Beginning Again: Book 1 in the Second Chances series (Crimson Romance) (8 page)

“What, you afraid you’ll fall for him, too?”

“Fuck off. But I do have an idea about how we can get this sorted out.”

“I’m listening.”

Collins told him. After a brief argument, David agreed to let him try. But if it didn’t work, they were headed for court with or without the books. The client was adamant.

• • •

After Collins left, Liz felt nervous and confused. Part of her realized she’d actually be doing something she’d fantasized about, but another part wished she could back out of it. What had she been thinking, giving him that list? She knew he meant it, that he’d find all those places, and then she’d have to live up to what she’d suggested. A beach? Sand in places where sand doesn’t belong. A forest? Twigs, leaves, and bugs in places where they don’t belong. A public place? Dear God.

The back of a Volkswagen was easy and a hot tub tame after the other three.

When Collins returned, she asked him how his errands had gone. He shrugged off her question, not saying much. The man from last night who’d been so eager to fulfill her fantasies seemed to have disappeared. She was confused. Had he gotten a dose of common sense about it? Absorbed her fear? Cooled to the idea?

He went up and down the stairs a couple times, making phone calls in the parking lot out back. She got more curious — and more concerned — as time went on. But just as she was about to ask if he wanted to reconsider the plan for spending two days together, he seemed to shake off his mood. He hugged her, kissed her cheek, suggested she change into jeans and running shoes, and pack for overnight. They’d be leaving in a half-hour, he announced. He disappeared down the steps again with his duffle bag without telling her where they were going.

It became obvious when he headed west on the Sunset Highway that they were going to the coast. The sand option. Great. And, on top of it all, in spite of being the end of summer, it wasn’t warm enough to lie naked on a blanket on the beach. This just got worse the more she thought about it.

At least he’d let her pick out the music. She still loved the songs she’d played as a young teenager. She listened to mix tapes from three decades ago in her house and always kept at least one Eagles and one Chicago CD in her car at all times.

Today, however, Rod Stewart singing “Maggie May” was up now. Next came Creedence Clearwater Revival, who would accompany them to the coast.

And then, the fun would begin. The fun. The embarrassment. The sand. What the hell had she gotten herself into? And why was she continually asking herself that question about this man?

“Okay, it’s obvious where we’re going. Which beach?” she asked about an hour into the trip as she was changing CDs.

“There’s a state park south of Cannon Beach that’s in a beautiful woods. And it has a secluded beach. I have a campsite reserved for us. Because it’s a good fifteen-, twenty-minute walk to the ocean, it’s usually pretty deserted especially — ”

“Oh, no, I’m not rolling around in the sand right near a state park. I was thinking more like an out-of-the-way … ”

“Okay, then the campsite it is.”

“A public campsite? Are you crazy?”

“Relax. I went up to REI this morning and got a tent. We’ll be in the woods, in sort of a public place, in a tent … ” He glanced at her and laughed. “You look absolutely terrified. This is going to be even more fun than I imagined.”

He was right about how beautiful the park was. And, because it was the middle of the week and the middle of the day, the crowd was sparse. That didn’t make Liz any less nervous. She tripped over tree roots as she tried to help put up the tent, finally leaving it to him to complete while she looked around anxiously, trying to see how close anyone else was to their campsite, sure that it wasn’t remote enough.

After the tent was secure, they walked hand in hand to the beach carrying the two blankets Collins insisted they needed and a picnic basket. Near the top of the dune, he stopped so they could look around. He was right again. The beach was even more deserted than the campground had been. Not a soul in sight.

“This looks like a good place,” he said after they crested the dune. He spread out one of the blankets where they’d be hidden among clumps of beach grass, kicked off his shoes, and helped her remove hers.

He’d brought an elegant lunch. Cold game hens, a thermos with basil-infused, roasted tomato soup, marinated green beans, grapes. After he’d laid out all the food, he produced two plastic champagne glasses and two bottles of wine to go with them.

“Did you think it would take a couple bottles of champagne to get me to participate in your little plan?”

“It may have occurred to me. But if you don’t want to drink any wine, that’s okay. Your call.”

She held up her glass for him to pour some of the bubbly into it. “Well, maybe just a little. I like champagne too much to turn it down.”

They toasted each other and she grudgingly admitted that he’d found as romantic a spot as she had imagined. At his urging, she lay back propped up on his thigh. He served her lunch, feeding her green beans one by one, popping grapes in her mouth, refilling her glass once, then twice. As they finished their meal, the sun broke from behind a line of clouds and streaks of sunshine began to dance over the ocean waves, looking as lighthearted as Liz felt.

After they finished lunch and Collins tidied up the remains of their meal, he lay down across the blanket from her. He didn’t try to touch her, just continued their conversation about beach trips they’d taken as kids in California. When she couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, she said, “Okay, now what? Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know, make a move here or something?”

“It’s your fantasy, sweetheart. You’re going to have to decide what’s next.”

“Suppose I decide to take a nap?”

“Then, take a nap. Like I said, your fantasy, your move.”

She reached across the blanket and touched his cheek. “On second thought, maybe I’d rather have you hold me.”

“I can do that.” He moved toward her, snugging her hips against his. “What now?”

“Well, if you won’t kiss me, I guess I’ll kiss you.” She brought her mouth to his. He tasted of wine and salt air, sweet fruit and desire — her tongue sampled all of it. When they came up for air, she touched his mouth. “God, I love kissing you,” she whispered.

“Anything else you love doing with me?” he asked.

She inched her hand slowly down his chest until she reached the waistband of his jeans. “Yes, now that you mention it, there is.” She unsnapped and unzipped him. After he returned the favor he spread the second blanket over them so they could wriggle out of their jeans and undies.

“I thought we were … ” she began as he pulled her close.

“You think too much.”

“But you said … ”

“Talk later. Fantasy now.” He illustrated his point with his mouth and his body.

• • •

Still covered by the blanket, they slowly came back to Earth after sweet lovemaking. She played with the curl that fell onto his forehead and asked if a little boy with a curl in the middle of his forehead was like the little girl with the curl.

“No,” he responded. “When she was bad she was horrid. When I’m bad I’m wonderful.”

They were working up to round two in the sand when suddenly the breeze picked up. In fact, it was getting very windy, as if a storm were coming in. Which seemed odd because the sun had gotten steadily brighter while they were there.

Collins sat up to look out towards the horizon. He started laughing so hard she had a difficult time understanding what he was saying. Finally, he got out, “Your fantasy. The Coast Guard. They’re in it?”

“The Coast Guard? What are you … ?” She bolted upright and got the answer to her question before she had it finished. Hovering just far enough away so it didn’t swamp the couple with the backwash from the rotor blades, was a Coast Guard helicopter. The two Coasties inside the helo were waving at them.

“Oh, shit. This is awful,” she said, pulling the blanket further up over her before dropping her head into her hands.

“They’re too far away to see us clearly enough to know who we are. What’s outside the blanket is dressed and what isn’t dressed is completely covered. It’s really kinda funny.”

“Easy for you to say. Here I am … ”

“I’m here, too, babe. And all they can see is a couple having a little afternoon delight on the beach. They’re either impressed that a white-haired old guy can still do it or they’re jealous because they’re working and we’re not. Maybe both.”

“Right. Working. My tax dollars being used to spy on me.”

“You sound like one of those anti-government nuts.”

“Good God, I hope not. But I am embarrassed.”

“Because they’ll what … report you? To whom?”

“Because they’ll film us and put it on YouTube.”

“But I don’t see anyone hanging out the side of the copter with a camera in hand, so I don’t think that’s gonna happen. Come on, they won’t leave until we acknowledge we see them. We’ll wave; they’ll go away.”

He waved and, reluctantly, so did she. Just as Collins predicted, as soon as they did, the pilot and his — or her — colleague flew seaward until their helicopter looked like an oversized dragonfly in the distance.

When they’d gone, Collins pulled Liz to him and kissed her forehead. “So, we’ve got beach and public place checked off the list, haven’t we?”

“And added ‘with an audience,’ too,” she said.

“I don’t think they actually saw anything, Liz.”

“But they’ll have a good story to tell their buddies when they get back to base.”

“I doubt it’s the first time anyone’s made love on the beach, babe. Maybe they just amuse themselves by keeping count.”

Twenty minutes later, as they finished the last of the open bottle of champagne, two helicopters appeared from the south. This time, the couple was completely dressed and sitting up on the blanket.

“Looks like we have more company,” Collins said as he waved at the approaching helos.

Liz laughed and joined him in greeting their new friends. With nothing interesting to see, the Coasties waggled their aircraft at them in salutation and went on their way.

Once the helicopters disappeared, Collins started packing up the picnic basket. “I think we’ve done everything that can be done here, don’t you?”

“Hell, yes. And so help me God, if I show up on YouTube or Facebook or whatever else is out there to torment foolish old women … ”

“And so help me God, if you don’t stop harping on your age, I’ll take the damn videos of you half-dressed myself and post them.” He held up three fingers in the classic Boy Scout sign. “Scout’s honor.”

“I didn’t know you were a Boy Scout.”

He abruptly dropped his hand and grabbed the bag they were using to collect trash. “There’ve been times lately I wish I was more Scout-like than I am but, no, I’ve never been a Boy Scout.” He walked away from the blanket, picking up random bits of trash and adding them to the bag.

It was the second time today he’d abruptly pulled away from her. She couldn’t figure out what she was doing to make him draw back. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she felt inept in dealing with men. Maybe this was the result of falling into bed with someone she’d known for such a short time. Perhaps this had all been a mistake. She didn’t want it to be. But what the hell was going on?

When she caught up with him she took the bag he was holding and put her empty plastic glass in it. “You must be a Boy Scout if you’re intent on policing the beach like this. Need some help?”

“No, I can … ” He looked at her, seemed to register her concern. “Sorry. Got some other stuff on my mind.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

His expression turned sad. “No, no. It’s fine. Just a business deal.” He held her close. “But you don’t deserve a distant lover. I’ll work on being better.” He took her hand and they returned to pick up the blankets and picnic basket.

It wasn’t exactly the free and open communication she’d hoped for, but at least he was back with her. For the moment.

As they slid down the dune towards the heavily wooded campgrounds, Liz asked, “Are we staying overnight in the tent?” She hoped the answer would be no, but was willing to be a good sport if that’s what he wanted to do.

He smiled. “What would you do if I said yes, sweetheart?”

“I’d be gracious and acquiescent. And probably not like it very much.”

“That’s what I thought. You didn’t strike me as the camping type. The tent was just so we could get a site and maybe a temporary place for us if the beach didn’t work out. I made another reservation down the road at a motel with spa suites and a good restaurant close by.”

“Are you planning on checking off all five of those things in two days?”

“I’d only planned two. But maybe we can get to four if I can find a nice forest on the way back tomorrow.”

“When did you say you were going back to the Wallowas?” She shook her head. “if I have any chance of surviving to get my gallery open, it better be soon.”

After checking “hot tub” off Liz’s five places they went to dinner at the four-star restaurant across the street from their motel, where they had another long evening of engaging conversation. Aside from finding him an adventurous — to understate the obvious — bed, bath, and beyond partner, she was learning to appreciate other aspects of Collins. He was, of course, interested in her work and loved discussing art. But he also had an interest in almost everything else — movies, theater, sports, politics, international issues.

He talked warmly of his family and was interested in hearing about hers. The only blank space in his conversation was his life as an attorney in L.A. He wouldn’t talk about it. He dismissed it as over and done with, not worth mentioning. She couldn’t help wondering if it was connected with his distracting business but she was afraid to ask, afraid to take the chance she’d drive him away with her curiosity.

She couldn’t remember when she’d met someone she enjoyed being with as much as she enjoyed him. His sense of humor meshed with hers. They had similar tastes in restaurants, wine, and food. He was interested in everyone from the sommelier in the white-tablecloth restaurant to the ranger at the state park. He loved her music, thought she had a great eye for design and paintings (although he told her, with a smirk, she needed to brush up on the three-dimensional arts), and shared her love of spy movies and thrillers.