Three Brides, No Groom

She stopped playing in the surf and faced him.

“Didi’s my friend,” he said. “Nothing more. Never has been and never will be. Understand?”

She nodded miserably.

Josh extended his hand to her in much the same way he had the day before, when he’d invited her to climb onto the back of his motorcycle. “Come here before you’re completely drenched.”

The water was so cold her feet had gone numb. Mustering every shred of dignity she possessed, she remained where she was, her chin angled high and proud. How desperately she longed to believe him!

“Don’t make me come in after you.”

“Would you?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, but trust me, you’d regret it.”

The threat was as bold as the man himself. “Really?” She reached down and with feigned nonchalance dangled her fingers in the water.

The challenge was there, bold as ever. The confidence he’d exuded didn’t waver as he lowered himself onto the hot sand and removed his boots one at a time. Then he stood and unfastened his belt.

“Josh.” She watched, fascinated.

“I’m not getting these jeans wet. It’s uncomfortable riding in wet pants.” He peeled down the zipper and hooked his thumbs through the belt loops, clearly prepared to remove both his jeans and his underwear.

“Okay, okay. You win.” She raced out of the surf and onto the beach, heading for the blanket. She heard him chuckle and call her a coward as she passed him.

His taunts evolved into a sexy smile as he followed her back to the blanket. It had been a childish thing to do, she thought, challenging him that way. Especially when the outcome had already been decided. Josh would win because he always won.

Soon they were back on the road again, breezing down the highway, soaking up the sunshine and scenery. And she realized he was right. It was uncomfortable riding in wet jeans.

The sun was just beginning to set by the time they reached Newport. Dozens of mammoth kites of various colors and designs battled the wind, rising and plummeting on the fickle fancy of the currents. Campfires flickered here and there along the beach, competing in color with the setting sun.

Gretchen was tired, more tired than she wanted to admit, even to herself. They hadn’t traveled nearly as far as Josh had hoped they would, but then, they’d gotten a late start and taken two hours out for a picnic lunch.

Josh parked the Harley and reached for her hand once they’d stored the helmets. “Let’s get you a hotel room tonight.”

She didn’t miss the implication. While she was nestled up warm in a bed, he would be sleeping on the beach. Alone and cold.

“Hey, I go where you go,” she said.

His eyebrows shot up. “Is that an invitation to your bed?”

She blushed. “No.”

“Pity.” He grinned at her.

Josh teasing? Josh joking? His brief smile went a long way toward lightening her spirits. “You’re nothing but a big phony,” she declared.

His gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Beneath that he-man exterior, you’re a pussycat.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it, if I were you.”

“But I already am.”

Once again she found Josh grinning as he located a quiet spot on the beach, one protected from the elements as well as the curious stares of others. Soon they had a fire of their own blazing away. While he unpacked their things, Gretchen smoothed an area of sand and spread the blanket over it. Silently they worked together as a team, then sat down in front of the fire.

“Why’d you want to get me a hotel room?” she asked. They had a wonderful spot on the beach, she realized. The weather was great, and she was as comfortable here as she would be on any bed.

He didn’t answer, and Gretchen, puzzled, glanced at him. “You assumed I need to be pampered, right?” It irked her that he would think that, and her tone told him as much. People often assumed that, because her family was wealthy, she’d been spoiled and coddled her whole life. Certainly she’d been given opportunities that weren’t available to most people her age, but her parents had never overindulged her.

Josh shook his head. “When I first met you, I assumed you’d be another one of those spoiled rich kids, but you’ve proved otherwise.”

She was pleased. Pleased enough to forget her inhibitions, lean over and kiss him. The action had been purely instinctive, without forethought.

He leaned back in surprise. “What was that for?”

“To thank you for the compliment.”

“I complimented you?”

Willing to admit her weariness now, she let her body rest against his, her head on his shoulder. After a time he put his arm around her, and she smiled, utterly content.

“Tell me about your family,” she said lazily. If she hadn’t been propped against him, she might not have felt the tension shoot through him. His back went rigid, and his arms stiffened slightly. She’d done it again. Just when it seemed they were comfortable with each other she’d said something to upset the delicate balance. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten that his father was in prison and he didn’t want to talk about it. “Josh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that my own family is so much a part of me.”

He didn’t respond for what seemed like an eternity, and when he did speak, his voice was gruff with emotion. “My mother died when I was sixteen.” His hand stroked her upper arm, as if he needed the reassurance of human contact.

Gretchen placed a hand over his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It happens. My dad was never the same. It was as if he couldn’t bear the agony of losing her, so he chose to self-destruct. He’s serving time, as you know.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t ask. Instead, she brought his hand to her face and gently laid her cheek against it.

“A lot of people wonder how I landed at Queen Anne,” he continued, his voice close to her ear. “My grandfather left me money in the form of a trust, the condition being that, if I wanted a college education, I attend his alma mater.”

“Do you want a college education?”

His short laugh was without humor. “I went, didn’t I?”

All evidence she’d seen to this point said he wanted anything but what Queen Anne had to offer. Josh constantly challenged authority. He appeared to go out of his way to cause trouble. Why, only the day before he had given Roger the incentive and opportunity to end his college career right as he was about to graduate. And it would be just like Roger to make whatever trouble he could for Josh and delight in it.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked, changing the subject. “Why’d you slug Roger? He’ll go out of his way to use it against you.”

“Let him,” Josh answered. “I can deal with it.”

“But—”

“The bastard deserved it.”

That much Gretchen agreed with. It had been all she could do not to cheer when she saw Roger’s bloody nose. Especially after he’d attempted to sucker-punch Josh.