15 Shades Of Pink (33 page)

I’m so stupid
. I’d been warned, after all, but I fell for him anyway.

I thought about confronting him, but I didn’t want him to see how badly he’d hurt me. I turned and ran back to the rental. My friends had been right. He was still a smooth-talking shit. I couldn’t face them, and I certainly couldn’t face him. I packed up my things and left the girls a note:
Things ended badly with Finn. I’m going home. Sorry, Anna
.

I checked on Monica, but she was sleeping, so I didn’t bother to wake her. I took one last look out the back window at the deep blue ocean and wondered if I would drown from the tears brimming in my eyes.

***

The girls called me when I got home. “What the hell happened?” Catherine asked.

I sniffed, my tears all cried out. “I found out that you guys were right. He’s a jerk who was only looking for the next hookup.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. What did he do?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I was stupid. I should’ve listened to you guys.”

Catherine was quiet for a moment. “Do you want us to come up and be with you?”

“No, absolutely not. Don’t let my mistake ruin your trip. Stay. We’ll catch up afterward.”

When I heard a car door slam in my driveway three hours later, I figured they’d ignored me and drove up anyway. But when I opened the door, I almost slammed it; Finn was standing there.

“Go away.” I tried to close the door, but he held it open.

“Anna, I don’t understand what happened. I stopped by and your friends tell me you took off because I was an ass? What did I do?”

I glared at him. “Think hard. You can’t remember your afternoon?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I cleaned up the yard, did some laundry.”

“And who was the brunette helping you?”

His face reddened. “You saw that?”

I stomped my foot. “Yes, I saw that. And I realized what a complete and utter fool I was to believe one word of your ‘Oh, I’m a changed man’ spiel.” I thought about spitting for good effect, but my mouth was dry. And I’m not exactly a spitting kind of girl.

His shoulders slumped. “Can I please come in and explain?”

I turned up my hands. “What’s to explain?”

“A lot. It’s not what you think.”

I rolled my eyes, but I stepped aside. This is going to be good, I thought.

He reached for my arm but I jerked it away. He sat on the couch and I plopped down in the chair across from him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed. “Remember how I told you we lost one of our guys in a fire?”

“Yes, the cornerstone of your reformation.”

He frowned. “The woman you saw was my buddy’s widow.”

I swallowed hard. “And you hooked up with her?” It was worse than I thought.

He groaned, sounding totally frustrated. “No. She’s confused and lonely. I’d invited her and her son to spend some time at my parent’s place at the beach this summer. She just showed up—by herself—and she made a move on me.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “I think she’s just trying to find someone to fill Danny’s role, and figured I was a good candidate.”

I could feel the blood drain from my face. “It looked like you were kissing her.”

He shook his head. “I was hugging her, trying to comfort her, and she tried to kiss me.” He grimaced. “That’s not the easiest scenario to disentangle from. I didn’t kiss her back, but I didn’t want to humiliate her, either, and make a big scene.”

God
, I’m
the shit
. I let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I just thought…”

He came over to me and squatted next to my chair. “I know why you thought what you thought. I’ve got a history of using women.” He shrugged. “Of course you thought I’d done it again.” He reached for my hand. “But I was serious when I said I want more than that. I want you, Anna. Only you. Are we going to be able to figure this out? Because if you can’t trust me, it’s just not going to work.”

I looked beyond the gorgeous eyes, the killer body, and heart-melting smile. I saw a man wanting something more in his life, trying his best to put his randy past behind him. I reached for his hand. “Can you forgive me for jumping to conclusions?”

He pulled me from the chair and gathered me in his arms. “Of course.”

“So, where are you headed now? Your place in Quincy?”

He shook his head. “Back to the beach. I didn’t close up the house. I drove straight here once I found out you’d gone home. I had a damn hard time getting your address from your friends.”

“They’re protective. They didn’t believe me when I said you changed.”

He nodded. “Understandable. I deserve it. But I’m glad you have such good friends who care about you.”

“If you’re headed back to the beach I should probably go, too, so I can show them everything worked out.”

***

The girls were on the back patio drinking wine when Finn and I walked up.

They looked at us skeptically, probably wondering how Finn had finagled his way out of whatever he’d done. Then I told them the story.

“Huh, who’d have guessed it? Finn Donahue is a one-woman man,” Brooke said.

“It’s like
Jerry Maguire
,” Monica said with a satisfied sigh.

“Not exactly. I definitely did not have her at hello. She was ready to slam the door in my face,” Finn said.

Catherine patted my hand. “That’s my girl.”

After a glass of wine I stood up and grabbed Finn’s hand. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Finn put his arm around me. “You’ve got one more day with your friends. Enjoy it together. And then when you get home, you’re all mine.” He kissed my cheek and disappeared into the dark.

The girls collapsed into a chorus of awwws. And then plans were made for a night on the town.

***

We spent the last day of our vacation much like the first: reading magazines, drinking fruity cocktails, and watching boys on the beach.

“We’ve got a solid nine headed our ways, ladies,” Catherine announced.

I nudged her with my knee. “No, he’s a ten for sure.”

Brooke sat up and took off her glasses. “Is that Finn Donahue?” That brought on a round of laughter.

“Well, at least now we’ve
all
hooked up with him,” Monica mumbled.

I tossed my book at her as Finn walked over and sat next to me. “Don’t I know you?” I said.

“Not well enough. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

The girls sighed and then Monica dropped her drink. “Forget Finn Donahue. You know who just walked by? Michael Sullivan, the actor. That really was him.”

And the girls were up and out of their beach chairs chasing down the other heartthrob from their high school days.

“Don’t you want to go see?” Finn asked.

“Not when I’m sitting next to Finn Donahue.”

He laughed and kissed me. “I’m glad your mother didn’t let you come to one of my parties. I might have kissed you back then when I was an ass and ruined everything.”

I linked my hand in his. “You were worth waiting for. Now back to that discussion about sirens and making me scream.”

But Brooke was the one who squealed. “I found the other Manolo!”

She saved her dream guy on the beach, but now he wants something more…

Washed Up

by Lisa Scott

He woke to darkness and pain, with a pounding head and churning stomach; but soft lips crushed against his, so the night couldn’t have been that bad. His mouth moved in response, and he reached to find the body attached to those remarkable lips. He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, while the other trailed further south over her collarbone, cupping a round, firm…

Slap! His eyes opened to an explosion of light. Then he sat up and puked. Seawater spewed from his mouth and someone rolled him onto his side.

“He’s okay, but get the lifeguard!” a woman shouted. She rubbed his arm. “You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

This wasn’t exactly his definition of fine. He blinked away salty brine and fell back on the sand. “What the hell happened?” He looked up at the woman—petite, with dark eyes, and long hair that glowed in the sun.

“I’m not sure. I found you washed up here.”

He winced at the familiar phrase. Just ask his agent, who hadn’t been able to land him so much as a mall opening in the past three years.

“And then you kissed me?” he asked. Crazy fans had tried worse. At least duct tape and handcuffs hadn’t been involved this time; an actor without his sense of humor might have pressed charges.

“Kissed you?” She rolled her eyes. “Ever heard of CPR? I was a lifeguard in high school.
You
kissed
me
, and then you tried…” she winced. “Sorry I hit you. Natural reflex, but I think it helped.” She shrugged.

He scrunched his eyebrows as the pieces fell into place. “Oh. Damn, I’m sorry.” He was aware of the crowd growing around them.

“Hey, is that Michael Sullivan?” someone shouted.

“The guy from that movie?”

It was more than one movie
, he thought to himself.
There were sequels, too
.

A squeal split the air and a bikini top landed on his stomach. He frowned at it, then grabbed it to mop off his face.

Dashing over, a lifeguard knelt next to him. “What happened?” he asked.

A woman in high-heeled sandals and a gold sarong stepped forward, jerking her thumb at the girl. “She found him in the sand, and started doing CPR.” She snapped her gum and pointed at him. “Then he kissed her and puked.” She held up her I-Phone. “I taped the whole thing. I’m going to tweet it.”

Shit
.

“I took pictures,” someone shouted.

“I just put it up on You Tube,” said another.

He rolled over and puked again.

The woman he’d tried to grope—while she was busy saving him—set her hand on his shoulder. “You took in a lot of water. What happened?”

Michael sat up and hung his head between his knees, tossing away the bikini top. “There was a group of girls following me. They were running, then one of them screamed.” He sighed. “The stalker radar went off, so I swam to get away. They didn’t look like the kind of women who get wet.”

A woman behind him gasped. “Monica, I told you not to chase him!”

“Shut up, Brooke,” another woman hissed. “You were, too.”

He closed his eyes, his stomach rolling worse than it did last Saturday morning from that monumental hangover. “I dove under a wave and next thing I know, I’m here with you.” He looked up at her and gave her a weak smile. “Thanks, by the way.”

She tucked her hands into the pockets of white shorts, which showed off nicely toned legs. “I just happened to be walking by.” Her voice was higher than he expected for someone in her mid-twenties. It was sweet and sexy all at once.

“But you could’ve kept walking.”

She shrugged. Her pink halter-top skimmed her belly button, a cute little innie. The woman was growing more attractive by the moment. He couldn’t even imagine what kind of loser he looked like, splayed out in the sand.

He’d like to stand up and thank her properly, offer his hand. But he was hung over, winded, and sore. “What’s your name?”

“Molly Andrews.”

“I’m Michael Sullivan.”

One shoulder lifted. “I know.”

The whispers started, confirming the news. More people crowded around them, holding up cameras and mobile phones. He couldn’t imagine how the tabloids would play this one out.
Washed up actor washes up at beach?

The lifeguard placed two fingers over his wrist. “Pulse rate is a little high, but you seem to be fine. Do you want to be transported to the hospital to be checked out?”

“No. God, no. Just give me a moment to get my bearings.” This was worse than the time he woke up in the fountain outside that hotel—with a bra, but no woman.

“Let’s give him some space, people,” the lifeguard shouted.

The crowd backed up and some people scurried off, having already gawked and taken their pictures. Or maybe to run and get their friends.

“I’m going back to my house.” He stood up and tottered, and for the first time ever, felt embarrassed by his behavior. He’d never needed rescuing before.

Molly jumped up and steadied him by the arm. “Let me walk you back.”

He was going to protest but the truth was, he needed her help. A woozy feeling swept over him as he stood under the hot sun. “Thanks.”

A few people followed, still taking photos, but as they got closer to the houses lining the hill overlooking the beach, the stragglers fell back.

Molly’s arm was wrapped around his waist as they moved slowly along the sand and up the path through the sand dunes. “Which one is yours?”

“It’s not mine. I’m renting. It’s the white one over there.” He pointed to the enormous white beach house with a hot tub and in-ground pool nestled beside a patio overlooking the beach. If he’d been able to rein in his foreign-car obsession back when the money was rolling in, maybe he’d have his own beach house.

No such luck.

The dizziness was subsiding, but he let her walk him to the back door, because he liked the feel of her small hands on him. Nymph was a word that came to mind when he looked at her. With big eyes, a tiny nose, and ears that stuck out ever so slightly, she looked perpetually surprised. And he certainly didn’t mind the way her pale blond hair hung past her waist, skimming her slim hips.

They stood outside his back door and he thought about asking her in for a drink. He was surprised she hadn’t pushed her way in already. Most women would’ve. He looked at her. She was studying her shoes. Damn, maybe she was thinking he was an ass. She’d be right about that—today, anyway.

No, you’ve been an ass for a while now
.

But truthfully, he didn’t want her to come in. He just wanted to take a nap. He’d been out late the night before, partying, and that certainly contributed to the whole damn thing. He’d have to stop that one of these days.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t know how to thank you.”