Embraced at Seaside

by Addison Cole

  Hunter’s truck came into focus as she drove down her street, and the lump in her throat expanded. She wasn’t ready for the conversation that would end their relationship. Wasn’t losing her fight enough of a beating for one day? Couldn’t she pretend for one more day that he hadn’t won something amazing and that she and Hunter had a chance at making things right? That he’d accept her apology, and the key, and they could go back to the incredible, loving path they’d been on? She’d liked that path. A lot.

  She pulled up beside his empty truck. Her house was pitch-dark, and there was no sign of Hunter anywhere. Her phone vibrated on the passenger seat. Hunter’s name appeared above his number, bringing fresh tears with it. She’d finally changed his contact information. How could such a small, silly thing like seeing Hunter’s name on her phone hurt so badly?

  She swiped the screen and read the text. Can we talk?

  Her pulse quickened as she looked up, scanning her yard. A figure of a man standing in her side yard came into focus. She would know him anywhere. The confident stance, his broad, powerful shoulders, and she was sure if she could see his face, the muscles in his jaw would be jumping with tension. She dried her eyes, pulled her shoulders back, and stepped out of the car. She refused to fall apart in front of him. She didn’t want him to feel guilty for taking the incredible opportunity he’d been given. She wasn’t going to be the woman who stood in his way.

  The twenty feet between them seemed to pass in slow motion. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that he was wearing a suit and tie. Her heart skipped a beat. She’d never seen him dressed up like this. A piercing pain shot through her stomach with the realization that he wasn’t wearing the suit for her, but for the competition. He must have left the tie and coat in the car or something.

  She couldn’t help but notice that he was clean-shaven and he smelled like cologne. Jealousy prickled her limbs, knowing that that wasn’t meant for her, either.

  “Hi.” Her voice sounded as frayed as she felt.

  He took a step closer, his eyes raking over her face, then lower, taking all of her in more quickly than usual. Just another reminder of the distance between them. He curled a finger under her chin and studied her face.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  She swallowed hard. Could he see the blood draining from her heart, too? She lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I lost.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to cheer you on.” His tone was serious, and another half shrug made his jaw do that jumping thing she worried about.

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  She nodded, and when he waved a hand toward the backyard, she realized that he didn’t even want to step into her house. That twisted the stake that was shattering her heart.

  The backyard was dark, and she stumbled over something on the grass.

  “What…?”

  “Stay here. Let me get the lights.” He walked to the back porch and plugged something into the outlet, illuminating the entire yard with tiny white lights strewn through the trees, over the bushes, and around the patio door, transforming her backyard into a magical wonderland.

  “What…?” She couldn’t process what she was seeing. Bouquets of roses formed a heart in the grass, and she was standing in the center of it. A sculpture came into full view at the point where the two sides of the heart connected.

  Hunter followed her gaze. “You haven’t seen that yet, have you?”

  She shook her head. He hadn’t told her what he was making for the competition, but she’d never in her wildest dreams thought he’d sculpt a dancer. Mesmerized by the elegant piece of art, she finally found her voice.

  “This is what you made for the competition? May I touch it?”

  “Of course.” He placed his hand on her lower back, urging her closer, but she didn’t want to move away from him. She stayed where she was, lost in his touch, lost in the beauty before her, lost in confusion.

  “It’s so graceful. The arch of her neck, the movement of her legs and shoulders.” She absently reached up and touched her neck. “It’s powerful, and beautiful, and looks like she’s actually in motion, the way the skirt appears to be moving. I’ve never seen anything so…so…feminine and natural.”

  “You were the perfect muse.”

  She glanced up at Hunter, tears filling her eyes again, and mouthed, Me?

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged shyly. “Who else?”

  Her knees weakened at the love in his voice and the idea that he saw her in the magnificent sculpture he’d created. Drawn to this piece of him, this vision he’d had, she stepped forward and ran her fingers over the circles and oblong pieces of shiny metal and mirrors that covered the woman’s breasts. Her hand came back to her own body, and she touched the curve of her hip.

  “Me?” she repeated, unable to see herself in the glorious woman before her. “But she looks so free.” Was this his way of telling her he was leaving? Setting her free? Showing her this incredible piece of art first, so she wouldn’t stand in his way?

  “I call her Emerging Elegance.” He looked at the sculpture, as if he were studying it. His eyes were narrowed, focused, as he spoke. “I watched you dance that night at the studio, and you looked freer than I’d ever seen you before. Like you disappeared into the music, as if it transported you somewhere only you could see.”

  Her breathing became shallow as she listened to him describe exactly what she felt every time she danced. He saw what no one else had ever taken the time to notice.

  “Last night you were stunning on the dance floor. I’m surprised there weren’t more guys pawing at you.”

  She lifted tear-filled eyes to apologize and he pressed his finger to her lips.

  “Shh. Let me finish. Please.”

  He walked around the sculpture, and touched a corded piece of metal that wound around the upper thigh, across the lower belly, then frayed up by the shoulder.

  “At first, with us. With me,” he said. “You were bound by your own tethers. Rigid. Closed off. But slowly you’ve broken free of the memories, the heartaches, that imprisoned you.”

  My ghosts.

  He touched the shiny metal pieces that formed a tank top, the strap on the left shoulder whole, while the strap on the right was shredded apart, jagged and torn, leaving that shoulder bare. “You’ve opened up to me, and you’ve trusted yourself enough to try to trust me.”

  Life is so much better with you in it.

  Jana was no longer looking at the sculpture; she was watching him. In awe of his ability to see into her heart, into her soul, and understand exactly what she’d been feeling over the last few weeks. But why now? Why would he choose this moment to show her how well he knew her? She tried to swallow the emotions clogging her throat, but when he turned his warm gaze on her, their visual connection deepened the significance of his words, and she realized he’d been trying to tell her all along.

  “I purposely didn’t create a face, because your face…man. Jana, your face…”

  The way he said it, breathless and painful, like something about her face destroyed and completed him at once, had her reaching up and touching her cheek.

  He lifted his eyes to hers again, and everything else faded away. The air pulsed. His energy drew her closer. For a moment she didn’t think he was going to say another word, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear it if he did. And then he touched her fingers, and sparks radiated up her arm, shocking her brain back to life.

  “Jana.” The lapels of his suit coat rose with each inhalation as he stepped closer. “Your eyes tell the world you’re strong, that you don’t need anyone’s approval or help, while they unveil all your truths to me. I see your desire to be loved, cherished, adored, and I see your fear of the same.” He smiled, paused briefly, like he was remembering her in those moments. “The set of your lovely, rounded chin”—he curled his finger under her chin again—“tells others of your iron will, but it shows me what lies beneath, your hea
rt, afraid of being hurt.”

  He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “And this sassy, smart mouth tells everyone else that there’s nothing in the world you can’t handle, but a single press of your lips, a whisper of my name in a certain cadence, reveals your deepest fears and insecurities. I couldn’t create your face, Jana, because I couldn’t share all of that specialness with the world. Selfishly, I wanted to keep something just for me.”

  He leaned in close, and she clutched at his jacket, needing his strength to counter her wobbly knees and expanding heart, which felt like it might burst through her chest.

  It took all of her focus to push his name from her lips. “Hunter?” She tightened her hold on his jacket, her eyes moving over the lighted trees, the flowers, the sculpture, and finally, the face of the man she loved more than life itself. “What is all this?”

  He got down on one knee and reached behind the sculpture, presenting her with a large wooden box. “This is romance. My girl likes romance.”

  Her limbs trembled. “But—”

  “Please, pretty girl. Please don’t fight me on everything tonight.”

  Pretty girl brought a rush of tears, and she closed her eyes against them.

  “Open your eyes, baby. Everything you want is right in front of you.” He opened the box, revealing some type of doorknob with a lot of buttons beneath it.

  “I don’t understand. You’re offering me a doorknob?”

  His smile made her laugh, despite her tears, as he rose to his feet.

  “Yes, a doorknob for a coded entrance. No key necessary. I want to come home to you every night and eat you for breakfast every morning.”

  She felt her cheeks heat up as he aligned their bodies from head to toe, causing the rest of her to heat up, too.

  “You can dance as dirty as you want, as long as the only body yours physically touches is mine.” The restraint in his voice told her how difficult that was for him to say. “I’ll be your bodyguard when you’re in the zone and your lover when we’re home. I can’t promise I won’t be a Neanderthal sometimes, but I can promise you that even if you need to take ten steps backward for every step forward, I will be here waiting when you’re ready.”

  “But you won the competition.” Oh no, this is too hard. She forced herself to continue, though her voice was barely above a whisper. “And you’re going to LA, and traveling. I won’t hold you back from that.”

  His eyes warmed. “How did you know I won?”

  “I…” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “I was there. I didn’t want to miss it…and…and I heard—” She couldn’t manage another word. It hurt too bad.

  “Jana, I won the competition because of you.” His smile widened. “But going to LA and traveling was never part of the plan. I would never leave you.”

  “But—”

  He brushed his lips over hers and whispered, “Do you ever stop arguing? Grayson can travel. You’re the only thing I want to win, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you just how much I want you. I know you’ll test me in every way known to man. I’m not leaving you, Jana. Not now, not six months from now, not ever. No matter how many obstacles you put in our way.”

  “But I don’t want the doorknob,” she confessed through more tears. “I want you to have the key.”

  “I love you.” He sealed his lips over hers and she pushed at his chest.

  “What, pretty girl? What could you possibly have to say now?” The fierceness in his voice rivaled the desire in his eyes, making what she was about to say even more important.

  “Just…” She paused to gain control of her emotions. She didn’t want to leave anything out. “Thank you for loving me for who I am. Thank you for loving me through my insecurities and helping me put my ghosts to rest. I want you, Hunter. Only you. I love you.” His loving smile pulled more tears as she said, “I don’t want just the opening act. I want the main event, the encore, and a standing ovation.”

  She saw a question fill his eyes and said, “Don’t ask. Just kiss me already.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  JANA STOOD ON the front stoop of her studio with a silk tie covering her eyes—the tie Hunter had used to bind her wrists the night before. She’d been surprised when he’d confessed that he’d showered, shaved, put on cologne, and changed into his suit to see her, after the celebratory dinner he had attended last night. And after they’d talked, they’d made love well into the morning. Clark was right; there was a world of difference between making love to a woman you adored and having sex.

  Hunter stood behind Jana now, guiding her by the shoulders. When Jana had said she loved him, he felt like the luckiest guy on earth. He knew their relationship would probably always have its ups and downs. They were both stubborn, after all. He didn’t claim to have all the answers, but he had the only answer that mattered. He loved Jana, and he vowed to spend the rest of his life making her happy.

  “Just promise me that if you don’t like what I’ve done, you’ll tell me.”

  She laughed. “Has that ever been a problem for me? Just because you have me blindfolded doesn’t mean my mouth doesn’t work.”

  “You do have a smart mouth.”

  “You love my smart mouth.”

  He moved in front of her and pulled her body against him. He couldn’t resist brushing his scruffy cheek to the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.

  “Hunter…” Her needy voice sent a rush of heat straight through him.

  He sank his teeth into her neck and wrapped his arm around her waist, catching her as her knees wobbled. “You look so tempting, blindfolded and wearing that slinky little miniskirt and tight frilly top. I can’t believe you’re mine. Tell me again.” He’d been teasing her all morning about finally admitting she wanted him.

  She sighed dramatically. He could practically see her rolling her eyes. “Hunter Lacroux, I want you.”

  He ran a hand along her waist and over her rib cage. “Tell me like you mean it,” he teased.

  “Why would I do that?”

  He tore the blindfold off, and her eyes blazed with desire.

  “Because you mean it.” He tugged her tighter against him.

  “Maybe so, but this is so much more fun.” She raised her brows with a sexy giggle. “Now kiss me or make love to me, but stop this teasing nonsense.”

  “You’re a wicked pain in the butt. I’ll do everything to you, but first…” He pushed open the door of the studio, and Jana gasped as they stepped inside.

  “Hunter! This is gorgeous!” She launched herself into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. “How about we check out the get-down-and-dirty kitchen?” A pretty blush rose on her cheeks.

  He carried her through the hallway that led to the kitchen. “There’s a fee for entrance now.”

  “Let me guess. Does it have to do with taking off my clothes?”

  “From your lips to my ears.”

  She slanted her mouth over his as he pushed through the kitchen doors. They were met with cheers of “surprise” and “congratulations” from all their friends and family. Harper, Brock, and Colton were front and center, beside Clark, who was holding little Billy in one arm, his other draped around Nina. Blue and Lizzie were standing arm in arm beside Bella and the girls and all their babies and husbands. Everyone was smiling and laughing and moving in for hugs.

  Jana looked at him with wonder and love in her eyes, and that alone nearly brought him to his knees. Jana was finally his. Really, truly his, one hundred percent his. “How did you arrange all this?”

  “Don’t you get it yet, pretty girl? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  Love Our Seaside Friends?

  If this is your first Sweet with Heat: Seaside Summers novel and you would like to read the entire series, there is a complete series list in the back of this book. You can start reading the series FREE with READ, WRITE, LOVE AT SEASIDE in digital format. Seaside Summers is the first subseries in the Sweet with Heat big-family roma
nce collection, with many more subseries to come. All Sweet with Heat books may also be enjoyed as stand-alone novels or as part of the larger series.

  Ready for Grayson and Parker’s story?

  Chapter One

  PARKER COLLINS SHOVED a handful of M&M’s in her mouth, eyes glued to Saw III. A burst of light illuminated the pitch-black media room, followed by a scream of terror. Christmas, her four-year-old English mastiff, sacked out beside her on the couch, pushed his big head beneath her legs as darkness shrouded them again. Another shrill scream brought her big chicken of a dog deeper into her leg tunnel.

  “Whoever said dogs were a man’s best friend was an idiot. My best friend.” Especially now that Bert’s gone. A few tears slipped down her cheek.

  Christmas whimpered, pulled his head from beneath her legs, and licked her from chin to eyes, getting every last one of her tears and coming back for more. He’d been lapping up her tears for two weeks, ever since she’d lost her friend, mentor, and the only family she’d ever known. Bert Stein had suffered a massive heart attack while Parker was in Italy filming her latest movie, and she’d been moving on autopilot ever since: picking up Christmas from his housekeeper in Los Angeles because Bert had been watching him while she was away, attending Bert’s funeral, trying to remember how to breathe, and finally, coming to her house in Wellfleet to mourn—and, she hoped, to mend a fence Bert was never able to with his estranged brother.

  Holing up in the bay-front home she’d built for the Collins Children’s Foundation, where no one would look for her, was the only way she could grieve without negative ramifications. Heaven forbid an A-list actress went out looking like an average woman whose heart had been ripped from her chest. Rag magazines would pay big bucks for pictures of her puffy, tired eyes and I-don’t-care tangled hair. She could just imagine the headlines: Parker Collins’s New Drug Addiction, or Unplanned Pregnancy for Parker, or anything else that would sell magazines. Nobody cared that she’d never even smoked a cigarette, that she needed to have sex in order to get pregnant, or that she’d gone so long without, she wondered if her best parts even worked anymore.