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“How many?”
Sunny was immobilized when the realization struck her. She shot him a baleful look from beneath her brows, then gradually raised her head. Her golden eyes were smoldering. “You’re making all this up, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” She surged to her feet. “You bastard.” She aimed a kick at his shin, but he dodged it. “Get off my pier.”
He sprang to his feet, reached for her and missed. “Just calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down!” She was so furious her voice squeaked. “I’m going to kill you. I have a gun in the cabin,” she warned, pointing in that direction. “I’ll shoot you if you don’t get into that boat—”
“I only wanted to know who my competition was.”
“You don’t have any competition because you aren’t even in the running.”
“From my point of view it looks like you’re leading me a merry chase.”
“Tell it to the devil when you see him.”
“Now, Sunny, is that nice? I wasn’t making it all up. There was gossip about a baby and an abortion and all the rest.” He lowered his head until his lips were moving only inches above hers. “I only added the part about you being frigid to see how you’d react.” Smiling, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “You shot that theory all to hell. You’re as hot as a firecracker.”
“You’ll never know, Mr. Beaumont.”
“Don’t be too sure. I want to win that wager. I like a glass of whiskey in the evening, especially when it’s mixed with just enough water to make it the color of your eyes.”
“Let go of me.”
“I like the way it goes down.” He pulled her closer. “Smooth and warm. I like when it hits my belly and spreads its heat.”
Sunny’s knees weren’t making any guarantees that they could support her should he let go. On the contrary, they threatened to unhinge at any moment. Her senses were reeling. It was true that she had men friends who took her out to dinner and to the movies, a few of whom she would invite in for drinks and some harmless necking.
But never in her life had she met a man who turned her inside out just by what he said and the suggestive way he said it. The men she went out with were unremarkable and forgettable. Once she bade a date good night, she rarely remembered what he had worn or what his cologne had smelled like.
Ty Beaumont wouldn’t be so easily forgotten. His hard frame was imprinting itself on the front of her body, stamping an impression so deep that even when it was no longer there she knew she would feel it. The smell of his skin would tantalize her memory forever.
That didn’t prove that she wanted him. It only proved that she was alive. Because only a female corpse could resist this inundation of masculinity.
“Even if I hadn’t bet a case of whiskey on it, I’d still want to take you to bed, Sunny Chandler. You’re just as intoxicating.”
“I won’t stand here and—”
“Good idea.”
Before she knew what was happening, she was sitting on the towel again. Ty was on his knees, straddling her thighs and supporting her head with his strong hands.
When she saw his mouth descending toward hers, she turned her head away. “No!”
He inclined his head back. “Maybe I was right. Maybe you can’t stand a man’s touch.”
“That’s not true.”
“Well then...”
Sunny flopped down on the bed.
The cold shower hadn’t helped. Lowering the air conditioner’s thermostat hadn’t helped. Turning on the rotating fan overhead hadn’t helped.
She was hot.
She had adjusted the shutters on the window to allow only narrow stripes of sunlight through. The bedroom, which had always been hers when her family used the cabin, should have been cool by now. Instead she felt as if it were stifling and she was on fire.
Impatient with the heat, she sat up and whipped the nightgown over her head and tossed it on the rocking chair beside the bed. She had put the nightie on after her shower because it was the coolest garment she owned. The white lawn didn’t touch anywhere except the shoulder straps...except for today. This afternoon it seemed to cling to her like an affectionate ghost.
