Free Out of the Blue by Jill Shalvis

don't blame me for prying. Blame Alexi and Michael. I'm not allowed to go back to the lodge until I know what's going on between you and Zach. Michael wants to know if he needs to kill him, and Alexi wants to know if she's cleaning toilets for the summer."
    Hannah groaned, and still carrying the pies, she moved through the shop. "We've been out of high school for years, you know."
    "I know." Tara smiled. "We really do love you, Hannah."
    Well, darned if that didn't effectively defuse any resentment at the unwelcome probing. "Then wait here like a good girl. Answer the phones and feed the guests until I get back."
    "Well then, hurry. I'm not done questioning you. I have a feeling whatever it is, it's good. Oh, and don't forget the condom. Michael said to remind you."
    "Gee, thanks." Hannah squinted as she entered the bright sunshine, relieved to be out of the spotlight, if only for a moment. She smiled at the Hornsbys, who were kissing madly beneath an oak tree. They were a honeymooning couple who'd been at the inn all week, though they'd rarely surfaced from their room.
    They waved at her, and kept on kissing.
    She didn't blame them. It was a glorious day. A kissing sort of day. The fog had burned off early, leaving the sun high above, providing a much welcome warmth after their unusually chilly spring.
    The lodge looked welcoming. In front of her was the colorful garden she considered a labor of love. Off to her right, the waves hit the shore. Helpless to stop herself from searching out Zach, she was disappointed to find both the beach and the water devoid of any surfers.
    Shifting the pies carefully in her hands, she craned her neck, but it was no use. He was gone.
    Just as well. Her nerves couldn't take another encounter with him so soon, especially when she had no idea what to say to him.
    Sorry I tried to jump your bones last night. It's just that I'm tired of being a virgin, you see, tired of wondering, hoping, dreaming.
    So intent was she on her thoughts—and keeping one eye peeled on the shoreline—that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.
    "Hannah."
    With a startled gasp, she whirled quickly. She couldn't help it—the deep and unbearably familiar voice unsettled both her pulse, and then unfortunately, her balance.
    Pies sailed high in the air.
    Hannah had time to let out a scream of frustration before they came back down … directly on her. With a sharply indrawn breath—they were ice-cold!—she lifted her head, and glared at Zach.
    Strawberries dripped off her chin, her shoulders, her chest. The gooey sauce ran down her dress, sticking to her skin, which was now clammy. Crust crumpled and hit the ground, along with the two tins that had been holding the pies together.
    "What a mess!" Dropping to her knees, she stared in dismay at the disaster.
    Zach set down his surfboard, then hit his knees too. "Let me help."
    "You've done enough!"
    He gathered the tins. Then he sat back on his heels and looked at her seriously. "I'm sorry." But his mouth curved suspiciously.
    "Yeah, you look real sorry." Actually he looked … as mouthwateringly good as the strawberry pies smelled. He was still wet from the ocean, his wide shoulders and smooth, sleek chest gleamed. His exhaustion seemed to have vanished, his eyes sparkled with life, and his mouth… Lord, that mouth. It was curved softly, reminding her of all she wanted.
    It's all in the body language, Tara had said.
    So she gave that a shot, softening her expression, leaning in a little, giving him the best come-hither look she could manage.
    "I am sorry," he said in a voice suddenly hushed with … with that thing that existed between them. His smile scrambled her brain. "Hannah, you're looking at me in that way, that way that makes me lose my train of thought. Stop it."
    "I can't. Maybe you'd better stop looking at me."
    "I can't. Let me… " And he leaned close, close enough that she could see his eyes darken, close enough to smell the