“So how long do you think you’ll need before you can expand?” I say. Shop talk should keep my mind out of the gutter.
“A year or two, probably. Long enough to make sure business doesn’t fall off once the resort is no longer ‘new.’ ” He stretches out his legs. It should be illegal to have calves that sculpted. “Do you think you’ll stick with social media stars permanently?”
“I already have a couple of minor TV actor clients,” I say. “I’d definitely branch out more if I got requests from the right people. But I think I’m going to stick with the under-18 set for the foreseeable future.”
“They appeal to your maternal side?” Will teases.
I snort. “Not exactly. I just like ’em better. I’ve got to tell you, ninety percent of the time if someone I’m working with is driving me up the wall, it’s the parents, not the actual client. People rag on teenagers a lot, but the biggest assholes I’ve met have been well past adolescence.”
“More time to practice,” Will suggests, and I can’t help giggling. He glances over at me as I rub a blob of sunscreen over my shoulders. “Can I get your back for you?”
My pulse stutters. In an instant, I can already imagine how his palms will feel against my skin. But what’s there to sound the alarms about? He’s done nothing that should make me wary the entire day—the opposite, in fact.
And it is really awkward trying to get my back on my own.
“Thanks,” I say, and hand him the bottle.
He eases over to sit behind me. His hands slide down my back, slick with the cream but warm, and I close my eyes. Forget swimming. I’d be happy to spend the rest of the afternoon like this.
He reaches the small of my back, and I swallow hard. A bolt of pleasure shivers through my nether regions. Then his hands rise to knead my neck.
“I figure I owe you one, after that impromptu massage the other day,” he says. I feel as well as hear his words in the heated breath against my spine.
“Yeah, I, er—” I lose my train of thought for a moment as he digs his thumbs into my shoulders. Fuck, that is a heavenly pain. Maybe it’s the euphoria of unknotting muscles, or maybe it’s how damned kind he’s been all day . . . or maybe it’s just something I need to say. An apology spills out. “Sorry about that. And about—I know I’ve been acting kind of scattered. I guess my head hasn’t exactly been on straight. I wasn’t trying to jerk you around.”
“It’s all right,” Will says. His thumbs swivel in tight circles down my back. I let myself lean into them. “I realize I might have come on too strong. It’s strange, isn’t it, when you see someone you feel you should know so well, but you also haven’t talked to them for years . . . It’s easy to get ahead of yourself.”
He pauses, his hands going still, splayed just below my bikini strap. “How are you feeling now?”
“Good.” The truth of that statement floods me as I say it. “Really good.”
“Hmmm. I was aiming for at least a ‘great,’ if not a ‘wonderful.’ Sounds like I need to up my game.”
I laugh, but my body feels suddenly flushed. Flushed and certain that a quick massage is not going to cut it. “I do have some thoughts on how you could accomplish that,” I say.
“Really?” His voice takes on a husky note that goes straight to my core. He leans his head over my shoulder so his breath tickles my ear. “I’d love to hear them.”
I hook my hand around the back of his neck and turn partly toward him. His mouth is right there to meet mine. We kiss long and slow, nothing like our frantic make-out up against the tree, and this feels even sweeter. And not just because of the taste of vanilla and cinnamon lingering in his mouth.
I want this. I want him. His gently determined lips coaxing mine apart, his tongue teasing over mine, his firm muscles flexing against my arm and back, his hands sliding farther around my torso.
He strokes the sensitive skin over my ribs. Then his thumbs arc higher, grazing the swell of my breasts. I kiss him harder, wanting, wanting. With every sweep across the fabric of my bikini, his touch creeps higher, until it’s just below the points now aching for it. A frustrated whimper slips from my throat, and he smiles. His hands shift—and a ringtone jangles from the jeep.
Will drops his face to the crook of my neck with a muffled curse. “I’m so sorry,” he mutters. “If someone’s calling me after the instructions I left, I’ve got to take this.”
“It’s okay,” I say, swallowing a groan. “You’re talking to a world champion workaholic here, remember?”
I stay there, hot and tingly in a way I don’t think a dip in the water is going to fix, as he lopes over to the jeep. Even at the sight of him scooping up his phone, I can’t take my eyes off of him. The way he stands, the fall of his hair to shadow his eyes as he bows his head.
Maybe it’s for the best that little interlude was interrupted. Because if I’m honest with myself, what I’m feeling right now is more than just wanting. Or at least wanting a lot more than just a quick roll in the sand.
Chapter Fifteen
Will parks the jeep right in front of the hotel, and some dude comes running out to whisk it off to wherever the staff vehicles are kept. That’s just how the world works when you’re an uber-successful resort owner, I guess. He’s been in business mode ever since we left the beach, his gaze distant as he’s thought through whatever the problem is. I stayed silent most of the drive back. If he’s brainstorming solutions, I don’t want to interrupt.
And honestly? It’s kind of sexy observing that man-in-charge determination simmering under the surface. Even if I have to keep telling the little voice that wants to wonder how he’d take charge of me to shut up. Does the man ever run out of layers of appeal?
I’m expecting him to have to run off the second we reach the lobby. Instead, he stops and turns toward me.
“I really enjoyed today,” he says, his eyes searching mine as if he’s not sure what I’ll say. Which, given my hot-and-cold routine, I kind of understand.
“I did too,” I reply, feeling a weird tightness in my chest.
“I wish we hadn’t needed to cut things short.” His smile turns a bit wicked. “And not just because of what we were in the middle of when that phone call came.”
My skin flushes at the reminder. I manage to keep my tone teasing. “Don’t let your imagination get ahead of yourself. Maybe I’m the type who stops at kissing on the first date.”
He chuckles, probably because it’s not as if either of us has forgotten that brief tryst against the tree two nights ago. Then his eyes turn more serious.
“You know, I’ve missed having you in my life, Ruby Walters.”