Sanctuary(19)

There was a scattering of people on the wide crescent of beach. They had staked their claims with their blankets and colorful umbrellas. Slic noted several with the brightly striped box lunches from Sanctuary.

The scents of sea and lotions and fried chicken assaulted her nostrils. A toddler shoveled sand into a red bucket while his mother read a paperback novel in the shade of a portable awning. A man was slowly turning into a lobster under the merciless sun. Two couples she had served that morning were sharing a picnic and laughing together over the clever voice of Annie Lennox on their portable stereo.

she didn't want them-any of them-to be there. On her beach, in her personal crisis. To dismiss them, she turned and walked away from the temporary development, down the curve of beach.

she saw the figure out in the water, the gleam of tanned, wet shoulders, the glint of sun-bleached hair. Gaff was a reliable creature of habit, she thought, and he was just exactly what the doctor called for. He invariably took a quick swim during his afternoon break. And, Lexy knew, he had his eye on her.

He hadn't made a secret of it, she mused, and she wasn't one to resent the attentions of an attractive man. Particularly when she needed her ego soothed. she thought a little flirtation, and the possibility of mindless sex, might put the day back on track.

People said her mother had been a flirt. Lexy hadn't been old enough to remember anything more than vague images and soft scents when it came to Annabelle, but she believed she'd come by her skill at flirtation naturally. Her mother had enjoyed looking her best, smiling at men. And if the theory of a secret lover was fact, Annabelle had more than smile at at least one man.

In any case, that's what the police had concluded after months of investigation.

Lexy thought she was good at sex; she had been told so often enough to consider it a fine personal skill. As far as she was concerned, there was little else that compared to it for shouldering away tension and being the focus of someone's complete attention.

And she liked it, all the hot, slick sensations that went with it. It hardly mattered that most men didn't have a clue whether a woman was thinking about them or the latest Hollywood pretty boy while it was going on. As long as she performed well and remembered the right lings.

Lexy considered herself born to perform.

And she decided it was time to open that velvet curtain for GiffVerdon.

she dropped the towel she'd brought with her onto the packed sand. she didn't have a doubt that he was watching her. Men did. As if on stage, Lexy put her heart into the performance. Standing near the edge of the water, she slipped off her sunglasses, let them fall lifelessly onto the towel. Slowly, she stepped out of her sandals, then, taking the hem of the short-skirted sundress she wore, she lifted it, making the movements a lazy striptease. The bikini underneath covered little more than a stripper's G-string and pasties would have.

Dropping the thin cotton, she shook her head, skimmed her hair back with both hands, then walked with a siren's swagger of hips into the sea.

Gaff let the next wave roll over him. He knew that every movement, every gesture Lexy made was deliberate. It didn't seem to make any difference. He couldn't take his eyes off her, couldn't prevent his body from going tight and hard and needy as she stood there, all Iuscious curves and pale gold skin, with her hair spiraling down like sunkissed flames.

As she walked into the water, and it moved up her body, he imagined what it would be like to rock himself inside her to the rhythm of the waves. she was watching him too, he noted, her eyes picking up the green of the sea, and laughing.

she dipped down, rose up again with her hair shiny and wet, water sliding off her skin. And she laughed out loud.

"Water's cold today," she called out. "And a little rough."

"You don't usually come in till June."

"Maybe I wanted it cold today." she let the wave carry her closer.

"And rough."

"It'll be colder and rougher tomorrow," he told her. "Rain's coming."

"Mmm." she floated on her back a moment, studying the pale blue sky. "Maybe I'll come back." Letting her feet sink, she began to tread water as she watched him.

she'd grown accustomed to his dark brown eyes watching her like a puppy when they were teenagers. They were the same age, had grown up all but shoulder to shoulder, but she noticed there had been a few changes in him during her year in New York.

His face had fined down, and his mouth seemed firmer and more confident. The long lashes that had caused the boys to tease him mercilessly in his youth no longer seemed feminine. His light brown hair el was needle-straight and streaked from the sun. When he smiled at her, dimples-another curse of his youth-dented his cheeks.