chided, laughing at her own boldness. Now that the heart-shattering truth of just moments before had passed, it was once again easy to talk to him, even about the intimate things.
“Not quite that many,” he mumbled as they walked, the breeze, warm and salty smelling, ruffling the fronds of the palm trees.
“Well, you didn’t learn what you did back there by reading a book,” she observed.
He cocked an eyebrow and laughed faintly. “No, I didn’t.” He stopped, tilting her chin up. “God, it was sweet.”
Her lips parted, and her breath caught in her throat. Then he laughed softly, angrily, as he took her arm, almost roughly, and propelled her along the moonlit beach. “I must be drunk,” he muttered. “You’ll have to overlook a few things about tonight, I guess. I haven’t been myself.”
Which was absolutely true. Even speaking was hard for him right now. He needed a cold shower—badly. And for some reason, he didn’t want Elissa to know what he was feeling, to know the extent of this bizarre aberration in his thought processes. It shocked him, the sudden hunger he felt to strip her out of that jumpsuit, throw her down on the beach and make her his. He remembered how she’d looked in that sexy nightgown, and he almost groaned out loud. He had to be drunk all right, he told himself. How could he even imagine a union between them? She with her hang-ups and he with his impossibly confused feelings for Bess. Was this what people meant by love on the rebound? Or had he always wanted Elissa and refused to acknowledge it in the face of her physical reticence?
“You’re very quiet,” she said when they reached her door.
“I’m shocked at my own behavior,” he said curtly.
“It’s been difficult for you,” she returned, unable to meet his eyes. “It was just the alcohol.”
“Yes. It must have been. We’ll forget it happened.”
“That might be best,” she said lightly, forcing herself not to show the disquiet she felt.
“You don’t need to make it sound so damned easy,” he said, unreasonably irritated and finding himself on the verge of spewing out exactly what he’d wanted to keep silent about, yet unable to stop himself. His self-control was shot. “Do you know how much I want to lay you down in the sand and have you? Do you?” he demanded harshly. “And because of that, you’d better stay away from me until I get myself together.” Hurting, and lashing out because of it, he straightened to deal the killing blow. “Because anything I did right now would be because of Bess—wanting Bess—and you’d better remember it.”
It was a lie—he was too confused to know his own mind right now—but he reasoned that enough people stood to get hurt by Bess’s recent interest in him, and he didn’t want Elissa to become a casualty, too. Anything—anything at all—that would keep her at arm’s length would ultimately be for her own good. She didn’t need to compromise her innocence because of his confused longings. So he’d have to be cruel to be kind, even though she wouldn’t realize it right now. Someday, however, she’d thank him for what must seem like callous behavior.
She clenched her teeth. He hadn’t exactly shocked her with the admission—she’d suspected she’d been a stand-in for Bess—but had he needed to be so blunt? “Then I’ll say good-night.”
“Say it, and go inside.” He jammed his hands into his pockets.
“What a sweet-tempered man you are,” she muttered. She turned to unlock the door, then glared at him over her shoulder as she went inside. “Thanks for a lovely evening. I did so enjoy it.”
He glared back. “Including the way you threw yourself at me back there?” he asked with a cold, mocking smile, pushing her that last step.
He was asking for a hard slap. She tried to remember that he’d been drinking, but all she wanted to do was push him into a coral reef and whistle for a passing shark! “I was drinking,” she admitted, “and so were you.”
“Well, I won’t make the same mistake with you again,” he returned coldly. “Obviously you can’t hold your liquor.” He didn’t know why he was goading her—why didn’t he let her go inside, where she’d be safely away from him?
“Said the pot to the kettle!” she threw back, fuming. “You were the one who started it!”
“You weren’t fighting very hard,” he pointed out.
She clenched her fists. “Next time you need help with your love life, find another pigeon.