LITMIR.BIZ

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she had a weapon against that kind of tension now. Eva would come around when she saw how much freer and happier Chris was in her new skin, and how their relationship would only change for the better. Next time Eva decided she wanted to go out after Chris had already settled into a comfortable chair with a good book or movie, Chris would be all over it instead of declining. Maybe she’d even cut her hair for real at some point.

      A peaceful minute later, she was calm again, adjusting her funky wig, smoothing the hem of her casual floral tunic top which she wore over skinny jeans, and remembering the outfit she’d worn on her first date with Gus—a fancy white top, carefully ironed blue linen shorts and matching sandals. For heaven’s sake.

      This evening would be fun. Casual and playful. Definitely out of the ordinary. On dates in New York, she’d go to a show, a movie, a museum or to any of the thousands of fantastic restaurants. Ah, New York.

      Tonight she was going to play pool and darts in a bar with Gus and his buddies. Now that she was so much less judgmental, having let go of the fear that required her to be in control at all times, she was open to so many more experiences. She was quite sure she’d love this one.

      * * *

      THREE HOURS LATER, Chris walked back into the house, head pounding, throat hoarse from shouting over the music and over the other people shouting over the music.

      She’d hated every minute of tonight.

      The pool hall had been loud and full of too-young, weird-looking people, and as much as she tried very hard to love and accept them all, she really wanted most of them to grow up and be quiet and stop drinking so much. A long, hot shower would be a super idea for many of them, too. And maybe a few could give the tattoo parlor a rest after six or seven thousand visits.

      Yes, she’d gotten one tiny tat on a particularly fun evening last fall when she’d been out with Summer and the rest of the part-time staff for a meeting that had turned into a bar visit and a trip to the parlor. She and Summer had both gotten tattoos—after Chris insisted on paying. Summer got a tiny rose on the inside of her upper arm. Chris’s phoenix was rising from the ashes to signify her new self emerging. Clichéd, but she loved the symbol. At least her tiny delicate bird didn’t take up most of her visible skin so it looked as if she’d been rolling in used engine oil.

      She pulled off her wig, kicked off her flip-flops and went into the kitchen to gulp a glass of water. Gus had been adorable, entertaining, eager to please, but thank God, finally even he’d had enough and had brought her home, where she’d kept their good-night kiss to a quick, sweet peck and fled, hoping to discourage him from asking her out again.

      Weirdly keyed up—annoying since she was exhausted from being up since five-thirty that morning to work the early shift—she wandered around Eva’s adorable little house, watered the plants, and finally decided what she really needed to relax after the crowds and brain-pulverizing noise was a long, soul-cleansing walk on the beach.

      Five minutes later, wearing black knit capris, waterproof Teva sandals and a pink sweatshirt, with her real hair stuffed under a matching pink New York Yankees cap, she stopped by the table next to the front door and grabbed her little bag containing an electronic whistle and pepper spray. She’d never felt threatened or uncomfortable on Aura Beach, but kids did go there to drink sometimes, and drunk kids could get really stupid.

      Outside, the neighborhood was quiet except for the wind through the trees and waves tumbling in the distance. By the time she’d made it to the bottom of the hill and turned onto La Playa Avenue, her body was relaxing, her headache lessening. She sent Slow Pour a silent, affectionate greeting as she passed, and several blocks later turned right onto the path toward the beach. When the scrubby growth under her feet gave way to sand, she stopped to check in with her surroundings and her instincts.

      The moon was bright enough not to need the flashlight app on her phone. The beach appeared deserted.

      Chris’s mouth curved in a smile. How perfect. In New York when she felt caged and restless late at night, her options were the twenty-four-hour gym a few blocks from her house or staying home and dealing with it.

      She sighed rapturously and walked toward the waves, reveling in the fresh ocean breeze. The perfect antidote to an evening spent with—

      What was that? Her peripheral vision had caught two shadows off to the right at the base of one of the cliffs bracketing the beach. Two people were getting to their feet. With luck she’d disturbed a horny couple making out, not partying guys looking to cause trouble.

      Chris unzipped her bag and slipped a hand inside, trying to look unconcerned, hoping the two shapes would head for the path and be gone.

      No. They were heading toward her. They both looked male.

      She closed her fingers around the pepper spray, adrenaline pumping, telling herself to stay calm, breathe easy, to send out peaceful loving vibes, and hope they were just going to offer to hang out with her and go away when she said no.

      One of them shouted something as a wave broke, the rumble and swish of water drowning his words. She couldn’t see their faces, but the taller one’s lumbering stride looked familiar.

      Zac?

      And could that be Luke with him?

      She didn’t relax until they were close enough to tell for sure, which must have been when they could tell for sure who she was, because they went from what had seemed like an ominously relentless advance to smiling and waving.

      For heaven’s sake.

      She rezipped the bag, her heart still pounding like crazy. There was not enough Zen in the world to stay calm during that kind of episode.

      “Hey, Chris.” Luke was beaming.

      Zac looked— Well, as usual she couldn’t tell. He was so hard to read. Except when he was being smug. That came through loud and clear.

      “You guys came close to being pepper-sprayed.” Her voice shook with relief, but she kept her body still, counting on the noise of the waves to cover up the tremor in her words, not wanting the guys to know how badly they’d spooked her. “It’s a terrible idea to sneak up on a woman alone at night.”

      “Hey, we weren’t sneaking,” Luke said. “We were walking. And we yelled out to you.”

      “Sorry, Chris. We didn’t mean to freak you out.” Zac put his hands on his hips, as usual able to see through her attempts at hiding anything.

      “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” She waved the concern away. “I just came down here to clear my head and to—” Be alone.

      The words were on the tip of her tongue, but just as she was about to say them, she looked up at Zac, who was looking down at her, his face dim with the moon behind him, and an odd shiver—not unpleasant—passed through her body.

      She’d wanted to make it clear that she didn’t want him—them—around tonight, but some part of her wasn’t entirely sure that was true. And she was supposed to listen to her true inner voice and its needs and to comply, because that wise subconscious part of her knew best.

      Darn it.

      “I’m beat. I’m going back up to the house.” Luke’s voice was a little too loud, not quite natural. “I’ll see you later.”

      Zac made a noise that sounded like a suppressed snort. “Sure. You know the way back?”

      “Uh-huh. Up to La Playa, then right, then left on Feo Salmuera and home.” He waved and walked quickly up the beach, calling out a singsong, “Have fun, guys,” that was brimming with mischief.

      Chris put her hands on her hips. “Zac.”

      “Chris.” He turned back to her, his face catching the moonlight from a new angle, making him a broad, mysterious masculine form in the half darkness.

      That funny, fizzy shiver hit her again. “Were we just rather pointedly left alone?”

      “Looks

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