“Enjoying yourself?” His low taunt startled Rachel.
Her gaze darted from his leanly muscled thighs to his face, but his eyes were still closed, so he couldn’t know she had been staring at him. His question was obviously referring to something else.
“Of course.” She attempted to inject a brightness in her voice. “It’s a gorgeous day and the beach is quiet and uncrowded.”
“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.” The amused mockery in his voice had a faint sting to it. “I could feel the way you were staring at me, and I wondered if you liked what you saw.”
Rachel was a little uncomfortable at being caught admiring his male body. She concentrated all her attention on rubbing the oil over an arm.
“Yes.” She kept her answer simple, but some other comment was required. “I suppose you’re used to women staring at you.” It was a light remark, meant to tease him for seeking a compliment from her.
“Why? Because I could feel your eyes on me?” Gard shifted his dark head on the pillow of his arm to look at her. “Can’t you feel it when I look at you?”
The rush of heat over her skin had nothing to do with the hot sun overhead. It was a purely sexual sensation caused by the boldness of his gaze. It was a look that did not just strip her bathing suit away. His eyes were making love to her, touching and caressing every hidden point and hollow of her body. It left her feeling too shaken and vulnerable.
“Don’t.” The low word vibrated from her and asked him to stop, protesting the way it was destroying her.
The contact was abruptly broken. “Hand me my cigarettes,” Gard said with a degree of terseness. “They’re in my shirt pocket.”
Rachel wiped the excess oil from her hand on a towel and tried to stop her hand from shaking as she reached inside the beach bag, then handed him the pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She leaned back on her hands and stared at the wave rolling into shore. The silence stretched, broken only by the rustle of the cigarette pack and the click of the lighter.
“Tell me about your husband,” Gard said.
“Mac?” Rachel swung a startled glance at him, noting the grim set of his mouth and his absorption with the smoke curling from his cigarette.
“Is that what you called him?” His hooded gaze flicked in her direction.
“Yes,” she nodded.
“There’s consolation in that, I suppose.” His mouth crooked in a dry, humorless line. “At least I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that when you say my name, you aren’t thinking of someone else.”
Rachel’s gray eyes grew thoughtful as she tried to discern whether it was jealousy she heard or injured pride that came from being mistaken for someone else.
“What was he like?” Gard repeated his initial question, then arched her another glance. “Or would you prefer not to talk about him?”
“I don’t mind,” she replied, although she wasn’t sure where to begin.
When she looked out to sea, Rachel was looking beyond the farthest point. The edges blurred when she tried to conjure up Mac’s image in her mind. It wasn’t something recent. It had been happening gradually over the last couple of years. Her memory of him always pictured him as being more handsome than photographs showed. But it was natural for the mind to overlook the flaws in favor of the better qualities.
“Mac was a dynamic, aggressive man,” Rachel finally began to describe him, even though she knew her picture of him was no longer accurate. “Even when he was sitting still—which was seldom—he seemed to be all coiled energy. I guess he grabbed at life,” she mused, “because he knew he wouldn’t be around long.” Sighing, she threw a glance at Gard. “It’s difficult to describe Mac to someone who didn’t know him.”
“You loved him?”
“Everyone loved Mac,” she declared with a faint smile. “He was hearty and warm. Yes, I loved him.”
“Are you still married to him?” Gard asked flatly. Rachel frowned at him blankly, finding his question strange. A sardonic light flashed in his dark eyes before he swung his gaze away from her to inhale on his cigarette. “Even after their husbands die, some women stay married to their ghosts.”
The profundity of his remark made Rachel stop and think. Although she had wondered many times if she would ever feel so strongly for another man again, she hadn’t locked out the possibility. She wrapped her arms around her legs and hugged them to her chest, resting her chin on her knees.
“No,” she said after a moment. “I’m not married to Mac’s ghost.” Her glance ran sideways to him. “Why did you ask?”
“I wondered if that was the reason you didn’t want me in your cabin last night.” Gard released a short breath, rife with impatient disgust. “I wonder if you realize how hard it was for me to leave last night.”
“You shouldn’t have come in.” Rachel refused to let him put the onus of his difficulty on her.
“I’m not pointing any fingers.” Gard sat up, bringing his gaze eye-level with hers. She was uncomfortable with his hard and probing look. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”
There was something in the way he said it that ruffled her fur. “Don’t strain yourself,” she flashed tightly.