Players

by Rachel Cross

  She brought her head up. The flirtatious sparkle in her eye made his heart skip a beat. A breath later, she turned away, slowly scanned their surroundings. “Is this your house?”

  He extracted the key and tucked it into his right pocket, then slid off the bike and strolled up behind her.

  “Yeah. I stay here while I’m in town. Come on. There’s a great view of the sky from the beach.” He jerked his head in the direction, a hundred yards or so in front of them, and began walking farther up the driveway. Cat fell in step beside him.

  “It’s a beautiful place.” Her voice held a hushed, awed tone as he led her past the house and out onto the lawn.

  He made a sound of agreement at the back of his throat and scanned the long, rectangular yard spread out before him. He loved this place for the view alone, but he’d bought it before all hell broke loose. Way back when he was cocky enough to think the world was his oyster.

  “That’s why I like it out here.” Shaking off the oppressive thoughts, he offered her a gentle smile. “I’m a quiet, peaceful kind of guy.”

  “I sensed that about you.” An echoing smile eased across her face, warmth in her eyes.

  As they came to a stop where the grass tapered off and the sand began, silence enveloped them. He was all too aware of her beside him and way too aware of the fact they were now alone. The same awareness echoed in her eyes and the tension rose, fine and sweet, between them.

  “I’ll go get a blanket.”

  He touched her arm before heading around her and into the house. After retrieving a red plaid blanket from a closet, he rejoined her on the beach and spread it out on the sand.

  She smiled, and he was caught for a moment in those beguiling eyes. His body vibrated with the memory of hers pressed against him, the feel of her in his arms. The same emotion echoed back at him and the air between them charged. A nervous blush stole across her cheeks.

  She tilted her face to the sky, effectively breaking the spell. “You’re right. The view’s fantastic.”

  She gripped the edges of his jacket, ran the soft, worn leather between her fingers and shrugged out of it. She peeked over at him, desire and shyness in her eyes, then sank onto the blanket with all the ease and grace he’d come to expect from her, smoothing her skirt beneath her as she went. After setting his jacket to her left, she slipped off her shoes, then leaned back on her hands. “You don’t see a clear sky like this in Seattle much. It’s usually covered with clouds.”

  “So does that mean you didn’t grow up in Crest Point?” He sank to the sand beside her, entirely too aware of her. Of every move she made. Every breath and sigh. It all made him more and more aware of how beautiful she was, with her hair blowing back off her neck in the gentle breeze, her skin glowing in the moonlight. It had been a long time since a woman mesmerized him, but there was something about Cat.

  “Well, technically, I was born here. We left when I was twelve. Mom and I moved back the end of my junior year in high school. About nine years ago.” She stretched her legs out in front of her, burying her toes into the sand. The bliss crossing her shadowed features captured him.

  “So that would make you, what, twenty-five?” The breeze caught the ends of her hair, blowing out behind her, and Michael had the sudden yearning to feel it brush his chest.

  “Mm-hmm.” Her amused smile melted from her face as she turned her head and caught him watching her. She stilled, as if caught by the same thing that held him bound. A flare of desire sparked between them, hot and tangible.

  He was entirely too aware of how desperately he yearned to taste her mouth again. Aware that the neighbors were few and far between out here, and most of them had gone to bed hours ago. His mind taunted him with the heady knowledge that under the cover of darkness, nobody could see them. He could make love to her in the cool sand, with nothing but the sky above them and her warm skin beneath him. He’d bet money her skin was as smooth as spun silk.

  A flush slid across her cheeks, soft and alluring, and she lowered her gaze to her lap, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes. The look soft. Alluring. Tempting. “How old are you?”

  “Old enough to know better, but still young enough to do it again.” He leaned back on his hands and offered her a playful wink.

  The sweet tension of the moment broke as she let out a laugh—a quiet, husky sound that washed over him like a heated caress and made his chest swell in triumph. Hearing it made him smile in spite of himself. God, how he loved that sound. There was something so honest about it.

  “Now how’d I guess you’d say something like that?” Her eyes twinkled in the moonlight, flirtatious but distinctly playful as she tossed his tease back at him.

  He couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him. “I’m thirty.”

  “An older man.” Her eyes narrowed and she sat silent for a moment, studying him. “Somehow that only adds to the whole dark and dangerous mystique you’ve got going on.”

  The thoughtful tone of her voice told him the statement was an innocent one, merely an observation. More than that, however, the comment made him wonder what she saw when she looked at him. Most people only saw his family’s name and money.

  “Dark and dangerous?” He arched a brow.

  She nodded and waved a finger at him, gesturing from his head to his black boots.

  “The dark colors, the leather jacket, the bike.” Knowledge glimmered in the depths of her eyes, as if she spoke from experience. She leaned toward him, supporting herself on one hand. “Are you a thrill-seeker, Michael? Or just a drifter?”

  Her closeness had her breaths blowing across his mouth in short bursts of warm, enticing air. The way his name rolled off her tongue got him—soft and sultry in an innocent kind of way but torturous all the same. If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear her moan his name in the heat of the moment.

  He wasn’t the only one who noticed the closeness, for she stilled beside him. Her chest rose and fell at an increased pace. An alluring mix of desire and shyness filled her gaze as it flicked to his mouth. The air between them charged, a pull so intense it was all he could do to stop himself from leaning in.

  “Neither. I’m just me.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, caressed over the full bottom lip, the need to taste her again pounding through him. “I don’t get off on adrenaline rushes.”

  “What do you get off on then?” Her voice drifted to him on the breeze, quiet and husky.

  He stifled a groan but couldn’t resist the urge to touch her, so he reached out, stroking his fingers over her chin. His thumb grazed her bottom lip, delighting in the soft hitch in her breathing and the way her mouth fell open. “How it is you’ve already figured me out? Am I that transparent?”

  “No.” She shook her head slightly, her tone every bit as distracted as he felt. “My mother was a drifter. We moved around a lot when I was growing up.”

  Her soft confession stunned him, and he dropped his hand but couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Despite knowing he’d never seen her before—and he was pretty sure he knew almost everyone in town—he would’ve guessed she spent her entire life here. She had the small town look about her, like she belonged here, and that thought only made him that much more curious.

  “You’re a surprise at every turn. You’d think growing up that way would’ve warned you against guys like me.”

  “Guys like you?”

  His heart pounded at what he knew he had to tell her next. He didn’t know her from Eve, but he had no desire to be the one to put more disappointment in her beautiful eyes.

  “Yeah. I left town ten years ago, determined never to come back, and I don’t plan on staying long.”

  Her brows rose in disbelief, and she pulled back. “You’re from Crest Point?”

  “Born and raised.” He flashed a half-smile. “Why is that surprising?”

  Her eyes slid slowly over his face then stopped on his mouth. Oh, he knew that’s what she stared at. He felt it through every pore in his body. When she
caught him noticing, her gaze skittered away and she turned back to the water. “I don’t know. You seem like a drifter. Like you’re breezing through this town on your way to somewhere bigger.”

  “Actually, you’d almost be right. I really have nothing that roots me here, makes me want to stay.”

  What he couldn’t bear to tell her was he spent the past ten years running from the pain of the memories. This town was the last place he wanted to be. Here the memories were stronger, more vivid. The pain more acute. Every scornful look from the townspeople—from his father—only increased the guilt that sat hard and cold in his gut for too many years now. It had been there so long it had become an old friend, something he was sure he’d take to his grave. He didn’t want to know if she’d ever heard of him, if she’d ever heard the story, what she thought about any of it.

  Cat turned her gaze to him, one delicate brow arched. “What about your family?”

  He chuckled. “You’re a very intuitive woman, you know that?”

  She gave a nonchalant shrug. “You’re easy to read. You’re very open.”

  He shook his head.

  “The funny part is, I’m not this open with anyone else.” He paused, his voice lowering, softening with the emotion that swelled in his chest. “There’s just something about you that keeps pulling things out of my mouth I’m not even sure I ought to be telling you. You’d be right there, too. My father’s in the hospital. He suffers from congestive heart failure, and he’s had a bit of a setback.”

  Maybe it was the quietness of the night. Maybe it was the soft feminine feel of her beside him or the way she seemed to accept him at face value. Whatever it was, the effortlessness that sat between them caught him. It should have warned him to turn and run, and yet the words flowed off the tip of his tongue.

  “My father and I don’t get along. My whole life it’s been war between us. He has high expectations I don’t seem to be able to live up to. Nothing I did ever seemed right, and I had a chip on my shoulder as big as this entire state. If he couldn’t accept me the way I was, then I was determined to be everything he hated.” He released a heavy breath, regret settling like a rock in his gut. “But he’s sick, and I’ve grown up. I’m tired of running from my past. I came back to make peace with him before he dies. The sad part is, I’ve tried this once before. I came back two years ago, but it didn’t end well.”

  It was one of his biggest regrets. He came back to make amends and had instead let old wounds resurface and get in the way.

  “What happened?” A soft curiosity filled her gaze, her face open, no judgment in the depths of her eyes, and once again it called to him like a beacon. While some part of him told him he shouldn’t say it, the words spilled from his mouth anyway.

  “It went the way it always did. We argued, I said things I shouldn’t have, decided my father hadn’t changed a bit, and nothing would ever change, and walked out.”

  The same way he had ten years ago.

  He heaved a sigh, aimlessly drawing circles in the sand with the tip of his finger. “Now it just seems . . . childish. I allowed wounded pride to get in the way. If I don’t make amends now, I may never get another chance.”

  Yet another regret to add to the pile already heaped on his soul. He couldn’t do it anymore.

  “I’m sorry.” She reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “Does he have much time left?”

  The touch surprised him. The warmth of her hand on his skin soothed a ragged nerve within him that he found comforting and disturbing at the same time. Ease settled around him like a warm fire on a cold night.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Nobody really knows. From what I hear, he’s as well as can be expected. My father’s very goal-oriented. A retired Marine. He hates not being able to do anything and hates being treated like an invalid even more. From what my brother tells me, he’s driving the nurses at the hospital crazy.”

  The soft concern in her eyes wrapped around him and settled deep in his core. The emotion made Michael long for things he knew he shouldn’t, things he’d long ago given up on ever having. Their gazes caught and held; that fine, sweet tension settled between them again.

  He lifted a hand, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, remembering the silky feel of it sifting through his fingers when he kissed her earlier. “Tell me something. What exactly are you doing out here with me?”

  It was a bold question, one that put her on the spot, but he had to know where he stood.

  A soft pink flush suffused her cheeks. “Caught red-handed. Truth is, I don’t really know. I’m kind of making it up as I go along.” She turned to face the water. Her voice softened, became almost pensive. “Have you ever wanted to step outside yourself, stop giving a damn what everyone thinks or what they’ll say, and just be who you’ve always wanted to be?”

  Another something in common. “I had to go all the way to L.A. to find that.”

  She glanced at him. “The town gets to me sometimes. I’ve spent my entire life playing the part of the wallflower, always keeping to myself, praying I’d blend in, that no one would notice me. Trying not to give anyone a reason to look too closely.”

  That she felt comfortable enough to tell him that touched a soft spot deep inside of him. A place he’d walled off so long ago he’d forgotten it existed.

  “The busybodies.” He nodded. He understood that more than she knew, more than he could or wanted to tell her. “I used to do exactly the opposite.”

  “Somehow I’m not surprised.” Amusement flitted through her eyes, fading as quickly as it came. Something softer, more intense, slipped between them, calling to him like a Siren’s song. “Why’d you kiss me?”

  Her soft question surprised him, and for a moment, he fumbled for an answer. It didn’t escape his notice, either, that her gaze drifted to his mouth again. This time it stopped there. Her tongue darted out and swept over her bottom lip in a distracted fashion. It was all he could do not to lean over and claim those lips again. The supple feel of them against his own shuddered through the recesses of his memory.

  In the end, he decided on honesty. “Because you turned around on that stool and gave me a look I’d seen before.”

  Her gaze shifted to his. “Which was?”

  “Like you weren’t sure if you should be afraid of me or not.”

  A soft flush slid into her cheeks. “You’re not a small man. You must be what, six two? Six three?”

  He grinned. “Six three.”

  “And you were standing there all dressed in black and leather with this mischievous glint in your eye that dared anybody to judge you.” She paused, glanced at the sand between them, then peeked at him through lowered lashes. “It was very sexy.”

  Heat slid through him. A raw, aching need curled in his gut, to peel away her clothing and wrap his body around hers.

  “I could ask you the same question.” He reached out and cupped her cheek in his palm. “Why’d you kiss me back? I hadn’t expected it. That you did was the entire reason I sat down beside you.”

  Her eyelids fluttered closed and her mouth fell open, a ragged, whisper-soft exhalation escaping her lips. A moment later, her eyes opened, filled with a desire so tangible, it lit a fire in his belly that spread like a raging inferno through his system.

  “I couldn’t help myself.” Her voice was low, soft, vulnerable, like she admitted something she wasn’t sure she ought to be telling him, either. “You’re a very good kisser.”

  Her words settled into his core, and everything inside of him tightened and ached. He shouldn’t get involved while he was here. The last thing he wanted was another broken heart on his conscience when he left town in a month. He’d done it one too many times. He’d been a lot of things over the years, some of them rotten to the core, but having to break someone’s heart wasn’t something he was fond of. Two years ago, when yet another relationship ended badly, he decided he couldn’t do it anymore. The flings that once kept him sane had lost their appeal.

  Yet, here
he found himself. Cat’s effect on him confounded him.

  “What if I said I wanted to kiss you again?” Unable to help himself, he swept his thumb along her lower lip, the need to touch her, to feel its suppleness again, too strong to deny.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, and she drew in a quiet, shuddering breath that seemed to vibrate through her entire body. Her chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. The moonlight caressed her face, highlighted her flushed cheeks, her heavy eyelids.

  A breath later, she opened her eyes. For a moment, something hot and tangible filled the space between them. She seemed every bit as leveled by this as he felt. As if they’d been swept away by something more powerful than the ocean tides and were helpless to stop it.

  Breaking eye contact, she rose to her feet and strolled in the direction of the dock a few yards away.

  His desire throbbed in his ears. His body ached with need and strained painfully against his zipper. He could do little more than stare after her, watching the sultry sway of her hips.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m hot. I want to dip my feet in the water.” When she shot a coy smile over her shoulder, an enticing “come get me” look, a sound that was half laugh, half groan escaped him.

  With a shake of his head, he shed his boots and socks, then took off at a jog to catch up with her.

  Chapter Three

  At the end of the dock, Cat watched the full moon’s reflection on the surface of the water. A soft, warm breeze blew her skirt against her legs and sent the moon’s image rippling. She filled her lungs with the scent of salty air, then exhaled slowly.

  The dock beneath her shifted and rocked. The closer Michael’s quiet footsteps drew, the more she trembled with anticipation, excitement. She had no idea what she was doing, had never done anything near this bold in her entire life. She’d spent all her time hidden in the shadows, too afraid to prove the town right—she really was her mother’s daughter.

  It felt good. Damn good. Her heart hammered. An exhilarating feeling of freedom filled her chest, not unlike the sensation she had riding on his bike. Like she stood on the edge of a precipice.