Free Sanctuary by Nora Roberts

told so often enough to consider it a fine personal skill. As far as she was concerned, there was little else that compared to it for shouldering away tension and being the focus of someone’s complete attention.
    And she liked it, all the hot, slick sensations that went with it. It hardly mattered that most men didn’t have a clue whether a woman was thinking about them or the latest Hollywood pretty boy while it was going on. As long as she performed well and remembered the right lines.
    Lexy considered herself born to perform.
    And she decided it was time to open that velvet curtain for Giff Verdon.
    She dropped the towel she’d brought with her onto the packed sand. She didn’t have a doubt that he was watching her. Men did. As if onstage, Lexy put her heart into the performance. Standing near the edge of the water, she slipped off her sunglasses, let them fall heedlessly onto the towel. Slowly, she stepped out of her sandals, then, taking the hem of the short-skirted sundress she wore, she lifted it, making the movements a lazy striptease. The bikini underneath covered little more than a stripper’s G-string and pasties would have.
    Dropping the thin cotton, she shook her head, skimmed her hair back with both hands, then walked with a siren’s swagger of hips into the sea.
    Giff let the next wave roll over him. He knew that every movement, every gesture Lexy made was deliberate. It didn’t seem to make any difference. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t prevent his body from going tight and hard and needy as she stood there, all luscious curves and pale gold skin, with her hair spiraling down like sun-kissed flames.
    As she walked into the water, and it moved up her body, he imagined what it would be like to rock himself inside her to the rhythm of the waves. She was watching him too, he noted, her eyes picking up the green of the sea, and laughing.
    She dipped down, rose up again with her hair shiny and wet, water sliding off her skin. And she laughed out loud.
    “Water’s cold today,” she called out. “And a little rough.”
    “You don’t usually come in till June.”
    “Maybe I wanted it cold today.” She let the wave carry her closer. “And rough.”
    “It’ll be colder and rougher tomorrow,” he told her. “Rain’s coming.”
    “Mmm.” She floated on her back a moment, studying the pale blue sky. “Maybe I’ll come back.” Letting her feet sink, she began to tread water as she watched him.
    She’d grown accustomed to his dark brown eyes watching her like a puppy when they were teenagers. They were the same age, had grown up all but shoulder to shoulder, but she noticed there had been a few changes in him during her year in New York.
    His face had fined down, and his mouth seemed firmer and more confident. The long lashes that had caused the boys to tease him mercilessly in his youth no longer seemed feminine. His light brown hair was needle-straight and streaked from the sun. When he smiled at her, dimples—another curse of his youth—dented his cheeks.
    “See something interesting?” he asked her.
    “I might.” His voice matched his face, she decided. All grown-up and male. The flutter in her stomach was satisfying, and unexpectedly strong. “I just might.”
    “I figure you had a reason for swimming out here mostly naked. Not that I didn’t enjoy the view, but you want to tell me what it is? Or do you want me to guess?”
    She laughed, kicking against the current to keep a teasing distance between them. “Maybe I just wanted to cool off.”
    “I imagine so.” He smiled back, satisfied that he understood her better than she could ever imagine. “I heard Jo came in on the morning ferry.”
    The smile slid away from her face and left her eyes cold. “So what?”
    “So, you want to blow off some steam? Want to use me to do it?” When she hissed at him and started to kick out to swim back to shore, he merely nipped her by the waist. “I’ll oblige you,” he said