Separate Cabins by Janet Dailey Page B

His eyes were closed against the glare of the high afternoon sun. With absent movements Rachel continued to spread the oil over her exposed flesh while her gaze wandered over the bronze sheen of his longly muscled body, clad in white-trimmed navy swimming trunks.
    The urge, ever since he’d stripped down, had been to touch him and have that sensation of hard, vital flesh beneath her hands. It was unnerving and stimulating to look at him.
    “Enjoying yourself?” His low taunt startled Rachel.
    Her gaze darted from his leanly muscled thighs to his face, but his eyes were still closed, so he couldn’t know she had been staring at him. His question was obviously referring to something else.
    “Of course.” She attempted to inject a brightnessin her voice. “It’s a gorgeous day and the beach is quiet and uncrowded.”
    “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.” The amused mockery in his voice had a faint sting to it. “I could feel the way you were staring at me, and I wondered if you liked what you saw.”
    Rachel was a little uncomfortable at being caught admiring his male body. She concentrated all her attention on rubbing the oil over an arm.
    “Yes.” She kept her answer simple, but some other comment was required. “I suppose you’re used to women staring at you.” It was a light remark, meant to tease him for seeking a compliment from her.
    “Why? Because I could feel your eyes on me?” Gard shifted his dark head on the pillow of his arm to look at her. “Can’t you feel it when I look at you?”
    The rush of heat over her skin had nothing to do with the hot sun overhead. It was a purely sexual sensation caused by the boldness of his gaze. It was a look that did not just strip her bathing suit away. His eyes were making love to her, touching and caressing every hidden point and hollow of her body. It left her feeling too shaken and vulnerable.
    “Don’t.” The low word vibrated from her and asked him to stop, protesting the way it was destroying her.
    The contact was abruptly broken. “Hand me my cigarettes,” Gard said with a degree of terseness. “They’re in my shirt pocket.”
    Rachel wiped the excess oil from her hand on atowel and tried to stop her hand from shaking as she reached inside the beach bag, then handed him the pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She leaned back on her hands and stared at the wave rolling into shore. The silence stretched, broken only by the rustle of the cigarette pack and the click of the lighter.
    “Tell me about your husband,” Gard said.
    “Mac?” Rachel swung a startled glance at him, noting the grim set of his mouth and his absorption with the smoke curling from his cigarette.
    “Is that what you called him?” His hooded gaze flicked in her direction.
    “Yes,” she nodded.
    “There’s consolation in that, I suppose.” His mouth crooked in a dry, humorless line. “At least I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that when you say my name, you aren’t thinking of someone else.”
    Rachel’s gray eyes grew thoughtful as she tried to discern whether it was jealousy she heard or injured pride that came from being mistaken for someone else.
    “What was he like?” Gard repeated his initial question, then arched her another glance. “Or would you prefer not to talk about him?”
    “I don’t mind,” she replied, although she wasn’t sure where to begin.
    When she looked out to sea, Rachel was looking beyond the farthest point. The edges blurred when she tried to conjure up Mac’s image in her mind. It wasn’t something recent. It had been happening gradually over the last couple of years. Her memory of him always pictured him as being more handsomethan photographs showed. But it was natural for the mind to overlook the flaws in favor of the better qualities.
    “Mac was a dynamic, aggressive man,” Rachel finally began to describe him, even though she knew her picture of him was no longer accurate. “Even when he was sitting still—which