Barefoot in White (Barefoot Bay Brides) by Roxanne St. Claire Page B

so he went back to where he’d left her. That was empty, too.
    “Willow?” he called.
    “Out here.”
    He went to the French doors and stepped out onto the back patio that led to a screened-in pool, finding her sitting on the ground, feet in the water, her yellow dress pulled up to her thighs.
    “Well?” He blamed his racing, slamming, unstoppable heart on the run, but after the kind of training he did, he knew this pulse rate was due to nerves and anticipation.
    “Yeah, well.”
    He blinked at her. What the hell did that mean? “Yeah, well, what?”
    “It’s…” She gave him a tight smile, her eyes turning deep blue now. An apologetic, pitiful blue. “It’s good, Nick.”
    Just good. And not a really enthusiastic good, either. More like a… meh kind of good. “Not great?”
    She didn’t answer right away, but looked like she was searching for words. Words that wouldn’t sting. Shit.
    “It has so much potential. You have so much potential.”
    He stared at her. Screw potential. That’s not what he wanted to hear.
    “You know what you have to do, right?”
    Curse? Punch a wall? Quit? “Start over?”
    “No, you have to tell the truth.”
    “It’s fiction, Willow.”
    “Okay, then tell your truth.”
    He closed his eyes, the shot a direct hit.

 
    Chapter Ten
     
    “I could have lied,” Willow said. And maybe she should have, because Nick’s gutted expression made her remember how she felt when something she said, did, wanted, or wore didn’t stand up to her mother’s rigorous expectations. “But that book’s too good to lie.”
    “You just said it sucked.”
    “No, no.” She shook her head vehemently. “I did not. I said it could be even better. Would I be out here cooling myself off if that make-out scene didn’t…affect me?” And by affect, she meant turn her entire lower half into a pool of liquid lust. His language was evocative and tantalizing, the imagery completely sexy without being corny.
    “It affected you?” A spark of hope lit his eyes, but she didn’t get to enjoy it, because he snagged the bottom of his T-shirt and ripped it over his head. Speaking of evocative and tantalizing…
    His abs were so defined, there were shadows in between the muscle cuts. His chest, damp with sweat, heaved with a deep breath, drawing her gaze to the blue ink near his left shoulder, the semicircle that represented the earth and single star high above it. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen a fan with the Zenith album graphic tattooed on him, but it was definitely the first time she’d had the urge to…lick it.
    He toed off his sneakers and tipped his head toward the water. “I’m hot.”
    No kidding.
    “I’m going in.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    “Actually…” He pulled at the waistband of his sweats. “Unsuit myself is more appropriate.”
    Her jaw unhinged. “You’re going in naked?”
    “You’ve seen it before.”
    “Doesn’t mean I want to see it again.” Liar, liar . But, still, after reading that kiss, she wasn’t sure her libido could stand the pressure.
    “I hate clothes.”
    Just her luck. She leaned back on her palms, squinting up at him. “Sadly, our society requires them.”
    He thumbed his sweats lower, revealing more skin and muscle. “If it offends you, look away. I’ll be in the pool in a second.”
    “I don’t think the word is ‘offend.’”
    She waited for his grin or quip, but his expression was still dark. He inched the sweats down, following that sweet strip of dark hair, sliding over those narrow hips, across the ripped muscles that led right to…
    She really ought to close her eyes. Or turn her head. Or peel off her dress and join him .
    “You’re killing me, Nick,” she admitted.
    “Punishment for hating my book.”
    “Oh, yeah, looking at you bare-ass naked is absolute torture.”
    Finally, he smiled. “As bad as the book?”
    “Would you stop? I didn’t hate it. I think it’s amazing and could be even more amazing.”
    He