“Huge,” he agreed, stroking her hair as he held her close. “As long as you love me, you can have all the freedom you want and need.”
She inched back, her eyes darkening. He couldn’t breathe as he watched emotions play over her face and realization settle on her heart. “I could,” she sighed. “I could love you.”
“What’s this ‘could’ business?” Without a second’s hesitation, he reached down and scooped her into his arms, getting a small shriek of surprise as he cradled her. A crowd had circled them, cheering and clapping.
“Zeke!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hoisted her higher and started across the sand. “What are you doing?”
“What I should have done in high school,” he said loudly. The crowd parted as he powered through, the sound of her laughter and cries of joy almost drowned out by the cheering and the thump of the chopper blades as they started up. “Watch out, world. Ezekiel the Geekiel got the best girl of all!”
A few familiar faces came into his view, blurred like they were in high school, except for the one that had never been anything but crystal clear. The face of the woman he loved, holding on for her life.
Mandy laughed as he lifted her into the helicopter, and they both turned and waved at the crowd.
“I can’t believe you did that!” she said, breathless. “Oh, look!” She lifted her left hand, holding a balled paper towel. “I still have our contract.”
He snagged the paper, holding a corner so the document that brought them together fluttered like a dragonfly in the wind. “We don’t need any contracts except the one that says forever and ever.” He leaned over to kiss her. “And clothing optional.”
The paper sailed off over the Gulf of Mexico, floating on their love and laughter.
He yanked the door closed and pulled her into him. “Buckle up for the ride of a lifetime, Mandy Mitchell.”
“Is that my name again?”
“Not for long.”
Next up for The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay:
What happens when a cowboy billionaire tries to lasso the most elusive catch of his life? Fall in love with Elliott Becker and Frankie Cardinale in Seduction on the Sand, the second novella in the Billionaires of Barefoot Bay trilogy!
Turn the page for a sneak peek!
Excerpt of Seduction on the Sand
Elliott Becker climbed out of the helicopter and strode across the beach without bothering to apologize for his dramatic arrival that unexpectedly halted a high school reunion. A lot of faces in the crowd stared back at him, all easy to read. Men narrowed their eyes in distrust because he was wearing a Stetson and arrived by chopper. Women ogled openly because, well, he was wearing a Stetson and arrived by chopper.
He cleared his throat, tipped his hat back, and applauded himself for choosing this reunion to start his search. His goal had nothing to do with Mimosa High, but this was an easy way to reach a lot of island residents at one time.
“I’m looking for a man named Frank Cardinale,” he announced to the crowd that had gathered when his helicopter had landed on the sand.
From under the rim of his hat, he scanned the crowd, catching a quick movement in the back. Long dark hair fluttered as a woman darted away, moving with just enough purpose that her retreat couldn’t have been coincidental.
No one answered his question right away, so he homed in on the lady who’d left. With some luck, she’d lead him right to Mr. Cardinale. And if there was one thing Elliott Becker had a ton of, it was luck. And money. And charm. And some damn fine looks. He was about to put all of them to good use.
He followed his instinct and the sway of wavy waist-length hair the color of coffee beans. In a sheer cotton skirt that clung to her hips and danced around her ankles, she made an easy, and lovely, mark.
She power-walked down the beach, away from the resort and the party, heading straight to the frothy white shore where the Gulf of Mexico swirled in low tide. Just as her bare feet reached the water line, she glanced over her shoulder, too quickly for him to get a look at her face. But he could easily see her narrow shoulders tighten and her long legs pick up speed.
Interesting. Maybe someone didn’t want him to find the owner of the twenty acres in Barefoot Bay that he and his partners needed to close this deal. The plans to build a small baseball stadium and start a minor-league team on Mimosa Key were supposed to be secret, but they’d already nailed down verbals on three plots in the northeast corner of the island. Word could have gotten out that they wanted that last twenty acres even though the other landowners had signed nondisclosures. On an island less than ten miles long and three miles wide? Even scads of money didn’t buy silence.
He matched her quickened steps. No, she wasn’t out for a sunset stroll; she was running. Not literally, not yet, anyway. But definitely moving away from him for a reason. A reason he had every intention of finding out.
It didn’t take more than a few long strides to catch up, but he stayed about a foot behind her.
“I bet you know where I can find Frank Cardinale,” he said, keeping his voice low and unthreatening.
She didn’t turn, pretending not to hear him.
“Otherwise, why would you take off like a twister in a trailer park?”
That slowed her step. In fact, it stopped her completely. Elliott felt his mouth turn up in a satisfied grin. The Texas drawl always got ’em. Of all the moves his military family had made, he’d lived in the Lone Star State for only a year, but it was enough to pick up a few expressions and work on the twang. And, hell, he looked excellent in a cowboy hat. Now if she’d only turn—
“I live in a trailer.” Her words were nearly lost with the splash of a wave at her feet.
Shoot. Way to blow the first impression. “It’s just a turn of phrase, ma’am.”
“More like an expression of condescension and mockery.”
“No, a way to say you’re moving too fast, not an insult to your home.” He took two more steps, close enough to notice how the late afternoon light made her skin glow and pick up a whiff of something flowery and pretty. “After all, home is where the heart is,” he said. Not that he’d know, but he’d certainly heard that enough in his life.
“It’s not for sale.” She spun around, making her hair swing like a curtain opening to a stage play. “So get back on your fancy helo, cowboy, and leave me alone.”
He blinked at her, still not fully processing the demand because, man, oh, man, she was pretty. No, she rounded pretty and slid right into gorgeous despite the fire in whiskey-gold eyes and the daring set of a delicate jaw.
“What are you staring at?” she demanded. “Are you deaf or just dumb as dirt?”
“Blind. By your beauty.”
“Oh, puhlease.” She looked skyward and sighed. “Spare me the lines.”
“That’s not a line.”
Her eyes turned into golden slits of sheer disbelief.
“Okay, it’s a line,” he conceded. “But in this case, it’s also true.”
“Did you hear me? It’s not for sale.”
Yeah, he did hear her, and the statement was starting to make sense, considering he’d come to the barrier island for one purpose and it wasn’t to flirt with sexy brunettes on the beach. Not that he’d fight the inevitable, but his goal was to buy land and these words were not what he wanted to hear, no matter how scrumptious the mouth that spoke them.
“Do you know Frank Cardinale?” he asked.
She crossed her arms, which was patently unfair considering what that did to her cleavage. “I am Frank Cardinale.”
He snorted softly and didn’t fight the need to examine that cleavage further. ’Cause, hell, now he had an excuse. “Considering ol’ Frank is in his eighties and a man, I’d say you have one hell of a plastic surgeon, Mr. C.”
“Miss,” she corrected. “Miss Francesca Cardinale.” She squeezed her upper arms as if nature and good manners were telling her to reach out and offer a handshake but she had to ignore the
order. “Frank was my grandfather. He’s dead.”
The lady wasn’t married, and the landowner was dead. Meaning this little excursion to the remote island would be fast, easy and possibly quite fun. He refused to smile at the thought, but took off his hat with one hand and extended the other. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I’m Elliott Becker.”
She didn’t take his hand, but met his gaze. “I know why you’re here. You’re not the first person to come sniffing around the land. Although you’re the first to drop down like you owned the place.”
“Which I don’t.” But he intended to.
The thump of helicopter blades pulled his attention. There went Zeke, whisking away the woman he’d recently gone stupid in love over. Zeke had taken the chopper for the day, leaving Elliott with the task of finding Frank—er, Francesca—Cardinale to close the land deal.
“But you’re not getting my land, Mr. Becker, so you better find another ride out of Barefoot Bay.” She gave him a tight smile, which only made him want to see that pretty face lit up with real happiness.
“Maybe you could give me one.”
“A ride? Maybe not.” She took off, not even bothering to end the conversation.
“I can walk with you, then.”
“No.”
He fell in step with her anyway. “Can I call you Francesca?”
“Make that a hell no.” She refused to look at him.
He kept stride. “So, what’s your price?”
That got him a quick look and almost—almost—a smile of admiration. Of course. Women loved relentless men. In cowboy hats. With Texas twangs.
“My price is too high for you.”
And money. Women loved money, and he had even more of that than charm and sex appeal. “Not to be, you know, immodest or anything, but cash really isn’t an issue.”
She stopped and closed her eyes, so close to a smile he could almost taste it. And, damn, he wanted to. “Good for you, but let me make this clear: I don’t want to talk to you, walk with you, or sell you one blade of grass that I own.” With that, she powered on, shoulders square, head high, bare feet kicking up little wakes of sand and sea.
Damn, those were pretty feet. Would be even prettier if they weren’t moving so fast in the wrong direction.
“Course there is the fact that you don’t, uh, actually own that land.” He cleared his throat. “Unless you really are Frank Cardinale.”
Her speed wavered, her shoulders slumped, and she let her head drop in resignation. “What do I have to do to make you go away?”
“Smile.”
She slowly turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“Smile for me.”
She did, like a kid being forced to say cheese.
“A real smile.” He gave her a slow, easy one of his own, lopsided and genuine enough to melt hearts and weaken knees and remove any clothing that needed to go. “Like this.”
For a second, he might have had her. He saw the flicker of female response, the ever so slight darkening of her eyes, the thump of a pulse at the base of her throat. “The property is not for sale, and please don’t bother taking this conversation one step further because the answer will be an unmistakable, unequivocal, indisputable no.”
“A hundred thousand?”
She practically choked. “What part of that didn’t you understand?”
“The long, unspellable words might throw me, but I got the ‘no’ loud and clear.” He winked. “A million?”
Very slowly, she shook her head.
Oh, for cryin’ out loud, let’s get this done. “Five million? Ten? Fifteen? Everyone has a price, Francesca.”
Then her face relaxed and her lips curled up and her eyes lit with something that reached right down into his gut and sucker punched him. “Make it a billion. Which I doubt you have.”
She started to walk away again, and he lost the fight not to touch her. Reaching out, he closed his hand over her elbow and stopped her, pulling her very gently toward him so he could turn over his trump card, low and sweet and right in her ear.
“I have two billion. And a half, to be precise. I’m willing to part with enough to buy your land, make you a rich woman, and celebrate over dinner together. Do we have a deal?”
A glimmer of amusement lit her eyes, as gold as the sunset behind her now. “Is everything this easy for you?”
He laughed softly, mostly at the truth of that statement. “Just about.”
“Was it easy to become a billionaire?”
Disgustingly so. He went for a self-effacing shrug. “Mostly a mix of good timing, dumb luck, and my irresistible boyish charm.”
“Really?” One beautifully arched eyebrow lifted toward the sky. “Well, guess what, Elliott Becker?” She cooed his name, already softening. The B in billion usually did that when his world-class flirting missed the mark. “Your luck ran out, your timing sucks, and I don’t find you charming, boyish, or the least bit irresistible.”
Undaunted, he took a step closer and lifted his hand, grazing her chin. “Bet I can change your mind.”
“Bet you can’t.” She pivoted and took off so fast, she kicked a clump of sand on his jeans.
Brushing it, he just grinned. “How much are you willing to bet?” he called out. “I put fifteen million on the table!”
She stuck up her middle finger and kept running.
Sweet.
The only thing Becker liked more than a sexy woman with attitude was a sexy woman with attitude and a piece of real estate he wanted. This could be a good time.
Thank you for reading Secrets on the Sand! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please help other readers find this book:
1. This book is lendable, so send it to a friend who you think might like it so she can discover Barefoot Bay, too!
2. Help other people find this book by writing a review.
3. Sign up for my newsletter by contacting me at [email protected].
4. Come like my Facebook page.
5. Join the Barefoot Bay Facebook Discussion Page.
6. Follow me on Twitter.
About the Author
Roxanne St. Claire – Biography
Roxanne St. Claire is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than thirty novels of suspense and romance, including three popular series (The Bullet Catchers, The Guardian Angelinos, and Barefoot Bay) and multiple stand-alone books. Her entire backlist, including excerpts and buy links, can be found at www.roxannestclaire.com.
In addition to being a six-time nominee and one-time winner of the prestigious Romance Writers of America RITA Award, Roxanne’s novels have won the National Reader’s Choice Award for best romantic suspense three times, and the Borders Top Pick in Romance, as well as the Daphne du Maurier Award, the HOLT Medallion, the Maggie, Booksellers Best, Book Buyers Best, the Award of Excellence, and many others. Her books have been translated into dozens of languages and are routinely included as a Doubleday/Rhapsody Book Club Selection of the Month.
Roxanne lives in Florida with her husband and two teens, and can be reached via her website, or on her Facebook Author page, and on Twitter.
Books by Roxanne St. Claire
The Barefoot Bay Series (Contemporary Romance)
Barefoot in the Sand
Barefoot in the Rain
Barefoot in the Sun
Barefoot by the Sea
The Guardian Angelinos (Romantic Suspense)
Edge of Sight
Shiver of Fear
Face of Danger
The Bullet Catchers (Romantic Suspense)
Kill Me Twice
Thrill Me to Death
Take Me Tonight
First You Run
Then You Hide
Now You Die
Hunt Her Down
Make Her Pay
Stand-alone Novels (Romance and Suspense)
Space in His Heart
Tropical Getaway
French Twist
Killer Curves
&n
bsp; Don’t You Wish (Young Adult)
Critical Reviews of Roxanne St. Claire novels:
“St. Claire, as always, brings a scorching tear-up-the-sheets romance combined with a great story: dealing with real issues starring memorable characters in vivid scenes.”
Romantic Times Magazine
“Non-stop action, sweet and sexy romance, lively characters, and a celebration of family and forgiveness.”
Publishers Weekly
“Plenty of heat, humor, and heart!”
USA Today’s Happy Ever After blog
“It’s safe to say I will try any novel with St. Claire’s name on it.”
www.smartbitchestrashybooks.com
“The writing was perfectly on point as always and the pace of the story was flawless. But be forewarned that you will laugh, cry, and sigh with happiness. I sure did.”
www.harlequinjunkies.com
SecretsontheSandKobo Page 14