Barefoot in the Sand by Roxanne St. Claire

like this job interview.”
    “I was really starting to forget this
was
a job interview.”
    He backed away, holding her face tenderly. “Ms. Armstrong, can we please make this official?”
    A crazy thrill electrified her, the question so like a proposal. His eyes were sincere, his mouth still parted from the last kiss, a lock of his hair falling over a brow and making her brush it away.
    “I have to think about it,” she said.
A lot. For hours
.Like all she wanted to think about was him and this and Casa Blanca. “How about I tell you tonight?
    He just kissed her again, another clash of tongues, until the phone vibrated one more time. She broke away and pulled it out to read the text.
    “They’re on their way.”
    He dragged his hands down her bare arms, letting his fingers brush the sides of her breasts. Like he’d touched a magic switch, her nipples budded through the cotton. “Then I’ll see you tonight. I think we should watch
Casablanca
.”
    She laughed softly. “You watched it last night.”
    “It inspired me.” He kissed her mouth. Her nose. Her forehead. “Who knows what could happen if we watched it together?”
    Uh, she knew exactly what would happen.
    “I’ll call you tonight, okay?” he whispered. “We can watch at my place.”
    Yep. They both knew where this was headed.
    “Oh, I forgot.” He tore off the picture and handed it to her. “Here’s my resume.”
    She laughed softly, the drawing stealing her attention again. Good heavens, could she do this? Could she let him have the job, talk her into a resort much bigger than anything she’d imagined, and also—
    He started to laugh.
    “What’s funny?” she asked.
    “I can see you rooting around for some reason to say no and you can’t find one.”
    It was true. He was right. “Call me around seven and we’ll see if I found a reason to say no.”
    “Don’t look too hard. This is right, and you know it.”
    She just sat there holding his “resume” until she heard his truck rumble away, taking all her excuses with it.
    “Mom!”
    Lacey jumped off the picnic table, completely unaware how long she’d been sitting there mooning over Clay Walker.
    Long enough for the girls to arrive in two cars, which meant they’d brought Jocelyn, who could practically read minds and body language. Would they notice that the “job interview” had shifted into a little make-out session?
    Ashley didn’t need to know the details, but she’d tell the girls everything about Clay, from his fabulous ideas to his even more fabulous kisses. This new development was too much fun not to share.
    “We got you a bathing suit!” Climbing out of the van, Ashley held a colorful shopping bag in the air. With the other hand she lifted her T-shirt. “I got one, too! It’s a push-up!”
    Oh.
Thanks, Zoe
.
    Behind her, Tessa and Jocelyn hoisted a Styrofoam cooler and Zoe jumped out with arms full of towels and two beach umbrellas.
    “You bought me a bikini?”
    “You’re going to hate it,” Tessa predicted.
    “She’s going to love it.” Zoe dropped the umbrellas on the sand.
    Lacey looked to Jocelyn for the tie-breaker. She just shrugged. “It was two against two. Zoe’s exuberance won, as usual.”
    Ashley shoved the bag at Lacey. “Don’t worry, Mom, yours isn’t a push-up.”
    “A minor miracle.” She didn’t know whether to laughor throw the bag at Zoe, who pushed her sunglasses into her hair so Lacey could get a good look at her why-the-hell-not expression.
    “For God’s sake, Lacey, you’re in your mid-thirties and you are not a nun.”
    No kidding.
You should have seen me ten minutes ago
. “Yeah, but you know how I feel about my boobs. They’re too big.”
    “Your boobs are gorgeous. Own them.” Zoe trotted off toward the beach without waiting for a response.
    Her boobs
were
gorgeous… the way Clay Walker drew them.
    “Oh, Mom, you’ll love it,” Ashley insisted. “Aunt Jocelyn bought us all new suits and, oh my God, they all