The brunette’s eyebrows drew together and she looked as if she’d protest, but the redhead stumbled forward and pointed a finger at his face. “Don’t be a dick, sir. We saw plenty of those tonight. We’re full up.”
The brunette convulsed into laughter.
“Get your finger out of my face,” he told the obnoxious redhead, and looked over at the front desk. “And where’s my damn cab already? This fucking island isn’t that big.”
“We just left one,” the redhead said, still wiggling her finger in his face. “But youuuu can’t have it—”
Like hell he couldn’t. Shouldering past the two drunks, he headed for the curb outside, just in time to see three other women emerging from the cab. A pretty blonde with a wild haystack of hair was drunk and hanging off of an extremely pregnant woman, and a lean woman had her back to him, her front half in to the passenger window, paying the driver. Good.
Rob pushed forward and tapped the taller blonde on the shoulder. “If you and your drunk friends are done making everyone miserable, I’d like your cab—”
As the woman turned, Rob realized two things.
One, that it was the woman who’d rescued him on the beach.
And two, that she was really, really damn tall.
Chapter Four
The woman’s eyes widened in surprised at the same time that his did.
“Oh, it’s you,” she breathed, and a smile lit up her face. “My swimmer. Hi again. Feeling better?”
Rob stared. He looked her up and down, his first time to really get a good look at her.
She was tall as fuck. There was no disguising that. He was six foot himself, and he was pretty sure she had at least an inch on him. She was also wearing high heels, which made her seem towering. She was delicate for her height, but still had an attractive pair of small, high breasts and an impressive curve to her hips, and legs that went on forever in the dowdy skirt she was wearing.
So she was tall. So fucking what? He didn’t care if she was seven foot. She was just as gorgeous as he remembered, in all the right ways.
Oh, she wasn’t the typical Hollywood girl that was considered beautiful right now. Those freckles still spattered her nose, and her hair was a tangled mess about her shoulders. Her lips weren’t plumped full of collagen and her jaw was probably too strong. But her eyes were beautiful, and her expression was full of genuineness, and he wanted to just grab her and pull her against him and soak in everything that she was.
Which was weird, but there it was.
So he thrust his hand out. “I don’t think we got to meet properly the other day. I’m Rob.”
She bit her lip—god, that was fucking cute—and put her hand into his and shook it, surprisingly firmly. “I’m Marjorie.”
“Oooo, look! Marj’s picking up men at the curb,” someone catcalled drunkenly. Probably that damn redhead.
Marjorie’s face flushed bright red and she glanced back at her friends. “Are they bothering you, mister? I’m sorry. We’re just getting back from a bachelorette party.” A lock of hair dragged across her cheek from the wind, and she tucked it behind an ear absently. “Actually, it’s a pre-bachelorette party. This one was bridesmaids only. The real one is in a few days. I think some of the girls got a little carried away with the fun.”
“It’s all right,” he told her easily, though it wasn’t all right thirty seconds ago, even. “And it’s Rob, not ‘mister.’”
“Rob,” she said shyly, hugging her arms against her chest.
“But if you’re just getting back from a party, where’s your beads?” He couldn’t help himself—he reached forward and flicked the pearl choker at her neck. Classy and dowdy all at once. It was like something his grandma would wear. Actually, everything she wore—from the floral, high necked blouse to the ugly hippie skirt—was like something his grandma would wear on vacation. Except for the tall nude fuck-me pumps.
He liked those. He liked those a lot.
She immediately put a hand to her necklace where he’d touched it, as if scandalized. Then, she shook her head and looked awkward and shy. “Beads? Nothing like that for me.”
“I don’t see why,” he said honestly. “You’re the most beautiful one of the group.”
She gave him a shocked look, and then turned an adorable bright red again. God, was his dick hard? It was. This girl was like catnip to his jaded senses.
“That’s kind of you to say,” she told him, clearly flustered. “But, um . . .”
“I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he said, taking the lead. She looked ready to run away and he wasn’t ready for that. Rob stepped forward and placed his hand out, palm up.
She hesitated a moment, then put her hand back in his, as if fascinated.
He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. Her breasts moved, and he realized she was breathing fast with excitement. Every expression was obvious across her face, and he fucking dug that. There were no games with this girl, he realized. She wouldn’t be able to play games and try to change herself to be whatever she thought might get his attention. She was genuine, from the tips of her messy hair to those tall, tall shoes.
And he loved that. He really, really did.
So Rob brushed his mouth over her knuckles again, and then glanced up at her. “I want to thank you for saving my life.”
“Oh,” she said, clearly flustered. Her hand moved in his, as if she needed to draw it away, but he held on to her. “It’s not necessary, really—”