Duncan was the answer. But her rash behavior only led her down another path to unhappiness.
“I get the feeling there’s more you’re not telling me.”
Ty’s words made Summer fear her thoughts were showing on her face. “There’s no more. The surf tour has groupies, I gather. It must be hard for you to distinguish one blonde from another. I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”
“Well now, are you calling me a slut?”
Rather than being bothered by the assessment, he seemed rather smug. Men. “I wouldn’t know anything about your habits in that area.”
“I haven’t been a monk, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m not asking anything.”
“Seems like you are. So what is it you want to know? How many? My usual type? What positions I prefer?” He held up his hand and used his fingers to check the answers off. “I haven’t exactly kept count. I like women who make me laugh and I can stay friends with after. And I’ve always been partial to a good hard screw against the wall.”
Summer gritted her teeth against the swift rise of heat his description evoked. “Thanks for that mental picture.”
Ty smirked. “You’re welcome.”
“I wasn’t being serious.”
“You’re always being serious. I’ve never met anyone as serious as you.”
“Must be the circles you travel in.” Which were evidently filled with easy, laugh-a-minute women who enjoyed being drilled hard into a wall like a Phillips-head screw. Summer’s marriage had not been characterized by such encounters, and she didn’t think they sounded very romantic. More like dreadfully uncomfortable—possibly even injurious. Most definitely unappealing.
Tell that to the liquid heat gathering in your belly.
Shaking off that traitorous thought, Summer turned away. “I have to go. I have a client coming soon.”
Ty trailed her as she headed to the cash register. “Why are you always running away from me?”
Summer began unloading the fruit, yoghurt and prepackaged salad she’d selected onto the counter. “Have you considered the possibility it’s because you’re rude and vulgar, not to mention prone to oversharing details of your sex life?”
His smile held a wealth of secret knowledge. “I haven’t shared any of the really interesting parts yet.”
Flustered by his grin and the innuendo inherent in his use of the word yet, Summer concentrated on searching through her handbag for her purse. Before she could locate it, Ty handed a couple of bills to Mrs. McIntosh and indicated she should ring up all their items on one docket.
Summer shot him a look. “What are you doing?”
“I still owe you something for your time yesterday. You wouldn’t let me buy you dinner so I’m buying you lunch.” He assessed the items being rung up and put into a biodegradable bag. “At least I assume that’s what you call all this stuff.”
“You have a problem with healthy eating? I thought you were a professional athlete.”
“I surf for a living, it’s hardly marathon running. Besides, I eat a good diet, which tends to include plenty of red meat.” He sent her a sidelong glance as he placed his own items—herbal tea, wholemeal pasta, olives and bananas—onto the counter. “Christ. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
“No. But what would be so bad about that?”
He showed her that irrepressible grin. “I’d just hate to think you’d become that virtuous.”
There was a double meaning in there somewhere, and once again Summer found herself averting her eyes from the bawdy twinkle in his. She let him pay for her food, figuring he did owe her something—for making her shopping trip so unpleasant.
No, not unpleasant, Summer. She wanted to kid herself that she found Ty’s company distasteful, but the truth was her blood danced in her veins like it was carbonated. Ty’s nearness was enthralling, as it had always been. Annoying at times, definitely challenging, but thrilling too. She felt like she’d been living
“I get the feeling there’s more you’re not telling me.”
Ty’s words made Summer fear her thoughts were showing on her face. “There’s no more. The surf tour has groupies, I gather. It must be hard for you to distinguish one blonde from another. I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”
“Well now, are you calling me a slut?”
Rather than being bothered by the assessment, he seemed rather smug. Men. “I wouldn’t know anything about your habits in that area.”
“I haven’t been a monk, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m not asking anything.”
“Seems like you are. So what is it you want to know? How many? My usual type? What positions I prefer?” He held up his hand and used his fingers to check the answers off. “I haven’t exactly kept count. I like women who make me laugh and I can stay friends with after. And I’ve always been partial to a good hard screw against the wall.”
Summer gritted her teeth against the swift rise of heat his description evoked. “Thanks for that mental picture.”
Ty smirked. “You’re welcome.”
“I wasn’t being serious.”
“You’re always being serious. I’ve never met anyone as serious as you.”
“Must be the circles you travel in.” Which were evidently filled with easy, laugh-a-minute women who enjoyed being drilled hard into a wall like a Phillips-head screw. Summer’s marriage had not been characterized by such encounters, and she didn’t think they sounded very romantic. More like dreadfully uncomfortable—possibly even injurious. Most definitely unappealing.
Tell that to the liquid heat gathering in your belly.
Shaking off that traitorous thought, Summer turned away. “I have to go. I have a client coming soon.”
Ty trailed her as she headed to the cash register. “Why are you always running away from me?”
Summer began unloading the fruit, yoghurt and prepackaged salad she’d selected onto the counter. “Have you considered the possibility it’s because you’re rude and vulgar, not to mention prone to oversharing details of your sex life?”
His smile held a wealth of secret knowledge. “I haven’t shared any of the really interesting parts yet.”
Flustered by his grin and the innuendo inherent in his use of the word yet, Summer concentrated on searching through her handbag for her purse. Before she could locate it, Ty handed a couple of bills to Mrs. McIntosh and indicated she should ring up all their items on one docket.
Summer shot him a look. “What are you doing?”
“I still owe you something for your time yesterday. You wouldn’t let me buy you dinner so I’m buying you lunch.” He assessed the items being rung up and put into a biodegradable bag. “At least I assume that’s what you call all this stuff.”
“You have a problem with healthy eating? I thought you were a professional athlete.”
“I surf for a living, it’s hardly marathon running. Besides, I eat a good diet, which tends to include plenty of red meat.” He sent her a sidelong glance as he placed his own items—herbal tea, wholemeal pasta, olives and bananas—onto the counter. “Christ. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
“No. But what would be so bad about that?”
He showed her that irrepressible grin. “I’d just hate to think you’d become that virtuous.”
There was a double meaning in there somewhere, and once again Summer found herself averting her eyes from the bawdy twinkle in his. She let him pay for her food, figuring he did owe her something—for making her shopping trip so unpleasant.
No, not unpleasant, Summer. She wanted to kid herself that she found Ty’s company distasteful, but the truth was her blood danced in her veins like it was carbonated. Ty’s nearness was enthralling, as it had always been. Annoying at times, definitely challenging, but thrilling too. She felt like she’d been living
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