Honeymooning (2 page)

 
“I’ll just show you to your cottage, then, okay? This way.” Ginny came around the desk, and Janet learned that she wasn’t a natural blond.

 
Tom’s fingers dug into her elbow harder. “Gently, darling,” she said under her breath. “It’s okay.”

 
He exhaled and said something that sounded vaguely prayer-like, though Janet couldn’t hear the words.

 
They followed Ginny’s pink, wobbling bottom out of the building, and then around to the side, down a verdant path lined by tall, flowering plants, most of which Janet couldn’t name, all of which looked tropically sensuous with large leaves and seductive blossoms. The air smelled green and lush, and the noise of the waves crashing just a few hundred yards away filled Janet’s ears.

 
If only they weren’t following a naked stranger. She swallowed the nervous giggle that threatened to send her into a full-blown fit of laughter. It wouldn’t do, not at all.

 
Ginny led them up onto a small porch. Two wooden gliders sat next to the railing, with a tiny table in between. Turning to face them, Ginny spread her arms wide, her breasts bobbing. “This is it! All yours. A million dollar view, just
look
at it. Sunset is amazing. And wait till you see the inside.” She opened the door and stepped in, not waiting for them to follow.

 
In Janet’s ear, Tom said, “I don’t know… I’m…”

 
“It’s all right, love. It’s quirky,” she said. “I’m
beyond
fascinated now. Come on.”

 
Inside, a giant bed with a white and yellow pineapple quilt sat next to a sunken bathtub that commanded a view of the ocean out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Ginny did another full turn, followed by something that looked like a little leap, a small dance move that looked joyous. And jiggly. Tom choked and stared at the wooden floor.

 
“Now, I’m sure you already saw all the rules on the website, but here’s a list of them right here. The most important, of course, is our dedication to full nudism. But you have a little while before we all come to check to make sure you’re complying.”

 
Janet felt her left eye begin to twitch.

“Just kidding!” crowed Ginny. “Gotcha! We don’t check, of course not.” A slight pause. “But we do stick to the rules, yessiree.” She patted the bed, “I’ll leave you two alone to start your wedding romp right here. I’m sure you have lots of glorious consummation to make.” She winked at Tom who didn’t notice—his eyes were now all the way shut again. Then she left, carefully closing the door behind her.

 
“Oh, God. Oh, God,” said Tom, his voice weak.

 
Janet twisted the rods of the window blinds closed and sat on the edge of the bed. Poor thing, Tom looked more miserable than she’d ever seen him, even worse than after he’d rolled the tractor last winter. He held the rule card and the further he read, the more disconsolate he became.

 
“Oh,
God
. I can’t do number six on this list. I just can’t,” he said. “We have to leave. Right now. We can get out of here, and...”

 
She wished they could. Janet ran her hand along a carefully quilted seam. “Didn’t she say you were lucky to get this place because of the marathon this weekend?”

 
He nodded.

“Then it would seem that we’re stuck here.”

 
Tom raked off his hat and threw it on the chair. “I
knew
something was weird about the site. But I didn’t see a rule page.” He rubbed his jaw. “Or if I did, I didn’t read it.”

 
“So you knew nothing about this?”

 
“The site said clothing-optional. I thought it meant European-topless-on-the-beach. I thought you’d love that, you being so cosmopolitan and all.”

 
“Oh, darling, that’s code for must be naked at all times.” And even though it was an amusing fix to be in, she felt a sudden trepidation she didn’t allow her voice to betray. “And you call yourself a Californian. How did you not know that?” Janet reached for the card. “Let me see those rules.”

 
He groaned and then flopped down on his back behind her on the bed. “I thought I’d done a good job. And now this. Number six. Did you see that one yet?”

 
Janet read the rule in a fake British accent. “Use of grounds requires full nudity. Out of respect for others, we respect our own bodies, claiming the beauty intrinsic to every human being. Anyone clothed while on the grounds, at the pool, at the sauna, restaurant, coffee shop or beach will be politely but firmly asked to leave.”

 
Tom’s arm dropped over his face, and his words were muffled. “I can’t. There’s no way in hell. Maybe you can, but I can’t. You can do anything. You’ve probably been to one of these places before. On purpose.”

 
“No,” she said. “I haven’t, actually.” She felt herself color and hoped Tom didn’t notice. She
was
cosmopolitan, yes. She traveled internationally and ate well and wore the best clothes. She could talk to heads of state without feeling flustered.

But being nude in front of anyone but Tom—the idea scared her. It made her feel shy, and she
never
felt shy.

Tom pulled a pineapple pillow over his face and then spoke from underneath it. “But you knew what clothing-optional meant. You would have read the rules before giving them your hard-earned money. I was just trying to do something nice for you. After you paid for... for everything else.”

 
There it was. The sore subject that was always just out of sight, right around the next corner. The money-green elephant in the room. Janet had made her fortune before she divorced, and she’d kept it afterward. She’d been the one who’d wanted to get married, and Tom hadn’t, not for a long time. She’d taken it personally, naturally, until she’d realized it was because he didn’t think himself rich enough to marry her. After an illuminating conversation with Cade one afternoon, she’d tracked Tom down at the races, about to put his life savings on a horse, trying to win the money he’d never make working on a ranch. It was his first-ever bet, and he was going to risk it all. She’d kissed him and stayed his hand. Then she’d bought him a shot of Jack Daniels when the horse he would have bet on lost by a quarter-mile. His hands shook around the glass.

 
Janet had been the first to propose. She’d never been scared to take charge. Late one night on the Cypress Hollow pier, under a string of white lights leftover from an earlier wedding, she’d put her arms around him and said, simply, “Why don’t you marry me?”

 
Tom had stuttered and then led her back to her condo just off Main. He’d made love to her for hours, never saying
No
, but never saying
Yes
, either.

 
The second time had been at the ranch. She’d been determined to help him with his chores that afternoon so she could steal him away earlier than he’d planned. They were out riding when she fell off her mare after it had been spooked by a rustle in the underbrush. Tom had quieted both their horses with just a few words, and then ran to her side, running his hands up and down her arms, legs, checking for injury. Impatiently, she’d swatted aside his hand. “If you’d just marry me, you wouldn’t have to work so many hours.”

 
The side of his jaw had tightened, but he’d kissed her anyway, and then said, “If you’re all right, it’s best to get right back up on the horse. It’s not an old cliché for nothin’.”

 
The third and final time she’d proposed had been in the Book Spire. Lucy was having a sale on knitting books, and Janet knew that they’d make a good gift for Abigail. After paying for her purchases and chatting with Lucy, she’d caught Tom in the self-help section, flipping through
Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus.

 
“Oh, darling, you don’t have to try to figure me out.” She’d put a laugh in her voice. “Just marry me and make the happiest woman on earth.”

He’d scowled and banged the book back onto the shelf, and then he’d stalked out to the car without saying goodbye to Lucy. It was very unlike him. Janet knew she’d taken it too far and resolved to be more patient.

But the problem was that she
wanted
to be married to Tom Morgan. No man had ever scrambled her brains, heart and libido all at the same time like he did. Yes, he’d moved from the barn bunkhouse to her large, sunny condo about a year before, and she got some of the benefits of marriage—he was the first one she saw when she woke up, and she couldn’t sleep at night until his arms were around her. He could arouse her with a look, and at the same time, he made her feel safe. He made a three-alarm chili that won blue ribbons, and he was teaching her to roast a chicken.

But who could blame her for worrying that he might get up one morning and walk away without looking back? Janet wanted to be his family, not his girlfriend.

But even though they were living together, marriage wasn’t what
he
wanted, apparently. Janet had swallowed her disappointment and worked on making her peace with his decision. And she thought he’d been good with it until one night he’d made her carry her ice-cream cone out to the pier. “Just a short walk in the moonlight, sugar,” he’d said. She’d been happy to hang over the edge, catching the sparkling glints on the water below, licking her cherry vanilla cone, stealing bites of his peanut butter chocolate one.

He took out from the inside pocket of his jacket a beat-up copy of
Men are from Mars
and showed it to her. “I went back and got this.”

Janet’s heart thunked heavily. “What did you think?”

“I thought it was nothing but crap on a cracker.” He threw the book as far as he could out into the black water.

“That’s littering!” But she grinned.

“No, it’s not. That book is so full of junk it’ll disintegrate before it hits the shore. Best thing I could do for it.” Then he got nervous. He looked at his shoe, sending his face into shadow.

As he reached into the front pocket of his Wranglers, Janet’s heart beat wildly.

He pulled out a penny and tucked it into her hand. She fought disappointment that she hoped he couldn’t read on her face.

“Make a wish,” he said.

Dutifully, she turned her back on the water, held the coin in her right hand and threw it over her left shoulder.
I wish to get over this obsession with marrying Tom.

A clink followed by a roar of laughter from Tom made her jerk around. “What? What happened?”

“A seagull,” he could barely gasp. “A damned seagull flew by and caught your penny in midair.” Pulling her up against him, her thighs to his, his arms around her waist, he said, “I guess you’re not getting that wish.”

Damn. She leaned her head on his shoulder and cozied close, but he pulled away. He looked at her, those sparkling eyes that she loved. He still had something up his sleeve. “What?” Janet asked. “Want to go throw coins at the seals next?”

He reached into his pocket again. This time, he pulled out a ring. Unboxed, resting on his palm, it glimmered under the white lights. He slipped it on her finger and said, “There. I’ve just been waiting for the right time. Marry me, sugar?”

The question was as straightforward as he always was. He wasn’t on his knee. There was nothing fancy, no skywriting, no ring in a glass of expensive champagne.

It was perfect.

Janet laughed and said, “Okay.” Then the tears came that she didn’t quite understand, and Tom had the same ones in his eyes. She kissed him, and then they stood there at the end of the Cypress Hollow pier, Tom’s arms around her to ward off the night wind. When she held out his ring to admire it, the sparkle matched the moonlight on top of the waves.

But now, in this Hawaii honeymoon suite, even with the ring that he’d bought and the room he’d paid for—the elephant was rearing its head. She
had
paid for the wedding, because she’d wanted to. She already thought of her money as
their
money. But Tom didn’t.

Well, hell. He’d just have to start accepting it. They could leave this hotel right now—she knew they could. Even if the whole island was booked, money could always find that one last penthouse room. Janet moved to sit next to him on the wide honeymoon suite bed. She took his big hand in hers, feelings the work ridges on his palm, knowing even when she’d worked the hardest in her life, she’d never had hands like these. His hands deserved the best.

She opened her mouth to tell him so, to tell him they could just get in the rental car and get the hell out of—

“You really aren’t mad?” Tom said. “It’s kind of pretty, isn’t it?” There was such hope in his voice that Janet swallowed the words she’d been about to say.
 

“Of course I’m not mad. I think it’s perfect.”

“What about rule number six?”

“I don’t see any reason to leave this room, do you? I have everything I need right here.” She leaned toward him and placed a light kiss on his neck, on the skin where his neck and shoulder met, the place that always made him shiver. It worked now—she felt the goosebumps rise on the back of the hand she was holding. She traced a small spiral with her tongue and slid her mouth up to his earlobe. She tugged it lightly as she shifted, smoothly, bringing one knee up and over him so that she was straddling his lap.