What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(37)

He slowed his steps as they neared the water. A ribbon of moonlight silvered the tips of his eyelashes. “You’re right, Scooter,” he said. “I was a jerk that night on the boat, and I apologize.”

She’d never heard him apologize for anything, but too much hurt and shame lingered inside her for a few words to make a difference. “Apology not accepted.”

“Okay.”

She waited. “That’s it?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what else to say. It happened, and I’m not proud of myself.”

“You wanted to get off,” she said bitterly, “and there I was, standing so conveniently in front of you.”

“Hold on.” Unlike her, he wasn’t wearing a sweater, and the breeze pressed his T-shirt against his chest. “I could have gotten off with any of the women on the boat that night. And I’m not being arrogant. It’s just the way it was.”

A wave splashed her ankles. “But you didn’t. You chose dumb-ass here instead.”

“You weren’t dumb. Just na?ve.”

She needed to ask him something, but she didn’t want to look at him, so she leaned down to turn up the cuffs of her jeans. “Why did you do it?”

“Why do you think?” He picked up a beach stone and hurled it into the water. “I wanted to put you in your place. Knock you down a few pegs. Show you that even though Daddy made sure you got top billing and a bigger paycheck, I could get you to do what I wanted.”

She stood up. “Nice guy.”

“You asked.”

The fact that he’d finally owned up to his bad behavior made her feel a little better. Not good enough to forgive him, but good enough to accept that she had to somehow coexist with him while they were trapped in this farce of a marriage. They began walking again. “It was years ago.” She stepped around a sand turtle some kids had made earlier. “No lasting harm done.”

“You were a virgin. I didn’t believe that bull you handed out about being with an older man.”

“Hugh Grant,” she said.

“You wish.”

She snagged a flyaway lock of hair and pushed it behind her ear. “Hugh told me I was sublime. No, wait. That was Colin Firth. I get those aging Brits I slept with mixed up.”

“A common problem.” He sent another stone flying into the water.

She gazed up at the single star that had begun to shine. At a beach party last year, someone had told her it wasn’t a star at all, but the International Space Station. “Who was she?”

“Who?”

“The woman I heard you whispering to on your cell this morning.”

“What big ears you have.”

“All the better to catch you cheating.”

“Isn’t it a little early for me to cheat? Although you have to admit, the honeymoon’s been a real bust-out so far.”

She dug her heels deeper into the sand. “When it comes to vice, I never underestimate you.”

“You’ve wised up.”

“It wasn’t just the sex, Bram. It was everything. You got handed the opportunity of a lifetime with Skip and Scooter, and you blew it. You didn’t appreciate what you had.”

“I appreciated what it got me. Cars, women, liquor, drugs. I had free designer clothes, a collection of Rolexes, big houses where I could hang out with my buddies. I had the time of my life.”

“I noticed.”

“The way I grew up—if you had money, you spent it. I loved every second.”

But his pleasure had come at the expense of so many other people. She shoved up the sleeves of her sweater. “A lot of people paid a big price for your fun. The cast, the crew.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got me there.”

“You paid a price, too.”

“And you won’t hear me complaining about it.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

His head came up. “Shit.”

“What—?”

He pulled her hard against him and crushed her mouth in a fiery kiss. One hand slipped under her T-shirt at the small of her back, the other cradled her hip. A wave caught them, and the surf swirled around their ankles. Perfect moonlit passion.

“Cameras.” He ground the word against her lips as if she hadn’t already figured that out.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head. Had they really thought they’d have privacy, even on a supposedly private beach? The jackals always found a way in. She wondered how much the pictures would bring. A lot.

Their kiss grew hotter. Deeper. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and the tips began to tingle. She felt him growing hard.

He settled his thumb into the soft flesh along her spine. Forced his thigh between her legs. “I’m going to feel you up now.” His hand moved over her rib cage to her breast. The hand no photographer could see. He caressed her through her bra, and dirty little cesspools of illicit arousal swirled through her body. It had been a long time, and this was safe, because it was all so phony. And because it would only go as far as she let it.

His fingers traced the swells of her breasts above the cups, and he whispered against her lips, “When we stop playing games, I’m going to take you so hard and so deep you’ll want it to last forever.”