by Candis Terry
Whose law?
Wasn’t there only one?
“This cheesecake looks delicious.” She stuck her fork in the tip of the dessert then held it up. “Want a bite?”
Was her avoidance of the subject because she was embarrassed about her family’s reputation? What could possibly be the big deal? He’d never judge her based on someone else’s behavior. She should know that. Yet it was as clear as the moonlit sky above them that this was a subject she didn’t want to and wouldn’t talk about.
At least not right now.
“No thanks.”
He refilled her glass of wine then took a sip from his own to clear his head. Or muddy it the fuck up, whichever came first. Aside from how pretty her wavy hair shone beneath the moonlight, or how soft her skin might be, or that she smelled like exotic fruit and dark chocolate, he felt a need to protect. Maybe even on more than a physical level—although that was a rocket to the moon—he was consumed with the mystery of her.
She was the first woman who made him want to crawl out of the iron box he’d caged himself in. She was a woman he wanted to take care of. To make happy. He wanted to take away the occasional darkness that crept into her pretty brown eyes. But as luck would have it, she worked for him. And that meant heart locked, hands off.
“We all have our demons, Brooke. Believe me. If you ever want to talk about anything . . .” A vision of lying with her on that big bed, holding her in his arms, and chasing the demons away darted through his brain and he knew he had to get back on the rails. “My door is always open.”
“Ah. Work.” She sipped her wine. “That’s something you’re very good at.”
“Might be the only thing.” No. He had other things he was good at too. But they were definitely off the table.
A frown brought her delicate brows together and it physically pained him not to be able to smooth it away.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” She pushed away from the table and went back into the suite. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” he asked before he followed her into a higher mountain of trouble.
“Somewhere completely non-work-related.” Mischief tipped the corners of her lips. “We have at least one more day before we go back to the whole nine-to-five thing. I just want to do something I’m not able to do at home. Are you game?”
He’d be insane to say yes. “Why not.”
Okay, so not exactly a yes, but problematic all the same.
“Sweet.” She gave a whistle. Her little dog sprang up out of her portable bed and pranced toward her master.
Before Brooke opened the suite door, she stopped. “Let’s make the most of this, okay?” she said, looking up at him with a heat in her eyes that made him want to claim defeat, give in to instinct, and take her to bed.
He’d spent years schooling himself into not giving in to impulse. Now, as he followed her out the door, that perseverance crashed and burned. Because following Brooke in those short shorts was a temptation mightier than reason could handle.
Chapter 4
When the sidewalk ended and the vast expanse of fine grain sand took over, Brooke stopped and pulled off her sneakers. With a dramatic sigh she wiggled her pink painted toes.
“Your turn.” She pointed at his feet.
He’d never been a barefoot kind of guy. Still, he kicked off his shoes.
“Now dig in,” she said.
He gave her a look.
“Don’t be a party pooper.” She wrinkled her nose and thrust her hands on her shapely hips. “Wiggle them in the sand.”
Who knew a bossy woman could be so sexy? And so dangerous.
Still warm from the sun, the sand felt amazing on the soles of his feet and he nearly sighed out loud. This was exactly what he’d been dreaming about yesterday. A walk along the beach, some good food, and a drink. However, in that fantasy, he hadn’t conjured up such interesting and attractive company.
“Happy now?” he asked.
“Getting there.” She pointed again. “Roll up your pant legs.”
“Why?”
“Such a Debbie Downer.” She tsked. “Maybe I want to see if you’re one of those guys who waxes everything south of your chin.”
“I can assure you I’m not.”
“Good to know. I always prefer a man whose skin isn’t softer than mine.”
“Prefer them for what?” Shit. Didn’t he know that curiosity killed the freaking cat? He needed to keep those kinds of thoughts sealed inside his damned head.
“Oh, you know . . .” Her sly grin had his imagination taking flight. “Things like . . . zipping up my dresses. Helping put my shoes on. Making the bed.”
With her, he could picture doing just the opposite—unzipping, taking off, and stripping down.
“So you’re saying you’re looking for a love slave?”
“Exactly!” She giggled. “Roll your pants up and come on.”
Hmmm. Maybe he should fire himself and then apply for that job.
“The pants stay.”
“Too bad.” Brooke took off in a dance down the beach with her little dog in merry chase.
He thought it too bad that she’d taken off the fairy crown. With it she’d look like a pagan princess in celebration of being in her natural environment.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he headed down the beach in her direction. Soon they were walking side by side on the edge of the surf where the chilly ocean washed over their feet.
Arms out, she spun a few circles then took off again like a mischievous sprite, jumping and kicking at the surf as it splashed up her bare legs. Her little dog decided she didn’t like the splash of the water and headed toward higher ground where she lay down with her long snout poised atop her front paws.
From the water’s edge, Dec watched Brooke play as the waves splashed higher up her legs. He’d always appreciated women on a sensual level and he’d never been shy about making his point when he’d been attracted to one. But he’d never committed. Hell, he never even spent the night if they invited him into their bed. For him, sharing a bed for a full night meant more than just, Hey, I want to enjoy your company and your body for a few hours. For him, sharing a bed for a full night meant something permanent. And it was something he’d never considered.
Not even for a heated moment.
Yet, he was about to do just that with the one woman in his life he shouldn’t be sharing a bed with. The one woman he shouldn’t be thinking about in an I want to tear your clothes off, push you against the wall, and make love to you, then cuddle kind of way. The one woman who managed to keep his shit together at the same time that she tore him apart.
Every muscle, every fiber of his being screamed with need as he watched her play. Need not just for release. Need for her.
His jaw clenched.
Can’t have her, buddy. Sorry. Not now. Not ever.
Her frolicking took her a little deeper into the water where the waves now broke around her knees. A cool breeze fluttered the tails of the plaid shirt she’d pulled on over that breast-hugging tank top. The moonlight shone in her golden hair. And Dec knew he’d never seen anything more beautiful and breathtaking in his life.
“Aren’t you coming in?” she called.
“I’m fine right here.” The cold water had numbed his toes. He couldn’t imagine how she could stand it splashing up her legs.
“Do not make me start clucking like a chicken.”
“Seriously? You’re daring me?”
She laughed and the musicality washed over him like a gentle spring rain. Then she started squawking like a damned chicken. “Come on, boss man. Afraid you’ll melt?”
He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to move any closer to her. He was having a hell of a time holding on to his control as it was. Her out there looking like some kind of water nymph was not helping at all.
“At least come in up to your ankles,” she said over the crash of a wave. “I promise not to let Jaws Jr. take a bite.”
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“You’re very funny, Brooke.”
“I know.” She giggled then started backing up. “Little bit closer.”
Fuck.
It was the playful finger wiggles she did that made him cave. Without another reasonable thought left in his head he strode into a wave, which immediately soaked the legs of his jeans and made them feel like they weighed a hundred pounds.
“Little bit closer,” she coaxed in a sexy voice full of temptation.
Before he knew it he was beside her and in up to his knees. The water was so cold it stung. She was in up to her thighs and he had no idea how she could tolerate it.
“Happy now?”
Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she looked up at him. The moonlight glistened in her eyes. And all he wanted at that moment was to replace her teeth on those plump, delectable lips with his mouth. To soothe away whatever caused her uncertainty then make her forget about anything but pleasure.
“I don’t talk about my family,” she said unexpectedly. “In fact, I don’t think of them as my family at all anymore.”
How could someone walk away from family? Even if they drove you crazy, they were always there for you. Something tragic must have happened in her life. He wanted to know more. Needed to know more. But he wouldn’t ask. She had to trust him enough to tell.
“It’s not that I’m trying to be rude and ignore your questions,” she said. “I’m just very uncomfortable about answering them.”
“Maybe someday you’ll feel comfortable.”
“Maybe.” Somber train of thought gone, she grinned. “How bold are you feeling right now?”
“Bold?”
The sudden change gave him whiplash.
“Bold.” She nodded, backed up a step, and lifted a shapely leg to kick water at him.
At the same time, a rogue wave—much larger than the ones that had been lapping at their legs—came up and caught her off balance. She went under, disappearing as if she hadn’t just been standing there.
“Brooke!” Dec’s breath left his lungs in a terrified whoosh. He dove into the water and quickly swam to where she’d been before she disappeared. His heart pounded and the salt water burned his eyes as he peered through the murky darkness.
What if she couldn’t swim?
What if she’d hit her head when she’d gone under?
A beam of moonlight speared through the watery depths and the flash of a flailing arm caught his eye. He reached out, caught her arm, and dragged her up to the surface.
She came up sputtering and dove straight into his arms. Before he could blink the salt water from his eyes, she climbed him like a monkey. Her arms locked around his neck and her long legs linked around his butt. Goose bumps dotted her chilled body. Her pebbled nipples pressed into his chest. The crotch of her Daisy Dukes pressed tight against the zipper of his jeans. And his hands had a firm grip on her sweetly rounded ass.
With her arms around his neck they were face to face as the ebb and flow of the surf floated around them, pressing them closer then threatening to pull them apart. Her heart pounded against his chest, and he was pretty damn sure his own was talking the same language.
Dec wanted it to be relief that flowed through his veins, but despite the icy water, he felt ignited. And hard. So hard he ached. From the moment he’d captured her in his arms, he felt like he’d been the one swept away. One touch of her sweet body and he felt like he’d been tossed into the center of a storm he couldn’t escape.
Shivering from the cold and the aftereffects of being slammed beneath the surf, she looked deep into his eyes. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.
When her tongue swept out to capture a droplet of ocean from her full, kissable bottom lip, his good intentions burst into flames and he just fucking broke.
With one hand firmly on her ass, the other slid up her body and gently captured the back of her head. They both stared into each other’s eyes and Dec knew she could read his intent.
“Don’t say a word,” he growled. “Not one. Fucking. Word.”
Dropping his mouth to hers, his mind completely shut off and pleasure took over. The taste of salt water lingered on her lips as he coaxed them open with a sweep of his tongue. She tightened her hold on him, instinctively moving closer while he delved deep, stroking inside her mouth with a rhythm the lower half of his body craved. She tasted sweet like caramel and cheesecake. Like wine and sex. Like the promise of something he couldn’t deny.
A long, lusty moan rumbled against his chest—hers, not his—and the fire in his blood flashed hotter. Right here, right now he wanted to push off her shorts and plunge deep into her over and over until mindless satisfaction consumed both of them.
Now he knew what had been scratching at his insides.
Now he knew how soft she felt and how delicious she tasted.
And now he knew that this moment—this kiss—was all he could, would, ever have. No matter how much it would kill him to let go. Because if there had ever been any doubt in his mind, it was clear now.
She owned him.
Desire shot a hot streak through her center and set fire to the tips of her breasts pushed into the hard muscle of his chest.
She was kissing Declan Kincade.
Wow.
Brooke had always wondered, but now she knew what heaven must be like. She’d been his assistant for four years. For each of those Monday through Fridays she’d grown to know the man. She loved his dedication to both family and clients. She loved that his outside focus was charity and the many functions he attended and donated to in the name of children and the ill. She loved his sincerity, his smile, his heart. The more she knew the harder she fell.
Unlike the men in her past, she knew he’d never push unrealistic expectations on someone he loved. He’d protect them, take care of their wishes and desires.
She’d never had anyone like that in her life.
Never.
Being in his arms made her feel as though she’d found her own special happy place. The trick was getting him to feel the same. For four years she’d had reservations about the risks of letting him know how she felt. Tonight, she knew the risks were worth it.
She could find another job.
Finding another Declan Kincade would be impossible.
Hopefully he’d see things her way.
But in that fleeting breath of victory, he pulled his head back and ended the kiss.
For a moment his gaze swept her face then fell to her mouth.
Kiss me again.
Please.
Water clung to the tips of his thick dark lashes, and when those deep blue eyes came back up the heat burning in them scorched her. His erection pressed against her shorts as his arms and hands held her close.
She knew reality would slam down hard and he’d back away fast.
Unfortunately he proved her right.
“Don’t think, Dec.” She looked deep into his eyes. “I’m begging you. For once in your life, don’t think. Just feel.”
“Too late.”
Distress marred his handsome face and she wanted to kiss away all those lines of confusion and concern.
“So . . . what. Even if I disagree, you’re thinking this takes the whole boss/employee thing too far, right?”
“Way too far.” With his hands still cupping her bottom and her arms and legs still locked around him, he trudged back toward the beach.
Once they reached dry sand, he released his hold and clearly expected her to do the same.
She clung on.
“Let go, Brooke.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
He gave her a look and reached up to peel her arms away.
Reluctantly she released her hold from around his neck and slid down his body. The second their bodies separated, he took off down the beach. Moochie, little traitor that she had become, trotted behind.
“Hey, what if I get knocked down by another wave?” Brooke called, trying to restore a modicum of humor into a
serious situation.
“Don’t go back in the water,” he called back without turning to look.
Ever hopeful, she reached into her useless bag of illogical wiles and tried again. “Aren’t you even going to thank me for helping you knock an item off your bucket list?”
Hopefulness died a quick death with his four-letter word response and his purposeful stride back to the inn.
Back in the suite, Dec chastised himself while he waited for Brooke to finish her shower. She’d been in there awhile. Singing. At the top of her lungs. Horribly belting out a Carrie Underwood song like a tone-deaf screech owl. He looked at Moochie, who had comfortably stretched out on the bed. “I suppose you’re used to that.”
Moochie lifted a paw then belly crawled until she ended up in his lap.
Pets had never been a part of his life, but as he stroked the silky softness of Moochie’s fur, he expected he now knew what he’d been missing. Maybe just the continuous motion calmed the nerves tightening his stomach, but he’d take what he could get. Because he knew once Brooke came out of the shower he needed to apologize and they needed to have a talk. He needed to know that what had taken place in that ocean would not have an effect on their working relationship.
At that moment the water in the shower turned off and the singing blessedly ceased.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and steam whooshed out in a cloud of heat. Brooke followed with a plush white towel wrapped around her head and another wrapped around her body. A droplet of water slid down the center of her chest where the tail of the towel was tucked haphazardly between her breasts. As much as Dec wanted to reach out and tug it off, he kept his hands safely on Moochie’s fur.
“I see you two are making friends,” Brooke said.
“She’s a nice dog.” Moochie looked up at him adoringly with those crazy blue eyes.
“I think she’s in love with you. And that surprises me. She doesn’t usually like men.”
“What about your roommate?”
“Oh, she loves Kyle.” She removed the towel from around her head and used it to squeeze the water out of her wet hair. “The man was born into a family that owned a boarding kennel so he loves animals and she knows it.”