him with her hip, careful not to spill her dessert, and tipped her chin toward the mob of dancers. “J.T. loves to dance.”
Jack followed Kiri’s line of sight, trying to pick out the right man, but he was distracted by a woman. Once his eyes fixed themselves on her, he couldn’t tear them away. Lina, dressed in white, moved to the beat of an island song played by a live band. She wore a clingy T-shirt that exposed most of her torso and abdomen. One sleeve was short while the other was little more than a loop of fabric capping her shoulder. The asymmetrical hemline of her flounced miniskirt barely concealed the inviting rounds of her bottom. In some ways, she seemed more nude than if she’d actually been naked.
He forgot all about J.T. Marchand as he watched Lina. He forgot about Kiri and the food sliding from the plate gripped in his suddenly lax hand. He watched Lina move to the ancient rhythms of instruments that duplicated the sounds of rain, bird songs, bass vibrations and human voices. As he watched, he realized that it wasn’t completely accurate to call what she was doing dancing. Her upraised arms undulated like underwater plants. With her bare feet planted in the sand, her hips wrote slow and sinuous figure eights in an invitation addressed to Jack. He accepted, without hesitation, and went to her.
He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he knew how to shape his movements to music. Lina lowered her hands to his waist and welcomed him into her space. With a tiny smile she staggered her legs with his and let him lead. Hips to hips and belly to belly, their bodies fused as much as their clothing permitted. Jack closed his eyes, breathed the spicy scent of her hair, and he reveled in the softness of her body against his, nourishing himself on her warmth and the light touch of her hands at his back and hips.
Her loose chignon hadn’t withstood the rigors of her dancing, and Jack smoothed stray tendrils from her face as she gazed up at him. “I’m not usually a party crasher,” he murmured.
“I’m glad you decided to become one tonight. I was missing you.”
He tried to cough up the hard lump suddenly blocking his throat. No woman had ever looked at him the way Lina looked at him now. It would have been easy to blame it on the moonlight, the spell cast by the sensual, primitive music, or even the ambience created by the hot, fit bodies dancing around them. She gazed at him openly, her clear, bright eyes gleaming with a combination of desire and affection that sent heat searing through Jack’s veins. It wasn’t the moon, the music or the company that put such magical light in Lina’s eyes. He was seeing his own feelings mirrored in them.
The sight should have sent him running back to his homestay.
Lina had the same instinct, to flee the heat in Jack’s eyes before it consumed her. “I’d like to get something to drink, Jack. Will you come with me?”
She drew away and Jack followed, loosely holding her hand. She led him to the bar set up opposite the buffet, and she ordered a pink gin-and-lemon granita, which she sipped at as she guided Jack farther away from the main thrust of the party.
“Where are we going?” he asked, even as he spotted the bone-white cabin of the closed lifeguard tower well outside the circle of torchlight from the party.
“Someplace quiet.”
She skipped ahead of him and her skirt flipped up, giving him a tantalizing peek of her bottom and the tiny triangle of fabric forming the back of her thong underpants.
Jack caught up to her once she had climbed the two steep flights of creaky, weather-beaten stairs and had rested her beverage atop the sun-bleached wood railing edging the tower deck. She stood with her back to the tumbling sea, her elbows resting on the top beam, one of her feet propped on the lowest one.
Jack opened his mouth to comment on the vast carpet of velvet that was the night sky, to marvel at the pungent salt scent of the ocean. Instead, he took Lina’s
Jack followed Kiri’s line of sight, trying to pick out the right man, but he was distracted by a woman. Once his eyes fixed themselves on her, he couldn’t tear them away. Lina, dressed in white, moved to the beat of an island song played by a live band. She wore a clingy T-shirt that exposed most of her torso and abdomen. One sleeve was short while the other was little more than a loop of fabric capping her shoulder. The asymmetrical hemline of her flounced miniskirt barely concealed the inviting rounds of her bottom. In some ways, she seemed more nude than if she’d actually been naked.
He forgot all about J.T. Marchand as he watched Lina. He forgot about Kiri and the food sliding from the plate gripped in his suddenly lax hand. He watched Lina move to the ancient rhythms of instruments that duplicated the sounds of rain, bird songs, bass vibrations and human voices. As he watched, he realized that it wasn’t completely accurate to call what she was doing dancing. Her upraised arms undulated like underwater plants. With her bare feet planted in the sand, her hips wrote slow and sinuous figure eights in an invitation addressed to Jack. He accepted, without hesitation, and went to her.
He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he knew how to shape his movements to music. Lina lowered her hands to his waist and welcomed him into her space. With a tiny smile she staggered her legs with his and let him lead. Hips to hips and belly to belly, their bodies fused as much as their clothing permitted. Jack closed his eyes, breathed the spicy scent of her hair, and he reveled in the softness of her body against his, nourishing himself on her warmth and the light touch of her hands at his back and hips.
Her loose chignon hadn’t withstood the rigors of her dancing, and Jack smoothed stray tendrils from her face as she gazed up at him. “I’m not usually a party crasher,” he murmured.
“I’m glad you decided to become one tonight. I was missing you.”
He tried to cough up the hard lump suddenly blocking his throat. No woman had ever looked at him the way Lina looked at him now. It would have been easy to blame it on the moonlight, the spell cast by the sensual, primitive music, or even the ambience created by the hot, fit bodies dancing around them. She gazed at him openly, her clear, bright eyes gleaming with a combination of desire and affection that sent heat searing through Jack’s veins. It wasn’t the moon, the music or the company that put such magical light in Lina’s eyes. He was seeing his own feelings mirrored in them.
The sight should have sent him running back to his homestay.
Lina had the same instinct, to flee the heat in Jack’s eyes before it consumed her. “I’d like to get something to drink, Jack. Will you come with me?”
She drew away and Jack followed, loosely holding her hand. She led him to the bar set up opposite the buffet, and she ordered a pink gin-and-lemon granita, which she sipped at as she guided Jack farther away from the main thrust of the party.
“Where are we going?” he asked, even as he spotted the bone-white cabin of the closed lifeguard tower well outside the circle of torchlight from the party.
“Someplace quiet.”
She skipped ahead of him and her skirt flipped up, giving him a tantalizing peek of her bottom and the tiny triangle of fabric forming the back of her thong underpants.
Jack caught up to her once she had climbed the two steep flights of creaky, weather-beaten stairs and had rested her beverage atop the sun-bleached wood railing edging the tower deck. She stood with her back to the tumbling sea, her elbows resting on the top beam, one of her feet propped on the lowest one.
Jack opened his mouth to comment on the vast carpet of velvet that was the night sky, to marvel at the pungent salt scent of the ocean. Instead, he took Lina’s
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