“Uh, yes, I guess you'd better.”
Squeezing the tube, he drew long white worms of suntan lotion down the back of her legs. Both hands closed around her calves to rub in the lotion. A warm, secure sensation wrapped around her heart. But when he knelt between her ankles and leaned forward to rub the cream into her thighs, the erratic drumbeat of her heart began again. Its pounding echoed off the hard-packed sand beneath her, making her acknowledge and absorb her own agitation.
His fingers climbed upward, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin between her thighs. Like heat-seeking devices, they moved ever closer to the very center of her which throbbed achingly. Her skin emanated heat. Her nipples knotted with tingling desire. When he slowly withdrew his hand, she was left with an excruciating longing that begged to be assuaged.
“All done.” The unsteadiness of his voice matched her own uneven breathing.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Are you sure you'll be all right? We're a distance from the main building. Why don't you go to the pool? There'll be people around there.”
“I'm a big girl,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows before she realized how the position emphasized her breasts in the small bikini top.
“I can see that,” Josh murmured, his eyes feasting on the provocative display. He cleared his throat and looked abruptly away. “I'll be back as soon as I can. Save me a place on the blanket. And for my peace of mind, if you should go to the pool, please change swimsuits first.”
“Tell Terry hello for me, and have a good time.” She smiled brilliantly, but she was swamped with disappointment as she watched him stalk across the sand and over the lawn toward their quadraplex to pick up his golf bag.
Dismayed by her momentary sense of loneliness, she stared blindly out to sea. Then the sapping heat of the sun, the sound of the surf, and the gently caressing breeze lulled her to sleep.
“Am I disturbing you?”
Megan pried her eyelids apart and allowed a slice of bright sunlight to penetrate. “What?” she asked, rolling over and sitting up, groggy and disoriented.
“Were you asleep? I'm sorry,” the voice said.
As her eyes became accustomed to the glare of sunlight, the blurred image of Laura Wray came into focus. “Oh, hi, Laura,” Megan said self-consciously. She adjusted the straps of her bikini to provide herself with the maximum coverage. “I guess I dozed off, but I'm glad you awakened me.” She glanced at her shoulders and saw the unmistakable pink that could herald a sunburn. “If I'm exposed too long, I burn.”
“That's why I'm swathed in gauze like a mummy,” Laura replied, smiling from behind fashionably large sunglasses and the hood of a turquoise, ankle-length, long-sleeved beach coat. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Of course not,” Megan exclaimed, embarrassed by her lack of manners. She moved aside the articles littering the blanket, and Laura lowered herself gracefully down on it. “Would you like something to drink?” Megan offered, pulling the styrofoam cooler toward her. Terry had been foresighted to provided each room with one. “A cola?”
“Yes. I walked quite a distance down here.”
After handing Laura one of the canned drinks and opening one for herself, Megan gazed down the stretch of beach. No one else was in sight. “Did you come looking for me?”
Laura sipped the drink and shook her head. “No. I was merely strolling along the beach. When I saw you by yourself, I thought this was a good time for us to get to know each other better. I admire you for the position you hold. Ever since we arrived, I've heard people talking about the outstanding job you're doing at WONE.”
“Thank you, but I feel humbled by your saying that. I admire your writing immensely. It must be fabulous to travel all over the world and get paid for doing it.”
Laura shrugged and took another drink. “Yes, it is,” she said thoughtfully. “Especially if you don't have anything else to do—husband, children, that sort of thing. You're here with Josh.” She glanced up at the bungalow tucked among the pines.
Taken out of context, the two thoughts could seem unrelated, but, knowing Laura's history with Josh, Megan knew they were not. Why did she suddenly feel like the fallen woman confronting the saint? She had an impulse to cover herself, as though her near nakedness were obscene.
“N-not really with him. I'm overseeing Seascape's television advertising. Josh is their advertising agent.” Megan found Laura's steady stare disconcerting. For good measure she added, “I've known Josh for years.”
“Yes, I know,” Laura replied in a tone that indicated she didn't believe for one minute that their joint interest in Seascape and the length of their acquaintance were the only reasons behind their being together. “Your late husband worked for him. Josh often spoke of you when we—”
She broke off in mid-sentence, and Megan finished it for her. “When you were engaged to him?”
Laura became visibly upset. “How did you know about that? Did Josh tell you?”
Megan understood her alarm. Like any woman, she wouldn't want her past failures exposed to what she considered to be the competition. “No, no,” Megan said quickly. “Gayla Bishop mentioned it. I didn't know about it until last night.”
Laura looked relieved, but she laughed mirthlessly. “Few people did. We broke off before it was announced. Josh”—she paused to lick her lips, and Megan panicked, afraid that she was about to cry— “Josh had a change of heart.”
“That was beastly of him,” Megan said with more hostility than she had intended.
Laura's reaction surprised her. “Oh, no. No, it wasn't. I appreciated his honesty. If he hadn't been forthright with me, we would have married, become increasingly unhappy, and then divorced with far more folderol than a broken engagement caused.”