Debbi Rawlins - Anything Goes...

It was finally her turn and she stepped up to the bar and ordered two mai tais with extra pineapple. She gave the bartender two purple beads in exchange, and then carried the drinks back to Ginger—who wasn’t there. Probably in the bathroom checking her teeth for lipstick.

Carly took a sip of her mai tai, wincing at its potency. Good thing she hadn’t ordered doubles. The fresh pineapple smelled heavenly and she was dying for a bite, but with both hands full, she’d be asking for trouble. She took another sip instead, feeling the stinging heat in her cheeks.

She hadn’t eaten anything since she’d left Salt Lake that morning and the alcohol was doing a number on her stomach. The pineapple wouldn’t be much but it would help the slight burning. If only Ginger would hurry and get back….

Carly spotted her on the dance floor. Under a spotlight, her red hair glistened as she danced to a Rod Stewart song. Her partner was a tall, long-haired guy Ginger had been eyeing earlier.

The song ended, and Carly felt annoyingly relieved. She was glad Ginger had been asked to dance, but she hated standing here by herself. The next song started and Ginger kept dancing. Sighing, Carly took another sip of her mai tai, wishing like crazy they’d grabbed something to eat as she felt the alcohol burn a path down to her stomach.

She glanced around for an empty table or somewhere to set down the drinks, and noticed a dark-haired guy staring at her. Not too tall, maybe a shade under six feet, with a wiry athletic build. She took another foolish sip and focused on the dance floor, trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed him.

Ginger had really gotten into the spirit of things. Plastered up against her partner, she wiggled and writhed until Carly couldn’t watch anymore. She finished her drink, clumsily bit the pineapple off the rim of her empty glass, and threw her head back to make sure she didn’t lose the slippery wedge. The fruit was a little tart, but she polished it off and then started on Ginger’s mai tai.

“Carly?”

She turned toward the masculine voice. It was him—the dark-haired guy who’d been staring.

He smiled. “Carly Saunders, right?”

Stunned, she nodded. “Do I know you?” She squinted at the prominent cleft in the center of his chin. Now that he was closer he did look familiar.

“You don’t remember?”

Slowly, she shook her head, wondering if this was another feeble come-on. She sure hoped so. She wasn’t supposed to know a soul here. Anonymity was the beauty of this vacation. A necessity, in fact.

He put a hand to his heart, laughter dancing in his hazel eyes. “After we spent two wonderful summers together? I’m deeply offended. Crushed, in fact. I’ll probably never be the same.”

“I think you have me mixed up with—” A flood of warm memories washed over her. “Rick?”

He grinned and held open his arms.

She could only stare. God, he’d filled out beautifully. His shoulders were so broad, his legs long and lean in his snug-fitting jeans. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him. Sadly, after a dozen or so years, she obviously looked the same.

“Damn, it’s good to see you. Come here.”

She shifted the drink to her left hand and awkwardly extended her right one.

Ignoring it, Rick slid his arms around her and lifted her off the floor. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

Carly tried to wiggle free. “For goodness sake, put me down.”

He did just that. Slowly. Letting her body slide down his. He stiffened suddenly, the look on his face suggesting he’d figured out that move wasn’t such a good idea. “Wow, kid, you’re all grown up.”

Carly touched the floor and immediately stepped back. “Enough that you can stop calling me kid.”

“Yeah.” He pushed a hand through his hair, looking a little bemused. “What’s it been, ten, eleven years?”

“More like twelve.” Amazing how suddenly and vividly she remembered that last day they’d spent together. They’d watched the beavers build a dam across the stream below his grandmother’s house.

Carly had reached a milestone the day before. She’d turned thirteen, become a young lady and convinced herself he’d finally return her adoration. She’d suffered her first broken heart that summer.

“I think I’d just had my sixteenth birthday that last vacation I spent at Gram’s.”

“That sounds about right.” Carly touched his arm. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. She was a nice lady and a terrific neighbor. My mom tells me everyone in town misses her.”

He shrugged. “She lived to eighty-seven in a place she loved. Can’t ask for more than that.”

“Sorry I missed the funeral. I was away at school and didn’t hear the news until after the fact.”

He shook his head. “I missed it, too. I was out of the country.” His restless gaze drifted toward the dance floor. “It’s noisy in here.”

“Yeah,” she said, torn. She wanted to suggest they go somewhere quiet and catch up. At the same time, she prayed she wouldn’t see him again for the rest of the week.

Darn it. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know she was here. Or know who she was. Too late. Still, it was great seeing Rick after all this time, and at least he had no more ties to Oroville. It wasn’t as if he’d go blab about her to anyone in town.

“I don’t really dance,” he said, inclining his head toward the dance floor. “I might shuffle around to a slow number once in a while.”

“No problem. I didn’t expect you to ask.” She shrugged. “If I wanted to dance, I would have asked you.”

The corners of his mouth lifted in a slow smile. “You haven’t changed.”

“Sure, I have.”

His gaze narrowed, and he studied her for a long awkward moment. “Come to think of it, this is about the last place I would have expected to find you.”

Heat crawled up her neck. “You plied me with enough pictures of these islands. And since this is the only resort here and the idea of pitching a tent didn’t cut it…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“What?” She grinned. All he’d talked about for the two summers was how he was going to be a famous archeologist some day. How he was going to travel to places that no modern man had ever been. “I wouldn’t have expected to find you here either. I thought you liked roughing it. Sleeping in a tent. Digging around in the dirt.”

“Yeah. Right.” He snorted, but seemed oddly annoyed, his gaze straying, his eyes restless. “Look, I gotta go but maybe we could meet for a drink or something later.”

“Sure.” Carly paused, not understanding what she’d said that was so wrong. She started to ask, but he quickly disappeared into the crowd before she could say boo.

Had his plans changed? Had he taken up another profession? No, he’d been far too passionate about archeology. Of course he’d been young, too young to etch anything in stone. Anyway, that would be no reason to be touchy.

“Who’s the hunk?” Ginger came from behind, fanning herself. “Damn, I’m hot. I hope that’s for me.”

Carly automatically passed her the mai tai, while continuing to stare into the crowd. “His name is Rick. Rick Baxter.”

“Whoa, you guys are on a last-name basis already. I thought that was a no-no.”

“I know him. I mean, we didn’t just meet tonight.”

“No joke? How bizarre.” Ginger took a huge sip and then used the damp cocktail napkin clinging to the bottom of the glass to wipe her neck. “You know him from school?”

Carly sighed. “No, from back home.”

“Good God, girlfriend, you have guys who look like that living in Oroville?”

“No, he doesn’t live there. He visited his grandmother for two summers. But that was over ten years ago.”