Their Secret Summer Family (The Bravos 0f Valentine Bay Book 7)

by Christine Rimmer

  While they ate, the twins talked nonstop about the costumes Harper Bravo was making for them and the fun they’d had that afternoon with the beautiful, grown-up Bravo sisters.

  “Grace is the best,” declared Nat. “She’s almost like another kid, a really nice kid, and smart. A kid who knows stuff, someone you can talk to.”

  “Talk to about what?” asked Dante.

  Both girls frowned at him. Finally, Nat answered, “Everything,” and went right on talking before he could try to get some specifics out of her. “Hailey made us smoothies.”

  “They were so good.” Nic beamed.

  “Strawberry,” Nat said. “We had the smoothies while we picked which costumes we wanted. Mine will be gold underneath with red velvet on top and lots of gold trim.”

  “And mine’s green,” said Nic, “and kind of silvery underneath, with silver trim. Harper drew these beautiful pictures of the dresses she could make for us. It was really hard to choose which one.”

  “And it took a long time, too,” Nat added, eyes going wide.

  “But it was worth it,” said Nic.

  “So worth it,” Nat agreed. “We have to go back next Tuesday...” She paused to sip her milk.

  “For a final fitting,” Nic finished for her as Nat carefully set down her glass.

  The girls chattered on. Dante got the memo, loud and clear. In bold, all caps. His kids and his dog couldn’t get enough of the gorgeous, generous, big-hearted woman he kept telling himself he couldn’t have sex with again. Ever.

  Because he was too old for her and he didn’t do actual relationships. He was no damn good at them, a complete slacker in the love department. The only one in his family who’d been born without the talent for being in love and staying that way. And let us not forget that Connor would probably knock his teeth down his throat if he ever found out what had happened between Dante and Connor’s baby sister.

  Dante wished she’d come over for dinner. But it was probably better she hadn’t. Keeping his hands off her was an exercise in constant diligence. He could break at any time.

  It was getting to the point where he kind of couldn’t wait to break.

  And that was wrong. So wrong. He should be avoiding her, not trying to lure her to the deck nightly with barbecued chicken and beers. Yet, as each day went by, he grew less certain of all the very good reasons he really needed to keep his greedy hands to himself.

  “Daddy,” said Nat, clearly perturbed.

  “Huh?”

  “You aren’t listening,” Nic chided.

  “We’re telling you all this important stuff.” Nat set down a chicken bone and wiped her hands on her napkin. “And you’re just sitting there looking like this.” Nat let her mouth drop open and put on a vacant stare.

  “Oh, come on. I’m not that bad.”

  Nic reached over and patted his arm with her soft little hand. “You need to pay some contentions, Daddy,” she instructed in a gentle tone.

  “You mean ‘attention,’ that I need to pay attention.” Now and then, the girls still got the bigger words turned around.

  Nic looked puzzled—but only for a second or two. “Yeah. That. It’s important.”

  He promised them he would do better. They resumed their endless chatter and he did his best to listen to every word they said and not to let his mind wander to dangerous thoughts of Gracie Bravo.

  Chapter Five

  Saturday around six, Dante arrived home from dropping the twins off at his brother’s for a sleepover. Owen was waiting just inside the front door when he entered the house. The dog looked up at him pleadingly.

  “Walk?” he asked. At Owen’s eager whine, he grabbed the leash he rarely used and a baggie for cleanup and took the dog out the back slider for a run down on the beach.

  Gracie’s ancient Toyota was parked in the graveled parking spot on one side of the cabin. Light shone through the windows on either side of the door. He could see her at the kitchen counter in there.

  “Hey!” he called as he went by.

  “Hey!” she answered from inside.

  A moment later, she opened the door. He drank in the sight of her, in a tank top—with a bra under it, damn it—and shorts that were unfortunately not those magical Daisy Dukes he so fervently admired. She had all that silver-blond hair corralled in two pigtails. He tried really hard not to imagine wrapping them around his fist from behind, giving them a good, hard tug so she tipped her head back and gave him her mouth for a deep, wet kiss.

  She asked, “What’s up?” Owen detoured to the front step and plunked to his butt in front of her. “Hello, handsome.” She knelt to properly show her affection and he wished he was Owen, getting a scratch around the neck, being allowed to lick her face.

  “Just a walk down to the beach.” He shouldn’t ask. But then he couldn’t stop himself. “You working tonight?”

  “I’m off.” She rose to her feet again and Owen trotted back to his side. “And on a Saturday, no less. I traded with one of the other bartenders. I had the Fourth off and she really wanted it—family coming into town, she said.”

  His next question? Yeah, pretty much inevitable. “So what are you up to?”

  “Just hanging at home, taking it easy.”

  “I’ve got some steaks and baby potatoes. I’ll be firing up the grill as soon as Owen and I get in a quick run along the beach. Join me for dinner?”

  For a moment, she just looked at him, those jewel-blue eyes unreadable. He braced himself for a no. But then she said, “Nicole and Natalie are at their cousin’s tonight, right?”

  “That’s right. First sleepover of the summer.”

  “They mentioned it the other day.”

  “It’s a very big deal,” he said. “Momentous, even.”

  “Yeah, I heard rumors of untold delights. Hot dogs. S’mores. Scary stories all night long...”

  “Don’t tell me the details. I’ll only worry they’re eating too much junk food and not getting enough sleep.”

  “They’re going to have a wonderful time.” She said it kind of tenderly, like he needed reassurance that his girls were all right and sleepovers were an important part of an eight-year-old’s social life. At his side, Owen was eager to be moving on. The dog whimpered with impatience as Dante and the gorgeous creature in the cabin doorway stood silently gazing at each other. And then she said, “I’ll bring a salad and a bottle of red.”

  * * *

  After dinner on the deck, they cleared the table and came back outside to watch the sun sink below the water way out on the ocean. The bottle of wine was still more than half-full. They were both being careful this time not to drink too much.

  Something about her made him start blabbing stuff he never told anyone. Like how he and Marjorie were essentially broken up when she found out she was pregnant.

  Grace didn’t seem the least surprised at the news. “So you decided to try again?”

  He studied her face and realized he would never get tired of looking at her. “Somebody already told you that Marjorie was pregnant when we got married, right?”

  She gave him the barest hint of a smile. “Women talk. You need to get used to it.”

  “Must’ve been my sister. When did you have time to talk to Aly about me?”

  She only tipped her head to the side, causing one of those sexy pigtails to swing down along the silky skin of her bare arm. The damn pigtail seemed to be taunting him, tempting him to reach across and give it a tug.

  He dragged his gaze back up and focused on meeting her eyes. “You’re not going to tell me if it was Aly, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  Did he care that much who’d told her? Not really. He let it go and went back to saying more than he should about what went down with him and his ex-wife. “Marjorie had moved here to be with me after college, but she missed her family and fr
iends in Portland. It wasn’t working out for either of us, really. We broke up and she moved home—and then she found out she was pregnant. I asked her to marry me. She came back to Valentine Bay. The girls were born. We lasted as a couple until they were two and then Marjorie said she just couldn’t do it anymore. She said that she and I were over and we needed to accept that.”

  “So...she filed for divorce and returned to Portland?”

  “Yeah. The rest is history. At least, it should’ve been.”

  “Except...?”

  “For the next three years or so after Marj and I called it quits, I remained fake married to her anyway.”

  “What does ‘fake married’ mean?”

  “It means I couldn’t let go. If I had a day off and the girls were with her, I drove to Portland to check on her and see my daughters. While I was there, I would fix stuff around Marj’s house, change the oil in her car, whatever she needed.”

  “You wanted to get back together with her?”

  “I wanted to be a family with my girls and their mother.”

  “You’re saying you felt that you and Marjorie should get back together?”

  “That’s it. That’s right. Eventually, Marj drew the line on me. She said we weren’t married and we would never be married again and I had to stop appearing at her doorstep, coming to her rescue all the time. It wasn’t good for either of us, she said—and it wasn’t fair to our daughters because it was too confusing for them. She said we had to face reality. It was over and it had been over for a long time.”

  Gracie smoothed both of her braids forward over her shoulders and held on to the ends of them. She looked so young, tugging on her pigtails, one sleek bare leg crossed over the other one. “Were you still in love with her?” she asked.

  “No.” Sometimes he doubted that he’d ever been in love with Marjorie. “I just wanted to make it work. I really did. For the girls’ sake. And because Marj is a good woman. Because making it work is the right thing to do.”

  “I have to ask.” Gracie wrinkled her nose and stared off into space.

  “Go ahead.”

  She turned those unforgettable eyes on him again. “Are you saying you didn’t have sex with anyone for three years, while you were driving back and forth to Portland to fix your ex-wife’s...whatever?”

  He shouldn’t be talking about sex with her. He shouldn’t be talking about his failed marriage or the wife he’d never loved the way a man should.

  And yet, once again, he laid it right out there. “For about a year after Marjorie moved back to Portland, she and I would hook up occasionally. Then she told me she wouldn’t sleep with me again and she was going to see other guys. I was so pissed off about that. There I was, knocking myself out to get us back together and she just announces she wants to go out with other men. I hit the roof, said things I shouldn’t have. Marj never raised her voice. She just held firm. She was moving on. So, I started seeing other women. I’m no monk, for God’s sake. I’ve just learned my lesson when it comes to love and marriage and forever after. I’m not cut out for that. I’m not looking for anything serious and I’m not getting married again and I make that very clear to any woman I spend time with.”

  “I see.” She let go of her braids and recrossed those beautiful legs.

  His mouth was dry and he ached to kiss her—to do a lot more than kiss her, if he was honest about it. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need to hear all that.”

  “Didn’t I?” Those deep blue eyes of hers seemed to look right inside his head, to know every hot, sexy thought he kept trying really hard not to have about her. Sometimes she made him feel that he was too young for her. Another of those mysterious smiles curved her plump lips. “I’ve got a few things to tell you, too.”

  He grabbed his wine and knocked back a big gulp of it. “Why am I nervous, all of a sudden?”

  She giggled then, and suddenly she was once more the young, carefree Gracie, ready for fun, up for anything. “The morning after we shared that bottle of tequila and ended up in bed together, when you said we could never do it again...?”

  He realized he was holding his breath and let it out carefully. “Yeah?”

  “I decided to torment you, to punish the crap out of you. My plan was to drive you insane with desire and then, when you finally begged me for one more night, to turn you down flat.”

  He liked her so much. Liked everything about her. Liked her enough that it kind of freaked him out. Maybe. A little. “You’ve been a very bad girl.”

  She snickered. “Oh, yes, I have.” Her expression grew more serious. “Or I was. But then I kind of decided I was being childish. I put the short shorts away and put on a bra.”

  “Gracie?” He really needed to watch himself or he’d be saying what he shouldn’t say.

  “Hmm?”

  That stuff he shouldn’t say? He said it anyway. “Bra or no bra, your plan worked.”

  She uncrossed those spectacular legs and leaned into him. “Is this it, then?” It came out breathless and her eyes were softer, the pupils dilated. He ached to reach for her. She asked again. “Is this the moment you break?”

  It was. Absolutely. “Yeah. You might as well go ahead and tell me right now to forget it.”

  She looked...stricken suddenly, every last trace of that breezy seductiveness gone.

  The wounded look in her eyes kind of freaked him out. “Gracie. What’s wrong?”

  “Who am I kidding? I won’t say no. I want you, too, Dante. Way too much to turn you down.”

  Chapter Six

  Am I a complete fool? Gracie wondered.

  Yeah. Probably.

  Didn’t matter. There might not be a tomorrow for her and Dante. But sometimes right now can be a very fine thing.

  She got up and held down her hand to him. He took it without the slightest hesitation. A dark, heated shiver skated up her arm from just the touch of his fingers on her skin.

  “Come here.” He rose and pulled her around the small table until she stood in front of him. Only then did he release her—to clasp her by the waist. “You’re so beautiful.” His mouth swooped down. “God, I missed having my hands on you.”

  She lifted up.

  And finally, after far too many days and nights, they were kissing again. His mouth tasted of wine and the gelato they’d had for dessert. She’d missed him, too. So much.

  His big, broad hands skated up her torso and she lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck. He smelled so good, like cedar and cloves and sheer, burning need.

  She broke the kiss.

  He opened his eyes. She saw such yearning in his face and found herself thinking that he didn’t really understand how deeply he cared. He denied the power of his own emotions, seemed to take a dark kind of pride in being tough and calm and always in control of himself.

  “Self-denial,” she said. “It’s kind of a thing with you.”

  “Not tonight, it isn’t.” He growled the words—and then he narrowed those midnight-dark eyes at her. His sensual mouth turned down. “Wait. Did you just change your mind?”

  She reached up and framed his face with her hands. His cheeks were smooth now, though he’d been sporting some serious five o’clock shadow when he stopped by the cabin earlier to ask her over for dinner. He’d shaved for her. She didn’t mind a little beard scruff. But she loved that he must have had some hope they might end up in each other’s arms tonight, that he wanted to be smooth shaven for her.

  Oh, she couldn’t wait to kiss him some more, to touch him all over, to memorize again every muscled ridge, every dip and hollow. His body ran hot. She wanted to press herself tightly against him, to melt into him until there was nothing between them but the hunger and the pleasure they stirred in each other.

  Until the only reality was the two of them moving together, naked and shameless, all through the night.


  “No,” she said, her voice soft, her intention firm. “I haven’t changed my mind. No way. I want to be with you tonight.” She surged up and took his mouth.

  That kiss lasted longer than the first one, until she felt boneless. Liquid. Breathless, too.

  “Let’s go inside.” He caught her earlobe between his teeth and gave it a tug.

  She moaned and pushed away enough to see his eyes. They were dark as onyx, heavy lidded with arousal. “The cabin,” she said. “My place this time.” If he got freaked out like before and wanted to escape her in the morning, he could just go. She wouldn’t have to suffer through the awfulness of him trying to get rid of her.

  “However you want it.”

  She gave a low laugh then. “Now you’re talkin’. Grab my salad bowl, lock up and let’s go.”

  * * *

  In the cabin, they pulled down the shades.

  “Leave the lights on,” he commanded.

  “Works for me.”

  He pointed to the dog bed over by the fireplace. She’d bought it last week so Owen would have his own spot in her living space. “Go lie down.” The dog trotted right over there and made himself comfortable. Then Dante turned those dark eyes on her. “Come here.”

  He caught her hand. She stepped out of her flip-flops and into his arms. His mouth came down to claim hers in a scorching kiss.

  “Everything off.” He breathed the command against her parted lips. But when she tried to unbutton her shorts, he made a growling sound and pushed her hands away. “Uh-uh. I’ll do it.”

  “So controlling...”

  A low, rough chuckle escaped him. He kissed her slow and deep as he set about undressing her. Tugging the zipper wide on her shorts, he shoved them down, taking her panties right along with them. Those panties were a favorite of hers. Cheekies in cherry-red lace.

  They fell unnoticed to the rag rug along with her shorts. And then his big hand was sliding between her legs. An approving growl escaped him as he stroked her wetness.