Back to the Good Fortune Diner (25 page)

He glanced at her. “What?” The corners of his mouth turned up.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s been a nice day,” she said, unable to meet his eyes.

“You’re a really bad liar, you know that, right?”

“What? It
has
been a nice day.”

“C’mon. I don’t hear you sigh like that often, so it must be something. You can be honest with me.”

Not with this she couldn’t. But as his gaze lingered like a coaxing caress, she blurted, “I was thinking about how I once saw you naked here.”

Omigod, did I say that out loud?

His jaw swung open, but he didn’t look offended. “When was this, exactly?” he asked slowly, disbelieving laughter tugging at his question.

Tiffany cleared her throat, looked back toward the shaded spot on the far side as if she could run there and escape. Instead, she replied by calmly pointing. “I was over on that ledge there, painting one afternoon when I was sixteen. I wanted to paint the lake—it was for the fall fair contest, and it took me almost an hour to find the right vantage point. It was really hot out. I planned to stay the whole day until I had my notes and sketches done.... And then you showed up and started stripping.” Her memory fired as she pictured his long, lean form glistening in the heat.

Chris’s dark blond eyebrows climbed up his forehead to escape the fire flaming in his cheeks. He laughed, pushed his hand through his hair. “I take it this was that one time I didn’t have my swim trunks on me and decided it was safe to go skinny-dipping.”

Tiffany held back a giggle. “That would be the day.”

“I thought I was alone.”

“You were.” She leaned back on her elbows on the blanket. “At least, you didn’t act like you were with anyone worth being shy around.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to say anything?”

She slid him an innocent look. “After spending all that time looking for the perfect vantage point, I wasn’t going to leave.” Besides, the show had been terrific. She flashed back to that day, watching Chris’s sinewy, golden body diving into the water like an arrow and resurfacing with equal grace. She’d been too far to see any details clearly, but what she had seen had been enough to make her want to strip down and dive in after him.

He tilted his head, still smiling broadly. “You won the blue ribbon prize with that painting. The Rotary Club sold it for charity.” He chuckled weakly. “Please tell me there wasn’t a little naked me in that picture.”

Her lips pursed, she admitted, “You’re in there. But you wouldn’t know it unless you knew what you were looking at.” It had been her secret, a special memory to commit to paper in watery shades of saffron and silvery blue, his body like a fish flashing in the dark water. Most people would have assumed it was a reflection.

He was giving her such an odd look now that her body heated up. Something pulsed between them, and the air grew thick. Determined, she met his eye unflinchingly, dared him to look away as she uncrossed her ankles and shimmied over to one side of the blanket. “There’s room here for two,” she invited, lowering her voice, her eyes and her defenses.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

C
HRIS WAS STRUCK DUMB
at the same time a goofy grin froze to his face.

The idea that she’d been watching him, studying him, painting him while he’d been so vulnerable should have outraged or embarrassed him. Instead, he was flattered, intrigued...and fully turned on.

Easy, boy,
he scolded himself as he lowered his body gingerly onto the old king-size duvet he and Daphne had used when they’d shared a bed. It left them plenty of space to sit without touching. A queen-size marriage bed would have sufficed, but Daphne had insisted on the upgrade. Thoughts of his ex-wife stopped the southbound blood flow, and he let out a breath as he regained his vision.

Tiffany and Chris ate their sandwiches as birdsong and lapping water filled the comfortable silence. A breeze slid through her hair, lifting its delicate scent to his nostrils. When the sun burst through the sparse cloud cover, she turned her face to the sky, exposing her slender, pale neck. His blood resumed its southbound course. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. When had she become this lovely, sensual creature? When had the staid tutor in her buttoned-up shirts turned into this woman who made him think all these lurid thoughts?

He couldn’t help imagining what might have happened if he’d known she’d been watching him skinny-dipping all those years ago. Probably nothing—he would have hastily gathered his clothing and slunk away, mortified. They would never have been able to meet each other’s eyes again.

But this was not teenage Tiffany. And he was not that Chris anymore.

She picked at the fries and delicately sucked gravy from her fingertips. Watching her, he became light-headed. She caught his look and smiled, lashes lowered.

“You want?” She held out a fry.

“I thought I’d get more than a taste since I was buying.”

And now he sounded like a douchebag. “Of the fries, I mean,” he said quickly.

She grinned. Thank God. But as he was about to take a nibble of that French fry and suck it right down to her fingertips, she grabbed a huge honking handful dripping with gravy and held it out in challenge.

He smirked, assessed the mess and angled his head, taking a large bite out of the many-tentacled fry monster waggling in her hand. They laughed as she tried to stuff it into his mouth, and he snagged her wrist, holding her still, eating the fries in a messy, slobbering way.

“There’s gravy running down my arm,” she yelped as he held her hand higher.

“Don’t worry.” He’d swallowed down the last of the greasy potatoes and only had her hand left. Holding her gaze, he set himself to licking the salty drippings on her fingers.

Her cheeks turned scarlet, and her lashes fluttered like moth wings, but she held perfectly still. He lapped up the gravy greedily then traced the thin trail that had run down her forearm past her elbow. He didn’t stop there. She tasted so sweet, and her skin was as soft as silk. He brushed kisses higher to her shoulder, her neck, heard the way she was whispering his name, half plea, half worship, as he pressed her down against the blanket. “Chris...”

His heart banged in his chest as he stared at her. Her long, dark hair flowed across the periwinkle-blue comforter.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, marveling at the softness of her dark eyes, her radiant complexion. Her wide, warm smile was all the invitation he needed to lean in and kiss her fully.

Dear God, why had he denied himself these past weeks? He took his time licking the salt from the fries off her lips. She clung to him, and her soft moans whispered through his blood.

Her hips pulsed against his, coaxing, and he struggled for control. He wanted to be skin-to-skin, and the way she slid her hands up under his T-shirt to lightly scrape her nails across his back told him she was just as eager.

This was going to end too quickly if he didn’t calm the hell down.

He sat up. Her expression hung somewhere between relaxed and curious. Whatever happened next, he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself if he’d read her wrong. Taking the leap, he glanced around to make sure they were alone, then unsnapped the top button of his jeans.

She eyed him hungrily, saying nothing as he kicked off his shoes and socks then reached for the hem of his T-shirt. This was going to happen, even if it was out here in the wilderness instead of in a proper bed. It had to be here, he thought a little wryly—neither of them could have gotten away with it in either of their homes.

There was nothing shy about the way she watched him. He’d caught her staring more than once before—of course, it was possible he was being egotistic, but sultry looks had never made him feel self-conscious or objectified. No, he hadn’t minded her looking one bit. Making sure she’d get a good show now, he slowly dragged the fabric up and pulled the shirt over his head.

Her eyes widened. She hummed,
“Hmm-mmm-mmm,”
and the sound reverberated across his sensitized skin. He grinned slyly and reached for his zipper.

“Me,” she blurted, jolting upright as if volunteering for a class assignment. He couldn’t help himself as he laughed.

Her returned giggle was the most musical thing he’d ever heard. On her knees, she maneuvered the zipper down, then hooked her fingers around his waistband, snagging his boxer briefs in the motion. Slowly, painfully, she pulled down. He sprang free, and she made that enticing
hmm-mmm-mmm
sound again.

“You have condoms?” she asked breathily, eyes fixed on him.

“In my wallet.” Call him an optimistic, opportunistic horn dog, but he’d rather be prepared than disappointed.

She didn’t move, though. Tiffany dug her fingers into the curls around his shaft, grasping him before putting her mouth over the head and taking him in.

Chris nearly collapsed at the slick, wet heat surrounding him, the gentle, exploring pressure of her tongue. He groaned. How long had it been? Too long, but that wasn’t what made it so good. He had to think about the latest baseball scores to keep from exploding right then and there. He didn’t want to end it this way, with him stark naked and her fully clothed on her knees.

He pulled away from her ruthlessly, holding her shoulders. “I want you naked,” he growled.

Her lips glistened. He helped her out of her shorts, then unbuttoned her sleeveless top to bear small, ripe breasts in a silky blush push-up bra. Her panties didn’t match—they were plain black cotton—but somehow, it fit with who she was.

Chris gathered her into his lap, kissing her, playing with her breasts. He was hot and hungry and he couldn’t get enough. She gasped and writhed beneath his touch. How he’d ever thought her cold and unresponsive he didn’t know.

“Do you think anyone will see us here?” she murmured, arching against him as he nibbled her neck.

“No.” But the slight shudder that went through her made him pause. “Do you want to stop?”

She shook her head.

He knew instinctively they’d be safe, unwatched and alone. He’d never brought anyone here—not even Daphne. It was where he’d gone to escape his father, the farm, the pressures of school, Daphne’s dramas and his hectic social life. There’d never been any pressure to be anyone other than himself in this place. That Tiffany had secretly shared it with him all those years ago made this moment all the more wonderful.

He slipped off the last of her clothing and with it, her reserve dissolved. He eased her down and she splayed herself across the blanket enticingly. Her flawless, pale gold skin contrasted against his sun-burnished complexion. He trailed a light touch over her stomach, and she shivered and arched into his touch.

Oh, boy. He definitely wasn’t going to last at this rate.

“Wanna go for a swim?” he asked.

A skeptical look wrinkled her brow as she glanced toward the water. Before she could reply, he scooped her up and walked down to the embankment. She shrieked. “Put me down!” He didn’t listen. Instead, he waded in up to his stomach and set her gently into the warm water. He could have dropped her in with a big splash, but it didn’t feel right. He wanted to treat her like a princess.

Her eyes never left his as she floated up to him, sliding her arms around his neck. He struggled not to moan as she pressed every inch of her body up against him.

“I’ve had fantasies about this,” she whispered. Buoyed by the water, she wrapped her legs around his hips. His hands drifted down to cup her bottom. “Ever since I saw you here, I dreamed I’d come down to meet you and we’d...” She trailed off.

“We’d what?” He nudged his erection against her. She was so warm.

“We’d kiss. We’d make out. You’d touch me and I’d let you. I’d let you do anything to me....”

He stopped her with another kiss. He had to remember the condom was still in his pants on the shore. The throbbing impulse to join their bodies in the water and make love until they both dissolved hammered through him, but he knew not to make that mistake twice.

Steam must have been pouring off them by the time he picked her up and walked out of the water on shaky legs. Placing her gently back on the blanket, he fumbled for the condom and sheathed himself in record time. Her eyes were dark and hazy, her skin flushed. He bent to take her, but then she surprised him by wrapping her legs around his waist, forcing him to a sitting position. With more speed and finesse than he thought her capable of, she poised herself above him, then sank slowly down.

Chris buried his face against her neck, holding tight, fully enveloped. They stayed joined, breaths mingling as they both adjusted to the deep sensation. When she met his gaze, they started a slow and steady rhythm, and he struggled to hang on. His world narrowed to the taste of her lips, the smell of their mingled arousal, the friction and heat building between them. She whispered his name over and over, and she tightened with every gasp.

His control slipped at the same time he felt the first flutterings of her climax. Clutching, clinging, they both rode the urgent wave until it crested and crashed down in a shattering roar.

* * *

D
ANIEL WATCHED HIS SISTER
hum her way through a lunch shift and knew something was up. He’d heard the rumors about her and Chris, of course, but wasn’t about to put that much stock in the town gossip mill. Anyhow, he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about
exactly
what had put that smile on her face. This was his sister, after all.

After the lunch rush was over, Tiffany speedily wiped everything down, bringing him the empty steam trays to be washed. “I’m heading over to the farm early,” she told him. “Simon’s exams are coming up and we need to do extra prep.”

Daniel didn’t point out that classes didn’t end until after three, and it wasn’t yet one-thirty. Compelled to say something—on Chris’s behalf if not hers—he asked, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course I do. Once summer school is over and I start working on math with him, it’ll be a little harder, but I’m up-to-date on my geometry. It took a couple of nights to review. Funny how quick it all comes back—”