Free Tainted by Brooke Morgan Page B

you—let’s race.”
    â€œTo where?”
    â€œI’ll count to twenty as I’m running; whoever is ahead when I say ‘twenty’ wins.”
    â€œBut you might trip again. And I’m holding the flashlight.”
    â€œIf I trip, I lose. And think of the flashlight as a baton. Come on. One . . .”
    Jack Dane took off, Holly shouted, “Cheat,” then took off after him, the beam of the flashlight jiggling up and down as she ran.
    â€œTwenty!”
    He was yards ahead of her, had turned to face her, with a huge smile on his face.
    â€œJack . . .” she panted, when she reached him. “That was completely, totally unfair.”
    â€œYes, it was. But I win.”
    Putting his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down and kissed her. It was an easy, slow, kind kiss. A thoughtful kiss. Holly’s initial surprise at the fact he was kissing her gave way to a different type of surprise—surprise that a kiss could be so warm and go on for so long.
    The last, the only, time she’d been kissed, the kiss had stopped quickly and the undressing had begun. This time, when Jack drew away from her, he stayed away. His hands went back into his pockets.
    â€œSorry,” he said. “Couldn’t resist tricking you into that.”
    â€œI don’t mind.” Holly smiled at him. “Honestly.”
    Take that shit-eating grin off your face, Holl. Anna had popped up in her brain again. Play it at least a little cool, will you?
    I would if I could, Anna. But I can’t.
    â€œI’ll challenge you this time.” She tossed the flashlight at him. “One . . .”
    Jack reached out to grab her before she could run.
    â€œNo way,” he said, dropping the flashlight on the sand. “I’m not going to take the chance. You might beat me.” He kissed her again, his hands moving from either side of her face, to her shoulders, to her waist.
    Holly understood then. What it was like to be held and touched. What it was like to feel real desire.
    And then he broke away from her, stepped back, out of their embrace.
    â€œUh-oh. Referee. Time out.”
    â€œWhat?” Her heart felt as if it had been slapped.
    He put his hands up in the air.
    â€œTime out. That’s all. We’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œHolly.” He put his hands back on her face. “Come on—let’s go back to your house and chill out and I’ll have a cup of coffee before I go home.”
    â€œRight. OK.” She wished she could shake her body the way a dog shakes itself when it gets out of the water, to try to rid herself of the feelings she was having, go back to where she had at least a modicum of control.
    She picked up the flashlight and they turned around, headed back to their shoes and the path. Side by side but not touching.
    Holly stared at the flashing red lights on the towers of the railroad bridge in Buzzards Bay. An ingenious edifice, its middle section, which ran between the towers, had a track on it; when a train needed to cross the canal the section was lowered. In its normal, upright position, it looked like a huge steel goalpost.
    Time out , he’d said. Referee. As if this were a game. He must have had so many girlfriends. English girls with perfect complexions and perfect bodies. Outgoing and self-confident girls who knew exactly how to kiss and how to flirt and how to tease him back. Girls with names like Emma and Sophie who rode horses and played tennis.
    â€œSo . . .” She felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder. “Holly Barrett. What should we do next time we see each other? I was thinking bowling. Or maybe mini golf. I think we should take a pass on Nancy the fortune teller, don’t you?”
    Pleasure and relief coursed through her just as the blush had on the bus.
    â€œThat might be wise.”
    The rising tide had almost claimed their shoes. Holly slipped hers