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successful writers were. You're not conceited or condescending. You don't even act like a successful
writer."
"I wouldn't have a clue," she replied. "And I'll tell you something. I know a lot of successful writers.
They're all nice people."
"Not all of them."
She shrugged. "There are always one or two bad apples in every bunch. But my friends are nice."
"Do they all write mysteries?"
She shook her head. "Some are romance authors, some write science fiction, some write thrillers. We
talk over the Internet." She cleared her throat. "Actually a number of us talk about the villain on that
science fiction series. We think he's just awesome."
He chuckled. "Lucky for me I look like him, huh?"
She laughed and pushed him. He caught her and rolled over, poised just above her with his face
suddenly serious. 'That isn't why you're attracted to me, is it?" he asked worriedly.
"I think maybe it was, at first," she admitted.
"And now?"
She bit her lower Up. "Now..." His thumb moved softly over her mouth, her chin. "Now?"
Her eyes met his and the impact went right through her. Her lips parted. "Oh, glory," she whispered
unsteadily.
"Oh, glory," he agreed, bending.
He kissed her in a way he never had before, his mouth barely touching hers, cherishing instead of
demanding. His arms were warm but tender, the pressure of his long, powerful body not at all
threatening.
When he lifted his mouth, hers followed it, her dazed eyes lingering on his lips.
His breathing was as ragged as hers. He touched her face with quiet wonder. It was in his eyes, too, the
newness of what he was feeling. He looked odd, hesitant, uncertain.
"I don't have a dime," he said slowly. "Maybe I'll make my fortune back, maybe I won't. You could end
up with a computer programmer working for wages."
Her heart jumped. "That sounds like you're talking about something permanent."
He nodded. "Yes."
"You mean.. .as in living together."
"No."
She blushed. "Sorry, I guess I jumped the gun..."
His fingers pressed against her lips. He struggled for the right words. "It's too soon for big
decisions," he said, "but you might start thinking about marriage."
She gasped.
Her reaction hit him right in his pride. Obviously she hadn't even considered a permanent life with
him.
He cursed and rolled away from her, getting to his feet. He stared out toward the kids, toward the sea,
his hands stuck deep in his pockets.
She didn't understand his odd behavior. She got up, too, hesitating.
He glanced at her uneasily. "I'm thirty-eight," he said.
"Yes, I...I know."
"You're twenty-four," he continued. "I suppose your professor is closer to the right age. He's got a
degree, too, and he fits in with your family." His eyes went back to the ocean.
She felt a vulnerability in him that made her move closer. "But I don't love him, Canton."
He turned slowly. "I like the way you say my name," he said softly.
She smiled hesitantly. "I like the way you say mine," she replied shyly. Her eyes fell. "Are you sorry
you mentioned marriage?"
He moved a step closer. "I thought you were."
Her eyes came up.
"You gasped," he said curtly. "As if it were unthinkable"
"You'd only just said a few days ago that you never wanted to get married again " she explained.
"A man says a lot of things he doesn't mean when a woman's got him tied up in knots," he murmured.
"God in heaven, can't you see how it is with me? I want you. But I'm not in your league educational-
wise, and I'm flat busted. My wife left me for someone who was better in bed. I'm pushing forty.. .what
are you doing?"
Her hands were busy on the front of his shirt, working at buttons. "Taking your clothes off," she said
simply. She looked up with wide green eyes. "Do you mind?"
He didn't seem to be able to speak. His mouth was open.
She pushed the shirt aside, over the expanse of thick hair and hard muscle. He wasn't darkly tanned,
but he was sexy. He smelled of spices. She smiled and buried her face in his chest, pressing her lips to
it.
He shivered.
She looked up, still caressing him slowly. "You've seen me without any clothes at all, although my
head was hurting too much at the time for me to enjoy it. Turnabout is fair play."
"It's a public beach," he noted, barely able to speak.
"You proposed:"
"I didn't," he protested huskily. "I said I wanted you to think about it."
Her eyes went back to his chest. He was moving helplessly against the slow caress of her fingers. "I've
thought about it."
"And?"
"I like kids." She looked up. "I'd like several. I make a good living writing books. I can take care of
the bills until you settle on what you want to do, or while you make your fortune back. I'm good at
budgeting, and Karie likes me. I like her, too."
He couldn't get his breath. "You're driving me mad," he said through his teeth.
Her eyebrows lifted. Her eyes darted to the movement of her hands on his bare chest and back up
again to his stormy eyes. "With this?" she asked, fascinated. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]