Free Have to Have It by Melody Mayer Page B

back to America. You can't imagine how much time X and I spent on this beach, right here, when we were kids.”
    She turned to him, studying his profile in the moonlight. Chestnut brown hair flopped boyishly on his forehead. “I did that, too. Wish to come home, I mean.”
    He let his hand drift atop hers. “Yeah?”
    “Yeah.” She smiled at him. One of the big things they had in common was that neither of them had grown up in America. In his case, it was due to his parents' careers in the State Department as Foreign Service officers. Both of them knew what it felt like to know that America was home and to long to be there, but at the same time to feel like a stranger in your own country when you were back. It was like permanent culture shock.
    She snaked her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I have Sunday off.”
    He kissed her back. “Excellent. I've got a thing at eleven, but after that.”
    Lydia couldn't help herself. “What thing?”
    “A friend asked me to help out with a house she's building in Alhambra. It's part of Habitat for Humanity.”
    Lydia arched a brow.
    “I have friends who are girls, Lydia,” Billy said of her look.
    “Me too, Billy. I'm not the jealous type. I was just wondering.”
    “Becca. She's another one of Eduardo's assistants.”
    Eduardo was the slave driver for whom Billy was interning in interior design. This Becca—whoever she was—must be an interior design student too.
    “Have you had sex with Becca?”
    Billy's eyebrows rose. “You really want to go there?”
    “So you have?”
    Billy sat up. “We met at Eduardo's Christmas party last year. She got wasted, I got wasted—”
    “And you did it,” Lydia filled in.
    “Yeah, it happened,” Billy admitted. “But we're just pals, Lydia.”
    “Friends with benefits,” Lydia mused. She sat up too. “Are you
friends?”
    He ran a hand softly through Lydia's shagged silver-blond mane. “The only woman I want benefits with is you, Lydia. And for now, only in my dreams.”
    Ooh.
There went that shivery feeling he gave her whenever he talked about her—them—and sex.
    “Just remember, Billy,” she whispered. “When we finally do jump each other, you're gonna have a whole lot of time to make up for.”
    He kissed the spot where her collarbones nearly met. “Count on it,” he said.
    The next thing she knew she was in his arms again. Then a bright light shone in their eyes, blinding them.
    “What the—” Billy barked.
    Lydia shielded her eyes from the light and looked up at a park ranger. He had a green uniform, a blond crew cut, and beefy arms, and he didn't look happy.
    “This beach closes at ten p.m.,” he roared.
    “Yeah, we get that. Could you move the flashlight out of our eyes, please? It's a killer,” Billy requested.
    The park ranger stood his ground. “As soon as you two lovebirds move along and out of here.”
    Billy cursed softly under his breath and helped Lydia to her feet. “You seem way too happy in your work, man.”
    “Just move along,” the ranger insisted, shining his light up the beach, presumably the path that he wanted Lydia and Billy to follow.
    Lydia shook her head. “You know, there are other outletsfor your sexual inadequacies than bustin' up other people's romances.”
    “What
did you say?” the ranger fumed, and made a motion toward his handcuffs.
    “She's joking,” Billy assured him quickly. “And we were just leaving. Come on, Lydia.”
    Billy took Lydia's hand and led her quickly through the sand until they reached the street.
    “
Never
joke with anyone in a uniform in Los Angeles,” Billy instructed. “They don't have a sense of humor.”
    “Who was joking?” Lydia asked. “I know sexual frustration when I see it. Or feel it.”
    Dang. She suspected she could have pushed Billy past the point of no return if the Sex Pistol hadn't shown up. Of all the rotten luck.

The Eurocopter AS 355 helicopter raced east, high above Jamaica's northern coastline. Esme pressed her