the end for a heartwarming final scene. “That was a rhetorical question.”

“Good, because I don’t have an answer.”

“I do. The grand gesture. The big finale where I realize how foolish I was to give up on love, then you sweep me off my feet and all is right with the world. Well, fuck that. This is not my finale, Jeremy. And all is most definitely not right with the fucking world. How did you even know...oh. God. Mom, right? Man, she’s lucky she’s a few thousand miles away right now.”

Her mother’s championship of Jeremy continued to baffle her. Of all people, Sandy ought to understand what it meant to Amanda to have a home base, to put down roots and not want to transplant herself. But to send him here on a fool’s errand was so many steps beyond too far, she didn’t even know if she could put her outrage into words. Unless the words were total betrayal.

“It’s not her fault,” he insisted. “I bought the ticket. It was my decision. I just...dammit. I wanted to make things right. Not—”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Not make things like they were, I’m not saying that. I know that isn’t possible or even advisable. But the way things ended, it wasn’t okay. I can’t make myself be okay with it. Something was missing, some piece I still don’t quite understand, and until I get it I can’t move on. I’m not saying any of this very well. I practiced so many times and now it’s all shot to shit.” He breathed out heavily, an audible puff of discontent, and his newly sculpted shoulders rose with tension. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Really? Because I’ve felt this way for months. I guess I’m just used to it now.”

She wondered if that was meant to be flattering. If his mental disarray was somehow supposed to indicate the depths of his passion for her, a love so strong that denying it was tantamount to madness. “And all the exercise isn’t helping?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. That.” He shrugged, looking sheepish. The gesture wasn’t as large as it might have been, because his shoulders were already so close to his ears. His jock posture had disintegrated back into programmer-slouch, making him look more like the Jeremy she remembered. A sexy gargoyle. “It’s not a big deal.”

The breeze shifted and Amanda wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of the drop in temperature. She was sobering up. “We should continue this indoors. Or at least let me put on something warmer.”

Her mistake, she realized as soon as the words left her mouth. The correct response to all of this craziness was to send the man packing, not invite him to hang around while she slipped into something more comfortable. Even if, as in this case, comfort had everything to do with temperature and nothing to do with seduction.

“I’ve missed you. You look really good.”

“You knew where to find me. I wasn’t the one who moved. And you look...good too.”

The way he looked didn’t matter, of course, but it would certainly give her something pleasant to gawk at while they were having what was sure to be a disastrous series of conversations. The prospect of eye candy wasn’t enough to keep her headache from switching back on.

She stepped off in the direction of her room, and after a few strides heard the faint crunching of Jeremy’s footsteps in the sand. As they passed the beach blanket dance party, she spotted Alan and Julie together near the edge of the crowd. Moving in tandem, laughing about something. They looked like a couple, but then that was nothing new.

She’d just drawn level with the last tiki torch when Jeremy snapped his fingers, cursing. He ran back to the tide line for his shoes, barely saving them from being washed away, and caught up to her at the edge of the greenery that marked the pathway to the cottages. The sprint hadn’t even winded him.

Apparently he’d used the time to think up something else to say.

“Did you have a good flight over?”

“Are we making small talk now?” Small talk wasn’t safe. The very fact that they could chat like that was an anomaly, something neither of them tended to do with anyone else. The first time she’d met Jeremy they’d ended up small-talking their way into an extended make-out session. It had all felt so natural, so easy. Like kissing was just another way to converse.

“Well, I kind of blew my chance to lead with the large talk.”

“Why don’t you just say what you were planning to say? Since you apparently rehearsed it and everything.”

“I don’t have the flowers.”

She shrugged. “If you were relying on vegetation to make the difference, you must not have thought much of your speech.”

Jeremy reached to one side, plucking a broad leaf from a hibiscus branch that snapped back with a rustle as the stem released. He presented his botanical prize to her with a wry flourish.

“For the lady.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“But I do. Aren’t we lucky? Okay, here’s the speech. I came here because it’s neutral territory. Because I was an idiot to leave when I did without insisting that we talk this through, and I thought maybe here we could do that without the distractions of work and wedding plans and family and every other damn thing. I didn’t tell you I was coming because I knew you wouldn’t agree to it. I’ve spent the last year accomplishing even more than I thought I could, but it’s all kind of meaningless because all I do is think about how I want to share it with you. I still love you, I still want to be with you. We are both really smart, and I know we can figure this out if we try. Please just give me these few days to try. And that is what I came here to say.”

Amanda twirled the leaf between her thumb and forefinger, trying to focus on the texture and the sharp, green smell rather than the way her heart was pounding, her stomach buzzing with emotions she couldn’t begin to identify. The row of cottages rose up before them like a sanctuary, a miraculous diversion from all the junk she was obviously in store for over the course of the trip.

“That’s my room over there. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

As if she needed reminding.

Chapter Three

Not one word. He’d said his spiel, poured his heart out in his own carefully measured way, and Amanda hadn’t responded at all except to say she’d be right back.

It could have been worse. She could have told him off some more, shoved the stupid leaf up his nose, kicked some sand on him and called hotel security about the scary leaf-nosed beach-stalker guy. Of course, she might also be in her room packing at that very moment, but he still felt confident enough to hope.

She looked so good, so good. He’d forgotten, like he always did, how deeply adorable she was. How her expressions sometimes punched him right in the gut, as if the two of them were connected in some weird cosmic way, so he was feeling whatever she felt. Soul mates or star twins or some idiotic thing like that. Mostly, it was all he could do not to grab her and kiss her. Make her understand the strength of his emotion by the time-honored methods of tonsil hockey and groping. Amanda made him stupid and he liked it, every dopey, eager, grunting-caveman second of it. He’d forgotten about that, too, but now he recalled how he inevitably became such a goofy, drooling puppy around her.

The near year of celibacy probably didn’t help with that. That bright red bikini, either. He pried his mind away from the tantalizing notion of peeling away those vivid scraps of nylon, untying the bright floral scarf that Amanda wore as a skirt, and just...damn. Just going to town, which he knew wasn’t going to happen. Not the way she’d reacted to seeing him. Not the way he’d fumbled the speech.

I blew it before I even got on the plane. Sure, now he realized that. But it was too late, he was already here and he’d already talked to her, so there was no way out but through.

When she emerged from the room, the bikini-and-scarf-skirt combo was absent, replaced by a pair of yoga pants, a T-shirt and a hoodie. Armor, Jeremy realized. Fair enough.

“We could go over to the bar in the lobby,” he suggested. “I think it’s still open.”

Amanda rubbed the bridge of her nose, drawing his attention to the fact that she’d also taken off her makeup. He liked that look on her, the unguarded clarity of her eyes and the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. “Yeah, fine, as long as they have coffee and more dessert there.”

“More dessert?”

“Don’t judge me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

In the split second before she turned to start toward the main building, he saw it. The crinkle at the corner of her mouth and eye, the barest hint of a smile. All his reason to hope, right there on her face in one fleeting instant.

The night air was full of life, the constant susurration of the tide and the influx of heady aromas on every breath of wind. Even the colors seemed brighter than back home. Cool, moonlit blues were broken by flashes of scarlet petals in the foliage, torchlit ambers flickering along the pathways. Despite the humid coolness, the general impression was sultry. Ludicrously tropical, flagrantly sensual.

The lobby seemed a little too bright and crisp after the walk, lacking in nuance. Jeremy steered Amanda toward a choice, dimly lit booth in the almost empty lounge area. A waitress appeared before he could backtrack to the bar to order, and at first he thought they were screwed because she said the kitchen was closed. Then a few words and a look of deep, girlie understanding passed between Amanda and the waitress, and suddenly a room-service menu was procured and some sort of confection ordered that involved chocolate ganache and macadamia nuts.

“And probably enough calories to feed a small country for a month,” Amanda said once the order was in progress. “But it’s a vacation, so fuck it.”

She pressed the bridge of her nose again, and Jeremy recognized her headache grimace. He’d taken the seat next to her in the booth, and it was automatic to reach out and palm the back of her neck, press the spots at the base of her skull where he knew some of the pain lived.

Her groan struck him hard, not just the sound but the way the breath caught in the back of her throat as the tension seeped from the tightly strung muscles under his hand. His touch had magical headache-curing properties, she’d explained more than once, some combination of the size of his hand and the heat and pressure that she’d never been able to duplicate. It made him feel useful and important, knowing he could help.

“Did you already take your stuff?”

Words broke the spell, and Amanda tightened up again. “Yes, when I was changing. I should be fine in a few minutes.”

If she’d caught it early enough. If it was just tension, eyestrain and sinuses, and not an actual migraine. “I’ll stop if you want me to. I wasn’t trying to start anything up, it was just habit.”

After a few seconds, she shrugged, wincing at the movement. “No, it’s fine. Um, thanks, I guess.”

“Well...put your head down. And try exhaling.”

She folded her arms on the table, lowering her head to her wrists with a sigh. Too tired to argue, it seemed. Which also explained the coffee and even the chocolate, which might trigger headaches for some but had always been curative for Amanda. Assuming she’d eaten enough protein at dinner, otherwise the sweets would make her throw up. He hoped that wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.

“I probably ought to be telling you to go perform a sex act on yourself right now,” she muttered a short while later, “but that feels too good. Damn you.”

It took superhuman willpower not to mention the other thing he used to do to help with her headaches. Volunteering to get her off for the endorphin hit was absolutely not allowable under these circumstances, and he knew that. No matter how willing he was to be selfless in that regard. Nothing orgasm-related was ever completely selfless, and his dick reminded him of that in clear terms that made him very glad he was sitting down and wearing loose shorts.

Down, boy. That isn’t what we’re here for.

He was having trouble remembering what he was there for. Touching Amanda—even if it was just on the neck—had turned everything physical, visceral. All he wanted now was to wrap her in his arms, hold her against his body. To sink into her, soul deep. He wanted to get that place of connection where words no longer applied.

Words were what he needed, though. They were the only way to reach that other, better place. He hadn’t planned anything beyond his initial speech, though, a horrible and uncharacteristic lack of preparation on his part. Maybe if he just started talking, eventually he’d say the right thing. Looking around for inspiration, his gaze lit on a row of giant banners on the opposite side of the lobby, larger-than-life photos advertising all the ways guests could spend more money and call it adventure.

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