by Jill Shalvis
“Then tell her,” Tanner said.
Cole sighed. “Pinterest.”
Tanner coughed and said “pussy” at the same time.
“Hey, my mom sent me the link to the pin,” Cole said.
Tanner grinned. “Gets better and better.”
Cole had accessed the pic on his phone and showed it to Becca. It was her and Anderson dancing, and from the angle the shot had been taken, Anderson appeared to be holding her very close and whispering a sweet nothing in her ear. “Okay, that is not what it looks like,” she told them, and in the interest of a subject change she waved the iPad she held and went through her list of things to go over. “The decorations for the Summer Bash,” she said to Cole as he did something fancy with the ropes in his hands.
“Whatever you want,” he said.
She sighed and looked at Tanner, who was straddling the dock and the boat with circus-like balancing ability as he hosed down the bow.
“What he said,” Tanner said.
“You guys are too easy,” she said.
They both shrugged. “You could ask the boss,” Cole suggested, jerking his head toward the figure coming out of the cabin, heading to the helm.
Sam.
He wore no shirt, no shoes, nothing but a pair of low-slung board shorts, a backward ball cap, and dark lenses as he did something with the controls and the engine roared to life.
He took her breath.
“He’s not the only boss,” she managed.
“No, but he likes to think he is,” Tanner said.
“He’s not exactly crazy about this whole shindig,” she reminded them.
Cole laughed.
“What?” she asked.
“Honey, what he’s crazy about is you.”
This startled her. She’d really believed that she and Sam had been doing a great job at keeping . . . whatever this was under wraps. Not that she was ashamed of what they were doing, although thinking about it did make her blush.
But there was the unprofessional factor. She was, after all—and despite his best efforts to the contrary—sleeping with her boss. She glanced at Sam, still behind the helm, his back to them. “You really think he’s doing this party just for me?”
“Did he not hire you when he didn’t want to?” Cole asked.
“Yes, but—”
“And did he let you into his Man Cave without bloodshed?”
“Well, yes. But. . .”
They were both just looking at her.
“Come on,” she said. “This is silly. Sam doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. Not unless. . .” She thought about how he did whatever his dad needed done, just to keep the man afloat, even though it’d be easier to walk away. How much he did for Cole’s mom, which she knew he felt was payback, just as she knew that Amelia didn’t feel he owed her a thing. How much he did for these guys right in front of her, though that was mutual. How much he’d done for her . . .
Tanner went brows-up.
“He cares,” she whispered. “He cares a lot.”
Tanner touched a finger to the tip of his nose.
Cole nodded.
“Well, I know that,” she said. And she did know how Sam felt about her; it was in every touch, every kiss, every word he murmured against her late at night in her bed.
But still, hearing it out loud in the light of day from the two people closest to him in the whole world gave her a warm glow. She smiled at them and turned to go to the hut.
“Hey,” Cole said, and she looked back. “Take it easy on him.”
“What do you mean?”
Tanner chuckled. “He means the guy plays at being tough as hell, but the truth is—”
“I’m tough enough to beat the shit out of the both of you ladies,” Sam said from behind Cole and Tanner.
“You’re so dead,” Cole murmured to Tanner.
Tanner didn’t look worried as he leisurely took off toward the hut. Cole followed, leaving Becca alone with Sam.
“So,” she said into the awkward silence. “You only play at being tough and hard?”
He surprised her by laughing, and then tugged her onto the boat and into his arms. “You tell me.” He nuzzled her neck. “Do I play at being hard?”
She thought about how deliciously “hard” he’d been the other morning before he’d left and let out a sigh of pleasure.
Holding her close, Sam opened his mouth on her neck. “Love that sound.”
“Sam,” she murmured, going soft. And damp . . .
“And that,” he said, and nibbled. “Come onto the boat; I want to show you something.”
She snorted against his chest. “I’ve already seen it.”
“Smart-ass,” he said, his hand sliding down her back to lightly smack her butt. “You’ve been busy,” he said casually as he nudged her into the cabin.
“Yeah.” The quarters were tight here but she didn’t feel threatened, not with Sam. “Summer Bash is in four days and there’s a lot of last-minute stuff. Plus, I’ve been working with the kids, and we’re really nailing down the rest of the song. Sort of.” She laughed a little. “Actually, that might be wishful thinking on my part.”
“Cute,” he said. “But I meant at the Love Shack.”
She stared at him. “You saw the pic, too.”
“My little sister showed it to me.”
“You don’t have a little sister,” she said.
“Cole.”
She laughed. “You should know, the angle of the picture made the dance look a little . . . more than it was.”
He nodded. “He ask you out?”
“He did.”
“You tell him you’re busy?” he asked, pushing her into the galley.
“Didn’t know I was,” she said.
“You are.” His voice was raspy rough and teasingly sexy—a deadly combo. “Very busy.”
“Doing?”
“Me.”
She tried to look outraged, but the truth was that the ridiculously alpha statement made her go all warm and mushy. Before she could decide how to respond to the cocky possessiveness, he turned her to face the table. On it were the music books she’d been eyeing online.
“Sam,” she said with surprise, and tried to turn to him, but he pinned her still.
“We docked in Seattle with our clients,” he said in her ear. “They had lunch downtown, and I picked these up for you.” His lips brushed the skin of her neck as deft fingers tugged at the string ties of her bikini top.
With a gasp, she whirled around, holding up her top with her hands. “Hey.”
Sam smiled.
Her heart stuttered.
He looked down at the way her nipples pressed against the thin material of her suit and let out a low, very male sound of approval. “Miss me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Liar.” He slid a hand to the nape of her neck and rubbed the chafed spot where her bathing suit ties had made her skin raw. When her lips parted on a soft moan, he tangled his fingers in her hair, tipping her face up, his lips inches from hers. He had really great lips.
“Okay,” she said. “Maybe I missed your mouth.” And the things you do with it. . .
He kissed her again, then used his hips to shift her legs apart. “Only my mouth?”
“Mmm,” she said, as if she needed to think about it.
He gripped her hips and rubbed her against a most impressive erection. She dug her nails into his back as he rocked into her.
“Mmm. Maybe some other things, too,” she managed.
That made him laugh as he slid his hands down her back to her bottom. “I missed you,” he murmured against her lips.
The statement was unexpected, and made her melt into him. She looked into his eyes and found herself looking into pure desire. Maybe she had no idea what the future would bring for them, but the next few minutes would be damn good. She slid her hands up ripped abs and around to his warm, sleek back. “Now, Sam?”
“No,” he said, surprising her. “
Much as I’d love to know if this table would hold, I’ve been thinking all day about the things I want to do to you. I’m going to need a while. Hours.”
She quivered, and felt herself get wet. “Hours?”
“All night.”
“Tonight then,” she agreed.
“And maybe tomorrow night, too,” he said.
She quivered again. “As many as you want.”
Chapter 23
Sam nudged Becca back above deck, his eyes on her sweet ass as it moved up the narrow stairs in front of him, his mind on how she’d smiled at him when she’d first seen him. She’d been happy to see him.
He’d had women be happy to see him before. He’d had women want him. But that wanting had usually been purely sexual in nature, and although he’d reciprocated, he hadn’t spent too much time delving deeper.
Becca was different. He liked her in a bathing suit, no doubt. He also liked her with their clients. He liked her with his partners.
He liked her.
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize when Becca stopped, frozen in her tracks at the sight of the guy standing on the docks staring at them.
“Jase,” he heard her whisper.
Jase had gone still as stone as well. “Hey, sis.”
Becca glanced back at Sam, a look on her face that he couldn’t quite interpret. “Sorry,” she said softly. “But I’ve got to talk to him.”
Sam got that she wanted privacy for this reunion, and he should have left the area.
But fuck that. He didn’t get off the boat, but instead busied himself with the ropes, an ear cocked to the conversation behind him.
That was the thing about water. Sound carried. Voices carried. From the middle of the harbor on a still day, he’d once heard a conversation between two illicit lovers in a cove, clear as a bell.
“How did you find me?” Becca asked.
“Remember how you made me upload that Find Your Friends app so you could always see where I was?” he asked. “That thing goes both ways.”
Becca stared at him. “So all this time I thought I was free, you knew exactly where I was. Why are you here, Jase?”
“Maybe I missed you,” he said.
Becca stared into her brother’s face, looking like she didn’t buy that excuse one bit. “Your eyes aren’t yours,” she finally said.
“What the hell does that mean?” Jase asked.
Becca stared at him for another beat, then took a step back, her voice shaky. “Damn you, Jase. You promised.”
At this, Jase shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders, staring out on the water, mouth grim. “Yeah, well, you know I’ve never been good at keeping promises.”
She made a sound of disbelief. “So that’s it, your whole explanation?” she asked. “You’re not good at promises, so that frees you up to not keep them? For God’s sake, Jase, grow up!”
Sam couldn’t help but think of his dad. Becca had been nothing but accepting of his dad. It told him there was much more to this story.
Jase closed his eyes, like looking at her was too painful. “I’ve never been as strong as you,” he said. “You expecting different from me is like . . . believing in Santa Claus until sixth grade.”
Becca let out a mirthless laugh. “I didn’t believe in Santa that long,” she said. “I only pretended—for you.”
Jase’s gaze snapped to Becca’s.
“Yeah,” she said. “You wanted to believe so bad, I kept up the pretense. For you. You idiot.” She gave him a shove that might have landed him in the water if he hadn’t been on his toes.
“Jesus, Bex.”
“You promised me,” she said fiercely with another shove. “You promised me you could do this, get through rehab, stay clean. You wanted a life, you said, your own life. You weren’t going to need me, lean on me; you were going to do this on your own.”
“And you said you were drowning from trying to save me,” Jase snapped, just as fiercely. “You said you couldn’t breathe. Christ, Bex, what was I supposed to do with that?”
“So you lied to me?”
“No. No,” he repeated when Becca made a sound of soft angst, and then he reached for her.
She evaded, stabbing a finger into his chest. “I tried to save you,” she said. “God, I tried. For years, Jase.”
“I know,” her brother whispered.
Another sound ripped from Becca’s throat and tore Sam in two. This was killing her slowly, and he wanted, needed, to fix it for her.
“So why are you here?” Becca asked her brother. “Why now?”
Jase looked away.
“Truth, Jase,” she implored. “You owe me that.”
He nodded, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “My concert’s tonight, in Seattle. I was hoping to get my big sis to play with me.”
“Oh, my God. You’re kidding, right?” She stared into her brother’s face and let out another mirthless laugh. “You’re not kidding. You actually think I can—” She laughed again and bent over at the waist. “My throat’s closing up,” she said to her knees. “Hopefully I’ll suffocate quick.”
Jase actually smiled. “Still dramatic.”
Becca whipped upright, eyes flashing at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t you dare make me feel like it’s all in my head.”
“It is all in your head,” Jase said. “That’s what stage fright is. Ignore it.”
“You can’t ignore a panic attack,” she said through her teeth.
“Bex—”
“No. Damn it! See, this is why I left. Look, I get that you don’t believe in panic, that you never even feel nerves before a show at all. I don’t know if that’s because you truly never get nervous or if you’ve been self-medicating so long that you can’t feel it!”
Jase took a step back like she’d slapped him, and brother and sister stared at each other.
“I’m sorry,” Becca finally said. “That was out of line.”
“No.” Jase shook his head. “I deserved it. And I’m the sorry one. I’m sorry I upset you by coming here without warning. Besides the concert, I wanted to see you, and for once make sure you were okay, the way you always used to do for me.” He hesitated. “Mom and Dad are flying in. I promised I’d come get you and bring you to the concert tonight.”
Becca shook her head slowly. “You shouldn’t have promised that.”
“No doubt, given how all my other promises have turned out.” He