He sighed. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Don't be. A customer actually asked me for an autograph today. Famous for a day, at least."

"You're being an incredibly good sport."

"That's life, right?"

"It is, isn't it. You know what? You're just what I needed today."

"Yeah?" She sounded pleased.

"Yeah."

"So… I'll see you on Saturday?"

"Unless I could talk you into that poker game. Tonight."

"Not tonight. Not… yet."

But she didn't say not ever. She asked him about Heather then, and he asked her about her latest sandwich creation, and before he knew it an hour had gone by, and she had to go because apparently Lorissa was getting irritated about handling the café while Sam chatted on the phone with him.

That night, he dreamed about holding her hot and wet in his arms, just as when they'd body-surfed, talking and laughing, kissing. And despite not getting her into bed, that first date had rivaled any night he'd ever spent with a woman; in fact, it ranked up there as the hottest, most sensual night of his life.


* * *

Saturday came before Sam knew it. The morning was chilly and foggy, but that didn't stop her from surfing and swimming with Lorissa and the gang as usual. When they were done, Lorissa opened the café and Sam went upstairs to get ready for the carnival.

"Stop it," she told her overly excited reflection in the bathroom mirror. "He's just a guy."

Yeah, just a guy. A very gorgeous guy who made her laugh and could kiss her every last brain cell away.

Not today, she told herself. Today was just for the kids. Today, he would irritate her in some way, surely he would. And then she'd be free from thinking of him, of dreaming of him.

She heard gravel crunch as a car pulled into the parking lot, and ran to the window, pressing her nose to the glass to catch sight of Jack's Escalade. Her stomach tightened.

So much for irritating her. But the day was young yet, and she'd never gone through an entire second date without wanting to ditch the guy. So really it was only a matter of time.

7

Sam ran down the stairs of her apartment and through Wild Cherries, planting herself at the counter as casually as she could, just as Jack walked through the gate and stepped onto the patio.

Calm, she reminded herself. Remain calm. At least it was a cool morning. Usually the thermometer hanging above her head had neared ninety by now, if not more, but today it was only seventy.

And yet, just seeing Jack sent her inner temperature off the chart.

Because of the cooler weather, the café had stolen the beach crowd and was filled with people looking for hot tea and coffee instead of the usual juices and iced tea. Sam knew Lorissa and the two high school kids she'd hired this season could handle the café in her absence.

In fact, Lorissa stood only a few feet away, on the other side of the counter, rag in hand as she wiped it down. She lifted her brow, signaling she'd seen not only Jack's arrival, but Sam's run through the place.

Skurfer was sitting a few tables away with some of his buddies, and by his smirk, he'd seen, too. She grimaced back, but her heart did a backflip as Jack walked through the filled tables directly toward her. He wore a white polo shirt, San Diego Eels sweat pants that buttoned down the outside of his legs, mirrored sunglasses and an unreadable expression.

She sat there on a bar stool, her pulse frantically beating in her ears. Lorissa set two mugs of hot chocolate in front of her. "Careful," she whispered. "You're drooling."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam watched Jack come close and took a deep breath. "Hey," she said, as casually as she could.

"Hey, yourself." A slow smile lit his face, and he shoved the sunglasses to the top of his head. His eyes were smiling, too, and she decided that was a good look on him.

Very good.

He draped his tall frame on the stool next to hers, accepting the drink when she slid it over to him. "Thanks." He took a sip. "It's not as warm today as I'd hoped."

Maybe not, but it was sure hot in here, she thought, watching his Adam's apple slide up and down as he drank.

He reached over, taking her hand, holding it away from her as he looked her over.

She wore a sundress today, the same color as the sea. She knew the thin, wispy material of the dress played peekaboo with the bathing suit she wore beneath it and also knew that she looked quite passable.

The heat in his eyes told her she may have pulled off more than quite passable.

"Another dress over a bathing suit," he said after drinking some more.

"I took the words dunking booth to heart."

"Yeah." He sighed. "I'm hoping she's just messing with me." He stood and, still holding her hand, pulled her to her feet as well.

"I guess we're going to find out."

"Yeah."

Because his smile had faded, hers did as well. "What's the matter, Jack?"

He shook his head, then brought his free hand up to her face to sink into the hair she'd left free and flowing over her shoulders.

Out of the corner of her eye, she knew Lorissa was watching their every move.

"I thought about you all damn week," Jack murmured.

That took her breath. So did the light kiss he dropped on her lips. "Let's go?"

"Yes," she said. Incredibly aware of the interested gazes of the people around them, she couldn't admit that she'd been thinking about him, too.

Every single living second.

"Have fun." Lorissa took their cups away. "Be careful."

They walked to the parking lot. Jack opened the passenger door for her, but instead of sliding in, she looked up into his eyes. "I thought of you, too." She shut the door on his surprised expression.

When he came around to the driver's seat, he didn't say a word, thank God. He didn't have to, his smile said it all.

Have fun, Lorissa had said. Be careful.

Right. Only there was no way she could she do both at the same time, not with this man.


* * *

The carnival was abuzz with preopening activity. Jack stared at their booth. "She really meant it."

Sam laughed. There were wild rides and row upon row of games, where you could lose as much money as you wanted, and more. There were arts and crafts booths as well, and a wide variety of food stands selling high-fat fast food. On the walk to their booth Jack had been stopped a few times for autographs, and though he did it happily enough, he deflected any personal questions, private as always.

Music filled the salty air, blaring out of speakers set up at the end of every row. Sam found herself grinning with anticipation and excitement as she eyed the dunking booth in front of them. A large tank of water sat beneath a bench that looked rather like a diving board, and above it, a bull's-eye for people to throw softballs at. When one hit the mark, the seat-with one of them on it-would drop. "Look on the bright side," she said. "That's a long throw and a rather small target. No kid is actually going to be able to hit that. We'll be dry all day."

"Yeah? Why don't you go first and make sure. In fact, I'll throw first, just to check it out."

"Oh, no," she said, laughing, backing up a little at the wicked look in his eyes. "You should go first."

"And why is that?"

"Um…" To see if he looked as good wet in the daylight as he had by moonlight? "To make sure it's safe," she came up with brilliantly.

He laughed knowingly, and when his cell phone rang, he flipped it open. "What now, Heather? Uh-huh… listen, didn't we just see you three minutes ago sitting on your throne at the ticket booth collecting money?" His eyes shot to Sam's. "You're opening for business and you need my butt on the hot spot? Gee, thanks. Yeah, yeah, love you, too, but I wouldn't sleep with both eyes shut tonight if I were you." He snapped the phone shut, slid it into his pants pocket and looked at the dunking booth with what could only be dread.

Sam had to laugh. "I know you're not afraid of water."

He cut his gaze back to her as he kicked off his shoes and then tugged off his sweats. Beneath he wore knee-length dark blue swim trunks. "I'm not afraid of anything," he said, and pulled off his shirt.

She worked on not swallowing her tongue. As she'd seen the week before, the man hadn't lost any of his muscle tone in the year since he'd stopped playing. She'd made it her business to look up and learn about his career this past week. He'd been a true athlete, one of the best, until multiple knee injuries and the subsequent surgeries had taken him off the top of his game. He claimed not to be afraid of anything, but she knew better-because he'd told her himself. "Except commitment," she reminded him. "You're afraid of commitment."

His shirt hit her in the face. When she pulled it away, after first gulping in a big breath to catch his delicious scent, he lifted a brow.

"Isn't that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?"

She lifted her chin.

"Fine," he said. "Neither of us like to admit being afraid of anything. We're big, bad toughies with an impenetrable surface." He walked toward the ladder that would take him to the hot seat. "But I'll bet your sweet ass that my impenetrable surface is going to freeze right off if anyone manages a hit."

"Don't worry," she crooned, struggling to hold back a laugh at the look on his face as he sat there, tanned and sleek and shirtless, his long legs dangling down nearly to the level of water, looking like he'd rather have an enema. Poor baby. "I'll bet that water isn't that cold."

"I'll be sure to let you know." He eyed the crowd now running in from the main gates. Before another minute passed, there was a long line of kids waiting to dunk Jack Scandal Knight.