Taking It All Off

With trembling fingers, she reached for the zipper on her dress. What if he did walk out and find her half-dressed? Would he think her so undesirable then?

She hurriedly stripped and donned the swimsuit, then hung the sundress in the closet and deposited her dirty clothes in a side pocket of her suitcase. The last thing she wanted was to leave her underwear around for Jake to find.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he had a beach towel over one shoulder. He scarcely glanced at her, but went to his bag and took out a digital camera. “I’m going to take a few preliminary shots.”

He left without saying goodbye. Glynna stared after him, then sank onto the end of the bed. With Jake gone, the cottage felt too quiet and still. She stared at the painting across from the bed. It depicted a couple walking hand in hand into the sunset. The romantic image mocked her. When was the last time she’d had anything approaching romance in her life? Where was the man who was going to sweep her off her feet and make her forget about work and her father and all the stress in her life?

The men she usually met were either business associates of her father, whom she’d known since she was a toddler, or society playboys whose idea of romance was an expensive dinner at a trendy restaurant, followed by discreet and polite sex. Where were the men who could bring excitement and adventure into her dull existence?

Men like Jake Dawson. The thought sent a tremor through her. Maybe spending the weekend in this cottage with him wasn’t such a smart idea. The very fact that he was so different from every other guy she knew acted as a kind of aphrodisiac. How else to explain her sudden attraction to a man who was so clearly not right for her?

She hugged her arms across her chest and frowned at the happy couple in the picture. If Jake knew what she was thinking about him, he’d probably tell her she was out of her mind. “Imagine that,” she said out loud. “Something he and I could agree on.”

JAKE HAD TO GET out of the cottage before he did something he knew he’d regret. He must have been out of his mind to think he could spend a weekend in close quarters with the ice princess.

Not that she was as cold as he’d thought. In fact, he suspected a hot woman lurked just below the surface. Those were exactly the sort of suspicions he knew would land him in trouble.

The best thing to do, he told himself, was to concentrate on work. Looking at the world through the lens of a camera had given him the perspective to deal with problems in the past. And it had given him goals and hopes and dreams that went beyond the oil fields and cow pastures he’d grown up in. All he had to do was keep looking through that lens, keep taking his pictures, and he’d end up where he wanted to be, in New York, seeing his work on gallery walls and in expensive coffee-table books. He still had a lot to do to get there, and he couldn’t let a woman like Glynna McCormick mess with his head and distract him from his goals.

He took some shots of the line of cottages, the flower-filled gardens and the shady palapas. Later he’d view these pictures and decide which scenes and angles would be worth pursuing with his large-format Sinar. He photographed couples lounging by the pool, laughing together on the volleyball court and embracing in the surf. The cynic in him wondered if everyone was really as happy and in love as they looked.

The couple in the ocean parted and began walking down the beach. Jake approached them and introduced himself as a photographer for Texas Style. “We’re doing a story on the resort and I just took your picture,” he said. “Could I ask you a few questions?”

The woman smiled. “We’re going to be in a magazine?”

“I can’t promise anything, but maybe.” He dug in his pocket for the pencil stub and scratch pad he always carried. “Your names?”

“Rich and Emily Spencer,” the man said. He was young, midtwenties, with already thinning brown hair and a crooked nose.

“What brings you to La Paloma?” Jake asked.

“We’re on our honeymoon.” Emily leaned closer to Rich. “Isn’t this the most fabulous place?”

“Uh-huh.” His attention was distracted by a woman who was walking down the beach toward them. She moved with feline grace along the edge of the waves, her long dark hair blown back over one shoulder, the sun illuminating her skin with a golden glow.

“Do you know her?” Rich asked, following Jake’s gaze.

He nodded. “She’s the writer I’m working with on this piece.”

“Lucky you,” Rich said, earning a fierce look from Emily.

“Yeah,” Jake mumbled. “I’m lucky all right. Just one lucky dog.”

GLYNNA TOLD HERSELF she should be interviewing happy couples, talking to the staff or at least reading through the press kit Marcie had left for her. Instead, the sun and surf had induced an unfamiliar languidness. She strolled the beach, savoring the heat of the sun on her skin and the caress of water against her ankles, inhaling the coconut perfume of suntan lotion and admiring the florescent colors of flowers spilling from planters throughout the grounds. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stopped long enough to enjoy such simple things.

Not that she could totally relax. She still had the article to write, and she still had to deal with Jake. The thought of him sent a rush of envy through her. For all she pretended to disapprove of him, she wished she could borrow a little of his don’t-give-a-damn attitude. She’d held back her own feelings so long, it had become second nature to her. Her father didn’t condone “un-seemly” behavior. He had taught her that to be a lady and a professional meant remaining cool and unaffected in any situation.

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….