to keep us in shape.”
He laughed at that. “Maybe if I actually attended some of the events I bought tickets for every now and then, I’d have realized we were going out with the seniors.”
“Well, for the record, I can’t think of anything I’d have enjoyed more. I met some terrific people here tonight, and I want to thank you for bringing me.”
The music wound down, and Jeff realized that he had never even listened to see what song they were playing. He’d been too into holding Babette, moving her around the floor and enjoying her excitement. True, he’d wanted to tempt her into flirting tonight, but if he had it to do over again and knew that this event was for the seniors, he’d still have brought her here, just to see her this happy.
“Looks like the night is over,” she said.
“Looks like.” The music had stopped, but he continued holding her, not ready to let go.
For a moment, her eyes found his, and they simply stayed there, looking at each other. Then his hands moved lower on her back, and he felt her curve slightly, moving toward him. “Jeff,” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, there’s nothing like young love,” Mrs. Rytower exclaimed, her voice pitched toward them as she spoke. “I’m betting there’s a wedding in their future.”
Babette blinked, backed away slightly. Then she cleared her throat. “I almost forgot. We still need to talk about Kitty.”
Jeff frowned. She’d been close to saying something, and it had nothing to do with Kitty. “We’re not talking about Kitty tonight.”
“Then tomorrow. Promise me that you’ll talk with me about her tomorrow. It doesn’t have to be all that much, just enough to let her know that I’m doing my job. She won’t have to know about our little deal.”
He didn’t want to talk to Babette about Kitty. He didn’t want to have anything to do with Kitty again, and if Babette would simply flirt, he could stop listening to her talk about Kitty too.
An idea suddenly sprang to mind, one he liked very much, and he grinned. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about Kitty tomorrow, after you spend a little time with me on the beach.”
Chapter 14
What’s the score, Babette?” Jeff called out, as he’d done continually throughout the past hour.
“You’re evil. Absolutely, positively evil,” she hissed, but because of all the screams and cheers around her, no one heard.
“Babette? The score?” he asked again, smiling like the devil he was, and sweating and looking like a guy who could do her, and do her well.
“Fourteen serving eighteen,” she snapped.
“Come on, guys, we’ve got some catch-up to do,” Jeff rallied his team. He looked at Babette, winked, and she promptly straightened the towel on her lounger. Talk about torture. He’d called all his buddies—all his brawny, gorgeous-as-all-get-out buddies—for a friendly afternoon of beach volleyball, and then asked Babette to keep score. In other words, she was sitting on the beach in the middle of her favorite scene from Top Gun, and she couldn’t even whistle. It was maddening. And she would make him pay. Somehow, someday, when he least expected it.
“You okay, Babette?” Jeff asked, holding the ball in one palm as he prepared to serve.
She realized she’d been glaring at him as though she were holding a pistol, and his head was the target. “I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. If she could keep her attention on solely his head, everything would be just smashing. But he happened to be on the “skins” team, so he was out there using each and every one of those perfect, tanned muscles to hit that ball over the net, and all of those muscles working together so well in have-mercy harmony sent an arrow of have-mercy need to her deprived libido.
Jeff tossed the ball in the air, jumped up and slammed it to the other side, reminding Babette of how powerful he really was, and that reminded her of all the other ways he could be powerful and sweaty and delicious.
Delicious? She needed help.
“Yoohoo!” Rose’s shrill voice caught her attention, and Babette turned toward the pool deck, where Rose and friends had gathered and were taking in the view.
“Hey, Rose,” Babette called. “I can’t practice cooking right now.”
“Shoot, I’d say you’ve found what’s really cooking around here,” Tillie said, lifting her brows as she took in the multitude of testosterone slamming the volleyball.
“Babette? The score?” Jeff asked.
“You know the score,” she said.
“I guess we won’t be talking about anything after the game,” he said smugly.
“Fifteen serving eighteen.”
Rose’s giggle