We were in Hawaii and pretty mellowed out on one of those perfect beach nights, watching the moon dance on the incoming surf.
Standing on the smooth sandy beach at the east end of the pond, in a calm September afternoon, when a slight haze makes the opposite shore-line indistinct, I have seen whence came the expression, "the glassy surface of a lake."
From now on, she would be sure she had her beach robe by the pool when she swam, just in case someone came by... especially Giddon.
We drove along the beach and into the town of Nahant.
They were the same she'd said to Gabriel on the beach, the night they met.
So they re-introduced it as chick-wheels so the honeys along the beach could scoop out the surfers and maybe get laid.
"I know I'm … different now than I was the other night when we were on the beach," she said hesitantly.
She willed herself not to cry, but she started soon after he left the beach town.
Sometimes when you look at a grain of sand in your hand, you forget that there couldn't be a beach without every one of them.
She pulled up Dr. Wynn's office number on her cell, tempted to invite him to the beach this weekend instead of Logan.
You're not a water sprite, and you're not afraid to be alone on a beach with a man you think murders people.
Dressed in a sundress and sandals, Deidre left the bungalow on the beach and walked down the long driveway to the small road.
By the time she reached the beach house, her face was Smurf blue and she was laboring under the weight of the treasures she'd found.
Deidre paced on the beach behind her bungalow, unable to do anything but lecture herself over and over about how stupid she was to sleep with some random stranger.
Deidre staggered away and ran to the beach house.
If your girlfriend was going to dump you, wouldn't you rather it happen at a beach house?
He'd wanted to tell her not to go to the beach with Logan, to spend the weekend with him instead of some stupid human that had no idea how to appreciate a woman like her.
She twisted to see into the beach house.
She ate her dinner on the back porch then wandered out onto the beach barefooted.
Though I'm wondering why you're alone on a beach in the moonlight without someone to make love to you with a bucket list like that.
"Is kissing a stranger on the beach under the full moon on your bucket list?" he whispered.
Dressed in jeans and a tank top, she plopped onto the beach then hopped up.
Gabriel stayed on the beach until the sun began to set.
A couple of vacationers picked her up walking along the beach near La Jolla.
A wave of guilt passed over me like fog on a beach party; guilt like a pants-down lover when the husband comes home.
Maybe you all can go with me to the beach and we'll leave him at home.
Just one: not dumping Logan before coming to the beach this weekend.
Her time was too short to turn away a tall, dark, handsome, intriguing, dangerous stranger she met on the beach in the moonlight who smelled good.
He found a strange woman with pink hair and a blue face, sprawled on the beach, staring at the sky with a childlike fascination.
The Deidre from the beach would have appreciated it.
Couples and families had been walking up and down the beach all day.
She felt horrible thinking it, but she was utterly relieved whoever it was on the beach, it wasn't Logan.
In hindsight, he didn't know why he thought the rocky beach provided a more yielding place to land than concrete.
She walked down the beach opposite the party, gaze alternating between the ocean at her feet and the full moon climbing into the sky.
Something about him made her feel comfortable, or she wouldn't be sitting alone with a man dressed like the angel of death on the beach after dark, revealing secrets she didn't tell her boyfriend of two years.
She found herself walking down the beach to where she'd met him the night before.
She wasn't going to be on the beach when dark fell, in case Gabriel came back.