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    Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, what must he think of me? What
the hell was that? Jesus, I was all over him right in the middle of the beach!
    Wanting to bang her head into a brick wall, she kept her
gaze focused on the crashing waves. She walked straight into the bracing water,
dodging families and shrieking teens dunking each other in the surf, and kept
going until she was deep enough. With a hopping step, her hands clasped
overhead, she dove beneath an oncoming wave.
    Mia stayed under as long as she could, seeking invisibility,
and surfaced well beyond the first wave, just in time for a second to break on
top of her head. It pushed her down in a tumbling whirl, but she welcomed the
rush of water filling her eyes and ears, cooling the heat of abject humiliation
from her skin.
    Surfacing again, she swam farther out, skirting the line of
surfers waiting for the next set. Going for casual—all's well here, pay
no attention to me—she waved to the ones she knew, only half-listening to
the crew's chatter as she swam past. They called out surf conditions in lingo
she didn't understand and made fun of all the wannabes watching from the shore
with envy, endlessly waxing the boards they'd never ride.
    Maybe Derrick hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.
They were long-time friends, after all. They were comfortable and cuddly and
touchy-feely with each other on a regular basis. Barry had even complained
about the way they sat all over each other all the time, like puppies rolling
around, he'd said. It didn't mean anything. It was nothing unusual.
    But. . .
    She'd rubbed her hands over his body like a lover,
possessive and sexual. Practically predatory, like having foreplay right there
on the beach.
    God.
    Mia dunked her head beneath the water, tilting back to wash
the hair out of her face. Derrick's t-shirt billowed around her. Swiping drops
of chilly seawater out of her eyes, she scrubbed her hands over her
still-burning cheeks. How could she ever face him again?
     
    ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
     
    Derrick put the lotion away, whistling tunelessly, a goofy
grin nearly cracking his face in half. He ignored Allison's pointed stare and
repeated eh-hemming while he watched Mia
moving farther out into the water.
    What an interesting turn of events.
    Inordinately pleased, he dropped back onto his elbows, one
leg kicked over the other. His free foot swung to the beat from one of the boom
boxes pounding out its bass nearby, at complete odds with his whistling.
    He'd been prepared to wait several weeks, maybe even a month
or two, for Mia to get over Barry before making his move, but. . . His body
twitched with pleasure, remembering her hands gliding over his skin, the sound
of her fast, heavy breathing in his ears. Maybe convincing her to give him a
shot would be easier than he'd hoped.
    Even if it was only physical attraction, he could work with
that. Start there.
    Instead of killing Barry, he'd have to thank the man. If
Barry hadn't dumped Mia last night, who knew how much longer they might have
stayed together while Derrick waited for his chance with her. Finally, it was
his turn. He would do whatever it took to make her happy.
    Slender fingers snapped in front of his nose, making him
jump. He turned his head to find Allison's giant sunglasses two inches from his
face.
    "Geez," he said, shoving her back with a light
push on her shoulder. "What?"
    "You know what," she answered, a supercilious
smile dancing across her face.
    Derrick waved a hand at her dismissively, keeping his lips
sealed, and went back to watching Mia, now halfway to the first buoy. But he
couldn't stop the answering grin.
    "Uh-huh," Allison said. "I hope you know what
you're doing, boyo . And you better not
hurt her, or I'll take you out, permanently."
    In answer, Derrick reached over and plucked the sunglasses
off her nose, grabbed her pointed chin and pulled her in close so she could
stare directly into his eyes, all without saying a word. He held her there