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He brushed his lips across hers. She could smell the sweet aroma of the Cuban he had been smoking. Her tongue flicked across his slightly swollen lowe... lip. The knife was poised at her throat. She pushed her hands into his short, dark hair and pulled his face to hers. Their lips crashed together. Her hands came to rest at the collar of his gray Armani shirt. In one movement, she ripped it open. Buttons flew in all directions. His well-muscled chest, with its assortment of tattoos, was bared. Introductions were made, to friends and friends of friends. I couldn't keep track of them all, but it didn't matter. There were lots of women, and all beautiful. It must have been a law in California, at least on the beaches. I wasn't sure one-piece suits were allowed, either. Every woman I saw was in some sort of two-piece, usually a bikini. I did not complain. Once everyone had some fuel in their system, all attention went to the water. Some people wanted to swim, but most of us wanted to. More

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