Summertime Dream (35 page)
Letting out a long breath, he scrubbed a hand over his face, and put his phone away. “Joe’s in a room. He’s doing good. His blood pressure is better. It’s okay for us all to see him tonight. Stephanie said he’s sleeping right now, but she still wants us. Ready to head over? We’ll meet you there.”
Margie let out her own thankful breath and they all stood from the table. “Yes.”
Dad swept Margie into a hug, his voice cracking with emotion. “So happy for you, sweetie.” He turned to Christopher and clapped him on the shoulder, dragging him into a hard, short guy hug. “Glad to have you in the family, Chris. Real glad. I know you’ll take good care of my little girl.”
Christopher took the hug in stride and just grinned. “Thanks, and I will. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He slipped his arm around Margie’s waist and pulled her close. “I’ve never been happier.”
Outside the restaurant, as Christopher and she waited at the corner for the light to cross the street, he caught her hands in his, stroking his thumb over the new ring. “Love you. Ready to give the town something new to talk about?”
“Love you, too, and yes.”
He swept her close and kissed her, wild and deep and sweet, right there on Main Street at rush hour.
And the clapping and horn honks only made it all the sweeter.
An excerpt from
Clear As Day
, by Babette James
Chapter One
Of course, the more she determined not to think of Nate, the more she did.
“Just perfect.” Kay Browning tipped her Dodgers cap low against the mid-morning glare and kicked into a hard backstroke through the cool water. Blue skies, hot July sun, intense desert landscape—another perfect day at Lake Mohave. Except for the futile if-onlys snarled in her mind like fishing line.
Nate Quinn had come along with July and Mohave for the past six years. He’d sail in like a freshening wind, they’d share two weeks of fishing, playing, and loving, Kay’s careful schedule demolished to a pleasant shambles, and then he’d be off again on his adventures. Kay’s life would resume its organized pace, punctuated by glossy postcards, scattered bursts of e-mails, IMs and silly tweets, the occasional twenty-plus-page letter, and the odd oblivious-to-time-zone phone call.
Kay liked how they kept the relationship simple. No demands on each other. No clinging, pining or carping. A happy, mutual understanding: she stayed and he went. But this summer, however much she hated admitting the feeling, Nate’s absence threw off her sense of balance.
No whining, no pining, remember? She turned with a splash, adjusted her cap, and swam hard toward shore.
Life happens. Focus on what you can control.
At the moment, that was her painting.
She allowed herself one heavy sigh. Why every last one of her friends had inexplicably cancelled on the set-in-stone annual vacation—well, plans change. As for Nate…She hadn’t pined over anything since she was ten. This was simple, annoying regret.
She coasted into the shallows, rolled to her back and forced herself to relax and float. In her mind’s eye she drew Nate sitting there on the beach with the sun-drenched background of stark rocky land and softening tangles of willow, mesquite, and tamarisk, and the mental exercise halfway worked in distracting the fidgets—as long as she kept her eyes closed. Fantasizing wasn’t pining. Quick pencil strokes to block him in. Slower, surer on the details. He liked his blond hair in a crew cut. His lean shoulders, strong, long hands… She trailed her fingertips over his favorite path from her waist over her ribs upward to—Nope, no fantasizing that way. Back to drawing. Maybe she’d grab a sketchpad later and work out a few real drafts.
Lips set together, relaxed, with the faintest lift of a smile at the corners. The faint crook to his rugby-broken nose. His agile, comic eyebrows lay thick and straight over gray eyes. His ears stuck out a charming slightest bit. Beautiful cut abs and pecs proved his claims of laziness a lie. A perfect amount of body hair dusted silky crisp over chest, arms and legs. Men were such texture contrasts: the satin of skin and rasp of hair, jut of bone and arc of muscle, soft lips and calloused fingers. He wouldn’t have shaved yet today, and there would have been sandpapery-rough morning kisses. She almost heard him calling her, “Hey, Kay!” in the relaxed, husky way he—
With a splash, she erased the frustrating daydream. This wishful imagining fixed nothing. Her sheltered little camp would still be empty. Should she give in, pack up the camp, and hit the road north to Lake Mead instead? Just break her routine for once.
No, but it was definitely past time to get her tush out of the water and do something constructive. This lonely gnawing in her bones and brain was unacceptable. Kay pushed to her feet, facing the scenic lake created out of a stretch of the Colorado River and the rugged land beyond shimmering with heat.
Work, right, but it was too early in the day for the hard afternoon light she needed for the Coyote Point painting. She was too restless to read or fish and not in the mood to take the boat over to the marina, chat with George, and buy ice.
She rolled her shoulders and stretched, enjoying the hot air licking over her wet skin. As she wiggled her feet in the sand and gravel-bottomed shallows, a flurry of minnows darted past her ankles, and her silver toe ring glinted beneath the clear water. She paused, caught by the possibilities in the sparkling sun on water and the intricate, shifting reflections over gravel. Yes! Exactly the distracting challenge she needed. Shaking the water from her ears, she pivoted toward camp.
“Kay!” That male voice was not her imagination.
“Oh, shit!” She twisted and dropped into the water, sinking neck-deep. Mother always said, among other things, that a lady never goes skinny-dipping and must always wear a proper hat. Kay was only half skinny-dipping, but she fervently wished she’d worn something a bit more substantial than a baseball cap and the bottom half of the quintessential teeny-weenie yellow polka-dot bikini.
A word about the author...
Babette James writes contemporary and fantasy romance and loves reading nail-biting tales with a satisfying happily ever after. When not dreaming up stories, she enjoys playing with new bread recipes and dabbling with paints.
She lives in New Jersey with her wonderfully patient husband and extremely spoiled cats. A teacher, she loves encouraging new readers and writers as they discover their growing abilities. Her class cheers when it’s time for their spelling test!
http://www.babettejames.com
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