Too late she’d discovered such behavior also meant you often stood alone, unapproachable.
She stopped as she neared a row of beach lounge chairs. A couple shared one chair, their bodies entwined. They looked into one another’s eyes, then kissed. They couldn’t stop touching each other. She clasped her arms across her chest, staggered by a fierce longing for someone to hold her that way.
As she turned to walk down the beach once more, a heated sensation crept over her, like a warm caress. She looked up and found Jake standing a little way up the beach with a young couple.
His eyes met hers and awareness arced between them, their bodies acknowledging an attraction their minds didn’t want to admit. Her first instinct was to turn away, but she fought that and held his gaze. He raised one eyebrow, questioning. She continued to look at him, silently daring him to come to her, to court these dangerous feelings and see what would happen next.
3
JAKE WAS THE FIRST to look away. He turned as if to walk in the opposite direction, but Glynna hurried after him. “Jake, wait up,” she called. “I’ve been looking for you.”
He stopped and let her catch up with him, his expression unreadable as he looked out at the ocean. “What have you been doing?” she asked, slightly out of breath.
“I took a few establishing shots of the grounds. Saw some good possibilities for illustrations for the article.” He turned to stare at the resort spread out along the shore. “This is sure some place. It has a spa, a sauna, four hot tubs, two swimming pools, a gym, four restaurants, two bars and a karaoke club.” He shook his head. “Every luxury money can buy.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
He looked at her at last, the warmth gone from his eyes. “I don’t have anything against money. I just object to the attitude so many wealthy people have that because they have bucks, they deserve special treatment.”
“Is that why you don’t like me? Because you think I’m some rich bitch?”
To her surprise, he smiled. “Who said I didn’t like you?”
She curled her fingers against her palm as she fought the urge to slap him. Not because his remark had offended her, but because he was so annoyingly contrary. Just when she was working up a good head of righteous indignation or anger, he would disarm her by saying something nice. “I never know what to think of you,” she said truthfully.
“And I never know what you’re thinking.” He held out his hand. “What say we call a truce? We’re here in this man-made paradise for the weekend. Why not make the best of it?”
She slipped her hand into his, a curious lightness overtaking her at his touch. She nodded. “You’re right. And I…I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier. I’m just…a little tense, I guess.” She looked around them, at the sugar-white beach and the aquamarine ocean, the lacy palm trees and the lounging couples. The sun warmed her skin, melting away the tension. Her real life seemed very far away. “Being here has made me realize how much I need to relax.”
He continued to hold her hand long after she would have pulled away. “I know just what you need.” He strode across the sand, pulling her along with him.
“Wait!” She stumbled, hurrying to keep up with him. “Where are we going?”
“To the bar. We’ll have you relaxed in no time.”
WHY HADN’T HE noticed before what a great smile she had? Jake sat on a bar stool next to Glynna, watching as she twirled the miniature paper parasol in her glass of rum punch. She had small, even white teeth and full, pink lips. Luscious lips, made for kissing.
He straightened and blinked. Where the hell had that thought come from? He looked down and discovered his own glass was empty. He shoved it across the bar. He’d better slow down, if his mind was taking off in wild directions like that.
She shifted to sit with her back to the bar, facing out toward the ocean. The bar itself was open to the elements on three sides, so that the sea breeze brought the smell of salt and suntan oil and the shouts and cheers from the volleyball game to them. “To think I didn’t want to come here,” she said.
“Why didn’t you want to come?” he asked. Not that he’d jumped at the chance to take the assignment. He had too many other irons in the fire to spend a weekend at the beach.
“I don’t usually write fluff pieces like this.” She looked at him over the rim of her glass. “And I have so much work to catch up on, and errands and…stuff.” She laughed. “Meaningless stuff.” She sipped her drink, making long slurping sounds as she drained it. She giggled. “And I thought it wouldn’t be fun.”
He told himself he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t hold back the chuckles. This was a different Glynna McCormick than he’d ever seen. Away from the office and out of those severe suits she always wore, she was softer, funnier…and sexy as hell.
He was a fool for agreeing to spend the weekend with her without putting his hands on her. His gaze moved over the curve of her breasts at the neckline of the swimsuit top, to the smooth triangle of thigh showing at the slit of her sarong. She was a woman made for touching, and he was a man not used to denying himself.
If he wasn’t already crazy, he was liable to be half-insane before the weekend was over. Maybe he should sleep on the beach….
“Tell me about the nude photos.”
The question startled him from his musings. He stared at her. “What nude photos?”
She laughed. “The ones that fell out of your bag at the office the other day.” She leaned toward him. “Are you freelancing for Playboy or something?”
He coughed. “Yeah, right. If Playboy was knocking on my door, I wouldn’t need this gig.”
“Then what were they for?”
He shifted on the bar stool, picked up his empty glass and set it down again. “It’s for a show at a gallery downtown. A series of photos of artistic nudes.”
“You mean a gallery showing of just your photos?”
He nodded, watching her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not a big gallery, but if the work sells well, it could lead to bigger things.”
“I doubt very many photographers get their own showings. I’m impressed.” She opened and closed the parasol, sliding it in and out of her fingers. “It was a beautiful photo. Who was the model?”
“The wife of a friend of mine. He came with her to the shoot and I agreed to give them prints in lieu of a modeling fee.” He shrugged. “You do what you have to when you’re paying your dues.”
“And what are you paying your dues for? I mean, where do you want to go with this?”
“I’d like to go on to exhibit nationally. To be represented in New York, be one of the top names in art photography.”
“You have the talent. I guess all you need now is luck.” Her voice was breathy, wistful.
He leaned toward her. “What about you? Do you do other writing besides your work for the magazine?”
She shrugged. “I have some investigative pieces I’m working on. But I’m so busy I don’t really have time to devote to them.”
“If you could do anything, be anything, what would it