Taking It All Off

Glynna settled onto a cushioned bench in the bow and Jake sat beside her, his hip almost touching hers. She wanted to move over, but they were sandwiched between pairs of cuddling newlyweds, so she settled for avoiding looking at him, focusing instead on the white-capped waves scudding toward them. The wind had picked up, and she was forced to twist her hair to one side and hold it back to keep it from whipping into her eyes.

The motor started and the yacht eased out of the slip, then turned and headed across the bay. Glynna gasped as the boat rose and fell in the rough seas. Waves slapped against the hull and spray arched back over the bow, splashing her feet.

Her stomach rolled with the boat, and she wondered if skipping breakfast had been such a good idea. Then again, if she’d eaten, would she feel even worse?

She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, determined not to embarrass herself by being seasick in front of Jake and all these strangers.

“Don’t close your eyes.” His voice was soft in her ear as he took her hand in his.

Her eyes snapped open and she turned to stare at him. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t close your eyes. It’ll only make things worse.”

She pulled her hand from his and smoothed it down her knee. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it. You’re a sickly gray color and you’re sweating.” He put his hands on her shoulders and faced her forward. “Focus on the horizon, not the waves. That will help.”

She did as he suggested, though her stomach still threatened to betray her.

“You never answered me about the roses,” he said, his hands still on her shoulders, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. “Are they really your favorite?”

She blinked at this sudden change of subject and tried to think. “Dahlias,” she said after a moment. “I like dahlias.”

“Why do you like them?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head in annoyance. “What does it matter?”

“There must be a reason. Think.”

She tried to concentrate on the question and not on her queasy stomach or the tossing boat or the slapping waves. “My mother grew them,” she said after a moment. “I can remember her making arrangements of them. Even then I liked the bright colors. They’re…exotic. A little wild.”

He was silent for so long, she wondered if he’d heard her. She looked back at him and found him studying her, the corners of his mouth quirked up in the beginnings of a smile. “Exotic. I can see there’s more to you than I expected.”

She started to ask what he meant by that, but the engines shut off and seconds later, they bumped against the dock. He stood and offered her his hand. “There. You made it. Once you’re back on land, you’ll feel fine.”

She allowed him to pull her to her feet. Already, her stomach felt more settled. As his hand at her back guided her toward the front of the boat, understanding dawned. She stopped and turned to him. “All those questions about flowers—they were just to distract me, weren’t they?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes not thinking about sea-sickness helps.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, surprised and pleased to see this softer, gentler side of him. Maybe there was more to Jake than the sarcastic bad boy he played so well.

“You have a nice smile,” he said. “You should use it more often.”

Was he flirting with her? She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. She pulled her hand from his, the old awkwardness returning. “I…I guess we’d better get off of here.”

Laughing and talking, the other couples headed down a shell path toward a lattice-shaded building marked Reception, leaving Jake and Glynna alone. A tall, thin African-American woman with razor-cut hair and a figure-hugging white pantsuit stepped forward and greeted them. “You must be Jake and Glynna,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Marcie Phillips, director of marketing here at La Paloma. Welcome. We’re so glad you could join us for our grand opening.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing your operation here.” Glynna looked around them at the palm-shaded palapas, the rows of colorful sailboats lined up opposite a beach volleyball court and the marble-trimmed swimming pool ringed by lounge chairs filled with sunning couples. “This is quite a setup.”

“I’ve left press kits in your cottage, and of course, I’m available to answer any questions you might have while you’re here.”

She instructed them to leave their bags on the dock for the porter to bring later, and set off down a path. “I’ve put you in one of our deluxe cottages,” she said. “All of our accommodations are right on the beach and feature private whirlpool tubs and shaded verandas.”

Glynna hurried to keep up with Marcie’s brisk pace. “Excuse me,” she said. “Did you say one cottage?”

Marcie scarcely slowed down. “Of course. It’s designed as the perfect couple’s getaway. Each has a king-size bed, plus a well-appointed sitting room with a stereo, DVD player—”

“But there are two of us.” Glynna put a hand on Marcie’s arm, stopping her. “We’ll need two cottages.”

Marcie looked from Glynna to Jake, frown lines deepening on her forehead. “I thought you understood. This is a couples-only resort. I’m sure I made that quite clear to your editor.”

Glynna struggled to keep her voice even. “Jake and I aren’t a couple.”

Marcie shook her head. “We’re completely booked for our grand opening. This is the only cottage we have available.”

Glynna looked at Jake. He’d helped her out on the boat. Would he help her now? He raised one eyebrow. “I can share if she can. After all, we’re both adults, and it’s only for a weekend.”

Glynna’s stomach dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. Spend the weekend with sarcastic, sharp-tongued and dangerously sexy Jake Dawson? They’d drive each other crazy within a matter of hours.

“That would be wonderful.” Marcie looked relieved. She smiled at Glynna. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

She looked up and found Jake’s eyes on her. “What do you say?” he asked. “Or are you worried I’ll tarnish your virtue?”

Now he’d done it. She had to agree or she’d look like a prude. She held her head up and adopted what she hoped was an air of indifference. “It doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to Jake. We’ll both be busy working most of the time anyway.”

“Great. Your cottage is right over here.” Marcie started down the path again, and led them to the last in a row of six. The square whitewashed building had blue shutters, porches on three sides and abundant heart and dove gingerbread trim. “How romantic,” Jake leaned forward and growled into Glynna’s ear, the rough timbre of his voice sending a jolt through her.

After giving them a brief tour of the three rooms that made up the cottage, Marcie finally left them alone. The porter appeared seconds later and deposited their luggage just inside the door.

Glynna carried her suitcase into the bedroom. Jake followed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t lay a finger on you. You’re not really my type.”

She flinched at the remark. Not that she was interested in a man like Jake, but did he have to make a point of telling her she was undesirable?

She opened her suitcase and took out her makeup bag. “I’ll take the bed. You can have the sofa.”

She started toward the bathroom, but he intercepted her. “No way. I’m a foot taller than you. You take the sofa.”

She glared at him, noting not only how tall he was, but how broad his shoulders and chest were. “All right. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Good.” He walked over to the bed and stripped off his shirt in one smooth movement.

She stared, her mouth going dry at the sight of his broad, muscular back. “Wh…what are you doing?” she asked.

“This is the beach. I’m going to change into my swimsuit.” He glanced at her. “I suggest you do the same unless you want to really stick out.”

He headed for the bathroom, leaving her alone. She opened her suitcase again and took out her most conservative swimsuit—a modest tankini with high-cut legs that suddenly seemed incredibly revealing.

She glanced at the closed bathroom door. Should she change now, or wait until the bathroom was free? What if Jake walked out while she was still undressing?