Palm trees line the landscape to the beach. Of all the places I’ve traveled, this one fills me with a sense of coming home. Maybe it’s the beach lifestyle that I like so much.
I’m standing up, pumping the pedals and counting, when I see the runner coming toward me. I recognize him instantly. McRae. Maybe it’s the way he moves his body, which is solid with his sinewy chest and arms. Or it’s the way my body vibrates when he’s nearby that tips me off. He’s running without a shirt; sweat glistens off his pecs. My mouth goes dry, I lose count, my foot slips, and I sit, pedaling backward while I let out a long, even breath. It’s crazy, but I think my uterus just started pulsing. His shorts fall mid-thigh, and I watch the powerful muscles in his legs contract and relax, all in harmony with my heartbeat.
Ear buds dangle and connect to a band on his upper arm and I can’t stop staring at his form. Just thinking about wrapping myself around him and feeling those arms holding me nearly causes me to crash the bike. When he sees me, he stutters in his stride, pulls the ear buds out by yanking on the cord, and briefly opens his mouth before slamming it shut.
I smile, glad I tied my tank into a knot that rests above my belly button because his eyes wander to my waist and follow the new vines of henna downward. McRae feels it too, this pull, I’m sure of it. Seeing the emotions flash across his face gives me pleasure. Is it as strong for him as it is for me? Is he the positive to my negative? With a flash of clarity, I know what I want. McRae. With muscles hard enough to cut a diamond. I want to experience him unfettered, unchained, with no attachments or obligations. I want it so badly I can barely breathe. For one night, I’d be willing to give his schematics a go.
I’m not overly modest by any stretch of the imagination, not anymore that is. I like sex. I like it a lot. It’s energizing to experience the press of a man’s body against mine, to touch them and learn their shape. When with someone intimately, you learn more about them and see them in ways you never could with an arm’s length between. Like peeking into their soul. I want a glimpse into this guy’s soul. His green eyes, straight nose, and his day-old beard make me want to know him in the biblical way. I’ve never been so fucking attracted to someone in my entire life.
When he’s got a full frontal shot, I stand to pedal once and lean forward to expose my cleavage. It’s a cheap shot, but I’m a girl on a mission now. I cruise the bike slowly past him.
“Hi,” I say as I roll by, coming to stop at the edge of the boardwalk.
“Hey,” he calls from behind me.
I twist, looking at him over my shoulder. He’s stopped running, has turned to face me, and is leaning against a weathered post. One hand rests on his hip, his chest rising and falling with each deep inhalation.
“You live around here?” he asks.
“Yeah, right down that road.” I wave in the direction of Mrs. Cramer’s house. McRae follows my finger, which indicates the area of larger, more stately homes, and looks back, puzzled.
I laugh. “I have an apartment over the garage.”
He pushes off the post before walking toward me, flipping the ear bud cord over his shoulder. “So you’re settling in?”
“For now.” I lower the bike’s kickstand then climb off and meet him half way.
“Do you live around here?”
“Yeah, about a mile up the street.” He motions behind me where older, smaller pre-war houses make up the neighborhood.
Wow, knowing he’s close makes my pulse skip excitedly.
“That was pretty bad ass what you did to that guy at the bar.” He leans down and reties his shoe but glances up at me. A car drives by slowly. I never saw or heard it coming until it was upon us. I’m so completely honed in on him.
“You’ve got quick reflexes. Like a Kunoichi.” The admiration in his voice warms me. When he stands, he comes a step closer.
“Ha, I’m hardly a female ninja, but that’s a compliment I’ll take.” I force myself to look at his face and not his chest. The last thing I want to do is openly drool over him.
It’s obvious McRae doesn’t know what to think of me. I’ve seen him watch me, a curious and puzzled look on his face. On the ride to Daytona, I’m pretty sure he was going to kick me out of the truck until he realized I’d saved his ass with the phone call. I get that he’s having a hard time seeing through my exterior, but the quick snapshot of something more he’s had impresses him enough to pique his interest and that pleases me. Usually guys aren’t all that interested in what the inner Josie Woodmere is like. Not that I’d give them a chance to find out.
I don’t give a rat’s ass about the tightly wound types and their haughty opinions but there’s something else about McRae that I like. Maybe it’s the light smattering of chest hair or the way his shoulders are wide but his waist tapers. Or maybe it’s the way he is with his brother or that it bothered him to leave me at a hotel. I lick my lips and look up at him. Without heels, I’m small enough that he could rest his chin on the top of my head comfortably.
I try to stay on topic. “I don’t think I can afford to not have quick reflexes. All women should know a little of what I know.”
“I guess it could come in handy on occasion.” He nods while stretching each arm behind his head. His pecs jump and give in to the long stretch. I meet his gaze and try not to lick my lips.
“Occasionally? Ha, try frequently. It doesn’t matter how a woman dresses or what she’s doing. She could be a target simply by smiling at the wrong person. I work from a premise that I might always be a target, so I’ve prepared myself to know how to handle any situation.”
“You’ve had that happen to you before?”
“Pricks like that are everywhere.” That’s an understatement.
His brows shoot up and I know it’s at my word choice. I’ve seen the type of girl he likes. She’s the type who pretends to not use profanity, but give her a strong drink and a room of her girlfriends and it’s a whole different story.
“You headed to the beach?” he asks, indicating with his head to the water that waits just past the boardwalk.
“Yeah, you?”
“Yeah, I like to cool off in the water.”
“Well if we stand here any longer you won’t need to cool off.” I take several steps back and stretch my hand out, reaching for the bike’s seat and something to ground the electrical current sparking between us, yet am unable to pull my eyes from his.
“I can watch your stuff for you,” I say in a breathy voice.
“What?” He blinks several times.
We’re shrouded in a cloud of lust, and the palpable air and erratic, loud beating of my heart makes sound muffled. It’s good to know he’s experiencing it too.
“Your phone and shoes. If you’re going for a swim I can watch those for you.”
“Got it.” He gestures for me to precede him.
I lock up the bike with clumsy fingers then scoop out my bag of stuff from the basket. When I pass him the energy around us crackles.
I find a spot on the beach, kick off my flip-flops, and drop my bag on top of them. After laying out my towel, I shimmy out of my shorts and pull off my T-shirt, leaving me standing before McRae in nothing but a skimpy red and white polka dot bikini.