Sunny Says by Jan Hudson Read Free Book Online Page B

with Sunny on his heels.
    Just as the wind tugged it free,
he sprang and pounced on the mocking culprit, trapping it like a loose
football. Sunny stumbled over him, lost her balance, and started to fall. He
grabbed for her, and they both slipped in the shifting sand and went rolling
down the side of the dune in a wild tumble of flailing arms and legs, lost
sunglasses, and spilled shells.
    When they came to rest, she
found herself sprawled atop Kale, thigh to thigh, chest to chest, nose to nose.
    “Are you okay?” he asked.
    “Fine. You?”
    “Intact.” He reached and slowly
dragged out the straw hat, which was crushed between them. “Your chapeau,
mademoiselle.” He plopped the bedraggled thing on the back of her head.
    With its crown smashed, it
promptly slid off.
    Her lips twitched. “I think it’s
dead.”
    Bubbles of mirth caught in her
throat and exploded. The corners of his eyes crinkled. One side of his mouth
lifted in a lopsided grin. They both broke into gales of laughter.
    Shoulders shaking, Sunny buried
her forehead in the crook of his neck. His arms went around her, and she could
feel the laughter heaving his chest against hers as he held her close, could
sense the rumble of the sound against her nose.
    She could smell the delicious
sun-warmed scent of his skin mingled with the lingering redolence of lotion and
spicy after-shave. Without her thinking, the tip of her tongue went out to
taste the enticement of his throat.
    His laughter stopped. They grew
still. His body tensed beneath hers. Then his fingers moved ever so slightly in
slow strokes below her shoulder blades.
    She lifted her face and looked
at him. His eyes glinted with a sensual awareness as potent as a riptide. Her
breath caught as the power of it engulfed her. She couldn’t think; she couldn’t
move.
    He closed his eyes, clenched his
teeth, and took a deep shuddering breath, as if to breathe in her essence or to
gain strength from the salty air. His hands moved downward to the swell of her
bottom and pressed her against his hardness.
    His face looked as if he were
fighting a thousand inner devils . . . and losing.
    A drop of moisture splattered
against his forehead. His eyes flew open. “What was that?”
    “I told you it was going to
rain.”
    He spat out a succinct expletive
that made her giggle, and they scrambled to their feet. The wind had
intensified, the waves were beginning to kick up whitecaps, and an ominous line
of dark clouds was moving in rapidly from the Gulf.
    He cursed again and grabbed her
hand. “Let’s make a run for it before it pours.”
    “But the shells!”
    “Forget the shells. I’ll buy you
a tubful.” He dragged her down the dune toward the beach and pulled her behind
him as he ran.
    After a few hundred yards, she
yanked her hand away and yelled, “Stop! I have to go back for our sunglasses.”
    “Forget the damned sunglasses.”
The raindrops had escalated into a blowing drizzle.
    “But mine are prescription. You
go ahead and put the top up on the car,” she said. “You can run faster.”
    “Dammit, Sunny”—he dragged his
fingers through his hair—”you’re going to get soaked.”
    “I told you that I won’t melt. I
like the rain.” Gesturing with her hand for him to go on, she turned and dashed
off in the opposite direction.
    Muttering curses with every long
stride, Kale sprinted toward the Cadillac. Just as he fumbled the keys from his
pocket and reached for the door handle, the bottom fell out of the sky, dousing
him with buckets of rain. He let out another string of epithets and hurriedly
raised the top and rolled up the windows.
    He grabbed one of the beach
towels and used the dry side to wipe the leather seats and console, then tossed
it into the backseat and waited for Sunny.
    And waited.
    And waited.
    Where the hell was she?
    He knew he shouldn’t have left
her alone. What if she was hurt? He uttered another colorful oath, jerked the
door open, and stepped out into the driving