Dancing Barefoot by Amber Lea Easton

be waiting at the counter. Marc had seen her ugly side and accepted it. Jacques only knew the carefree girl with the wild curls who believed in making dreams come true.
    She yanked off the ring and slipped it into the front pocket of her jeans. Yes, it was time to g row up and let go, just like he had done.
    "How does this look?" Julie stood on the stairs in a faded dress that showed off legs that were pretty damn good for a nearly sixty year old.
    "You look beautiful, mom." She stood and walked toward the door.
    "What's the matter? You look sad and this is a celebration." When Julie approached, Jessica smelled the rum and knew her mom had found a new hiding place for her stash.
    "I'm ready to celebrate." She shrugged and stepped toward the door, tired of playing this game, but not knowing how to break the cycle without breaking her heart in two.
    "Don't be sad, my Jessica." Julie smiled, the carefully applied make-up concea ling the fresh bruises. "You should go out with that nice Marc later to celebrate your promotion. You need to have more fun."
    She nodded without answering. Maybe she would call him, what the hell? Maybe love was overrated. No emotion, no pain. No attachment, no loss. Easy.
    * * *

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
    Dark water rolled to infinity.  Sun soaked into her greedy skin, long starved for its heat after a bitter winter.  A cool breeze tossed her hair back from her upturned face. Clouds hung on the horizon. She sighed. It was a perfect Sunday.
    “You’re lost in thought,” Marc observed, lying beside her.   
    He had stalled the boat and brought down the sails without her noticing.  A picnic basket sat between them. His bare tanned legs stretched out against the hot deck.  Wind tossed his black hair across his bronzed forehead.  
    “I’m glad I called you. The day’s too good to waste,” she said with a lazy grin. "Being here is the perfect way to end the weekend."
    "I never turn down a good sailing day," Marc said with a wide smile. "What'd you do yesterday? You took off from McDougal's Friday night like you couldn't wait to get away from everyone."
    She closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sun. She didn't want to remember Friday night and Jacques. “Remember last summer? When we all painted the shutters at Miranda's house on the Cape?” 
    Marc laughed. “You started that ridiculous paint fight.”
    “I saw an opportunity and went for it,” she said, opening her eyes and looking at his handsome profile. To hell with chemistry. With Marc, she'd always know what to expect. "We have a lot of good memories between us, don't we?"
    “ And we'll create a lot more. We're the inevitable couple, aren't we? At least according to the masses,” he said, leaning across the picnic basket to kiss her lightly on the lips.
    You have no idea what I want.  You don’t know me , not really. She shook off the thought and pulled away. Damn it, do I have an aversion to simplicity?
    She focused on his hands pouring white wine into a pair of crystal glasses. Prince Charming in the flesh, the kind of man a girl dreams about when planning a fairytale wedding. A future with Marc would be steady and comfortable. Safe.  Predictable.
    “I’ve lost you, Mori. Care to let me in on what’s going on behind those gorgeous blue eyes of yours? Is it work?” he asked, gliding his fingers down her arm. "Don't worry about Sincore. Maybe we can partner up. We can talk to Charlie about it tomorrow morning. We're good when we work together."
    “Tell me something?” Nearly hypnotized by the sound of water lapping against the side of the boat, she felt the tension ease from her body.
    “Anything.”
    “Why do you think we’ve been so open with our relationship? It’s like we’re keeping each other within arm’s reach just in case. No real emotion or commitment.  Friends who happen to sleep together from time to time. What happens if we meet someone else? We’ve never really discussed what we