A Modern Love Story (12 page)

Scowling, she adjusted her hat and sat back.

“What’s wrong with you?” Luc asked.

“Nothing,” Robbie grumbled, surveying the scene in front of them.

The pool was busy. There were lots of people their own age, a scattering of older couples, and plenty of families. People splashed in the water, spread out in the sun,
cozied
up to each other, and bellied up to the outdoor tiki bar. There were screams and laughter, mumblings of private conversations, and underlying it all was the sound of the ocean, not more than fifty yards away.

“God, it’s just stunning here,” Robbie said, watching a family of four slip into the shallow end of the pool. “Can you imagine bringing your family here for vacation? I bet they’d have a blast.”

“Not my family. We’d kill each other,” Lizbeth said.

“What are you talking about? Your family is great,” Robbie said. “Someday, when I have a family of my own, I’m coming back here.”

“Me too,” seconded Lizbeth.

“What about you, Stretch? Would you come back here with yours?” Robbie asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t need a family.” He jerked a thumb in her direction. “I’ll just tag along with yours.”

Robbie briefly laid a hand on his arm. “One of these days, Luc, you’re gonna change your mind about that.”

“Not bloody likely.”

She smiled at the same old argument. She wanted a family, ached to have one again, and he could care less because he had never known how truly good and pure it could be. The L’s were the closest thing he’d ever had, and even they’d eventually left him.

Lizbeth’s sudden gasp had Robbie turning towards her. “Robbie. Look at that fine specimen of a man.”

Robbie followed her gaze and nearly gasped herself. “Hello, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. Wow.”

“You can say that again. Damn. Look at that physique.
Very
nice.”

“I didn’t think men like that even existed.”

“Oh, they do. They’re rare, but they do. And when you find one, watch out because he will knock you on your ass.”

Robbie hissed out a breath. “Look at those eyes, that hair…those arms.” She licked her lips. “Wonder if he has a dark side to match the rest.”

“I’d kill to find out,” Lizbeth breathed. “Oh, yeah. We’d get along just fine.”

“For Christ’s sake. Cut it out,” Conrad said.

Lizbeth giggled. “Oh, if it was a girl, you’d be talking about how hot she was.”

Conrad peered over the top of his sunglasses and studied the guy. “I don’t know. The way you keep going on, I might start to think
he’s
pretty hot, too.”

Lizbeth snorted a laugh and smacked him in the bicep.

“Shit,” Conrad said. “How do you girls expect us common men to keep thinking we have any chance at all against
that
. Talk about crushing a guy down.”

“Don’t put me in your class, man,” Luc said. “Common man, my ass.”

“That’s right,” Robbie put in, patting Luc’s arm with a laugh. “
Studly
here is a man all his own.”

“See,” Luc said. “Despite the ill-timed laugh—which I’ll completely ignore—the woman has impeccable taste.”

*****

The afternoon flew by as Luc watched the world around him. Directly next to him, in particular. Robbie’s milky-white skin, protected by the half-bottle of sun block she slathered on, just about glowed in the brilliant sunlight. Her off-the-shoulder shirt-thingy was nearly mid-thigh, but it was filmy and light, streaming down her body and drifting off her curves in all the right places. Or wrong places, depending upon your perspective.

On more than one occasion, Luc had to force himself to look away. It wasn’t often he saw her in a suit—or a suit and a shirt, in this case. But during the last couple of years, since he’d lived with her those few brutal months, he couldn’t help but to see her in a different light. Far different than he thought he ever would. She was a looker. No fucking question about it, but he knew better than to go there. It used to be more difficult than it was now. There were times when he would picture her flashing him in the shower, or their brief make-out session on the couch, and he would feel the familiar ache and warming in his belly that only she could stoke to such an intense heat. But he’d learned to effectively shut it down, or at least bring it down to a steady simmer. Now he could look and appreciate, without the fear of his instincts and urges taking over.
And
without having to worry about hurting her. She’d always deserve far more than he could ever give her. Much more than a simple tumble in the sheets.

With a deep, thought-clearing sigh, Luc closed his eyes and soaked up the warmth. Just focus on the sun, the relaxation, the ambient noises—

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to call it a day and hit the bar.” Lizbeth said. “What’d ya think?”

“I’m game,” Robbie answered. “But I think I’m going to take a quick dip first to cool off.”

Luc heard her ruffle around in her bag.

“I’ll come with you. Conrad, you joining us?”

“
Naw
. I’m just gonna sit here and enjoy the show. Make sure you ease in nice and slow. Same thing when you get out, too.”

Lizbeth laughed, and Luc heard the slap of what he imagined was her hand on his arm. She was always touching his arm.

“You coming, Luc?” Lizbeth asked.

He refused to open his eyes. “Nope.”

“Your loss. Both of you.”

Luc could infer what was happening with the sounds around him. The pitter-patter of feet was Lizbeth heading towards the pool. The girlie squeal was her easing into the cold water. The whistle was Conrad’s version of a compliment. The rustle of fabric right next to him was Robbie taking off her shirt-thingy. The second set of pitter-patter was Robbie—

“Holy shit,” Conrad muttered. “Dude. You’ve got to see this.”

“What?” Luc peeled an eye open to peer at Conrad. Noting his mouth hanging open like a damn fool, he followed his line of sight.

Luc jolted straight up when he saw Robbie. “What the hell is that?!”

Conrad made a strangled-laughing sound. “I think it’s a bikini.”

“Holy fucking shit. A single tug at two different knots and she’d be naked. That’s not a fucking bikini. That doesn’t have enough material to be considered anything
near
a bikini.”

“I don’t know, man.” Conrad gestured at the poolside. “She’s not the only one wearing something skimpy.”

“But she’s the only one I give a shit about.”

Luc was stunned. There was Robbie—his sweet, innocent…curvy, sultry Robbie—prancing around in three swatches of forest green fabric. Fuck no, that wasn’t a bikini.
That
was an excuse for men to paw at her.
That
was an invitation for Luc to start kicking some gawkers asses.
That
was his own personal torment and temptation at its finest. Jesus fucking Christ. The enduring simmer of heat in his belly suddenly flash-boiled over.

“I’m heading up,” Robbie called out to Lizbeth. “I’ll meet you in the room.”

“All right,” Lizbeth responded, dunking her head back again, then shooting a wink at Conrad.

Robbie walked up the submerged stairs, wringing her fiery red hair out as she went. Her hips rocked, her shoulders swayed. Her entire 5’6” frame moved sinuously with every footstep that brought her closer.

“I’m heading up.” Her voice sounded distant to his ears, as if she were talking to him with his head underwater. “You okay?”

“Uh huh.” His tongue ceased all functionality when she bent over in front of him to grab her bag.
Fuckin
’ A.

“Come by the room when you guys are ready to head down. We’ll need about an hour.” Robbie straightened when she heard a whistle a few chairs down, and blushed. She was fucking pleased with herself!

Luc still hadn’t regained speech when she walked away, strolling right past The Whistler’s chair.

“Hold up. I’m gonna see if I can hit that,” The Whistler said to his friend, tossing down his towel to stalk Robbie.

Luc was up in a flash, fury pumping through his veins. He vaguely heard Conrad call his name as his long strides brought him closer to target. Robbie looked back right as Luc fell in step behind the worthless piece of shit, hooked his hand around his bicep, and dumped his ass into the pool.

She spun to confront him. “Luc!”

“He’s fucking lucky that’s all I did.” Luc gestured with a nod of his head. “Keep it moving.”

She threw her hands up and turned back toward the resort. “You’re like an overprotective Neanderthal.”

“Hey, if that’s what it takes to keep his hands out of your pants, or lack thereof, then so be it.”

Robbie stopped and turned on him again, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Maybe I want his hands in my pants. Ever think of that?”

“Over my dead and rotting corpse!”

“That can be arranged,” she mumbled, crossing her arms.

Luc made it a point to look back at The Whistler as he started to heave himself out of the pool, but one look at Luc’s glare had him slithering back down again.

“For Pete’s sake.” Robbie sighed.

Luc turned back to her. “Are you fucking brain-dead, Rob? Have some damn sense. Do you really want someone like that?”

“Oh, shut up. I don’t need a brother-type telling me who I should, or shouldn’t, want touching me. And quit swearing at me!”

“Dammit, Robbie! I’m not your
fuc
— I’m not your damn brother, I’m your friend.” He glanced back to see The Whistler getting slapped by a girl in the pool. “
And
doing you a favor by the looks of it.”

Robbie glared her response and stormed away.

He couldn’t help but admire her form. “Brother type, my fucking ass,” he mumbled, jogging to catch up with her. He caught her elbow when she got to the lobby. “Hey. I’m not done talking to you about this.”

She jerked her arm away, and fisted her hands on her hips. “What if I wanted that guy? Hmm? Or any guy? Say, that one.” She gestured toward a man at the guest counter just as a young couple wandered into their eye line.

Catching the comment, the man smirked and pulled his shoulders back a measure. The woman backhanded him in the chest, and shot Robbie a glare.

“Not
you
,” Robbie said, as if it should’ve been obvious. “Behind you.”

The couple shifted to reveal an elderly couple directly behind them. The old man smiled a toothless grin as the old lady gave him a little shove towards Robbie. “You can have him, dear. But he’s no Lothario.”

The young couple snickered and walked away as Luc doubled-over with laughter.

“Oh, my God,” Robbie mumbled, face flushed. She punched Luc in the arm before stalking off.

Luc held his gut, his laugh dying off as he caught up to her just as the elevator arrived. He followed her in.

“Look, Rob. I’m not gonna stand by and let you bang some stranger. You got an itch? I’ll scratch it.” He was almost as surprised as she was by his offer.

He nearly flinched as he watched for her reaction, certain a fist was about to jab out at him. Instead, her face froze before it went straight from boiling fury to dumfounded shock. And then she laughed. Hard.