Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(2)
Lush green lawn sloped down a long hill to the beach, where seagulls shrieked over the heads of three young boys splashing in the waves. A girl with long blond ringlets helped a dark-haired toddler build a sandcastle. A few yards away from the girls, a lone woman lay on a colorful beach towel with a magazine draped over her face—a woman with a seriously hot body wearing a dark pink bikini, he noted over the top of his shades.
“Wow,” he whispered as interest stirred. Then he reminded himself he had more important things to do than admire the view.
With a resigned sigh, he turned and placed his foot on the first step to the veranda, but stopped when a sense of awareness rippled down his spine. He hadn’t felt that particular buzz beneath his skin in years, but he recognized it instantly. Chloe. How could he have forgotten the way his body reacted when she was near?
They’d both attended the same private school, since everyone who lived in the inner city of New Orleans sent their kids to private school unless they absolutely couldn’t afford it. During his last years in the upper grades, he’d fantasized about her so often he’d developed a Pavlovian reaction to seeing her in the hall. Instant, embarrassing erection. After a while, he didn’t even have to see her. He’d get a tickle in the back of his neck and know she was there before he even turned. Feeling that now, he focused his senses, trying to locate the source of the hum. Was it coming from behind him?
He turned back toward the beach. Toward the woman on the towel.
No. That lean, leggy goddess couldn’t possibly be the tomboy he remembered, could it? He’d certainly glimpsed the potential for beauty, and even spent hours sketching the body he imagined he’d find underneath the ball caps and baggy clothes, but this woman surpassed his wildest imaginings. She didn’t have the exaggerated body of the gaming character he’d drawn, but her naturally proportioned curves could fuel a whole new era of fantasies. A man’s fantasies rather than those of an inexperienced boy.
His body tightened at the thought, letting him know there was no way in hell he’d get through talking to her without that hardwired response kicking in. He waited for the dread to wash back over him. Instead, he felt... intrigued. What would Chloe think of him now? After all, his clothes weren’t the only thing that had changed. Hours in the gym to counter all the hours he spent at his computer had transformed his body as well.
How sweet would life be if Chloe saw him now and her eyes sparked with admiration? Even lust? Okay, that was probably stretching things, but to have her look at him and see something other than a nerd? Yeah, that would be sweet. He probably had a one in five thousand, three hundred and fifty-six chance of succeeding without suffering renewed humiliation, but as Blade, his alter ego in the gaming world, would say, “No glory for the gutless.”
Embracing his inner Blade, he struck off down the trail lined in azaleas and crepe myrtle to the cove. When he reached the beach, the two girls looked up from their sandy architectural endeavors.
“Hello,” the older girl said with a bright smile. Thirteen at most, she already had a face destined to break hearts, combined with long, golden curls worthy of an angel.
“We’re building a princess castle,” the dark-haired toddler announced. Her big eyes and sun-kissed cheeks matched the blue and pink polka dots on her swimsuit.
“I see that.” He nodded.
“It’s beautemous!” The little cutie flung her arms open wide.
“Absolutely,” he agreed, moving past them toward his goal, the goddess on the beach towel.
She lay on her back, allowing the sun to wash over a wealth of bare skin. While the magazine hid her face, he gave the toned body the admiration it deserved, from the shapely legs to the taut stomach, to breasts the perfect size to fill a man’s hands. The tropical scent of suntan lotion teased his nostrils, making him long to slick her down with a fresh coating.
“Excuse me,” came a lazy female voice from under the magazine, a copy of Popular Photography, he noticed with mild interest, “but you’re blocking my sun.”
The adult timbre didn’t match the voice he remembered. This voice belonged to a woman, not a teenaged girl.
Before he could respond or step out of her light, a shriek from the young blond girl split the air. “Derrick, Rafe, don’t you dare!”
He glanced over his shoulder to see two boys–dark-haired, nine-ish, and obviously twins–charging toward the girls, one of them holding a wiggling fish. Screams ensued as the little girl took off running.
“You boys!” The older girl leapt to her feet. “Leave Nicki alone!”
The race continued along the water’s edge, with the little girl screaming as if pursued by an axe murderer. Luc cringed, wondering how a child so small and sweet-looking could emit a sound shrill enough to peel paint. He looked down, expecting the woman at his feet to jump into action. She didn’t even twitch.
As the screams turned to wails of distress, he saw the boys had caught the girl and dropped the fish down her swimsuit. The third, younger boy held his sides as he doubled over with laughter.
“Derrick, Rafe, you little beasts!” The older girl raced along the wet sand to rescue the girl she’d called Nicki. “AJ, this is not funny!”
Luc frowned at the supine figure on the towel. How could any adult hear such a ruckus and not react? He could see the little girl wasn’t in serious danger, but this woman had her eyes covered. “Are you even going to look and see if everything’s okay?”