The Borrowed Ring

A surge of possessiveness coursed through him, making his hold on her tighten and his mouth move more roughly over hers. He could still see Drake standing next to her, putting his sleazy hands on her, bringing a look of wariness to her eyes.

His first impulse had been violent. Murderous. Only the realization that he would have been putting B.J. in even more danger had given him the strength to push the anger back and use his brains instead of his fists.

He lifted his head, gasping for breath. If he were to have his way, they would make love right now, right here on the sand. They would let the surf wash over them, as in that old movie, and forget about Drake and the past and the future and anything but each other.

Because it was the middle of the afternoon and there was a chance that someone could stroll by at any minute, he forced himself to take a few deep breaths. “Let's go back to the suite.”

Her blue eyes were darker than usual, the expression in them hard to read when she gazed up at him. They were pressed too closely together for her to be unaware of how badly he wanted her. She knew exactly why he was in a hurry to get back to the suite.

He could offer her nothing except a few hours of pleasure. And he knew full well it wasn't her usual style to settle for that.

She deserved so much more.

And then she smiled up at him and took his hand. “All right.”

He found himself oddly unable to speak, his throat suddenly so tight he almost choked. He turned with her toward the path that led to their suite. Their bed.

“Wait.”

B.J. stopped and reached into her pocket. He watched as she pulled out a little shell and threw it into the water. And then she turned back to him and took his hand again. “Now I'm ready.”

He didn't know what had just happened, but as she slipped an arm around his waist and matched her steps to his, he found he couldn't really care.

Maybe he would remember to ask her later.

“Daniel?”

He stirred against her, his face cloaked in the earlyevening shadows that darkened the bedroom. His voice sounded groggy. Utterly sated. “Hmm?”

She squirmed onto her right side and rested her weight on her arm, touching his face with her left hand. “You need a shave.”

He chuckled lazily. “That's what you wanted to tell me?”

“No. Just a momentary distraction.” There were so many distracting things about Daniel, especially when he was lying naked in the tangled sheets, his chest still glistening with dampness from their exertion.

“Mmm.” He seemed to be getting distracted again himself, as his right hand slid up her rib cage toward her breast.

“Wait. I want to ask you something.”

What might have been a slight grimace crossed his face, but his tone was light when he said, “Just as well. I'm not sure I've got the energy for anything else. At the moment, anyway.”

“You're scared to death of what I'm going to ask you, aren't you?” she asked in exasperation.

“Not scared. Just…cautious.”

It would serve him right if she asked something she knew he wouldn't want to answer—like exactly what was going on between him and Drake. Instead she said simply, “When are we going to eat? I'm starving.”

He lay very still for a moment and then he laughed. His laughter was deep, rich, pleasant—and it made her chest ache because she had heard the sound so very rarely. She knew she would always treasure the echo of it.

They dined under the stars at a table for two set far enough away from the other diners that it was obvious they wanted to be alone. They sat with their heads close together, enjoying the food and wine, sharing bites, grinning foolishly at each other.

They didn't talk much—there wasn't much they could say within the parameters of safe topics Daniel had set for them—but B.J. enjoyed every minute of the meal anyway. She knew Daniel was acting out the story he'd told Drake earlier about them celebrating a private “special anniversary,” but she didn't care. The night was magical.

She'd worn one of the pretty sundresses. The diamond bracelet glittered on her wrist and the borrowed gold ring gleamed on her left hand.

Daniel wore a summer-weight jacket and a tie, and he looked like any woman's daydream of the perfect dinner companion. When he held her hand across the table, his own wedding band reflected the multicolored party lights strung above them.

It was so easy to pretend it was all real. So tempting to lose herself in the fantasy, even though she knew it was foolish. Even though she had no doubt she would be devastated when it ended.