by Tawny Weber
“Saved the resort is more like it,” the girlfriend muttered, casting an envious eye around the bar. “They’re lucky someone on that trip knew what they were doing. Obviously whoever was running it didn’t have a clue. Their screwup could have killed that guy. Probably would have, if some random stranger hadn’t played hero. And they’ll never pay for it, either. Big shots like this resort, they have the local law in their pockets, plenty of people on the payroll to make them look clean.”
Seriously? Darby’s fingers tightened on her glass.
“Talk about jumping to conclusions,” the second woman said, rolling her eyes. “I checked into the dives before we booked this trip. They’re professionally led, and everyone who participates has to show their diving credentials and they went through a certification yesterday. So now it’s the resort’s job to make sure nobody does anything stupid after verifying they can dive? How fair is that?”
The first woman bit her lip, frustration shimmering around her at their united front in the face of her accusations. The waiter chose that moment to step over and invite them to their table, so Darby didn’t get to find out if the woman kept arguing or gave up. It wouldn’t matter what her friends said. Once someone had their teeth into an idea like that, no amount of logic or reason could change it.
Darby knew the type. She’d grown up with a woman who worshipped at the altar of her unsubstantiated beliefs like some worshipped the cross.
She rubbed two fingers against her temple, wishing she could massage away the pain there before it took hold. She should go, she decided. She’d leave Dominic a message, put the do-not-disturb sign on her door and hope he was gentleman enough to take the hint.
Before she could slide off her perch, though, he strode into the bar. Darby blinked but the image didn’t change. Which left her to wonder how one man could look more and more gorgeous every time she saw him.
Long and lean, he wore jeans with the same air of power that some men wore three-thousand-dollar suits. His button-up shirt was the color of the moon, a smooth silvery blue with sleeves that barely covered his rippling biceps. She could tell his hair was damp from the way the overhead lights gleamed off the soft curls.
But it was his smile, that sexy smile, flashing white against his dark goatee, that made her sigh. The man could rule the world with that smile.
“Darby,” he greeted when he reached her, sliding one finger over the curve of her cheek. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”
She’d been ready to leave. Hell, she’d been ready to call this whole night off long before it started. But now all she wanted was to lean in and taste that mouth. To lose herself in his voice as they talked about anything and everything.
How did he do that?
And more importantly, why did she let him?
Maybe it was the fact that just the brush of his index finger made her entire body tingle. Darby shifted a little on the stool, warming even more as she thought about what a distraction those tingles could be if he used all ten fingers.
“I don’t mind waiting if you make it worth my while,” she said.
“I can do that,” he promised.
“How?” she challenged.
“How about I start with this,” he said, his smile flashing toward wicked just before he leaned down and took her mouth with his. A quick sweep of that delicious tongue of his over her bottom lip and every drop of tension drained from her shoulders. His teeth nipped gently, hands warming her waist as he drew her closer.
And just like that, passion burned away all of her worries and Darby felt as if all was right in the world.
CHAPTER SIX
NIC FELT GOOD. Damn good.
All because of the sloe-eyed hottie staring up at him like he’d blown her mind with a simple kiss.
More like she’d set his mind straight, he realized, rubbing his thumb over the full lips he’d just enjoyed.
He’d had four nights of great sex with a smoking-hot woman whose conversation was almost as fascinating as her body.
No reason to let Jarrett interrupt that.
Focus, he reminded himself. One of his greatest skills was focus, and tonight his focus was totally on Darby. A few laughs, a good time, some steamy sex. Because damn if he hadn’t found what might be the only possible distraction from his career troubles. So with that in mind, he put treason, the Navy and even his teammates out of his mind, and focused on his date.
“You look fabulous,” Nic told Darby, slipping his finger from her cheek to her arm, then sliding it along the silken warmth. Between the amount of bare skin and the sexy pout of her mouth, she was pure temptation. Her hair was a little spikier, her makeup a little smokier than he’d seen before. It gave her a little bit of a badass edge.
Badass was damn sexy.
Then he got a load of the expression in her eyes. A little tense, with something under the surface. Something he couldn’t quite read.
“You okay?”
“Sure. Fine.”
Uh-huh.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“I wasn’t waiting long,” Darby said with a shrug, looking as if she was debating whether to give in to the brood in her eyes, or to let him distract her.
“There was an incident on the dive that kept us out on the water longer than expected.”
Her expression tightened for a second, then she forced a smile.
“Ahh, the dive.” She turned on the stool to give him an arch look. “Don’t tell me. You’re the hero.”
“The what?”
“Everyone’s talking about it. Some idiot with a hangover almost drowns, one of the divers saved him.” She gestured with her glass before taking a drink. “I’m betting that was you. You have hero written all over you.”
Nic narrowed his eyes, wondering why she said that like it was a bad thing.
“Do you have something against heroes?”
“Don’t you think that’s an overused phrase? A guy runs into a burning building to save a cat, he’s a hero. A dude flies through the sky wearing tights and kicking villain ass, he’s a hero. Some guy hits a home run, he’s a hero. A kid does his homework, he’s a hero.” She shrugged. “It’s one of those words that is either impossible to live up to, or is so overused that it loses all meaning.”
Huh. Nic jerked his chin a little, surprised she’d skipped right over any military mention in her list. It wasn’t like he did what he did for the glory, but c’mon, dammit. Didn’t they count on the hero list?
“So you’re not a fan of the word hero, or of people being heroes?” he asked, not sure why he needed the clarification. “Or is it the overuse of the term that bugs you?”
“Look, I don’t believe in participation trophies. It’s like everyone on the team gets credit, even if they sit on the bench,” she said defensively. “But neither do I like impossibly high standards. The kind that, once set, are practically an in-your-face dare, challenging people to try and keep up.”
How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? Nic wondered with a frown. Challenges were what pushed people to be the best. And while he didn’t believe anyone deserved credit just for showing up, good teams were a sum of their parts.
“Hey, I don’t mean to sound like I don’t appreciate excellence. That man was lucky you decided to go diving today,” she said, giving him an apologetic smile before reaching out to give his chest a quick rub. “This is one of those times that the label fits. Because from the sound of it, you were definitely a hero.”
“Right time, right place. Nothing heroic about doing the right thing.” Nic shrugged, still watching her expression carefully as he took the stool next to her. She might have put on a sexy smile, but there was still something painful lurking in her eyes. “And that’s enough about my day. Why don’t you tell me about yours? You’re upset.”
/> “I’m not usually so easy to read,” she said, clearing her throat, then trying a laugh. “Either you’re really observant, or I’m really obvious. And I’ve never been obvious.”
As if toasting his powers of observation, Darby lifted her lowball glass and gave the remaining liquid a little shake.
“Nothing another one of these won’t fix.”
“Scotch?”
She leaned back, resting one elbow on the bar with her brow arched as if daring him to object. Instead, he lifted a finger, pointed it at her drink, then doubled it in the air.
“I’ll join you.”
And just like that, the resentment that’d been lurking in Darby’s eyes faded.
“You look like you could use a double,” she observed quietly, giving him a searching look as intense as the one he’d nailed her with. “Are you okay?”
Nic frowned into his glass, not liking this flip of the tables. He was all for supporting Darby and helping her work through any emotional crap she was carrying. But that was a one-way street.
“Of course I’m okay,” he said with a shrug. “I spent the day on the water, got some good diving in and now I’m having drinks with the most beautiful woman on the island.”
“Aren’t you a charmer,” Darby said with a laugh. Still smiling, she leaned over to give him a quick kiss. Just the brush of her lips over his. Soft, sweet and brief.
All too brief.
Nic corrected that, taking her mouth with his. His tongue thrust, sliding along the welcoming heat of her to lead her in a wild dance of pleasure. Hot, intense pleasure.
Damn, she tasted good. Too good to enjoy in public, he decided as he slowly lifted his head to stare into those big whiskey eyes.
Darby pursed those delicious lips and let out a long, slow breath.
“And to think, I was going to call off dinner,” she admitted.
“I knew you were upset,” he said. He leaned back enough to search her face. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Well. Nic knocked back the rest of his Scotch, wondering when he’d lost his mind. He wasn’t the dog some of the guys in his team were, but even he knew better than to ask a woman to share her emotions. Emotions led to expectations. Expectations led to demands. And the only demands Nic had room for in his life came from his career.
But he couldn’t yank back the words, so he slapped on his best fake interested look.
Meanwhile, Darby sipped her drink and gave his expression a good, long study. Her smile turned wicked.
“Do I want to talk about what’s bothering me?” she asked rhetorically, “How about you talk about what’s bothering you first?”
Why the hell would she think there was something the matter with him? He’d started his day with hot sex, then spent lunchtime saving some hungover diving guy’s life from eighty feet deep.
“Nothing’s bothering me,” he scoffed.
“Okay. Nothing’s bothering me, either,” Darby said with a smile, wrapping her hands around her glass.
“Touché,” he countered.
He glanced down when she laid her hand over the back of his. That simple touch was like flipping a switch, that flare of desire that burned whenever he saw her flashed hot and high.
“Let’s walk.”
“Walk?” Nic grinned. “Is that a euphemism?”
Darby rubbed her thumb over his bottom lip and gave him a naughty wink before sliding off her stool. She tilted her head toward the exit.
“Why don’t we find out?”
* * *
WHO WAS THIS WOMAN?
Darby barely recognized herself.
Walking under the moonlight with the sand shifting under her bare feet, she breathed the salty warmth of the night air, her new silk tank dress drifting over her skin and the surf tickling her toes.
With Dominic’s body warming her side and his arm wrapped around her waist, their steps were oddly in tandem as they strolled along.
Her shoes dangled in her free hand and Dominic had a blanket tossed over his shoulder. A gentle wind kept the night air moving and the ocean scent wrapped around them. There were a few people here and there, but the farther they walked from the resort, the more deserted the beach.
Darby sighed.
Despite her mother’s call, she felt happy.
How was that possible?
She’d had a crap afternoon, a guilt-tripping phone call and a stress-fest of a start to her evening.
She should be miserable.
Upset, irritated and, at the very least, pissed.
Instead, she was relaxed and adventurous and at peace.
None of which were go-to emotions in her world. Unless climbing the ladder of success or convicting federal lawbreakers counted as adventures.
She blamed Dominic.
“I feel good,” she confessed, her words low enough to float away on the cool ocean air. “With you, here, I feel really good.”
“Yeah? Me, too.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him. Even as enigmatic as Dominic could be, she did believe he enjoyed her. Her company, her conversations. Her body.
But something was bothering him.
Darby didn’t consider herself a nurturing sort of woman. She wasn’t touchy-feely and she’d experienced enough emotional drama with her family that the idea of trying to poke into someone’s feelings was firmly on her hell-no list.
So instead of poking at a sore spot, she tried to distract him from it.
“It’s a beautiful night to walk on the beach,” she said, leaning closer in case the warmth—or the feel of her body—brought him comfort. “I was surprised you didn’t want to stick around the resort and listen to your cousin play, though. Everyone was talking about how great his band is. They just got back from touring, right?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. They’re called Reception. They’re actually pretty good,” he agreed, his hand running up and down the side of her waist in a way that made Darby’s insides tingle.
Focus, she told herself.
Conversation.
“So, Luc’s band. Reception. Tonight’s their last night, isn’t it? Didn’t you want to check them out?”
Dominic stopped, shifting so they were face-to-face. His hands warmed her hips, fingers grazing the upper curve of her butt as he smiled down at her.
She sighed. The man had the face of an angel. Gorgeous, elegant and regal all at the same time.
“I’m doing you a favor,” he explained, his fingers sliding up her back to tease the slender crisscrossed straps holding her dress closed. “The last thing you want to do is listen to my cousin rave about how awesome I am. He’s fiercely devoted to family and likes to brag. A few minutes of listening to him expound on my many virtues and you’d probably never want to talk to me again.”
“You have enough virtues to fill a few minutes?”
“I have enough virtues to fill a few hours.”
“I’ll bet you do,” Darby said in her sexiest tone. As she’d hoped, it was enough to get Nic to focus on her body instead of whatever was still dragging him down.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured, looking down at her in a way that made Darby’s insides melt into needy little puddles of desire.
“Fascinating,” she agreed, staring right back. And he was. Moonlight glinted off the sharp angle of his cheekbones, leaving his eyes cloaked in mystery. Her fingers smoothed over the hard breadth of his chest—she appreciated the rigid muscles even through the cotton of his shirt.
“Want to sit and watch the moon?”
“Is that code for something else?” she teased.
“What would I know about code?” he asked with a weird laugh. But as he pulled away, Darby noticed that whatever had stressed him out earlier was back.
And just like before, he was ignoring it.
“This could be your spot,” he pointed out as he flicked the blanket with a sharp snap to lay it flat on the sand.
“My spot?”
“Private beach with an unobstructed view of the ocean. Remote enough to be romantic, accessible enough for tourists to find if they have a map.” Dominic gave the view a considering look before nodding. “Yep, this could be your fabled B and B.”
“The one where we raise our brood of homeschooled kids?”
“All eight of them.”
“I have no idea why that keeps coming up,” Darby laughed, a little embarrassed that she couldn’t shake the image.
“No lifelong dream of being a mom to a huge brood?”
“No lifelong dream to be a mom,” she admitted, watching his expression in the moonlight. There were worse confessions she could make, but this was one that often bit her in the ass. “I’m not the mom type. At least, not the good-mom type.”
“I guess that blows our plan for eight kids, then.”
That was it? No argument that every woman should want to be a mom? No lecture on the joyful parenting being the natural purpose of womanhood?
“So what do you think is the good-mom type?” he asked as he pulled her onto the blanket.
Her mom.
At least, Danny had always said so.
Maybe because he’d been the good kid. The one who did everything right. Something Darby never managed, not even now. Nine years after his death.
No big deal, she reminded herself as she shoved down the pain and curled up on the blanket, the soft sand shifting and settling beneath the thin cotton to cup her seat. Not letting herself look at Dominic now, she breathed in the moist air, hoping the faint saltiness she tasted was ocean spray and not tears.
“There all types of good moms,” she finally answered, pulling out her best attorney-in-crisis voice. Clear, concise and clipped, the words were factual without a hint of emotion. “But good moms are consistently devoted. Dedicated. Committed to doing anything and everything to be there for their child.”