Club Cupid by Stephanie Bond

cold weather,” he murmured, retaining his hold on the items between them.
    “Back to my job.”
    “Back to the stress,” he said with a pointed look.
    “Back to my responsibilities,” she corrected gently.
    He slowly released the towel and the shirt into her hands. “You’re right, of course. Let’s get going. I guess the windsurfing lesson will have to wait until another time.”
    Within a few minutes, they had repacked the cooler and donned their clothing. Since her shirt was missing a few buttons, Frankie tied the endsacross her midriff. They remained silent for most of the walk back to the private beach and the spectacular stucco home. Frankie held the gym bag in one hand and the conch shell in her other, rubbing her thumb against the smooth inside wall. The stroking motion seemed to calm her vacillating mood, and she felt a strange attachment to the gift. She occasionally sneaked a peek at the man striding next to her, thinking he would laugh if he knew how much the token had pleased her.
    When they stepped within bounds of the nudists, Randy moved closer to her side and touched her waist in a protective gesture that she appreciated, despite the fact that the casual contact set her nerves on end.
    He guided her along the outskirts of the sunbathers and Frankie labored to keep from staring. Sheely had turned over on her stomach to give her sleek back and behind equal exposure to her front. “I’d like to pay your friend for the bathing suit,” she said. “Will you bring the money back to her on your next visit?”
    “I already offered to pay Sheely, but she didn’t want the money.”
    Frankie frowned. “I can’t very well give it back to her after wearing it.”
    “She wants you to keep it.”
    This habit of accepting charity from strangers left her feeling very…beholden. “Why would she do that?”
    He shrugged. “Sheely is a very generous person.”
    Frankie was glad he didn’t expand on the woman’s different levels of generosity, but shecouldn’t resist asking, “Is she an old girlfriend of yours?”
    His chuckle rumbled low and mocking. “No. Does it matter?”
    “Of course not,” she assured him, although she did feel strangely comforted by the disclosure.
    The owner of the house loitered near the gate, smoking a short cigar—Frankie strove not to make Freudian comparisons. Trying to keep her eye contact high, Frankie realized with a start that she hadn’t craved a cigarette since they’d arrived at the beach.
    “Ahhhh, Randy,” the balding man crooned. “Surely you’re not whisking away this lovely woman so soon.”
    “I’m afraid we need to get back, Tom.”
    His friend pulled a face. “You’re not fooling anyone, my boy. You simply want to keep her all to yourself.”
    “How true,” Randy said easily, his hand tightening on her waist. With the other hand, he held up the cooler. “Thanks for the crab legs.”
    Tom winked. “No problem. I figured you two would work up a bit of an appetite.”
    Frankie narrowed her eyes at Randy, but he simply smiled and shook his head as if to say, “Even if we deny it, no one will believe us.” Instead, he said, “I might be back tomorrow afternoon for a little surfing.”
    The host nodded hospitably, then gestured toward Frankie with his cigar. “Will you be bringing your little tourist treasure?”
    Frankie lifted her chin, bristling. The man made her sound like a generic plastic souvenir. Sheglanced at Randy and found him studying her with amusement dancing in his eyes. “That’s up to Red, I suppose. She seems to be in a hurry to leave our fair island.”
    Flushing under his mocking gaze, Frankie inclined her head in farewell to his congenial naked millionaire friend, then walked through the gate Randy held open. She stepped onto the shaded path leading to the parking area, feeling self-conscious. Following the path abruptly to the right around a hibiscus bush heavy with fragrant, pink blooms, Frankie lost sight of the men, but