Take Me Under

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Reese fought the urge to smile when Ben turned toward her, his expression a dark blend of masculine frustration and resignation. “I guess I’ll go and grab us some cold beers,” he muttered, while Brit slipped into his chair. “Just don’t believe anything she says. This woman lies through her teeth.”

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Brit huffed. “Stop worrying and just go!”

  As Reese sat back down, she watched Ben make his way across the sand, acres of muscle rippling beneath all that golden skin, and she noted every female head that turned to follow him. A knot formed in her stomach when a tall blonde grabbed hold of his arm at the bar, plastering herself against his side as he waited for the bartender to pull their beers. “Does that happen everywhere he goes?” she asked sourly, wondering what she was doing there. The past twenty-four hours had been such a whirlwind, her sense of reality at the moment seemed as steady as the shifting grains of sand beneath her feet.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Brit murmured, patting her arm. “She’s all plastic smiles and fake lashes.”

  The sour feeling spread. “Isn’t that what men want these days?”

  “Some. And maybe Ben, too, for a time. But he’s gotten bored with it. You know, I’ve seen them come and go over the years, Reese, but he’s never fixated on one woman the way he’s fixated on you.”

  She forced herself to look away from Ben and the blonde, and brought her stunned gaze back to Brit. “I’m not sure what he’s told you, but Ben and I don’t really know each other all that well.”

  “But you have a connection. A lot can be built on that.”

  Reese gave a dry laugh. “So far he’s made it clear that he’s only interested in boinking like a couple of bunnies.”

  Brit coughed and laughed at the same time, then sent Reese an apologetic smile. “Sorry, that just took me by surprise.”

  She could feel her face heating. “Me, too, if I’m honest. I don’t normally just blurt things like that out.” With a frown, she added, “He’s got my head all muddled.”

  Brit took a healthy drink of her mojito, and said, “It sounds to me like Ben’s trying to stick to his comfort zone.”

  “It’s some comfort zone,” she murmured.

  “Yeah, well, I can already tell it won’t work with you. Without a doubt, he’s different with you, Reese. The way he talks about you. The way he looks at you.” Her dimples appeared as she grinned. “If you let him into your bed, I bet my life’s savings he’ll even stay the night.”

  She couldn’t conceal her surprise. “He doesn’t normally spend the night with the women he sleeps with?”

  Brit snorted and rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? He’d be terrified of giving one of them the wrong idea.”

  “And they’re fine with that?” she asked, remembering all the lectures her mom had given her and her sisters when they’d become adults and headed out into the world on their own. In Catherine Thompson’s world, if a man didn’t respect you enough to spend the night with you, then your foot needed to connect with his ass as you kicked it out the door.

  “If they’re not,” Brit said, “then he doesn’t touch them.”

  “But I’m not . . . I’ve never . . .”

  Another smile curved Brit’s lips, her hazel eyes soft with understanding. “I know. That’s not your speed, right?”

  Reese nodded, her confusion only mounting.

  “And it isn’t sending him running.” Brit sounded as if she wanted to pump her fist in the air, celebrating a long-awaited triumph. “It’s that connection pulling the two of you together. I put a lot of faith in things like that. And like I said before, a lot can be built on it, if you give it a chance.”

  The wind picked up with a sudden gust of energy, and Reese held her hair out of her face as she studied the other woman’s expression. “Would you take a risk like that?”

  “I’d like to think I would.” Brit’s smile turned wry. “But I’d have to find a guy who made me want to first.”

  Shifting a little in her chair, Reese said, “I hope this doesn’t seem too, well . . . Ben said you hadn’t, but I was just wondering if the two of you ever dated?”

  A hard laugh instantly slipped past the redhead’s lips. “God, no. We met a few years back, when he was still working in Miami and I helped him out with a case. It was strange, but right from the start we were like two bickering siblings.” She smiled a little, before adding, “I’m really lucky to have Ben in my life. He’s a great guy, but . . . well, closed off in a way, if you know what I mean. I’ve despaired about the women he dates for years, Reese. You have no idea how excited I am that he’s finally interested in someone I’m looking forward to hanging out with.”

  It took her a moment to process everything Brit had said. Closed off how? Did she mean emotionally? Why? Reese wanted to ask for an explanation, but this hardly seemed like the right time and place. And just like Ben had predicted, she was enjoying Brit’s company. “We should do lunch sometime soon.”

  Brit’s smile was warm. “I’d love to.” Pulling her phone from the pocket of her skirt, she said, “If you give me your number, I can give you a call after I’ve gotten my schedule for next week.”

  “That sounds great. I just need to check my phone to make sure I’ve got my new number right,” Reese said, reaching into her beach bag for her new smart phone. She’d gotten the new phone and number last week, just before she’d moved, wanting to cut ties completely with Drew. Pulling up the number, she gave it to Brit, then put Brit’s number into her contact list.

  Ben came back just as she was entering the last digit, holding a beer in each hand. “You two exchanging numbers already?”

  “We’re going to do lunch,” Brit said cheerfully.

  With a scowl on his rugged face, he cut his gaze toward Reese. “How come she gets a lunch date, but I can’t even get you to agree to go out to dinner with me?”

  “Um, well . . .”

  Brit slid him a wry smile as she moved back to her feet. “Maybe I’m just more charming than you are, Ben.”

  His response was a sarcastic snort that got him socked in the arm, one of the beers nearly spilling over the rim of the glass.

  “I need to do the rounds now before McNamara tracks me down,” Brit said, “but it was lovely to meet you, Reese.”

  “You, too,” she replied, smiling as she listened to Ben tell the redhead to find some hot guy and get laid. Brit laughed as she walked away, and he slipped into the vacated chair, handing Reese one of the beers.

  “Thanks.”

  He reached over, running his finger along the bridge of her nose. “You should put some more sunscreen on soon. You’re already getting pink.”

  She took a sip of the frosty beer. “That’s the downfall of being too fair.”

  His dark gaze moved slowly down her body, hot with appreciation. “I like your fair skin.”

  “I’d rather be dark, like you,” she said, admiring his hard chest and shoulders.

  “I like the dress, too, Reese.” He eyed the short hem on her thighs. “You got bikini bottoms on under there?”

  “Yes.” She fought back a grimace, wondering where he was going with this. Did he think she was going to take the dress off and walk around in her bathing suit in front of all these people? Not freaking likely!

  “What about a top?” Shifting his attention up to her shoulders, he said, “I don’t see any straps showing under the ones for the dress.”

  She swallowed, shifting restlessly in the chair, toes digging into the warm sand. “The top is strapless.”

  He reached down and fingered the skirt, his tone more serious than teasing as he whispered, “Take this off and let me see.”

  She blanched, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. No way in hell did she have the confidence to strut around in front of Ben Hudson in nothing but a bikini. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Because I look flat-c
hested compared to someone like Stacy.”

  Green eyes bright with humor, he shook his head and laughed. “Honey, even Pamela Anderson looks flat-chested compared to Stacy.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “You’re probably right,” she admitted, her pulse racing a little at the smoldering look he was suddenly giving her breasts.

  “If you ask me, you’re just the right size.”

  “Riiight,” she scoffed, finding his claim hard to buy. But the deep rumble of his voice and his hot stare were damn compelling. If she hadn’t listened to Drew complaining about her chest size for so many years, she just might have believed him.

  “I’m serious, Reese.” His voice got lower, huskier, reminding her of how he’d sounded that morning, when he’d been touching her. “I can’t wait to get my mouth on your bare breasts. Make you come just from sucking on you.”

  Oh, wow. If her face got any redder, she was pretty sure she’d catch on fire. She was floundering for something to say back to him, when her attention suddenly snagged on a round scar on his shoulder that she hadn’t noticed before. But it was hard to miss anything in the bright sunshine. “What happened there?” she asked, nodding toward the scar.

  “Forget about it,” he grunted, rolling his shoulder as he leaned back in his chair. “It’s just an old bullet wound.”

  6

  REESE’S JAW NEARLY DROPPED TO HER CHEST, HER BLOOD GOING COLD at the thought of Ben being hurt. She knew he’d had a dangerous job in Miami, and that he likely faced danger from time to time in his role as county sheriff. But she hadn’t let herself think about some bastard actually firing a weapon at him. “I don’t believe this. How did you get shot?”

  “Someone fired a gun and I was too slow to dodge the bullets,” he joked in a tight voice, and she sensed the unspoken message. He didn’t want to talk about it. But she wasn’t ready to just let it go.

  “When did it happen?” she asked, spotting a second scar as she swept her gaze over his chest, this one a bit closer to his heart. He’d nearly been killed and she’d never even known. The idea made her head spin.

  He took a long drink of his beer before answering her question. “A few years ago.”

  That was around the time he’d left Miami, and she wondered if the two events were related. “It didn’t hurt when you picked me up?” she asked, biting her lip.

  He laughed. “You’d have to weigh more than a feather for it to bother my shoulder.”

  “A feather?” She rolled her eyes. “Hardly, but it’s nice of you to say so. Drew always thought I was too heavy.”

  His own eyes darkened with surprise and a sudden blast of anger. “That fucked up sack of shit,” he ground out under his breath. “What the hell? Was he blind? Did he want you anorexic?”

  She blinked, a little stunned by his vehement reaction. But she made a quick recovery before he could press her for more information about Drew, since it wasn’t a topic she wanted to discuss any more than he wanted to talk about his scars. She didn’t even know why she’d brought him up. “If you’re not busy this afternoon,” she said, changing the subject, “can we talk after the party?”

  He shifted toward her again, leaning his elbow on the chair’s plastic arm. “Let’s talk now.”

  “No, there’s no rush. I just . . . I need to ask your opinion about something.”

  His direct, steady gaze made it clear she had his complete attention. “You can ask me about anything. Just let me know when you’re ready to go.”

  They finished their beers, then spent the next hour eating and walking together in the surf. They didn’t engage much with the other people at the party, aside from Brit, which earned them some killer glares from the women who couldn’t take their eyes off Ben. But Reese tried to shrug it aside and enjoy herself. It felt good to be outside in the heat, the breeze blowing in off the turquoise water cool and refreshing, the sand soft beneath her feet. And being with Ben . . . wow. The guy was . . . not what she’d expected. Oh, she’d known he was gorgeous and smart and funny. Had surreptitiously watched him enough times over the years when they’d been at the same get-togethers to get a gist of the basics. But she’d never known how good it felt to hold his hand and just talk to him, about everything from movies to football to places they’d like to visit one day.

  They’d just made it back to their chairs, where she’d left her sandals and bag, when she heard her phone ringing. She was tempted not to answer the call when she pulled the phone out of the inside pocket in her bag and saw Drew’s cell number displayed on the screen. She wondered how he’d gotten her new number. And what in the world did he want? Suddenly worried that something might have happened to one of her friends up in Boston, she swiped her finger across the screen and put the phone to her ear. “Drew? What is it? What’s happened?”

  She could feel the intensity of Ben’s stare against the side of her face as she listened to her ex’s furious outburst. “What the fuck, Reese? You moved!”

  With her free hand pressed over her ear to block out the music, she asked, “Why do you sound surprised? My lawyer informed you I was relocating.”

  Drew’s voice was biting. “But I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it. Damn it, Reese. What the hell are you thinking? Do you have any idea how this makes me look? I’ve been telling everyone we were going to reconcile, and you leave the fucking state!”

  She tried to keep her tone even, mindful of the party going on around them, but it wasn’t easy. Frustration made her want to scream like a banshee. “First of all, I don’t know why you would tell anyone we were going to reconcile, when there isn’t a chance of that ever happening. And we got a divorce, Drew, which means there was no reason for me to stay in Boston. What exactly did you think was going to happen?”

  “I don’t know,” he growled. “I just . . . I miss you, damn it. I thought you’d stay here and we’d have a chance to work things out. I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to move down to that little Podunk town where your mother and sister live. I told you I didn’t have anything to do with that shit that happened at your apartment, but instead of listening, you fucking run. This is the dumbest goddamn thing you’ve ever done!”

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, she blew out an angry breath. “Get help, Drew. You need it. And please don’t call me again.”

  “What was that about?” Ben asked, the instant she ended the call. It was impossible to miss the guttural edge to his voice, but she knew his anger was directed at Drew and not her.

  “I have no idea,” she murmured, slipping the phone back into her tote. “He must have had too much to drink.” He’d never been much of a drinker before, but she knew from some of their mutual friends that Drew had been hitting the bottle pretty hard since the divorce.

  “What did he say?”

  She gave a stiff shrug. “Just nonsense, really.”

  “I don’t like him calling you.” His words were clipped, and he looked as surprised by the gruff admission as she was.

  “Trust me, I don’t like it, either.” Pulling her bag over her shoulder, she started walking down the beach, away from the party. She needed to be on the move, too much frustration and nervous energy pumping through her system to sit still.

  Ben kept perfect pace at her side. “Did you give him your new number?”

  She nearly stumbled as she turned her head to glare at him. “Of course I didn’t! I want nothing to do with him!”

  “Sorry,” he muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. “I just can’t stand the jackass. I don’t know why you stayed with him for as long as you did.”

  She kept walking, the music fading a bit as they left the party behind them. After a moment, she said, “I don’t take marriage lightly, or I would have left him a long time ago. But I had every intention of honoring my vows. So long as he honored his.”

  “Which he didn’t, because he’s a damn idiot.”

  “Thanks. You might not say that, though, if you ever saw the r
eceptionist he’s sleeping with.” Her tone was wry. “Lizzie’s a tall, stacked blonde with the body of a centerfold.”

  “I don’t care what she looks like. There’s no way in hell she’s sexier than you.”

  Reese shook her head as she laughed. “You know, I had no idea law enforcement guys could be such smooth talkers.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand, spinning her around to face him as he pulled her to a stop. “It’s not lip service, Reese. I mean every word.”

  Her breath caught at the heated look in his eyes and that rough, sexy tone. She needed to pull herself together and put some space between them before she did something crazy, like fall for the sexy stud, but she couldn’t find the strength to look away. Didn’t want to, really, when looking at him was so much more thrilling than running.

  They were standing at the edge of the surf, the water warm as it rolled in over their bare feet. She parted her lips, no idea what she was going to say to him, when she found herself being pulled into his arms, against that rock-solid chest. He lowered his head, his lips brushing across hers as he shifted her a bit to the side, putting his back to the beach, his broad shoulders shielding her from anyone who might be looking. The kiss was warm and slow and deliciously tempting, drawing her in, coaxing her to surrender.

  “Kiss me back,” he urged, rough and low, and she realized he was waiting for her to take the initiative. His hands moved into her hair as the wind blew it around her shoulders, tiny grains of sand dancing against her legs as her own hands lifted, gripping his powerful biceps. His sun-warmed skin was hot and sleek against her palms as she slipped her tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth with tentative strokes. It was still so new, kissing a man who wasn’t her husband, and she was still searching for her footing in this wholly unexpected situation. But she wasn’t going to let it stop her. She rubbed her tongue against Ben’s, loving the way his muscles bunched beneath her hands as a low groan rumbled deep in his chest. The distant sounds of music and the sea receded, her head filled with the soughing, erotic cadence of their breaths. His strong hands curved around her head, angling it back at a sharper angle, while his mouth turned almost violent in its need, taking more . . . demanding it. Despite the raw sexuality of the kiss, Reese had never felt so . . . well, cherished, as weird as that sounded. Almost needed . . . and God, was that a dangerous road for her fantasies to travel. Ben Hudson wasn’t the kind of man who needed anyone.