“But you didn’t?”

  “I was fifteen when I started college, so I wasn’t invited out much.”

  He scratched his chest. What an odd childhood. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, thinking of all the fun she’d missed. “You were old enough to associate with college-age people when you were working on your Master’s and Doctorate.”

  “True, but behavioral patterns are learned very young. I was shy and reclusive at that point, and there weren’t a lot of men in school who seemed to feel comfortable with me.”

  “So you’ve never been to Vegas for spring break?”

  “No.”

  “Never been anywhere just to party and have fun?”

  “I’m here in Cabo, aren’t I?”

  “A company trip with your parents is your idea of a party?”

  “I’m having fun. Aren’t you?”

  “I guess.” He chuckled. What a life.

  She stretched out across the foot of the bed, the flop cards and the pot between them. “I’ll match your Twix bar and raise you a bag of Doritos.”

  “You must have quite a hand,” he said, trying to bait her into giving herself away.

  It didn’t work. She arched her eyebrows coyly. “Maybe I’m a good bluffer.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  “I’ve won three hands already.”

  That was a slightly sore subject. Anyway, Gunner had an excuse. “Anybody would’ve won with the hands you were dealt. It’s beginner’s luck. And the game’s not over yet.”

  “You’re overconfident. About a lot of things. That’ll get you in trouble.”

  He could tell from her tone and expression that she was talking about their relationship.

  “It remains to be seen which of us is overconfident about the other,” he said.

  “You must be pretty self-assured where I’m concerned. You tried to talk me into playing strip poker a few minutes ago,” she told him.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I have a reputation to uphold, remember?”

  April glanced eagerly at the candy bars and other snacks in the middle of the bed. “So do you have the guts to call my bet? Or are you going to fold?”

  “That depends on the next flop card.” He turned over another ace. “Interesting.” He had an ace of his own, which gave him three of a kind. He could possibly get a full house on the next round. Tossing in a roll of Life Savers and a Snickers bar, he considered what he had left to bet with and added a bag of pork rinds.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Pork rinds don’t count.”

  “Why not?”

  “I hate them.”

  “You’re not going to win.”

  “Oh, yes, I am.”

  “How do you know?”

  She smiled sweetly.

  Damn. Maybe she was a good bluffer. No…April Ashton couldn’t lie or cheat. She was so straitlaced and prim that she hadn’t even known how to kiss properly—although she did now, thanks to him. She must have four of a kind or better.

  Just for the heck of it, he leaned forward to see if he couldn’t get a peek at her cards, but she immediately drew them close to her chest. “Uh-uh,” she said. “No cheating.”

  Gunner’s betting reserves were running low. He was down to a 100 Grand bar, his favorite, and some wintergreen Life Savers he liked to carry with him. If he lost anything more than he’d already bet, he’d be out of the game. So he gave up on the pork rinds and simply called her bet, only to have her throw four more candy bars into the pile.

  “I’ll match your two and raise you two,” she said. “Your turn.”

  He flipped over the last flop card, hoping for a seven, or even another ten or a king. But it was a two of hearts. He didn’t have his full house, and considering how cocky she was, she had to have something pretty spectacular.

  Taking a deep breath, he decided to cut his losses now and try to take her on the next hand. “I fold.”

  “Really? You?” She sounded surprised and inordinately pleased with herself.

  “Really,” he said with some irritation. He hated folding, even though it kept him alive for another hand. He’d never had a lot of practice at losing.

  Setting her cards carefully in front of her, facedown, she started to rake in the pot. He reached out to see her hand, but she stopped him. “Sorry.”

  “What do you mean, sorry?”

  “You don’t get to see what I was holding.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll just use the information to try and figure out what my facial expressions mean. Why should I give up that information?”

  “Fine.” He pretended to accept her refusal and began reshuffling. But the moment she shifted her attention to her snacks, he grabbed her cards and turned them over to reveal a three and a four.

  He blinked in stunned dismay. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You had nothing.”

  “I told you I was a good bluffer.”

  He’d underestimated her. Probably because she was so damn appealing with her honest smile and wide dark eyes.

  He made a mental note never to do that again.

  “I have enough junk food to keep me busy for a while.” She sorted through her snacks. “If you want to switch to strip poker now, I think I’m up for it.”

  Only because she thought she’d win. “No way,” he said.

  “Why not? It was your suggestion.”

  “That was before you kicked my ass. I’m not going to be sitting here butt naked with you fully clothed. A man can only take so much.”

  She laughed, so freely and sincerely it was almost childlike. “You’ve lost your nerve?”

  “I’m trying to learn from my mistakes.”

  Standing, she stretched, and he tried not to notice how her shirt lifted to reveal a smooth, flat stomach. “Well, if you’re not going to strip, the game’s over.” She eyed his pork rinds with disdain. “There’s nothing else here I want.”

  “Except to see me naked?” Ordinarily he wouldn’t have been surprised. The women he dated were generally pretty warm to that idea. But this was April….

  “If you lose, you lose,” she said.

  “Or we could forget about the game and take off our clothes together. Then we both win.”

  “No, thanks.” She peeled open a Butterfinger. “Too bad you didn’t win one of these.” Closing her eyes in appreciation, she took a bite and moaned, acting as though it was food for the gods.

  He narrowed his eyes and gazed meaningfully at her mouth. But instead of getting nervous, as he’d expected, she licked her lips in a slow, seductive manner.

  “I could take it away easily enough,” he warned, standing up and moving closer—in case she didn’t realize she was starting a whole new game, one with higher stakes than the last.

  “There’s that overconfidence again.”

  She was flirting with him. April, who’d only just learned to kiss. Moving more quickly, he swept her off her feet and pinned her beneath him on the bed.

  “What were you saying?” He fit one leg snugly between hers and purposely applied pressure where he knew she’d like it most.

  Her eyes widened as she stared up at him, and he offered her a challenging smile. “I think you’re in over your head. Are you sure you want to provoke me?”

  “Maybe not entirely,” she admitted breathlessly.

  He chuckled. Then, bending his head, he trailed kisses up her neck and used his tongue to outline the firm ridge of her ear. “What about now?” he murmured.

  She shivered. “I…like that.”

  He lowered himself between her legs, so she could feel his arousal. “And now?”

  Placing her hands on his cheeks, she held his face as she looked into his eyes. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but he knew it couldn’t be anything bad when she gave him the softest, sweetest kiss he’d ever had.

  “You taste like heaven,” he told her, and meant every word. He wasn’t prepared for her response.

  “I think Crimson Tide is on pay-per-view.”

  * * *

  GUNNER WOKE to the sound of running water. Pulling the pillow off his head, he blinked, looked around the room and remembered that he’d had a sleepover. With a woman. And she hadn’t spent the night in his bed.

  He supposed there was a first time for everything.

  “April?” he said, throwing off the covers.

  She opened the shutter-style doors that separated the in-room Jacuzzi and the rest of the bath area from the beds, and smiled brightly at him, wearing the boxer briefs and T-shirt he’d lent her to sleep in. “I was hoping you’d wake up soon.”

  He glanced at the clock. Six forty-seven. “Last I heard we were on vacation.”

  “I had trouble sleeping after all that chocolate. Must’ve been the caffeine.”

  The empty Godiva box sat on the nightstand, along with the pile of other wrappers from the candy bars she’d polished off while they were watching Crimson Tide. “Do you always eat so much junk?” he asked.

  “Not always. Just on an occasional weekend.”

  “How do you stay so thin?”

  “I go to work and forget to eat.” She shrugged. “Sometimes I even forget to go home at night.”

  “Oh, yeah. That happens to me all the time.” He rolled his eyes and dropped back on the bed, then realized that the water he’d heard running wasn’t in the sink.

  “What are you doing?” He leaned up on one elbow to see her adjust the knobs on the tub.

  “Put on your suit. I thought we could use the Jacuzzi.”

  “What are you going to wear?”

  “Nothing.” She smiled slyly.

  His heart skipped a beat, or maybe two or three. He stretched to see how she was doing with the water. The bath was nearly full.

  “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “Last night I was only willing to play strip poker when I knew there was no real risk that I’d have to disrobe. Which got me thinking.”

  “About…”

  “Those inhibitions you mentioned.”

  “Right, the inhibitions,” he said, playing along.

  “My mother actually agrees with you. She says I’m not taking advantage of everything life has to offer.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m going to start opening myself up to new experiences. I figure if I can take off my clothes in front of you, I can take them off in front of just about anyone.”

  Oh, boy. Somehow he wasn’t bothered about her waking him up so early anymore…

  “I mean, what could a little skinny-dipping hurt? Most people do it long before they reach my age.”

  He felt a moment’s guilt because he didn’t seem to be a very good influence on her. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

  She wasn’t listening. “I’m slowly realizing that there’s more to life than work, and if I’m not careful, it’s all going to pass me by.”

  His conscience was bothering him a little, but not enough to stop her. “I’ll put on my suit,” he said, hoping to hurry things along before she lost her nerve.

  The telephone rang.

  He planned to ignore it, but he didn’t communicate his wishes to April quickly enough. She answered the extension in the bathroom. “I’m fine, Mom,” he heard her say. “Nothing to worry about… No, I’m just about to go skinny-dipping with Gunner… Of course I’m serious… So? Maybe I’m ready to take a few risks… I’ve got to go… Okay, see you this afternoon.”

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  “‘It’s about time.’”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t think mothers are supposed to agree with something like this. Sort of takes the fun out of it.”

  “Not for me,” he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  APRIL PRESSED her bare backside to the bedroom wall and tried to peek around the corner into the bathroom. Gunner was waiting for her in the tub, just like she’d asked. His hair was wet and curling around his ears, and the steam rising from the water made his chest gleam. He looked gorgeous, of course, but he was getting a little impatient. Probably because he’d been sitting in that hot water long enough to start sweating.

  “April, are you coming?” he said.

  She considered backing out, but the memory of her mother laughing skeptically and saying, “I’ll believe that when I see it,” wouldn’t let her. She could be bold and daring….

  She just wished bold and daring didn’t make her feel as if she was about to faint.

  Maybe she needed to do this by degrees. That concept was used for conquering all kinds of difficult challenges, right? Today she’d go topless. Tomorrow she’d take it all off.

  Maybe.

  But a compromise wasn’t easy to arrange because she didn’t have anything of her own she could wear into the tub. Her sarong wouldn’t work, and her panties were the kind that screamed, I have no love life. She’d rather go naked than wear those panties in front of Gunner.

  So she opted for his boxer briefs. Boxer briefs were sexy. Women were wearing them on billboards all across America, advertising perfume.

  “April?” he called again.

  “I’m coming,” she said as she pulled on the boxers. They rode low on her hips, falling well below her navel, but a glance in the mirror told April that was a good effect. She almost didn’t recognize the woman peering back at her—but that could’ve been because she didn’t have her glasses on.

  “What did you say?”

  Somewhat reassured to be wearing at least one article of clothing, she headed to the bathroom.

  “Here goes,” she said, and stepped into the open.

  Gunner looked up at her, and she felt her stomach plummet to her knees. Her first instinct was to cover up. But she refused to chicken out so completely. She was what she was, she told herself. It didn’t matter that he’d seen better. She was breaking out of her humdrum life, tossing away routine, overcoming her fears….

  “Say something,” she said, her heart thumping wildly when his gaze dropped immediately to her breasts and his mouth fell open.

  “You—” He cleared his throat. “You did it.”

  A sense of empowerment brought a victorious smile. She’d never dreamed she’d see that stunned expression on any man’s face—least of all Gunner Stevens’s. “I told you I can overcome my inhibitions,” she said, and stepped into the hot water.

  * * *

  WITH AN EFFORT, Gunner closed his mouth and lowered his lids so that he was watching her from under his lashes. Just when he felt he was getting the best of his innocent little opponent, she unwittingly pulled out a trump card like this one and changed everything—like his image of the “perfect” female body. He’d thought bigger breasts were sexier. He’d always preferred his women with more curves. But now that he’d seen April, he knew he liked his women slender, with breasts the size of his cupped hand and toffee-colored nipples that puckered to perfection whenever he looked at them.

  “You’re making some real strides,” he said to encourage her.

  She took a seat directly across from him, slightly flushed from the heat and the daring of what she’d done. “I know. Isn’t it great? The people at my work wouldn’t even know me. Last night I played poker. Today I’m skinny-dipping.”

  “You’re wearing my boxers,” he pointed out. “That’s hardly skinny-dipping.”

  “I’m doing this by degrees,” she said confidently.

  That sounded hopeful. “You planning to go another degree today?” he asked.

  She bit her lip thoughtfully, then shook her head. “No.”

  * * *

  SHE HADN’T EVEN let him touch her. She got into his Jacuzzi. She got out. That was it.

  And now, three hours later, Gunner was still thinking about those few moments and aching for more.

  Claire was golfing with the party ahead of them. He returned her wave and placed his ball on the tee of the eighth hole, feeling decidedly morose. He’d never played such a poor game of golf. April was hell on his concentration. Every time he heard her laughing or talking, which she seemed to be doing quite freely with the other two members of their group—her father and Keith Bodine—he pictured her half-naked and out of reach, and hacked his ball into the rough or overshot the put.

  This hole he managed a little better. His ball dropped just inside the green instead of landing in the surrounding desert.

  Walt took his turn and managed to get fairly close to the flag. Then Keith made them both look bad by putting himself in position to birdie.

  “My turn already?” April said when her father called her to the tee.

  Gunner pulled the bill of his hat a little lower as he watched her step up in her sleeveless golf shirt and formfitting white shorts. His mood darkened further when she tossed a grin at Keith Bodine simply because the man had wished her luck. Given Bodine’s lovesick expression, Gunner was fairly sure he was the plant manager April had wanted to avoid. But she didn’t seem too worried about keeping her distance from him now. Bodine had been helping her at every opportunity, choosing her club for her, showing her the right way to hold it, demonstrating a good swing. She was cutting her flirting teeth on him, and the poor bastard didn’t even know it.

  * * *

  WHEN THEY RETURNED from golf, April talked Gunner into taking her shopping. But as he followed her through the open-air bazaar in town, he didn’t have much to say. “You seem kind of grumpy today,” she complained. “Is something wrong?”

  He told her there wasn’t, but April had noted a distinct change in him since their Jacuzzi experience and was a little mystified that he wasn’t more pleased with her progress.

  “Are you tired?” she pressed.

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “Why were you flirting with Keith Bodine if you’re not really interested in him?” he asked.

  She blinked in surprise. Gunner sounded almost…jealous. But he couldn’t be jealous. Which meant he really believed she’d been unkind or irresponsible in some way.

  April reflected on the afternoon and couldn’t come up with a single comment she’d made that might lead Keith to believe she was interested in anything more than being his friend. Gunner had been there, posing as her boyfriend, for Pete’s sake. She’d just been thrilled that at last she felt in charge of her love life and her sexuality, that she felt confident enough to offer poor Keith a kind word and a smile.