“Turn around,” she said, resigned. When he complied, she reached rapidly under her skirt, hooked her thumbs under each side of the panty hose, and peeled them down her legs. “Okay,” she said when she was free of them.
Before she knew what he was about, Josh had snatched the garment out of her unsuspecting hand. “Thanks for the souvenir,” he said flippantly.
“Give those back,” she demanded, hands on hips.
“Unh-unh,” he retorted, stuffing the panty hose into his shirt.
“That's … that's perverted,” she sputtered. Despite her feigned anger, the thought of so intimate a garment lying on his furred chest made her light-headed.
He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her against him once again. “I confess. Where you're concerned, I'm crazy. Now,” he said with less patience, “can we walk in the surf?”
The water was cool, but not alarmingly cold, as it tumbled over their bare feet before returning to the sea. The capricious swirling of Megan's skirt against her bare legs intensified the sensations rioting through her body. Her blood seemed to pump with the impetuous tempo of the tide.
Josh matched his longer stride to her shorter one, and they walked in companionable silence until the lights of the compound became less distinct, looking like a cache of jewels that had been spilled onto black velvet.
“I didn't know you were once engaged to Laura Wray,” Megan said at last, voicing the thought that had been uppermost in her mind all evening.
Josh's footsteps faltered only momentarily before he said, “Few people did. It didn't last very long.”
“I saw you dancing tonight. You seemed very … close.” The words cost Megan a vast amount of pride, but some unknown impulse demanded that she ask about the extent of Josh's feelings for the newspaper editor.
“Laura's a lovely, intelligent woman. I like her. She's a good friend now.”
Pangs of jealousy jousted in Megan's heart, and she tried desperately to quell them. She didn't want him. This moon-charted, star-studded stroll along the beach was only part of her plan. Events were falling nicely into place. People were seeing them together. An Atlanta photographer had taken their picture with the Bishops at dinner. It would be in the morning paper. In a few days she'd have Josh Bennett exactly where she wanted him—thinking that she loved him, when she really didn't. She put down her insane rash of jealousy as a side effect of becoming involved in the role she was playing.
“You seemed captivated by each other,” she remarked with affected indifference. “Are you sure the flames aren't still burning?”
Josh stopped and turned to face her. “Not even a flicker,” he said quietly. “Megan?” When she lifted her face cautiously to his, he went on, “There's only one woman who captivates me.” His lips came down on hers firmly and surely, eliciting aftershocks that left her weak and trembling.
“You're cold,” he said, mistaking the shivering of her body. “We'd better start back.”
They changed direction, not having as far to go since their bungalow was between them and the main cluster of buildings.
“I called the office this afternoon. The Dixieland people couldn't be happier,” Josh told her.
“Good. I feel guilty. I haven't given my staff a thought today. I suppose I should call them in the morning.”
“You're on vacation.”
“So are you, but you checked in. Your business means everything to you, doesn't it?” She knew better than anyone the unreasonable demands he made on his employees, though now that wasn't her reason for asking. She wanted to know what motivated him.
“My business means a lot to me, yes. I started with nothing and have made something. It's all I have to show for my adult life.”
He sounded almost regretful, but she shoved that thought aside as ludicrous. Everyone knew Joshua Bennett was a man of driving ambition, to the exclusion of everything else. “Where did you grow up?”
“West Virginia. My father worked in a coal mine and died when I was ten. Black lung, a man-made disease. I swore that even if I had to starve, I'd never go into a damn mine.”
Megan heard the iron determination in his voice and could visualize him as a boy, wild, embittered, unruly, and hostile. Yes, that description fit the man he had grown up to be. It came as a mild surprise to her to realize she hadn't known anything about his upbringing, yet she had known instinctively it hadn't been a privileged one.
“You were an only child?”
“Yes, thank goodness. Mother had a hard enough time keeping me fed. She cooked and waited on tables at a diner. Most nights she brought home leftovers for my supper.”
They had reached the lawn in front of the bungalow. By tacit agreement, Josh dropped his coat and their shoes onto the grass. Leaning his back against the trunk of a pine tree, he pulled Megan into the circle of his arms. His chin rested on the top of her head as he continued.
“One day between school and my job at a gas station, I went to the diner. One of the mine boss's sons was giving my mother a hard time about there not being enough catsup on his cheeseburger. He was a real jerk, a bully who lorded it over everybody. He was older and bigger than I was, but I hauled his tail
off that stool and pounded the hell out of him.” He chuckled softly, causing Megan's breasts to vibrate against his chest. “Nothing will ever give me as much pleasure.” Placing a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head up. “Nothing except making love to you,” he whispered, and kissed her deeply.