Cross My Heart by Abigail Strom

she wasn’t in the market for a relationship. But as Michael sat down in the chair beside her and poured himself a glass of lemonade, she realized she wanted to do more than flirt with this man. A lot more.
    Then he looked back at her. “The least you could do is return the favor.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to go shirtless? Dream on, my friend.”
    He grinned at her. “Okay, maybe not completely shirtless. But you could show me the tattoo on your back.”
    She pretended to think about it, secretly pleased that he was flirting back with her.
    “I suppose that’s a reasonable request,” she said. She was wearing white shorts and a navy blue blouse, and now she pushed the lounge chair flat and turned over on her stomach. She tugged her shorts down an inch or two and flipped up her blouse, and rested her chin on her folded arms.
    After a moment he sat down next to her, and her pulse jumped when she felt his denim-clad thigh against her hip. Then his fingertips brushed her lower back, and a wave of goose bumps swept across her skin.
    “It’s music,” he said after a moment, his voice a little husky. He cleared his throat. “Musical notes, I mean.”
    He was tracing over the tattoo now, stroking her softly, and it felt so good she had to tighten her muscles to keep from arching up against his hand.
    “I had it done about ten years ago. It’s a few measures from Bach’s Concerto for Two Violins .”
    His fingers stilled. “You’re kidding.”
    “No. Why do you sound so surprised?” She turned on her side to look up at him, and his hand ended up on her bare waist.
    “I love that concerto. I love Bach.”
    She smiled up at him. “I thought you said you weren’t that into music.”
    “I told you I like classical,” he reminded her.
    She turned onto her back, and that brought his hand to her bare stomach. For a second she thought he’d pull away, but then his fingers trailed softly over her skin towards her belly button. Her stomach muscles tightened as he touched the silver ring there.
    “Did it hurt to get this done?” he asked. He tugged on the ring gently, the barest pull, and sensation stabbed through her.
    “A little,” she whispered. He was looking down at her bare stomach, and his index finger started to trace slow, hypnotic circles around the ring.
    His touch was feather soft. Her skin there was so sensitive. Her breath was coming faster, and he had to be aware of it.
    She started to tremble. God, he could see that, too. His eyes lifted to hers, and they stared at each other for one frozen moment.
    “Jenna!”
    She turned her head to see her sister Allison walking briskly towards them.
    Good God. Was it five o’clock already?
    Jenna hardly ever felt self-conscious, but she did now. She sat up quickly, thrusting Michael’s tee shirt at him and straightening her blouse. Michael jumped to his feet and pulled the shirt over his head. A moment later Allison was with them on the patio.
    “Michael! I thought that was you.”
    He cleared his throat. “Allison, hi. I didn’t realize you and Jenna were sisters.”
    Jenna hoped her voice sounded as normal as his did. “You two know each other?” she asked, and Allison nodded. Her sister’s eyes were curious as she looked between the two of them.
    “From the hospital,” she explained. Allison ran a charitable foundation for children with cancer, and she knew a lot of M.D.s. “And of course I work with Michael’s…uh…” she paused. “With Denise. I work with Denise,” she went on, looking flustered. “She’s an oncologist,” she added.
    Jenna glanced from her sister to Michael. “Girlfriend or ex-girlfriend?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light. It wasn’t like she had a vested interest.
     “Ex-girlfriend,” Michael said. He paused. “Okay, I’m going to head back to my place now. I hope you ladies have a great time tonight.”
    “You’re not going to be there?” Allison asked.
    Michael shook his head.