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“No.”
Snickering, she keyed in the lock code on the keypad and pushed the door open. Inside was surprisingly homey, considering the modern outside, with a basket of toys and her son’s artwork framed and hanging on the walls. Books and a knitted blanket over the back of the couch, and a teacup and saucer left from the morning on the kitchen table.
Over the couch hung a brightly colored painting of a flower garden, masses of blooms tangled among ferns and green leaves, a faint cityscape in the background.
“Wow. That’s amazing.”
“It’s Riverside Gardens,” she said. “There’s a long story attached to that painting. When and if we know each other long enough, I’ll tell you about it.”
“This room is inviting. I’d be happy to stay right here,” he said. “But I’m sure people would talk.”
“Oh, they’re talking now, I’m sure. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Leaving to change into her suit, Sandra could feel his eyes on her. When she was out of the room, he looked around the space, surprised at how simple it was. In five minutes, she came back out wearing a demure-looking sundress thing. He assumed she had a swimsuit under it. Her legs were five feet long, and she wore sandals, showing pink toenails that he hadn’t noticed before. In her hand she carried a big straw hat and, on her head, oversized sunglasses rimmed in faux gold.
“Wow! You look like you’re headed to a resort.”
“I always overdress. Other women hate it, so now I do it on purpose, especially at Pam’s. I’ve been known to carry a cigarette holder even though I don’t smoke.”
They laughed out loud; she even slapped her thigh.
“We can swim and dance and eat at Pam’s, and then tonight, you’re welcome to come back here. I have a comfortable guest room, and we can spend the day out front if you haven’t found a reason to get away from me.”
“I’m in no hurry to get back to the city.” He looked at her carefully. “I can’t imagine wanting to get away from you.”
Realizing his balls ached after watching Sandra, he thought a dip in the freezing Atlantic Ocean would be beneficial. He hadn’t been with a woman since Ginger died, hadn’t flirted or even desired to talk to another woman. Sandra Benson had changed that for him. He couldn’t wait to see her in her bathing suit, mentally removing the sundress, but unable to even imagine what she was like.
“Are you ready to get back to the party?”
“Okay.” He wasn’t, didn’t want to make small talk with the other guests. Focusing all his attention on Sandra might put her off, and he didn’t want to do that to her, either.
“Do you have any expectations?” he asked. “Are you going to be uncomfortable if I hang by your side all day?”
“No. I welcome it, actually. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a real relationship with a man. I mean one where I know we’ll be together whenever we can and not just for a booty call.”
“Hey,” he said, gently grasping her arm and pulling her back to his side. “I promise never to do that to you.”
Pressing her lips together, Sandra was in a rare place, feeling emotional over a nice guy’s attention, and being scared at the same time. So she’d take everything at face value. If he was promising to respect her, then so be it.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
The urge to hold his hand was huge, but they were getting too close to Pam’s house. The crowd had doubled in size. She saw the nannies with the kids digging in the sand at the edge of the surf and squealing with delight as the waves washed away their castles, the mothers having their lunch now after overseeing the children’s meal.
“I’ll get my suit on,” he said, moving up the walkway to the house.
She went to the cabana Pam had provided for people to change into their suits, but Pam caught her before she went inside.
“Sandra, you can go in the house. Just go to my room.”
“That’s okay. I have my suit on. I just need to take this off without an audience.” She pulled at her sundress. “I’m smitten with Andrew Roman. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
“No, why would it? I actually had you in mind when I invited him. He’s a decent man. There aren’t that many left.”
“How are you holding up?” Sandra asked. “This has to be hard.”
“I don’t want to do a party again,” she admitted. “Lisa said I say the same thing every year since Jack died. Is that true?”
“Pam, you go with the flow, and I admire that. See how you feel next year. Right now, everyone seems to be having a wonderful time. I can’t wait for tonight, for the band to start up. Then we’ll see if there’s any rhythm between Andy Roman and me.”
