Trent and Rana were alone. They were surrounded by silence, except for the occasional squawking of seagulls that swooped down into the gulf for breakfast, and the waves that broke on the shore in lacy, foamy, incessant patterns.
“Never?” Rana asked in a faint voice.
He squinted against the new sun as he pondered her question and searched his memory. “Nope. Never. When I played with Rhonda Sue Nickerson, the little girl who lived next door to us, I always wanted to play ‘house,’ so that, as the ‘daddy,’ I could kiss her good-bye when I left for ‘work.’”
“How old were you?”
“Six or seven, I guess. When we got to be eight, I suggested playing doctor.”
“Even at that age you were manipulating women.”
He looked chagrined, and nodded. “S’pose so. I’ve never thought of a woman in any terms other than sexual.”
“Well, our friendship will be a new experience for you.”
“Right!” He raised his arms, holding his elbows parallel to the ground, and twisted at the waist. After a moment he stopped and looked at her, again with a puzzled expression. “How do you… uh… do it?”
“How do you do what?”
“Be friends with a woman.”
She laughed. “The same way you’re friends with anybody.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Race you to the pier!” He took off at a dead run. Surprised, she stood still for only a few seconds, and then she struck out after him.
“I won!” he exclaimed as he reached the first piling. He was barely winded.
“You cheated!”
“That’s the way I’ve always done it with my buddies.”
“Leave it to you to take full advantage of our new friendship.” She tossed her head back and laughed. He noticed that her top four front teeth were slightly crooked. He found the flaw endearing.
“Know what, Ana?”
“What?” She slipped off one shoe and shook sand out of it.
“I like you.”
Her head snapped up and her bare foot dangled a few inches above the sand. “You sound surprised.”
He laughed. “I guess I am.”
“That’s because I’m a woman, yet you’re seeing past what I look like on the outside.”
“It’s a shame that people let appearance count for so much, isn’t it?”
She bent down to replace her shoe. “Yes, it is,” she murmured quietly. She guessed that he was thinking Ana Ramsey had been denied happiness because she was plain. Little did he or anyone else realize that beauty could bring its own kind of unhappiness.
“Did you let me win?” he asked suspiciously.
“Sure.”
“That’s sexist, too, you know.”
“Our friendship is so new, I didn’t want anything to upset the balance.” She cocked her head to one side and smiled. If it had been any woman other than Ana Ramsey, Trent would have thought she was flirting.
“Ready to do some distance?”
“You betcha.”
He set out at a run, and she fell into step with him. Before they had gone far, she realized just how outclassed she was. She waved him on, panting, “Go ahead, take your time, I’ll wait here,” before collapsing onto the hard-packed sand.
It was almost a half hour before he returned. He cooled down, jogging in ever-smaller circles around her, before finally dropping down beside her.
“If I had a lily to stick in your hands, you’d be the picture of a cartoon corpse,” he teased. She was lying flat on her back, ankles crossed, hands folded over her tummy.
“Be quiet. I’m napping.”
“Good idea.” He lay down and stretched out beside her. “The sand’s still cool.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.”
He studied her profile. Rolling to his side, he propped his hand in his palm. “I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
Stunned by his words, she turned her head. “What?”
“I think there’s some deep, dark mystery lurking in your past.”
“Don’t talk crazy.” She turned her face skyward again.
“Some sadness.”
“No more than most people experience.”
“What are you doing sequestered in my aunt’s house, Ana?”
“What are you doing there?”
“You know what I’m doing there-letting my shoulder heal. I was living too hard in Houston, not getting enough rest.”
“Why didn’t you just discipline yourself?”
“I’ve got a weak character.”
She laughed softly at his confession. “When Ruby told me you’d be staying temporarily, I thought you were probably hiding from a greedy ex-wife and her divorce lawyer.”
He noticed that her breasts moved slightly when she laughed. Once a sexist, always a sexist, he thought ruefully. But, hell, he was a man, wasn’t he? “I’ve never been married.”
“No?” she asked, looking at him again.
“No. How about you?”
“I was married. Years ago. When I was very young.”
That surprised him. And more than mildly. He was even more certain than ever that there was more to this woman than she let on. “Hm.”
She rolled to her side to face him. “‘Hm.’ How eloquent. But you can forget what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“That I’m nursing a broken heart and trodden spirit because a rotten husband did me wrong.”
“Isn’t that the way the song goes?”
“Not in this case. When my marriage was dissolved, it was by mutual agreement, a decision based on what was best for both of us.”
“Then you still haven’t answered my question, although I congratulate you on trying your damnedest to sidetrack me. What are you doing in hiding?”
“I’m not in hiding!” The vehemence of her protest betrayed just how accurately he had hit the target.
“Come on, Ana. An intelligent, attractive, talented woman like you doesn’t take up residence in a boardinghouse with an elderly lady unless she’s forced to do so.”
“I wasn’t forced. It’s by choice that I’m here. And you didn’t think I was attractive until this morning, when you decided to be my friend rather than an oversexed nuisance.”
“I’ve always thought you were attractive.” As he spoke the words aloud, he realized they were true. In the strictest sense of the word, he had been attracted to Ana Ramsey
from the moment he’d first seen her. “All right, granted, your clothes leave a lot to be desired,” he said in response to her dubious expression “and you’re not… not…”
“Pretty,” she supplied bluntly, enjoying his discomfiture.
“Not in the classical sense, no. But I like being around you. And don’t start in on that sexist, chauvinist junk again. I’m complimenting you in a purely platonic way. I like be in with you. I’m relaxed with you in a way I can’t be with any other woman of my acquaintance, because I’m under no pressure to maintain my macho image. Do you know
what a pain that is to live up to?”
“I can imagine,” she said distractedly. She, of all people, knew what it was to live up to an image, but her mind wasn’t on that… because at that moment she realized that they were lying face to face on the lonely beach very much like lovers. Her body was feeling mellow and warm. And seconds before he had complained about having to live up to a macho image, she had been thinking just how beautiful his muscular body was.
She liked the tangy smell of his healthy sweat mingled with the salt air, liked the tumbled disarray of his wind- tossed hair, liked the way individual grains of sand clung to his damp skin. Her mouth went dry as her eyes traced the pattern of his chest hair. It swirled around neat, flat nipples and spread over his chest like a dark net.