I love writing dialogue.
Here's a snippet of Kristi and Jared having a chat:
“Done with the caveman routine?”
The organ he refused to acknowledge lurched as he glanced up, saw Kristi on her side, propped on an elbow, wearing that sinful green bikini and a reluctant smile.
She’d been frosty towards him over dinner, with more of the same since they’d arrived on the island, but under his constant barrage of teasing she was finally starting to thaw.
Not that he blamed her. From her angry outburst when he’d picked her up the other night, she hadn’t forgiven him for choosing his tennis career over her all those years ago.
But he’d had no choice. Not that he’d go delving into his reasons why now.
For their time on the island he wanted to recapture some of their old magic, wanted to make her laugh and fire back those scathing one liners like she used to, wanted to see her eyes sparkle just for him, for old time’s sake.
Hands on hips, he wrenched his straying gaze away from the tempting expanses of flesh on display. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to toast marshmallows tonight?”
“Did I say that?”
She pressed a hand to her chest and his gaze followed, shooting down his intentions to keep his distance.
“Do you even have any?”
She chuckled, lowered her sunglasses to stare at him over the top. “Maybe you should’ve asked that before planning to build a bonfire that can be seen in New Zealand.”
Adding another branch onto the growing pile, he feigned indifference.
“I’m surprised you could fit any marshmallows in your case, what with that mobile shoe shop you carry around.”
Her eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Are you dissing my shoes?”
“Merely making an observation.”
With a little huff that was so adorable he wanted to kiss her senseless, she pouted.
“I’ll have you know it takes effort to look this good.”
His gaze raked her from top to toe, lingering on her curves, the hollow of her hip, the dip of her collarbone, remembering how he’d traced every inch of her once, how he couldn’t get enough.
Logically, he knew it would be foolish to resurrect the past, not when nothing fundamental had changed. Kristi was a relationship type of girl. He was a guy who had no intention of getting emotionally involved with anyone.
Physically, his body was on memory overload, sifting through every incredible, erotic encounter the two of them had ever had.
“You’re not looking at my shoes.”
Dragging his gaze to meet hers, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re not wearing any.”
She scooped up a spangly flip-flop, dangling it from a finger.
“Heathen,” she muttered, sliding her sunglasses back into place and rolling onto her back. “Get back to your wood gathering. It’s what you Neanderthals are good at.”
“Sticks and stones,” he said, much more at ease with this banter than last night’s emotion charged discussion.
Pointing at the diminutive wood pile, she smirked. “More sticks. Less stones.”
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