Debbi Rawlins - Delicious Do-Over

“I know this cool bar on the beach. You won’t run in to anybody there.” He flashed a dazzling smile. “Unless you left more than one broken heart here six years ago.”

Even though she knew he was teasing, her breath caught anyway. “I lost count.”

His grin broadened. “It’s so good to see you, Jill.”

“I have something to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“My name isn’t Jill.” She cleared her throat. “It’s Lindsey.”

An odd expression crossed his face, and she had the horrible feeling that he was about to walk away, leave her standing in the middle of the beach. He only kicked off his brown flip-flops, and then stooped to pick them up. “That’s going to take some getting used to. You want to take off those sandals?”

“That’s it?”

“You can take your top off if you want.”

“No.” Heat crawled up her neck. “No, I meant about me giving you a fake name.”

His smile told her that he’d been teasing again. She seriously needed to loosen up.

“You were being cautious.” He shrugged. “I get it… Lindsey.” He said her name slowly, as if trying it out. “I like Lindsey. It suits you.”

“Good.” She felt better…except for her feet. The sand lodged between her arches and sandals felt gritty and uncomfortable. She slipped the sandals off before they continued down the beach.

“Are you going to tell me your last name?” He playfully bumped her shoulder with his. “Or do you want to wait and see how the day goes?”

“Not a bad idea.”

A faint smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Mine is Granger.”

She had to give him points for not reacting badly to the fake name. “Shaw.” But she wouldn’t give him her room number yet. “When did you get here?”

“The end of November.”

“I meant Hawaii.”

“I know.” He jerked his chin toward a hotel bordering the beach and guided her in that direction. “I have a house here.”

“In Waikiki?”

“The other side of the island. On the North Shore.”

She shook her head, totally confused. She knew he’d gone to school in Southern California, and that he was from Michigan. “When did you move here?”

“I didn’t.” He shaded his eyes and gazed out over the ocean, briefly focusing on a couple of bodysurfers. “I’m only here part-time. This is it,” he said, gesturing.

The bar was little more than a grass hut without walls. She’d seen it from a distance and thought it was a concession that rented out surfboards and canoes. But there were shelves of liquor in the center, surrounded by a wooden bar and wooden stools. Inside the circle, a big man wearing a yellow Hawaiian shirt garnished frothy drinks with pineapple wedges and cherries.

The bartender looked up when they slid onto stools facing the water, and a grin softened his craggy features. “Hey, Rick, long time no see. What you doin’ on this side of da island, bruddah?”

“Slumming.”

The man chuckled, leaned closer as he picked up the glasses. “You right about that,” he said in a discreet voice, giving Lindsey a quick wink before carrying the order to the customers sitting at the other end of the bar.

“Slumming?” Lindsey repeated.

Rick swiveled around to face her, his legs spread, effectively trapping her. “Not you. It’s a tourist thing.”

“I’m a tourist.”

He picked up a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers in a surprisingly intimate gesture. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he murmured.

“I figured you’d have forgotten about me by the next day.”

He let go of her hair, met her gaze. “Why did you disappear without waking me up?”

Lindsey tensed, unprepared to explain herself, unwilling to admit that he’d frightened her by making her feel things she’d never dreamed possible. “I woke up late. I didn’t want to miss my plane, and I honestly didn’t think it mattered. You knew I was leaving.”

He studied her a minute, then shrugged. “I figured it was something like that.” He swiveled back around just as the bartender approached. “When did you start working here? I thought you were at the Hyatt.”

“I’m workin’ two jobs. Gotta pay da bills, bruddah.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Rick said, and the older man’s brown eyes glinted with amusement she didn’t quite understand. “This is Lindsey, Keoni.”

Keoni acknowledged her with a nod. “What can I get you?” he asked, and then said to Rick, “Beer for you, I know.”

Lindsey thought for a moment. “That sounds good.”

Rick’s brows went up. “No fancy drink?”

“They have a way of sneaking up on me,” she admitted.

Keoni had already moved away to grab mugs, but she saw him smile.

Rick turned back to face her, this time taking one of her hands and lightly pressing it between his slightly callused ones.

“I don’t want you drunk,” he murmured in a low voice meant only for her ears.

She started to laugh, thinking he was teasing, but his hazel eyes were serious. “I wasn’t drunk last time, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“No—” He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but Keoni slid their mugs in front of them. “Thanks.”

He might have stuck around, but a young couple came up from the beach and pulled out stools, and Lindsey watched Keoni amble toward them.

Rick stroked her palm with his thumb. The pad wasn’t smooth like that of a desk jockey. When they’d met he’d been an engineering student. She wondered if he’d finished school, or decided he’d rather hang out at the beach.

“I wish I’d known Keoni was working here,” he muttered. “Nice guy, but I was hoping for a bartender I wouldn’t know, so we’d be alone like you said.”

She slowly swung her gaze to his face.

His lips twitched. “To talk.”

“Of course.” She looked deeply into his eyes, entranced by the way the hazel had become a warm gold. Her breathing slipped slightly off-kilter, and as hard as she struggled to look away, she couldn’t.

“Screw it.” He leaned in and kissed her.

Not a quick one, either. He lingered, slanting his mouth over hers, his lips supple and coaxing. Startled, her senses swimming, she felt the tip of his tongue tease the corner of her mouth, and she parted her lips.

He slid his tongue inside, slow and hot and demanding, making her forget where they were. He moved his hand to her thigh, up high, where her shorts ended. His thumb slid just under the hem. Coming from somewhere in the haze she heard a woman’s faint laugh.

Lindsey froze, and realized with an element of shock that they were sitting at the bar in full view.

She broke away, not knowing where to look, what to do. She wanted to hide her face in her hands. Instead, she grabbed blindly for her mug and took a long cool sip of beer.

“Relax,” Rick said, his hand still resting on her thigh. “Lots of honeymooners around. No one even noticed.”

She kept her hands wrapped around the mug, and stared down at the amber brew. It wasn’t the kiss, exactly, that had her flustered. It was how quickly the fire inside her had ignited, how quickly the heat had surged through her veins and settled low in her belly. It seemed almost unnatural.

Good grief, it wasn’t as if she’d been living in a convent for the past six years. There had been other men she’d liked, a couple of them well enough to have become intimate with, but no one had ever made her feel as if nothing around her mattered, as if the only reason for her next breath was to feel his touch again. But wasn’t that exactly why she was here? She wanted to relive those eight hours, stretch them out to a week.

Rick reached for his beer. After taking a sip, he rested an elbow on the bar and just looked at her. “So where are you living these days?”