Secrets in the Sand by Carolyn Brown

            “Hey,” he said. “You knew what you wanted when I didn’t. I think you missed a spot over there on my right shoulder. If I get a sunburn, you’ll have to put up with my whining,” he teased.

            “Heaven forbid!” She rubbed more sunblock on his shoulder. “Now lie down and take a nap, or I can give you a big, thick romance novel to read. Sorry I don’t have anything else to offer. My dear friends didn’t think to send along a thriller.”

            “A nap sounds wonderful. Don’t leave without waking me, though. I thought we’d have dinner at a seafood restaurant that I like, and then we’d play a round of miniature golf, and after that we’d get a bottle of wine and come back here to watch the tide come in.” He crossed his arms above his head and rested his face on the backs of his hands.

            “Did Patty plan all that too?” she asked.

            “Nope,” he mumbled and closed his eyes.

            Angel stared at the words in her book but she didn’t see them. She alternated between waves of annoyance and sheer fear. She was still annoyed at her friends for pulling such a stunt, but she was scared to admit that she still had feelings for Clancy—and they weren’t anger. She was as strong and independent as the heroine in the book she was reading. She could spend two weeks with Clancy and then walk away from him without a glance over her shoulder—at least that’s what she told herself. But her heart disagreed.

            Sparks continued to flit around her like fireflies on a spring night. Flutters in her stomach felt like dozens of butterflies all circling around a bonfire, knowing if they got too close they would get burned but wanting to feel the warmth of the blaze.

            I got over him once before. I can do it again, she thought.

            No, you didn’t. Her grandmother’s voice was loud and clear in her head. You’ve never gotten over that boy, and I’m not sure you ever will.

            Just watch me, Angel argued.

            She listened intently, but her grandmother had nothing more to say.

            “Stop it!” Angel whispered aloud.

            “Stop what?” Clancy’s eyes popped open.

            “I’m talking to my book,” she lied.

            “Oh.” He smiled. “By the way, do the rules say I can’t look at you?”

            “I didn’t make the rules. You and my so-called best friends did,” Angel said tartly, turning the page she hadn’t read. “I might warn you. I’m damned good at miniature golf, and I shoot a mean game of pool too. Used to pick up a few dollars on bets in the student union during college days. No one would believe a woman could outshoot those big, tough cowboys.”

            “Then we’ll have to play pool before we leave here,” he promised. “Have I told you in the last five minutes how gorgeous your eyes are when you’re angry? They have flecks in them that glitter and glow.”

            “You can’t see my eyes. I have on sunglasses,” she pointed out.

            “I can see your eyes anytime I want. I can see your body next to mine right now with my eyes closed. Both of them are forever branded into my thoughts. But I’ve got to admit, it’s a lot better when you are really here beside me, Angela. Being with you right now is the most peaceful thing I’ve experienced in a long time. No matter what we’re doing, I just want to be with you.” Clancy kissed her gently on the cheek, then laid his head back down and shut his eyes.





Chapter 9


            Angel grabbed the hem of the full skirt of a red-and-white-checked strapless sundress and drew a portion of it through a white plastic loop, showing off her left leg to the top of her thigh. She pulled her curls behind her ears with two long barrettes, slapped on a little bit of makeup, and buckled a pair of white leather sandals on her feet. She was dabbing perfume behind her knees and ears when she heard his knock on the door.

            She left the bathroom and threw open the door that led onto the landing. Just looking at him standing there in khaki slacks and a light-blue button-down shirt put another case of flutters in her heart.

            “You look lovely.” His deep voice was even more husky than usual.

            “Thank you, sir. You don’t look so bad yourself.” The top two buttons of his shirt were left undone, showing a thicker tuft of soft, dark-brown hair than he’d had ten years ago…and he smelled like heaven.