“Come on, Samantha.” Tommy sounded more like ten than twenty when he
whined. “You and Ryan would be great in the promo video.”
“Promo video? I’m not
into anyone capturing me on film.” Ryan drummed his fingers on the
counter while awaiting his change.
“Count me out, too.
Too many people will watch that commercial. I’ve excess pounds to
shed.”
“Shit, Samantha.” Jim
shoved the bag containing Ryan’s crimson and black aqua shoes across the
slab of rough wood serving as the counter. “You’re built better than
most of those girls in the skin magazines. We’d make a killing off that
commercial.”
“And just where would
he come into the picture?” I jerked a finger in Ryan’s
direction, but he’d stepped back several paces.
Tommy grinned and
gulped the last of the orange soda. “He’ll play Santa. Santa on a
surfboard with his sexy helper.” The glass met with the counter. “And
if you wanna ace the article on surfer’s sex lives, you gotta lose your
uptight attitude.”
“Uptight? Tommy, you
don’t know enough about my recent past to pass judgment. And you can
get some other woman to play in the promo. I’m not interested.”
“You will once you see
the final figure I tallied last night for the quarterly sales. You
promised you’d help us in any way possible.” Tommy pinned me with those
pleading puppy-dog blues. “We’re heading toward another loan.”
Friends must come
before your fickleness, Samantha. Much as I hated the thought of
displaying my bikini-clad body on local television, Tommy had given me
free room and board over the past couple weeks. And he tuned the engine
of my 1998 Saab without asking a cent in return.
I crooked my finger at
Ryan. “Santa and I need a few moments to sort this out.”
*****
Ryan sidestepped a few
of the shop’s early browsers. “I’ll bet you’ve never lost a debate.”
His tanned and shaven face screwed into a scowl. “That was dirty play
using my date with you tonight as leverage.”
“Anything for my best
friend’s son. Allison was always there for me, now it’s my turn to
repay her by helping out Tommy.” I passed him the mended neck chain.
Plunging my hand into the beach bag, I dropped the tweezers. At
reaching the bottom, I pulled out the tube of gloss, unscrewed the cap,
and swiped the wand over my pout.
“You appear a woman
who always given more than she’s received.”
How did he know? I replaced the
gloss and feigned interest in the shop’s boogie board display. “Maybe
I’ll get one of those.”
“You’re not interested
in those, only in changing the subject. Don’t look now, but you’re
blushing.” He sidled closer, his bare feet creaking at contact with the
rough-hewn floorboards. “Don’t try playing the saint, Samantha. I’ll
bet you have a bad-girl side just waiting to come out during some
surfing shoot? That is, if I agree to participate.”
“Bad girl? Me? Guess
you’ll have to wait and find out once we’re wet. Now, about that male
perspective for my article…”
*****
White foam capped the
waves as they slammed together and formed a higher crest. My toes sank
into the warm sand with each step, and the incoming surf kissed my
toes. I reached down and adjusted the heart-link chain resting above my
ankle.
“You’re babying your
right ankle when you walk.” Ryan’s arm caught around my shoulders and
squeezed. The tension of his embrace stopped me in my mucky tracks.
At turning, my breasts brushed
against his water-speckled chest. “It’s just the undercurrent pulling
me sideways.”
His nose bumped
against mine, and the scent of coconut filled my tingling nostrils.
“Don’t think so. Let’s go back to the blanket where I can check out
your ankle better.”
“Are you sure it’s my
ankle your interested in?”
A gull swooped and sailed past,
chattering at us for getting in its path.
“If you don’t listen
to the voice of reason, I’ll pick you up and carry you back.”
I stiffened my legs
and dug my toes deeper into the silt and sand. “Who’s going to help
you?”
Despite my playing
statue, Ryan’s strong arms hauled me heavenward and cradled me against
his chest. “No one. I can handle you all by myself.”
Whoa handsome. Hit
rewind. I just ended a long-term relationship six months ago. Still,
a little flirting never hurt anyone.
“What makes you think
I’ll consent to your inspection of my ankle or anything else?”
He jostled me and
lengthened his stride. “If I don’t miss my guess, that towel of yours
says it all. You’re a woman who lives for adventure. One who thrives on
challenges. And I could be your biggest challenge, Samantha Bradley.”
At reaching the
terrycloth towel emblazoned with the words Born to be Wild in
fuchsia and backed with a tropical sunset, Ryan let me down easy.
“Maybe? Maybe not?”
“The only thing I read
better than blueprints is you.”
And I was making that
task far too easy for him. I sat down, reached back and grabbed one
handle of the beach bag. Turning around, I stared straight into the
blinding sun, swung my arm up for protection, and dumped the entire
contents of the tote onto the beach towel.
Flopping onto my side,
I gritted my teeth as his hand zeroed in on the one item I’d always kept
to myself. At my sharp intake of breath, he smiled and stroked along
the silver casing of the slim remote-control bullet of my clit vibe.
Underneath my floral pareo, it always remained concealed for any other
living soul, and the pounding and swish of the surf drowned out its low
hum. Today, my secret to satisfaction might as well have appeared on
every billboard between here and Los Angeles. My cheeks flamed.
“Reading a book, huh?
Working on writing an article?” He leaned closer, dragged the metal
bullet over the back of my hand and thrust it between my fingers. “Do
you turn up the volume at the end of each chapter or closer to the
climax?”
I snatched the
bullet. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
No sooner did that
challenge leave my lips, than his body blotted out the sun and pinned
mine to the towel. “Are you challenging me?”
JINGLE
BELL ROCK
Since childhood, reading
works of fiction has been my favorite pastime. My beloved late mother and I
shared many special moments as we swapped stories about recent books we’d
read. She always encouraged me to strive for success and to be true to
myself and my dreams. Of course, romance fiction is near and dear to my
writer’s heart. Literary fiction also appeals to my sense of art and the
written word. Timeless tales such as TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, THE GREAT GATSBY
and THE GRAPES OF WRATH are among those on my bookshelf. 