Free Too Darn Hot by Pamela Burford Page B

two of them simultaneously turned and began swimming vigorously away from shore, taking advantage of the undertow. They had to get past the breakers before the next wave formed. There they could relax and ride the swells.
    He watched her strong, smooth arm strokes, the flawless economy of motion—the way her bottom looked in that little red bikini.
    Eric was no slouch when it came to ocean swimming, and he was pleased she was able to keep up with him. He was also pleased at the wordless cooperation they enjoyed. They began treading again, slowly, almost effortlessly in the buoyant salt water, letting it rock and caress their bodies. Eric moved closer to Lina.
    “Warming up?”
    She laughed. “I’m getting some feeling back in my extremities.”
    “You’re a good swimmer. You must’ve grown up near the water.”
    “I did, but my parents weren’t really beach-goers.” She flipped wet strands of hair out of her eyes. “But after I married Steve, we spent practically every weekend at the beach. Made up for lost time.”
    As the ocean urged them back toward shore, they scissor-kicked farther out, staying within touching distance.
    “Were you married long?” He was unapologetically curious.
    “Eleven years.”
    A question popped into Eric’s head—and remained there. He wasn’t rude enough to ask how eleven years added up to zero children.
    “That’s a long time, eleven years,” he said. “Was the breakup amicable, or one of these knock-down-drag-outs I hear so much about?”
    “It was as amicable as these things can be, I suppose. We both knew it wasn’t working. We still see each other occasionally, at social functions.”
    Are you still in love with him? “That’s nice that you’re, uh, on good terms with—”
    “You want to know if I’m still in love with him, don’t you?”
    “No.” He hoped his expression reflected the appropriate level of umbrage. “It’s none of my business.”
    “Okay.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head back as if to drink up the stark sunshine after the long, bleak winter. Her arms continued to etch slow, graceful arcs in the water. She appeared serene and untroubled.
    The little witch.
    He muttered a curse. “So are you still in love with Steve or what?”
    She smiled. “No.”
    Eric couldn’t repress a grin of relief.
    She looked at him then, her eyes bluer than the sky, and something sparked in a long empty place deep within his chest. Had he forgotten just how sweet it could be to spend time with a beautiful woman?
    Eric realized how very little he knew about Lina. By the way, now that we’ve had a skirmish or two, and came darn near close to doing the nasty behind my place of business, do you think you could tell me your last name?
    She leaned back until she was floating faceup. Her arms had probably gotten tired, but his hadn’t, and he moved closer. Gentle swells lifted them and rocked them. Her eyes were half-closed against the glare.
    They felt the ominous surge at the same moment. Their heads snapped around just in time to see the ocean rearing, pulling itself into a whitecap, lifting them like so much flotsam.
    The force of a wave this size could easily drag them into shore, tossed end over end, finishing up with a good scraping on the bottom. Obviously Lina was familiar with this particular experience. She stiffened and seized Eric’s arm in a killer grip.
    He wanted to tell her to relax and dive into it, but there wasn’t time. Instead he held her hand and led her into the maneuver. It was awkward but effective. As one, they bulled their way through the churning water. A few more haphazard strokes had them safely riding the swells once again.
    She clung to him, breathing hard, laughing giddily, as if she’d just come off the world’s biggest roller coaster. Their legs brushed underwater as he treaded for both of them.
    How had it happened? How had the sky suddenly gotten bluer, the water warmer, and Lina lovelier than he’d ever seen