Mother, Please! by Brenda Novak, Alison Kent, Jill Shalvis

typically dated. Was he playing some sort of new game with her?
    When she reached the lobby, she hesitated. She wasn’t ready to face her mother’s wrath for abandoning her in the Jacuzzi with Walt. So she headed out a side door to avoid the crowded lobby bar and walked down to the water.
    An hour came and went while she sat on the cold sand, watching the black waves roar up onto the beach and thinking about Gunner. He confused her, threw her out of her element. She couldn’t make sense of their relationship no matter how many minutes slipped by, so she decided to go back inside, where it was warm. What did seem clear was the fact that she was capable of caring on a deeper level than he was. Which meant, if she allowed herself to trust him, to trust in him, she’d be the one who was disappointed.
    She thought of Bill Sossaman and was afraid that this affair would end the same way.
    But what about her desire to break out of her staid, safe existence and start living? Someone, somewhere, had said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, and she believed it. She just wasn’t sure she had the courage to take such a big gamble right now. Gunner Stevens, of all men. Surely she’d have a better chance at happiness with someone who wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous and devilishly charming. Someone like—
    “Hey, April.”
    She glanced up to see Keith Bodine and some of the other guys from Ashton Automotive standing at the edge of the bar she’d avoided earlier. A television was on in the far corner. It looked as though they were watching sports highlights.
    “Hi,” she said, trying to pump some cheer into her voice.
    “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
    She started to tell him no, then imagined returning to her room before her mother was quite asleep,and reconsidered. Why not? She never drank because alcohol gave her such a nasty headache. But she felt she could use a margarita tonight.
     
    P OUNDING AT HIS DOOR jerked Gunner awake.
    “Gunner? It’s me. I want to talk to you.”
    April. Shoving himself out of bed, he opened the door to see that she was still in her swimsuit, which suggested she probably hadn’t been back to her room since she’d left him earlier.
    “It’s nearly two o’clock,” he said, growing worried. “Where have you been?”
    “Downstairs in the bar.”
    That he could believe. From the slurring of her voice, she was more than a little tipsy.
    “I’ve been talking to Keith.”
    Gunner couldn’t help the flat tone that entered his voice. “What did he have to say?”
    “That sometimes, when your heart’s really committed to something, you have to go with it.”
    “Do I get to hear the rest of that conversation?”
    “No,” she said, but when she looked up at him, he could see that her eyes were filling with tears.
    He leaned against the doorjamb, watching her. “Do you cry every time you get drunk?”
    “How should I know?” she asked. “I never drink anymore. It gives me a headache.”
    “Why is tonight any different?”
    “I needed clarity.”
    He chuckled despite his concern. “Hell of a way to achieve it.”
    “I’ve been talking to Keith.”
    “You mentioned that.”
    “He’s a very nice man, a good friend.”
    Gunner’s jaw tightened. “Glad to hear it.”
    “He said some things are just meant to be and we have to face them squarely.”
    “Sounds like words to live by.”
    “Yeah.” A tear slipped past her lashes and ran down her cheek, and he couldn’t resist reaching over to wipe it away.
    “What’s wrong?” he said, softening when she closed her eyes at his touch. God, there was something about this woman that had gotten into his blood. They had absolutely nothing in common. He’d barely heard of quantum physics; she knew zilch about racing. She was serious and intense; he was always trying to rile somebody. She lived a celibate’s life; he felt more comfortable raising hell. They’d never be able to make a go of it. Yet she