Dirty Thoughts(90)

Ignoring everything else, Jan studied the man. Thick black hair, chiseled jaw, half smile curving full lips. And arms, perfect arms, draped over the sides, fingers trailing in the water.

He seemed utterly relaxed, the image of sensual decadence. Put him in an ad for Paradise Inn, and women would flock. Gay men would swarm.

As if sensing her attention, the hunk lifted his head and broke into a smile. “Hey Jan, getcha ass in the water!”

Mick McKenna. Her best and oldest friend.

He rolled off the float and jacked himself out of the pool. Water streamed from gray board shorts as he crossed the flagstones.

Stopping in front of her, he shook his hair like a Labrador.

“Geez! Don’t you ever get tired of that?” She brushed droplets off her white cotton blouse.

He laughed his big, happy laugh. “Never have, never will. Get your suit on. The water’s a perfect eighty-six degrees.”

“I can’t. They don’t have a room for me.”

The grin fell off his face. “What the hell?”

“Water damage.” She shrugged like it wasn’t tragic. Like she hadn’t been anticipating this weekend for months.

“They must have another room.” Mick started to go around her, no doubt to raise hell at the desk, McKenna-style.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I tried everything. They’re digging up a room for me somewhere else on the island.”

He tunneled long fingers through his hair. “Take my room,” he said.