for something you never use.”
“I like the beach.” More than ever now that she was here. “Let’s go inside, I’ll show you around.”
Max had chosen the house for it’s open floor plan and the location, but as Rachel exclaimed over the granite counter-tops and stainless appliances in the gourmet kitchen, he decided he might have had a woman in the back of his mind when he’d had the kitchen and bathrooms updated.
As they concluded the tour of the main part of the house and headed toward the bedrooms, Rachel tugged her overnight bag from his grasp and marched into the guest bedroom. He saw that she expected him to argue. Why bother when words would have little effect on her? She was afraid of what the chemistry between them would lead to. Oh, not the lovemaking. The hungry look in her eye told him that her desire for him matched his longing for her. But she was worried how their relationship would change after this weekend.
“I’m going to grab a shower,” he told her. “See you in thirty.”
When he returned to the small bedroom, he found Rachel in the midst of unpacking. She’d also showered and now wore a pale blue sundress that bared her slender arms and showed off her delicate collarbones. Her damp hair lay flat against her head, the bright gold darkened to bronze. Tiny silver butterflies swooped below her ears.
“Nice,” he murmured, gaze snagged on the frothy scrap of red satin and black lace laid out beside her suitcase.
“That is not mine.” She shook her head. “And I wouldn’t have packed it for a weekend getaway with you.”
“Why not?” He made no effort to resist a grin.
She rolled her eyes. “Because it wouldn’t have lasted more than ten seconds, so what would be the point in putting it on?”
“Try it on and I’ll demonstrate the point.”
Max gathered her into his arms and dropped his lips onto hers. He’d meant it to be just a hot, quick kiss, a suggestion of what would come later, but she melted against him and he lingered. He tasted yearning and reluctance in her kisses. Both excited him. He couldn’t wait for that moment when passion torched her hesitation and she let herself go.
Dropping his hands to her backside, he cupped his palms over her sweet curves and pulled her hard against the unruly tension in his groin. Her shiver told him she was on the verge of surrender. His stomach took that inopportune moment to growl.
A different sort of growl rumbled his throat as she laughed and flattened her hands against his chest to push him away.
“Sounds like the beast is hungry,” she said.
Before she could move out of reach, he caught her hand and pressed it over the erection straining against his zipper. “The beast is starving.”
For a series of heart-pounding seconds she cupped him, fingers trailing along his length, and Max found his knees starting to give way. But before he could swoop in for a deep, exploring kiss even hotter than the last one, she twisted free and fled out the door.
“Come on, Max,” she called over her shoulder, cheeks flushed, her half smile taunting him. “You promised me dinner.”
Ten minutes later, her eyes glowed as they drove into the parking lot of the restaurant she’d recommended. Reluctance, eagerness, anxiety and yearning passed across Rachel’s features, and Max wondered what memories this place roused. He took her hand as they started up the steps to the enormous deck that wrapped around the outside of the waterfront restaurant. With spectacular views of the Gulf of Mexico, the deck was wide enough to accommodate two rows of tables set for four and a generous aisle between. Despite the heat, families and couples occupied every table.
Weathered wood boards squeaked beneath their weight as Max held the door open for her to enter the restaurant. Once inside, the cries of gulls and the soothing pulse of the gulf gave way to the chatter of the crowd occupying the tables in the enormous restaurant. Walls of windows on three sides provided stunning views of the beach and offered the opportunity to watch the day draw to a close in spectacular shades of orange and red.
Rachel approached the hostess stand and spoke to the woman who was directing her wait and bussing staff with crisp instructions. “Hi, Mary.”
The woman looked around and her face lit up with astonishment. “Rachel Lansing. You darling girl. Come here and give me a hug.”
At first Rachel looked overwhelmed by the warm welcome, but adapted with enthusiasm.
“Max. This is Mary. She owns the Pelican’s Roost. I used to work here back in my high school days.”
“She was one of our most popular girls.”
“Yes,” Max murmured. “I’m sure she was.”
Mary lifted a disapproving eyebrow at his dry remark. “Not like that. She was a good waitress. Always smiling. Never got an order wrong and she could charm the crankiest customers. And we get a lot of those during season.”
“I wasn’t all that,” Rachel demurred. “Dad taught me the value of hard work, that’s all.”
“Yes,” Mary said with a sigh. “God rest his soul. So, where are you living these days? The last time you were here was five or six years ago, wasn’t it? You were living in Biloxi, I think.”
“I live in Houston now. I run my own business. Lansing Employment Agency.”
“And is this handsome fellow your husband?”
Color brightened Rachel’s cheeks as she shook her head. “He’s a client, actually. We were in Pensacola on business.”
To Max’s bemusement, he resented being described as Rachel’s client. But what did he expect, that she’d announce to the world that they were soon to be lovers? Or ex-lovers? Their relationship, past, present and future, was too complicated to be easily labeled.
“Do you want to sit inside or on the deck?” Mary gathered menus.
“Outside.” Rachel grabbed Max’s hand as the restaurant owner headed off and tugged to get him moving. “Is that okay with you?”
“Outside’s fine.”
He squeezed her hand and shook off his pensive mood. This weekend was supposed to be about two uncomplicated days of sex, conversation and laughter. No need to muck it up with a bunch of pesky emotions that would confuse things. Keep it light. Keep it casual.
“Everything looks good,” he said, scanning the menu with only half his attention. The rest was caught, spellbound, by the whimsical curve of her lips as she set her arm on the railing and peered at the water. “What do you recommend?”
“I’m having the raw oysters, followed by the pan-fried grouper.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t tell Mary, but it’s not as good as my dad used to make.” Then, she resumed speaking in her regular tone. “And for dessert, peach cobbler because nobody makes cobbler like the Pelican’s Roost.”
“Sounds good.”
And it was. Thirty minutes later, Max set down his fork after cleaning up every last peach cobbler crumb and exhaled. “Everything was fantastic. Why didn’t we come here five years ago?”
“We had a hard time getting dressed and going anywhere,” she reminded him with a cagey grin.
That was true. They’d been insatiable. But looking back with a clearer head, he remembered it was Rachel who’d resisted his offers to investigate the local restaurants. The one time they had gone out for dinner, she’d directed him to a town fifteen miles farther along the coast. He realized now that she hadn’t wanted to explain being with a man not her husband.
Then it struck him that this was how Nathan’s mother must have felt. Always hidden away. Always coping with the fact that she was the dirty little secret in her lover’s closet. Max had spent most of his teenage years hating his father’s mistress, blaming