Christie Ridgway - The Love Shack

Desire.

CHAPTER FOUR

STANDING BESIDE THE open door of her car, Skye tossed her purse onto the passenger seat, lifting her head when she heard the distinctive crackle of footsteps crossing crushed seashells. Warned that someone was approaching from behind, she steeled herself to stay calm. No need to jump out of her skin.

“There you are.”

At Gage’s voice, though, her heart leaped toward her throat and then plummeted to her belly. Pressing her palm there, she pasted on a casual, friendly expression and half turned toward him, determined to maintain her dignity. “Oh, hey.”

“Thought I could take you to lunch,” he said, continuing to stroll forward until he stood nearly toe-to-toe with her. He wore a pair of battered jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt that must have been dyed to exactly match his eyes. “Payback for last night’s dinner.”

Her heart bobbed again, a jerky, marionette-like movement. “That’s not necessary.” Last night’s dinner was something she’d been trying to forget since sending him on his way after he finished the bowl of ice cream. One bite had been enough for her.

He tilted his head, studying her face. She could feel it was flushed, damn it. “Aren’t you a little hot in that sweatshirt?”

Her fingers toyed with the ribbed hem that hit midthigh. “I’m perfectly comfortable.” All covered up from throat to ankles in the overlarge top and relaxed-fit khakis.

He stood silent a moment, then shrugged. “So...lunch?” As if he read her impending refusal, he sent her a wheedling smile. “Indulge a guy.”

Clearly he thought he was irresistible. She swallowed, preparing to deliver an emphatic “no,” partly due to feminine principle, mostly due to self-preservation. More time in his company equaled more time suffering the effects of her unwanted and unexpected physical fascination with him. Her mouth opened just as the breeze kicked up and she was muffled by a long swath of her own hair.

Before she could drag it away, his fingers were there, tucking beneath the strands and brushing her hot cheek as he drew the hair behind her ear. The calloused pads lingered on the rim, which went fiery as he absently rubbed the tender curl of flesh.

She felt the touch in a flash of more fire that arrowed down her neck. The erotic burn paralyzed her and she stared up at him, helpless under his enigmatic gaze and deft caress.

“Say yes,” he said.

And like a subject to a hypnotist, Skye nodded, then caught herself. “Wait. Whoa. I—”

“You don’t wear earrings,” Gage said, his forefinger now tracing the lobe of her ear.

Anyone would shiver at that gentle stroke. Anyone would be confused by the new turn of conversation. She blinked. “Not lately...”

“So fragile,” he murmured, still playing with her ear, so that his knuckles brushed the sensitive hollow behind it. “And without any jewelry, innocent-looking and...naked.”

Oh, God. That word, naked, combined with the almost delicate contact of his hand made her dizzy. She hauled in a breath, and his scent invaded her lungs, that same exotic, evocative male scent as the night before. It smelled like some rare, copper-colored spice kept behind a curtain in the last booth of a foreign bazaar.

It made her want to rub her face against his throat.

“I’m hungry,” Gage said, still touching her.

Naked. Hungry. She was melting, going liquid inside. So much heat. “Me, too,” she heard herself say.

“Lunch, then,” he said, his hand dropping. “You mind driving?” He was already moving aside her purse and climbing into the passenger seat.

Her mind caught up to his actions. “No. I... What are you doing?”

“I’m hungry, you’re hungry. A meal.” His door shut with a decisive click.

Stymied, she slid into the driver’s seat. “I was on my way to the mall.” It was true, and it was also her last-ditch effort to get rid of him. Men hated shopping.

“Sounds good,” Gage said, adjusting his seat to make more room for his long legs. “I need to buy my mom a birthday gift. Maybe I’ll find something for the engaged couple.”

He glanced over when she continued to stare at him. “What? Won’t your trip be more fun with a friend?”

How to answer that? Of course they were friends. They’d been regular correspondents for months, and he’d only be puzzled if she made a big deal about not allowing him along.

And, damn it, she wanted to be his friend.

Nothing more...but nothing less, either. She’d loved their letter exchange.

Without another demur, she headed half an hour up the coast to the outdoor promenade of shops in one of the bigger beach towns. The streets in its center were closed to car traffic, but she and Gage still had to keep an eye open for bicyclists, skateboarders and moms pushing Hummer-sized strollers. He didn’t say anything as they ambled, his gaze roaming the myriad cafés and restaurants as well as the shops that sold everything any used-to-it-all-and-more Southern Californian could want.

“Culture shock?” she asked.

He turned his gaze from the window of a store that sold nothing but ball caps to look into her face. “I always forget how much...stuff there is available for purchase.”

“Is that disapproval I hear?” She tilted her head. “All the ‘stuff’ offends your sensibilities?”

“I don’t have a lot of possessions myself, because I travel so much. I’m like a hermit crab...carry all I need on my back.”

“Nothing to weigh you down?”

He shrugged. “It’s true I’ve lived light. I...” His words faded away as his gaze caught on the bare legs of a woman in short shorts and platform sandals. He watched her swaying hips until they disappeared into a high-end lingerie boutique.

“There’s something to be said for Western excess,” he said, grinning. “Look at all those pretty little nothings.”

The stork-legged mannequins in the shop window were dressed in panties cut high and bras cut low.

“Ironic how Western excess results in a definite shortage of T-and-A coverage,” she grumbled.

He laughed. “Shall we go inside?”

“No!” she said, mortification washing new heat across her skin. “I’m not going in there with you.”

“I’ll buy you a present.”

“No,” she repeated, then quickly stepped into the specialty body and bath products store that had been her destination. Instead of scantily clad mannequins and posters of supermodels in wings, this boutique was decorated with murals of flower fields and lush vineyards. Various lines of organic skin care products were arranged by scent. Skye headed toward the back corner.

“Wait.” Gage’s head swiveled and he drifted toward a display of products nearer the front. There sat bottles and tubes colored a pale, green-tinged blue. Stacked beside them were hand-hewn blocks of soap the same color. They smelled of freshwater and flower petals. “This,” he said, pointing to it. “This is you.”

Skye shrugged a shoulder, half uncomfortable, half pleased. “You’re right. That’s their Melusine line. It’s what I use.”

He brought a waxy bar to his nose, inhaled. “I like it. It suits you, cool and sweet at the same time.”

Another surge of pleasure warmed her, even as her nerves tingled a warning. Should she change her bath products? She didn’t like the idea that her personal fragrance was so recognizable. Drawing attention to herself through looks or even scent didn’t sit well with her any longer. As she watched, he closed his eyes and drew in another breath of the soap’s perfume, clearly enjoying it.

Her nerves tingled again. Maybe it was the kind of detail only Gage would notice, she thought.

Which didn’t make her feel any more at ease. Backing away from him, she cleared her throat. “Don’t worry about sticking close. Go on out, browse the other shops. I can find you when I’m done picking out the bridal present I’m after for Jane.”