Love's Last Chance by Jean C. Joachim Page B

is young,”
Johnny chuckled as he followed Dorrie inside.
    Exactly what I was afraid of. Damn.
    The screen door slammed shut and the steps
were again unoccupied.
     
    * * * *
     
    The day usually started a bit overcast at
six o’clock on Fire Island. But the clouds burned off by nine,
leaving a brilliant, burning heat and clear, blue skies. Saturday
was a typical day, beckoning the sun-worshipers and body surfers to
the beach with a cool breeze early in the day.
    Johnny was the first one up in his house. He
put up a pot of coffee then took a cup with him as he ventured out
into the fresh morning air. The sun was up and already growing
fierce, forcing him to don a baseball cap. He strolled aimlessly,
he thought, unaware his feet had decided he needed to be at
Dorrie’s house.
    She sat on the stoop, sipping from a mug.
One slender, graceful hand rested on her knee. The sun caught some
copper strands in her hair, making them glow. Her Cupid’s bow lips
were stained a subtle pink to match the slight blush in her
cheeks.
    God, she’s gorgeous. The sun on her
hair…the prettiest combination of brown and reddish gold I’ve ever
seen. Her green eyes, so light as to be almost translucent were
hidden behind big sunglasses with tortoiseshell frames. She
looks every inch the movie star. His heart rate quickened as he
approached. Is she going to bite my head off today or kiss me
like she did last night? Smokin’.
    “Good morning,” he whispered, barely loud
enough for her to hear.
    Her head popped up. “Oh! Morning. Didn’t
hear you coming.”
    “Sand. Muffles the sound.”
    “Hung over?”
    “Don’t drink that much anymore.”
    “I remember the days when you could put away
fifteen in a night.”
    He chuckled. “Beer or women?”
    “Not funny.”
    “I thought it was,” he said. “Those days are
long gone. I’m a serious businessman now. Can’t be hung over all
the time and be successful, too.”
    “This isn’t all the time. It’s Fire Island
weekend.”
    “Out of the habit, I guess.” He lowered
himself onto the step next to her.
    “Yeah? Me, too. Too much physical activity.
I can’t be wasted all the time.”
    I’d love to have some physical activity with
her. Her skinny dancer’s body has changed. Love to get my hands on
her. Best lover ever, even thin.
    His glance rested on her chest, and his
pulse kicked up. His fingers itched to close around those inviting
mounds.
    “You’re beautiful,” slipped quietly out of
his mouth. But she heard him.
    “What?”
    Heat seeped into his cheeks. Big mouth.
You’re staring at her rack and coming on to her. You’ll lose any
chance you have.
    “Nothing.”
    She straightened in her chair. “It wasn’t
nothing. Did you say…beautiful? She blushed. “Oh my God, did I just
say that?”
    “Yeah.” Caught. Fess up. “You’re even
more beautiful now than when you were dancing. Didn’t think that
was possible.”
    She smiled warmly at him, and he knew he’d
made the right choice to opt for honesty. Pierre from the men’s
house walked up the path and stopped in front of the house. His
gaze roamed salaciously over Dorrie’s body before he spoke.
    “Dorrie. Sexier than ever,” he leered.
    She raised her hand in greeting, but the
frown never left her lips.
    “Have you seen the schedule for today?” he
asked, ignoring her cold shoulder.
    “Schedule? Crap! I thought this was supposed
to be a relaxing weekend.”
    “You know Drake. Always had a schedule. No
one ever paid attention,” John said.
    “Let’s see if I can remember?” Pierre sat
down, uninvited, on the other side of Dorrie and draped his arm
around her shoulders. “Uh, volleyball at eleven, lunch at noon,
body surfing at one, more volleyball at three…cocktails—my favorite
part—at four thirty.”
    Dorrie shrugged him off her. Johnny threw a
sharp warning glance at Pierre, who raised his hands in defense.
“Okay, okay.”
    She inched away from Pierre and closer to
him.
    “Hey, I don’t