“Ready to what?” she asked in a low rumble.
His crooked eyebrow lifted in humorous query. “Ready to run.”
Hot color rushed to her face. “Oh, to run. Of course, yes, run. Yes, I'm ready.” He laughed. “Except … except for my shoes.” She still hadn't recovered from having his entire body pressing her deeper into the mattress, their bare thighs caressing each other's.
“Allow me.” Still holding her down with one leg thrown over hers, he picked up her socks. She propped herself up on her elbows to watch. “I like this toenail polish,” he commented before leaning down to kiss her toes lightly. Straightening as he pulled on her sock, he added, “Almost as much as I like the outline of your nipples against that tight T-shirt.” She didn't have time to gasp her surprise before he leaned back and paid the same homage to her nipples that he had to her toes, and all the breath deserted her body.
She remained stuporous until both socks were on and her tennis shoes had been tied with deft fingers. “There,” he said, standing and pulling her to her feet. He slapped her on the behind, giving her no choice but to snap out of her trance. “I'll give you a head start.”
After they'd been running for a while, it was obvious to Megan that she was a better runner than Josh had expected. He grinned at her broadly as she kept pace with him as they sprinted along the dawn-washed beach. It was still early, and they had it to themselves. After about a mile and a half, Megan reached her limit and began to fall back.
“Go on. I'll wait for you here.”
He waved and continued running down the seemingly endless beach, until he was only a dark speck against the white sand. Megan slowed to a walk and allowed her pulse rate to return to normal slowly. Then she did sit-ups and stretching exercises on the sand, checking periodically for signs of Josh's return.
After she had gone through her regimen, she sat down on the damp beach, pulled off her shoes, and stretched her legs out in front of her. She stared out at the ceaseless patterns of waves playing across the water. How far he must have run, she couldn't guess, but he'd been gone well over half an hour when she saw him coming back.
His breathing was labored as he came jogging toward her, kicking up sand and tearing off his shirt. He tossed it in her direction, but she dodged the sweaty garment. “Come on,” he said breathlessly, still running in place, but sweeping down to catch her wrist and pull her to her feet.
“What are you doing?” She laughed as she stumbled after him. He was heading toward the surf. “No!” she cried, trying to tear her hand from his iron grip.
“Why not? Great way to cool off.”
“I'm cool, I'm cool.” She was laughing so hard she could barely walk. How he managed to retain his hold on her and hop, first on one foot, then on the other, to take off his shoes, she never knew. “Let me go,” she squealed one last time before he pushed her into the water.
They played in the surf until, exhausted, they lay in the shallows and let the tide bathe away their healthy fatigue and perspiration.
“If we had an ocean in Atlanta, I'd run on the beach every morning,” Josh said, lying on his back and closing his eyes against the new sun. Megan longed to touch his chiseled cheekbones and the dark lashes that lay against them. The wet running shorts molded his form, detailing it for her curious eyes. The breadth of his chest, the flat plane of his stomach, the ampleness of his sex were all unselfconsciously displayed for her appraisal.
She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her folded arms. “You're quite an exercise nut, aren't you?”
“Yep.”
“Since when?”
“A long time. One of the first things I did when the company was large enough to warrant it and we were making enough money to afford it was to arrange memberships for all my employees in one of the down-town gymnasiums. I encourage them to go several times a week for an hour, even if they have to take off work early to do it.”
Megan's head snapped up sharply at his words. She stared at Josh with incredulity. His eyes were still closed.
“James …” She licked her lips. “James never mentioned a health club.”
Josh squinted against the bright sunlight. “I know. I urged him to go, Megan. He, more than anyone, needed the exercise. Every time I mentioned it, he put me off with a joke and a promise that he'd make the time. To my knowledge he never did.”
Megan gazed at the long beach without seeing it. “Not to my knowledge either,” she said quietly. She lay her head on her arms, letting the salt water wash over her body with a massaging motion.
“Hey, are you asleep, or have you drowned?” Josh asked her long minutes later.
By an act of will she dispelled her solemnity. Rolling over onto her side, she smiled up at him. “Neither.”
“Come on, then. I found something last night when I was walking off my … ahem … frustration. I think you'll like it.”
They gathered up their shoes, her socks, and his tank top and struck off in the direction of the woods that joined the beach about a hundred yards from the shoreline.
“Where in the world are you taking me?” Megan asked as they tramped through the soft, springy undergrowth. With the monstrous trees towering over it, this foliage couldn't get much sunlight, yet it was brilliantly green.
“Right here,” he said proudly, with a broad gesture. He bent at the waist in a courtly bow. Behind him stood a giant oak tree, its spreading branches draped with curly moss. Secured to one of the enormous limbs was a swing. The rope that held it was as big around as Megan's wrist. The wooden seat was about two feet long and a foot wide. The rope had been threaded through holes at either end of the seat and knotted underneath.
“A swing!” she cried in delight, rushing over to it. As she grabbed the ropes, she thre