Barefoot Season (24 page)

Twenty-Two

A
t two-thirty on Monday afternoon, the last of the guests drove away. Carly stood on the porch and watched the final car disappear down the road, then gave in to exhaustion and collapsed onto one of the wicker chairs.

So far today she’d organized a tour of town, suggested stops for a couple driving back to eastern Washington, checked out the guests who were leaving, had cleaned not one, not two but three rooms and had confirmed the linen order. Michelle had taken the afternoon shift in the gift shop, so it wasn’t as if she was slacking off, either.

They’d been on the run since Friday morning, the inn overflowing with guests enjoying a rare sunny long weekend. One of the housekeepers had called in with car trouble the previous day, meaning in addition to her regular duties, Carly had cleaned ten rooms on Sunday. Her back ached, but her feet hurt more. All she wanted was a bath and about ten hours in her bed.

She would pick up Gabby at five and get to hear all about her daughter’s day at camp. Hopefully the staff had tired her out and they could both be in bed by eight.

“I have to get moving,” she murmured, hoping for inspiration. After all, sometime around four, more guests would be arriving. Instead, she leaned her head back against the cushions and sighed. No wonder the guests settled in out here for much of the evening. It was plenty comfortable.

She kicked off her shoes and propped her feet up on the ottoman. Her eyes drifted closed. She could hear the call of the cranes and distant laughter. Her muscles relaxed. She felt herself drifting, drifting.

Something soft and warm brushed across her mouth.

A kiss, she thought hazily. She inhaled the scent of mint and sunshine, knowing she didn’t want to open her eyes. Dreams didn’t get much better than this.

The kiss lingered, the pressure increased slightly. Just enough to make her realize she wasn’t asleep and this wasn’t a dream and what the hell?

She opened her eyes to find Sam leaning over her.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with a grin. “You shouldn’t tempt a man like that.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it when she realized she was too stunned to speak. She scrambled backward, but the chair prevented her from getting away.

Sam immediately straightened, holding up both his hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. You okay?”

She was tingling in places that hadn’t seen action since before Gabby had been born. Did that qualify as okay?

“I’m fine,” she managed.

He stood in front of her, as if wanting to make sure.

“Really,” she said more firmly. “It was unexpected.” She smiled. “But nice.”

He shook his head. “I don’t accept that. No guy wants to hear anything about him is ‘nice.’”

Her smile deepened. “‘Nice’ is all I have.”

“Damn.” He took the chair next to her. “You’re killing me. You know that, right?”

“Sorry.”

“How was your weekend?” he asked.

“Busy. We were full. This is the start of our summer season. From now through Labor Day it’s going to be crazy. But good crazy. We have to make enough to get through the leaner winter months.”

Like squirrels storing nuts, she thought, not willing to say more about the financial situation at the inn. She didn’t know how much Michelle had shared with her friend and she didn’t want to tell secrets.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I went out on a fishing boat yesterday. I haven’t done that in years.” He glanced at her, amusement brightening his eyes. “Too many landlocked assignments.”

“You should have joined the navy.”

“You didn’t just say that.”

“Sworn enemies?”

He leaned back in the chair. “Just not as good.”

“Why do I think they’d say the same about you?”

“They probably would. Swabies are incapable of original thought.”

“If you settle here, you can start going fishing regularly. Maybe get a boat.”

“If I stay here, I can do a lot of things.”

Was he flirting with her? She’d been single for so long, she wasn’t sure. Between Gabby and work, there hadn’t been time for a man, and it wasn’t as if she was turning them away. Except for Robert and Leonard, most of the guys she met were with someone, away for the weekend. She was less enthused about dating local guys. She knew most of them from high school, which meant they had expectations she had no intentions of fulfilling. Anyone eligible who moved to the island was quickly snapped up. Not that she’d been looking or was interested.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “You’re frowning.”

“Nothing important.” Mentioning her pathetic lack of a love life seemed foolish. “How are you liking our town?”

“It’s nice. Friendly people. You still have to show me around.”

“Sure, just not today.” She wiggled her toes. “There’s not a part of me that doesn’t hurt.”

“You’ve been on your feet for three days, haven’t you?”

Longer, she thought, ignoring the insistent throb. “It’s part of the job.”

Sam shifted from the seat to her ottoman. He grabbed her feet before he sat and rested her heels on his thighs. Even as she told herself to pull back, he had her right foot in his large hands and was expertly rubbing the tender skin.

She wanted to tell him to stop, that they were in plain view of everyone and this was hardly professional behavior. Then his thumbs dug into the ball of her foot, finding the place that hurt the most and massaging it.

“You’re good,” she whispered, holding in a moan.

“I’ve had practice.”

“Those two wives you mentioned?”

He laughed. “Among others. You’d be amazed what a good foot rub will get a guy.”

“Seduction through massage?”

“Uh-huh.”

He squeezed her toes, then pressed his thumbs into her heel.

“I can see how it would work,” she murmured, closing her eyes and giving in to the treatment.

She would tell him to stop in a few minutes. She would pull herself together and be strong. But for now, she couldn’t find it in herself to say no. Everyone had a vulnerability and apparently resisting foot rubs was hers.

She knew Sam’s type—more from instinct than practice. He was charming and fun, in it for the moment. Not someone who would settle on one woman permanently. Not that she was looking for Mr. Right. But if she accepted what he was offering, she would have to remember that it was going to be fun while it lasted—nothing more.

He switched to her other foot, repeating the process and making her relax all over. Her eyelids got heavy and she found herself drifting again.

She was warm and comfortable, the sun playing peekaboo with the trees. A gentle breeze brushed against her skin. Soft laughter drew her back to the present.

She opened her eyes to find Sam standing.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand.

“What?” She blinked, confused. Her shoes were back on. When had that happened?

“You’re falling asleep. You need a nap.”

“I can’t. I have work to do.”

“Not today.”

She let him pull her to her feet. As she rose, she realized he wasn’t that far away, which meant when she was standing, they were very, very close. Close enough for her to see the various colors of blue that made up his irises. Close enough to see the tiny scars on his eyebrow and chin. Close enough to feel the heat of his body. Heat that beckoned her, tempted her, made her want to walk a very dangerous path.

“Maybe I
should
lie down,” she murmured, stepping away and trying to catch her breath.

This was crazy, she told herself. Sure, she hadn’t been with a guy in a long time, but so what? She was used to doing without. Being around Sam wasn’t a big deal. Only she found herself aware of every breath, of the slight brush of his arm against hers. Visions of being held by him, being touched by him, filled her brain. She wanted—no,
craved
—that skin-on-skin contact. A man over her, in her, taking her.

She shivered as the hunger became real. Talk about confusing. Despite her reputation, she’d never been very into sex. Well, not counting today.

“Cold?” he asked, putting his arm around her. “Where are your keys? You okay to drive home? Should I take you?”

“I live here,” she said. “In back.”

Probably not the smartest thing to say, given her condition, she thought as he led her inside.

“Point the way,” he told her.

She did and they went down the hallway. At the door marked Private she fumbled with the lock, then managed to open the door.

Sam guided her inside, then stopped in the middle of the room.

“Given the circumstances,” he said, “I’m going to stop here. Getting you ready for bed would test me in ways that I would definitely fail.”

He shifted in front of her and put his hands on her waist. “But when you’re feeling better, I sure would like to have you show me around.”

She wasn’t sure if he meant the town or something more. She knew which she wanted to believe, but wondered if that was wishful thinking on her part.

He stared into her eyes and swore. “Just once more,” he whispered. “You can slap me if you want, but I have to—”

He lowered his mouth to hers. Carly saw the kiss coming and had plenty of time to back away. To resist. As if that was going to happen, she thought, raising her arms and wrapping them around his neck.

She had a feeling he only intended to repeat the kiss from before, but she wasn’t sure how long it would be before she had a man in her arms again, and she planned to take advantage of the situation.

When his mouth settled on hers, she was ready. She tilted her head and eased forward until they were touching everywhere.

God, he felt good. All hard planes and muscles. She’d forgotten what it was like to be held by a man, to have strong arms supporting her and a firm mouth brushing against her own.

It didn’t take him long to get the message and deepen the kiss. She parted when she felt his tongue touch her bottom lip and met him stroke for stroke.

Between her legs, blood rushed so hot and fast, she practically hurt. Her breasts swelled and her nipples were hard peaks of come-touch-me pain. Hunger exploded. Wanting grew, filling her, making her want to beg and claw. If she’d been able to consume him, she would have. As it was, she could only hold on and pray that kissing was going to be enough.