Part 15 (1/2)

”I've listened to the weather report for tomorrow,” Matt said, ”and it's supposed to be a nice day. Neither of you should have this problem tomorrow.”

”How come you didn't get sick?” Lincoln asked.

Matt shrugged. ”Everybody's different. I grew up here, and I've been around boats all my life. Nothing fazes me. But my brother, he gets sick on the Small World ride at Disneyland. He moved to Iowa so he wouldn't have to deal with water anymore.”

”I'll bet Disneyland's cool.” Lincoln looked wistful.

”You haven't been there?”

”Not yet.” Lincoln glanced over at Annabelle. ”I don't know if Mom told you, but planes freak her out. She's all, If G.o.d had meant us to fly he would have given us wings.” He flapped his hands for emphasis.

”She told me.”

”Don't you think that's kind of weird?” Lincoln shot her a quick look. ”No disrespect, Mom, but, like, everybody flies these days. It's safer than driving your car.”

”But if your car starts misbehaving, you can pull over to the side of the blessed road!” Annabelle said. ”It's not like you can park an airplane on a cloud.”

Matt cleared his throat. ”To be honest, I'm not crazy about flying myself. Only do it when I have to. Now, how about some Seven-Up for both of you? If that goes down, we can move on from there.”

”Thank you. That would be very nice.” Annabelle was impressed. Even though Matt didn't like her, he'd come to her aid. Then he'd cleverly changed the subject. From her point of view he was not only handsome, but sensitive to other folks' feelings. Either his ex-wife was a very silly woman or Matt hadn't revealed his bad habits yet. Of course he had some-everyone did-but they'd have to be mighty black to offset his good points.

”I guess Seven-Up would be cool,” Lincoln said.

Annabelle lifted her eyebrows in warning.

”Yes, thank you,” he added quickly.

Annabelle sighed. She had an uphill battle, because if Lincoln was polite around his friends they'd make fun of him and call him a wussy. She'd listened to him belching and wisecracking when he thought she couldn't hear him.

But that behavior wouldn't wash when he was around her. She couldn't let him slide into disrespectful ways or, worse yet, behavior that reminded her of the Hollow. She sometimes wondered if he'd somehow inherited the unpolished ways of the folks in the Hollow. But that couldn't be true, or Genevieve would be like that, too, and she wasn't. She was such a good girl. Annabelle's heart contracted as she thought of her tender young daughter out there in some kind of danger, scared and cold, needing her mama.

Genevieve's heart beat fast enough to keep time with ”The Orange Blossom Special.” Even though she'd insulted Jack's ability to satisfy a woman, he still wanted to take a shot at satisfying her. ”I won't offer you pointers or anything,” she said.

”Why not?” He took his gla.s.ses off. ”I don't pretend to be perfect at this.”

She swallowed. They were really going to do it. And what was even more amazing, she really wanted to. The steady beat of the rain and the smell of woodsmoke took her back to her days in the Hollow, back when she'd first discovered exciting things about her body. She'd lost some of that thrill along the way, but here, with Jack, the specialness was there again.

Although she knew it wasn't true, she felt like a virgin. ”I don't pretend to be perfect, either.”

”You'd better put these in your suitcase.” He held out the gla.s.ses. ”And get out-”

”I will.” She took the gla.s.ses without looking at him. As she'd imagined this event taking place, she hadn't figured on feeling shy. Maybe it was the manly way he'd defended himself when she'd insulted him. In that moment he'd stopped being b.u.mbling Jackson and turned into forceful Jack again. She was beginning to cherish that unexpected side of him, and when he acted like that, she got weak in the knees.

They seemed to be on either ends of a seesaw. If one of them was feeling full of vinegar, the other one turned into a bowl of cornmeal mush. Then, in a little while, they'd trade places. It was the strangest thing. Right now she was in the mush stage.

She took out the condom and then couldn't decide where to put it.

”Just set it beside the beach towel,” Jack said, his voice soft.

She laid it in the sand near one end of the towel. Then she reached for another piece of driftwood and gave it to him. ”Put this on, so the ... so the fire won't go out.”

”I can't believe we need this fire.”

She gathered her courage and looked over at Jack. His skin glistened. Except for the fact that he had chest hair, he looked like a bodybuilder after a workout. ”We'll need it... later.”

He stared at her.

”We will, Jack. You'll cool off eventually.”

”I don't think so.”

She had a picture of Jack constantly hot, constantly wanting her. It made her tingle all over. ”What now?”

”I think we have to make this one up as we go along.” He smiled, slow and easy. ”It's not your average s.e.x scene.”

That smile turned her inside out. Set against his dark beard, his teeth flashed whiter than ever. She wanted him to kiss her, and she wanted it to happen in the next two seconds or she might pa.s.s out from antic.i.p.ation.

”You need to come closer,” she said.

”I know. But before I get closer and forget everything-”

”You'll forget everything?” She liked the idea that he'd go crazy with l.u.s.t and turn into some wild beast. She well remembered the feeling of being ravished when he'd kissed her the first time.

”It could happen. I want you pretty bad.”

She looked down at his crotch and discovered he did want her pretty bad. That worked her up even more.

”There's the sand issue,” he said.

She wished he'd stop jawing and do something constructive with his mouth. Like kiss her. ”That's why I spread out the towel.”

”I know, but there's only room for one of us, so the other one has to be on top. All things considered, maybe that should be you. Then you can-”

”Are you fixing to talk me into an o.r.g.a.s.m?” As hot and bothered as she was getting, he might be able to do it, but that wasn't what she had in mind. She was thinking about a little foreplay.

”I don't want you to get sand up your-” He gulped as she pulled one strap of her dress down over her arm.

She pushed down the other strap and folded her dress down to her waist. ”You were saying?”

He looked like he'd been smacked upside the head with a two-by-four. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

”You should come closer, Jack. I know you can't get a good view from where you're sitting. You're a little blurry to me, so I must be blurry to you.”

Slowly, as if he'd been drugged, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled toward her. Gradually his face came into clear focus and she could see his eyes. The blue was nearly covered up by pupils wide with l.u.s.t. Now he was in the bowl of mush stage.

”Don't worry about the sand just yet,” she whispered.