Free Riptide by Margaret Carroll Page B

fire. “No, I don’t.”
    Dan was all movement now, stretching and yawning and keeping enough distance between them so they did not touch. “Happy Thursday.” He winked.
    Happy Thursday? Christina’s world had come crashing down around her. Right now all she had was Dan. And an overwhelming urge to drain the glass of vodka on the nightstand. How could she tell him that, when their entire relationship was based on partying? Without vodka, she didn’t know how they would fit together. But right now, Daniel Cunningham was all she had. “Right back atcha,” she replied, aiming for a breezy tone.
    “You okay?” Dan already had one foot on the floor, ready to bolt.
    “Um, yeah,” Christina began. Hope rose inside her. Maybe he was going to say now they could start their life together, like all those times they talked about it. Maybe he’d help her get through this, starting now. Maybe he’d tell her he loved her.
    “Good,” he said, not giving her a chance to tell him how scared she was, how much she needed him now. Dan cleared his throat, careful not to meet her eyes.
    His next words caught her off guard.
    “We need to hang back.”
    Something inside her shrank down into a tight little knot, making it hard to breathe. “What?” Christina’s voice sounded small.
    Dan shrugged. “Take five. Hang back. Lay low.” He kept his gaze focused on the windows and the gray sky outside, flexing his arms, swinging them back and forth across his chest.
    “You know what I’m saying,” he said, when she made no reply.
    Pure panic gripped her. Dan was all she had right now. And he was pulling away. All Christina could think of was that if she clung too tight now, she might lose him forever. “Yeah,” she said finally, blinking back tears.
    Feeling her entire world hung by a thread. It was an old feeling, one that traced its roots all the way back to when her father left, then her mother, then finally Nana died.
    Praying Dan Cunningham wasn’t about to tell her it was over between them.
    “Good. Way to play it, baby.”
    She wanted to ask a million questions. Did he see a future for them together? Had he been seeing other women while she was in rehab? Did he love her? But Christina was afraid of what those answers might be.
    More than anything, she was afraid of losing Dan Cunningham. So she uttered a silent prayer that he would spend more time with her after the funeral, that maybe he would love her.
    He glanced at her. “We’re good?”
    She nodded. “We’re good.”
    It was what he wanted to hear because relief washed over his face.
    He gave her a brisk peck on the lips and slid off the bed.
    She remembered a time on the chaise lounge out back when he was due back at work. His farewell kissesturned hotter than the midday sun while his fingers wiggled their way up inside her bikini bottom and he made her come with his thumb in a fit of giggles, knowing full well the landscapers would be back from lunch any minute.
    He headed for the bathroom now. “I think a shower is in order.” He turned on the water and used the toilet with the door wide open.
    They had never spent a night together.
    “Looks like another hot one,” he called. “No sun, but muggy as hell.”
    The shower curtain rings jingled, and Christina wondered if she had enough time to grab her robe from the hook inside the door before he finished. She decided not to risk it.
    She checked messages from the bedside phone instead. The ringer was off in here, but she’d heard it ring downstairs late into the night and start up again early this morning. She had lain still, keeping to her side of the bed so as not to disturb the large shadowy mound opposite that was Dan Cunningham.
    There were condolence calls and people wanting to know about the arrangements. Another call from her sister-in-law in Southampton advising Christina that her parents and Tyler were in the Air France premium-class lounge at Charles de Gaulle Airport waiting to board their flight