she was pointing.
His hands actually itched with the desire to wrap around her waist and pull her against him. She was wearing shorts and a loose tee that could be lifted up with the slightest effort. Her scent spiced the air and just the tiniest tilt of his head would have him nuzzling her neck. But he held himself back.
“Nice,” he said, not meaning the dolphins.
She twisted to look back over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were sparkling. “You’re not even looking.”
“Yes, I am,” he answered absolutely deadpan.
She tried to shove him backward. He didn’t move. He liked being close to her, even though he’d just told himself to leave her alone. Truthfully, he liked everything he’d discovered about her. Easy on the eyes was only one of her attributes. She laughed a lot. She spoke her mind. And she even had a kid’s enjoyment of biking even though she was obviously not used to it. It was as if this whole bike ride was a special treat for her. One that he got to share.
That was sexy as hell, and he had to remind himself to remain a gentleman. Meanwhile, she rolled her eyes.
“You guys are all the same. Never notice the tropical scenery. Just the girl in the bikini.”
“Wait,” he said with a mock frown. “There’s a tropical scene somewhere?”
“The bikini girls are over there,” she said, gesturing down at the beach.
His gaze didn’t even flicker. “You don’t need a bikini to make guys look at you.”
He spoke the absolute truth, but she turned away as if embarrassed. It wasn’t false modesty, he realized. She really was uncomfortable with her body’s appearance.
“Hey,” he said, touching her shoulder. “I was trying to give you a compliment.”
She twisted to face him, bit her lip, then said, “You know how you always want what you don’t have? Well, I’ve always wanted to be fit and toned like them.” She gestured toward the girls playing beach volleyball. “Instead, I’m soft, round and have a full rack.”
He arched his brows at her semicrude term, but it didn’t throw him. He liked that she was speaking honestly to him, so he answered in kind. “Guys like full racks.”
“That’s all guys see. Clothes never fit right, guys assume I’m easy, and people think I’m lazy because of the weight.”
He didn’t know how to answer that. She was right in part. Her breasts were the first thing people noticed about her. But in a good way, not bad. At least as far as he was concerned. She crossed her arms, distracting him again, which probably made her point.
“You’re not fat,” he said emphatically.
“Thank you, and I know I work hard to keep it that way. I just wish … I just wish I had a different body, that’s all.”
He frowned, a little disappointed in her. She seemed like such a confident woman, it surprised him that she had issues with her appearance. He’d known scores of women who obsessed endlessly about ridiculous “flaws” in their appearance. Your body was your body. There were lots of ways to get it healthier, but wishing to be taller, chestier or whatever was a waste of time.
She was moving back to her bike, slipping around him as best as she could. Moving completely on impulse, he held out his arm to block her path.
“I could help you get more fit,” he offered. “Simple exercises to improve your cardio, light weights. Nothing—”
“Nothing like what a marine does before breakfast?”
He flashed a rueful smile. “No one expects you to be a marine. But if you want to be more fit, then do it. An hour a day—”
“Will keep the doctor away. Maybe for you, but I’m civilian all the way. I’ll never be able to keep up.”
She moved around him to get back to her bike, and this time he let her. She walked stiffly while he just stood there and watched her, pieces slowly fitting into place. “Your father was military, right?”
“Air force. Why?”
“And did you have brothers?”
“Two. Air force and navy, respectively.”
“So you were the only girl?”
“Yeah. The youngest of three.”
Now he began to understand. “That must have sucked growing up. No way a younger girl can keep up with two older brothers. Physically it just can’t happen. So why bother?”
She studied him, obviously thinking. He liked that she was listening to him, actively processing his words instead of merely reacting. In the end she released a heavy sigh. “You know why I teach kindergarten?”
He shook his head. Truthfully, he hadn’t known what grade she taught in Ohio.
“Because the kids don’t let me tank out. Any other grade, you can sit at a desk at least part of the time. You can rest a bit, take a load off, do something less physically demanding.”
“Not in kindergarten, huh?”
She scoffed. “The last time I took a five-minute break, Joey stuffed a Barbie shoe into his nose.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. You’d think he wouldn’t have pushed something that pointy up there, but he did.”
“And you learned to never sit again.”
“Oh, I do. After school. But for eight hours a day—I teach both shifts—I’m moving all the time. Because the kids demand it.”
He frowned, working to sort through her message. “Are you trying to say that you work hard enough?”
“No. I’m saying that without someone forcing me, I don’t work at all. A little cardio would be good for me. I can try an hour a day.”
“I’m not forcing you,” he said. “You have to—”
“I want to,” she interrupted. “You’re not forcing anything on me at all.” Then she eyed the path, looking both ahead and behind. “So you think you can find a way back that will take an hour? A light hour.”
He smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I can.”
In truth, the journey took an hour and fifteen, and at the end of it, he could tell she was wiped. By the time they made it to her room door, he could tell they’d overdone it. Her gait was very stiff, but she was also smiling, clearly happy. And he had never felt so relaxed either. They’d managed to talk for almost the entire ride. He used it to gauge her exertion level, but honestly, it had been awesome to swap childhood stories.
She’d grown up on base with older brothers who found ways to run wild. He’d grown up on the poor side of Indianapolis where running wild was the only way to survive. There was a lot in common between them, yet also enough of a difference to make the telling exciting. But now that the time was over, he found himself looking down into her eyes and wanting something so much more from her than shared stories.
“This was great. I had a great time,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, looking at her lips. “Um, hey, make sure to pop some ibuprofen. Don’t want you sore tomorrow.”
An expression flashed across her face that he couldn’t read. Humor? Regret? Annoyance? He really had no idea and the second it registered, it disappeared. Then it occurred to him that she might not have any pills. It probably wasn’t the lifesaving staple that it was for marines.
“You know, I have a whole bottle—”
“I got some. Don’t worry. I’ll medicate.”
And then they both just stood there, her with her back to her door, him leaning over her about half a breath away from