Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

took the bottle of SPF 100 from him, letting his fingers brush provocatively against Burke's in the process.
    "I'm Rick."
    "Burke."
    Rick squeezed a pool of sunscreen into one palm and rubbed them together vigorously like he was trying to light a fire. He started smoothing the lotion on Burke's shoulders.
    "Mmm." Burke let out a tiny moan. It felt good. The guy's hands were strong.
    "First day here, huh, Burke?" Rick didn't give Burke a chance to answer before he continued. "You know I bet you'd glow in the dark, you're so pale."
    "Well, I just finished this big database project. We worked pretty long hours and..." Burke had to catch his breath as Rick's hand slipped around to play with a nipple. It felt good. Then just as quickly, the hand returned to Burke's back. "Well we had like a million lines of code to debug for the client and the guys who wrote it..." The hand tweaked the nipple again. "...were terrible. No comments. It took ages..."
    The hand removed itself from the nipple and Rick stood up and left without saying a word.
    "Uh, Rick?" Burke said toward the receding back, but Rick didn't even turn around.
    "That's gotta be a record." The voice came from the next lounger. The guy sprawled there had a dark handlebar mustache and looked like the "Before" picture for a hair-removal product. Not Burke's type.
    "Huh?"
    "It took you about twenty seconds to scare off a guy. You might want to come up with another topic of conversation than databases.... Just sayin.'" He got up and walked away in the direction Rick had gone.
    "I'm gonna kill Janalyn!" Burke said to no one in particular. He finished applying sunscreen himself, picked up his trashy novel and concentrated on relaxing.
    ****
    The wind had died down for the moment and it was hot. He felt the sun's heat and sting seeping into his body as he lay on his back, eyes closed and tried to relax. He could hear the waves crashing softly against the sand and the murmurs of men walking past or sitting nearby and chatting. No one came by to talk to him or ask for help in applying sunscreen. He tried not to feel a little insulted and concentrated on the way the sun felt on his skin.
    When he sensed tiny trickles of sweat rolling down his back and along his shoulders he opened his eyes. He gave himself a once-over to see if he'd started burning, but Janalyn's choice in sunscreen certainly held up well to the tropical sun. A loud wave crashed against the beach and a chorus of surprised, excited shouts echoed.
    Time for a swim.
    Burke lived near San Francisco, but he'd only gone into the water there a couple of times. It was usually freezing, even at the height of summer. No one swam in Northern California unless they were wearing a wetsuit. Plenty of triathletes braved the Bay's chill each year in a famous swim to Alcatraz Island. Burke was not one of them. But he enjoyed the water, so he nestled his room key into a sandal and strode toward the ocean.
    He felt dozens of eyes watch his progress and he ignored them. He'd worry about that later, near dinner time. He didn't want to eat alone, so he'd find someone to pair up with, but for now, he'd enjoy the surf and sand without thought to whether he met someone's expectations, or someone met his.
    ****
    After splashing about for a good twenty or thirty minutes, Burke had worked up a thirst, if not a sweat. He grew accustomed to the temperature of the water, at first shockingly cool to his overheated skin, and the exercise refreshed and invigorated him. He headed for his lounge, intending to flag one of the cute waiters once he got there and order a frosty cocktail, maybe even something with an umbrella. He was in a carefree mood. If he had enough umbrella drinks, he might even get clothing-optional.
    To his shock he discovered Binoc-guy had settled into the lounge right next to his, binoculars dangling from his neck as he reclined, legs splayed and showing off even nicer muscle tone than Burke had noted from a distance.
    "Hi," Binoc-guy said, his voice friendly and warm.
    Burke realized he was staring at Binoc-guy's legs. Well, he'd started there and inevitably, his gaze worked its way upward to his crotch and now Burke couldn't quite figure out how to respond.
    "Uh. Hi." Burke shrugged, trying to act casual.
    "This lounger was empty, so I hope you don't mind that I sat down here."
    "Uh. No." Uh, fuck. Burke must sound like an idiot right now. A horny idiot.
    "I saw you were reading a Michael Connelly book..."
    At least the