Crash Into Me (49 page)

Now,
three weeks later, the frenzy had finally died down.

She
knew he’d be out on the water. It was another glorious winter day, sunny and
cool, and judging by the number of wetsuits dotting the blue horizon, the surf
was up. When she spotted Ben, her heart jumped. Weak-kneed and dry-mouthed, she
watched him from the shore.

At
first, he didn’t notice her. He was as steadfast as always, single-minded in
his focus, unswerving in his intensity. But, to her surprise, his concentration
broke, and he glanced toward her.

Her
pulse pounded, rushing through her veins.

She
told herself not to get too excited when he came out of the water. They hadn’t
discussed future plans. He hadn’t made her any promises. Now that he’d had time
to reflect, he might not want to have anything more to do with her.

As
he dropped his surfboard in the sand, she swallowed dryly. “Hey, stranger,” she
said in a hoarse voice.

All
of her second thoughts evaporated like mist when he took her in his arms and he
swept her off her feet. This was a man who knew what he wanted. This was real.
Salt water soaked through her T-shirt and jeans everywhere her body touched
his. His shoulders were hard as granite beneath her hands and his neck was cool
and moist against her trembling lips.

“You’re
getting me all wet,” she mumbled, deliriously happy to be here with him. He was
squeezing her breathless, and she loved it.

He
stepped back to look at her, drinking in her appearance. Smiling, he cupped his
hand around her chin and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “Are you here to
stay?”

She
blushed and nodded, covering his hand with hers. For the first time in her
life, she wished she was beautiful. The dye had kind of ruined her hair, so
she’d had it cropped short. At least it was back to its natural color.

“I’ll
have to take you inside and warm you up,” he said, his eyes moving from her
face to the front of her body, which was indecently revealed by her wet
T-shirt.

She
flushed again, but not with embarrassment. “I don’t expect us to just…take up
where we left off,” she stuttered, feeling foolish. Thirty seconds in his
presence, and she was already getting all hot and bothered. “I mean, our
emotions were running high that night, so if you didn’t mean what you said…”

He
tore his gaze from her chest, nonplussed. Then his expression cleared. “Oh, I
meant it,” he asserted, daring her to dispute him. “I love you.”

Her
heart melted. “I love you, too,” she said, tears pricking her eyes.

The
corner of his mouth tipped up. “Does this mean we can go back to my place and
get you out of those wet clothes?”

When
she said yes, he took her in his arms again, wrapping her in a tight embrace.
Laughter welled up inside her, overflowing. He kissed her tears away and tasted
the happiness on her lips, smiling against her mouth, sharing her joy.

It
was a perfect day.

Jill Sorenson’s family moved from a small
town in Kansas to a suburb of San Diego when she was twelve. In the past twenty
years, she hasn’t lost her appreciation for sunny weather, her fascination with
the Pacific Ocean, or her love for Southern California culture. She still lives
in San Diego with her husband, Chris, and their two children. Jill is happily
working on her next novel.

“You’re a good woman to have around,” he
said.

“I
won’t be here long.”

Sonny
knew by his reaction that she’d said the wrong thing. She’d meant the words as
a polite brush-off, but he wasn’t the least bit deterred. Instead of defusing
the tension, her vague time line had ratcheted it up.

Now
he wanted her immediately.

Oops.

She
knew it was time to walk away, but when Ben pulled her against him, he was so
deliciously warm she almost wept. Letting the full length of her body press
into his, she turned her head, resting it against his chest. She felt the
cotton of his sweatshirt across her face, the tattoo of his heartbeat beneath
her cheek. As she inhaled the scent of his soap, and the sexy, masculine smell
of him, her hands snuck under his T-shirt, by their own volition, and splayed
over his smooth, sleekly muscled back.

He
sucked in a tortured breath.

She
dug her nails into his skin, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a moan. If she got
this hot from a simple touch, how could she keep her professional objective in
sight?

“Summer—”

It
was the name that brought her to her senses. The wrong name.

She
jerked her hands away, pushing at his chest. His fingers were linked together
across the small of her back, holding her in place. As she felt his response to
her touch, an old familiar panic welled within her. That, as much as duty, made
her say “I have to go.”

“Stay.”

“Don’t
make me struggle,” she whispered.

He
let her go, clenching his hands into fists as she slipped away.

CRASH INTO ME

A
Bantam Book / February 2009

Published by

Bantam
Dell

A
Division of Random House, Inc.

New
York, New York

This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved

Bantam Books and the
rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-553-90626-4

www.bantamdell.com

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