40-Love - Olivia Dade Page 0,21
table. “You just said compromises. Plural, not singular. So what else aren’t you doing on this vacation?”
After a glance around the outlook, now empty once more—that family had apparently left without him noticing—she grinned at him. “I really wanted to try the nude beach.”
The image burst to life in his febrile brain in full color and exquisite detail, so vivid and overwhelming he was surprised his skull could contain it. In response, his pulse shot to a gallop, and the summer heat suddenly blistered every inch of him.
By all indications, if he ever saw Tess entirely naked, bathed in sunlight, he might not survive it. Hell, he might not survive this conversation.
He was willing to take that risk.
“Tell me more,” he said.
Seven
Tess’s brow crinkled. “What more is there to say? It’s a nude beach. Palm trees. Sand. Water. Naked floppy bits. Sunburns in awkward and painful places.”
If he thought about her naked floppy bits, his tongue would cease making intelligible sounds. “I get that part. What I don’t get is why you aren’t going there, if that’s something you want to experience.”
Tess didn’t strike him as uncomfortable with her body. So why wasn’t she baring it on the island’s private stretch of adults-only sand?
And why didn’t she invite him along for the experience? A person could dream, after all.
Silence stretched between them for a few moments before she finally spoke again.
“Can you imagine the amount of sunscreen I’d have to buy?” She huffed out a small laugh. “Besides, I’m getting enough sand in unfortunate areas. I don’t need to invite a full-body scouring.”
Those answers sounded like dodges to him. Red herrings. And if anyone could recognize herrings—of whatever color—a Swede could.
“Those don’t seem like insurmountable obstacles to me,” he said.
Her chest rose and fell on a pained-sounding breath before her lips quirked again. “You’re right. I guess I was trying not to bring up how different we are.”
“I don’t understand.” And he was no longer certain he wanted to, given what she’d just said.
Her mouth pursed. “You’re a twenty-something Swede working at a resort where everyone turns a blind eye to…” She paused. “What did you call it? Al fresco shenanigans?”
From her lips, the phrase sounded overly glib. Blithe and careless.
“I’m a forty-year-old high school administrator in Virginia, Lucas. I can’t get naked in public.” She slanted him a wryly amused look, one that had grown familiar. “God bless Europeans. Do you have a national holiday celebrating full-frontal nudity in Sweden? One that involves a ceremonial dropping of trench coats in public squares before you all retire for pastries and naps?”
That particular tone, redolent with sarcasm, was also familiar. “Only on leap years. The rest of the time, we make do with just the naked parade.”
“Disappointing.” She shook her head. “I’d expected more, somehow.”
The whole European angle was only part of what she’d said, and not the most important part either. “The nude beach is on the adults-only end of the island, so you wouldn’t be flashing America’s youth yet again.”
He put special emphasis on the last bit, just to elicit the dirty look he promptly received.
“Can the resort guarantee that no one I know and no one I’ll ever need to interact with as a school administrator will be on that beach with me?” She tipped her head as she stared at him, her gaze challenging. “More importantly, do they confiscate all guests’ cell phones and cameras before allowing them onto that part of the island? Because anything any of us do in public can end up on the internet at any time, Lucas, and I can’t afford to take chances. Not at this stage of my career, when I’m gunning to become principal in a year. Everything I want is so close, and I won’t risk it for an afternoon in the sun.”
The principal job was everything she wanted? Or was it everything she was letting herself want? Everything she’d convinced herself was practical and possible?
“I’m just lucky you were there to help me when I lost my bikini top.” Unexpectedly, she reached out to cover his hand with her own. Squeezed it in silent gratitude. “I work with kids, and I have to deal with American standards of so-called decency and good judgment. That incident could have been disastrous, as could a trip to the nude beach. So no, I won’t be getting naked on the sand. Even if I want to.”
“That makes sense,” he conceded. “I get it, Tess. You obviously want that principal position a