by Lori Wilde
“Nope.”
“Then something rugged and outdoorsy. Jeep?”
“Nope.”
“You don’t drive a sedan.”
“Nope.”
“Pickup truck?”
“Nope.”
“Prius?”
“That’s what you drive.”
“How do you know that? You’ve never seen my car.”
“I’m observant, Miss Ecology. I saw the key on your coffee table.”
“So what do you drive?”
“It gets good gas mileage. But it does go fast.”
Jackie frowned. “I have no idea.”
“Ducati.”
“A motorcycle. You drive a motorcycle. Of course, why didn’t I expect it? Sleek and dangerous. In hindsight it is so obvious. I told you I was clueless about people.”
“You’re not as clueless as you like to pretend. I’m guessing your father rewarded you for introversion and discouraged social activities.”
“He’s pretty dismissive of most people,” she admitted. “The only way into his inner circle is through a high IQ and a serious penchant for the ocean.”
“I like the ocean,” Scott said.
“You’re also smart.”
“Not Mensa quality.”
“Neither am I. My father was so disappointed when he had me tested when I was a kid and discovered I had an IQ of only a 138.”
“Sounds pretty damn smart to me.”
“Won’t get me into Mensa and my father has an IQ of 180. So in his book, I’m slow.”
“And with the social skills of a sea cucumber?”
“You said it, I didn’t.” Jackie laughed.
“You have a great laugh,” Scott said. “You need to use it more often.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
They both drew in simultaneous breaths that echoed strangely in the confines of the car. Jackie cast a nervous glance outside the window. The moon was bright, three-quarters full.
Scott pulled up into beach area parking not far from her apartment. Even at nine o’clock at night the beach was still hopping with tourists. Colorful lights were strung over the pier and through the palm trees. At a nearby pavilion people danced as a live band played “Ocean Size Love.”
“Can you dance?” Scott asked.
“Seriously?”
“I take that as a no. Tell you what, you can hold on to my belt loop while I waltz you across the dance floor.”
She shrugged, feeling sheepish. “I’d rather not.”
“Is it me or the dancing?”
“I’m not the most graceful woman in the world.”
“You underestimate yourself.”
“And you’ve never seen me dance.”
“Expand your world, Jackie. Come out of the ocean for a while.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Dancing is too romantic.”
“Last chance for a first dance,” he wheedled.
“That doesn’t make any sense. If I ever dance with you that will be our first dance.”
“Last chance for tonight,” he amended.
“We’ve got rules, remember.”
He paused, splayed a palm to the back of his neck. “Yeah, you’re right.” Except he looked a little wounded.
“How about a stroll on the beach?”
She should say no, but she was a sucker for water. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
They took their time walking along the beach. Jackie took off her sandals and dug her toes in the sand. The wind ruffled the hem of her dress. Just a short time ago she’d been naked with Scott in the back of the aquarium. She dipped her head, pressed her lips together. The sound of the ocean was a lullaby, whispering sweet nothings as it rolled up and back.
How many nights had she fallen asleep on the Sea Anemone listening to this sound? Jackie hugged herself.
“You’re cold,” Scott observed.
“No.” She smiled.
“What are you grinning about?”
“The ocean. The moon.” She waved. You.
He stepped closer. His eyes gleamed. He looked like he wanted to eat her up in a very good way.
Staring at him was too intense. So she danced away, arms outstretched, and pirouetted across the sand behind him. What was this feeling spreading through her like hot chocolate on a cold morning?
His chuckle rang out. “And you said you couldn’t dance.”
She turned her head to slant him a coy glance and noticed a dark stain on his pants at the calf of his right leg. “You’re bleeding.”
“What?”
“Your leg. It’s bleeding.” She moved closer.
He muttered a mild curse.
“Come on,” she said, linking her arm through his.
“Where?”
“To my apartment.”
He wriggled his eyebrows. “I like the sound of that.”
“To doctor your leg,” she clarified.
“You have a first aid kit?”
“All good oceanographers carry a first aid kit. The sea can be dangerous.”
“All good Coast Guards carry a first aid kit, as well.”
“What do you know,” she teased. “We have something in common.”
“The ocean. First aid kits. Next thing you know people will be calling us soul mates.”
She dropped her arm from his.
“Sorry. I was kidding. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. That was too romantic, wasn’t it?”
She paused, her heartbeat strangely rapid. She should correct him right now. Tell him that yes, it was far too romantic to say such a thing to her. But instead she found herself saying, “I’ll let it slide. This time.”
They walked the rest of the way to her apartment in silence. Once inside, she tossed her purse and sandals on the floor beside the door. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
She scurried to the bathroom, grabbed the first aid kit and rushed back to find Scott studying her computer monitor.
“Wow,” he said. “This is high-tech. I’m impressed.”
“Property of the University of California. One of the reasons I was ticked off when you pulled up my equipment.”
“Direct satellite feed and everything.”
She scratched her cheek. “What can I say? Being Jack Birchard’s daughter does have some perks. Now take off your pants.”
“You can be a bit bossy.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.
“I’m direct, not bossy. Drop your trousers.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” He unsnapped his pants with a lazy smile, slid the zipper down.
Her helpless gaze followed his movements and her thoughts instantly returned to the aquarium. Stop it. He’s hurt. The last thing he needs is more sex.
But when he shucked off his shoes and pants she could see he was getting hard again. She averted her eyes from his BVDs. “Lie down on the couch.”
He settled onto his back, stretched out.
“On your stomach,” she commanded. She couldn’t keep staring at his erection barely cloaked behind thin cotton and not do something about it. Come on, three times in one evening is a bit excessive, don’t you think?
“You’d make a good drill sergeant. Ever thought about joining the Coast Guard?” he drawled.
“Do you want this wound dressed or not?”
“I can think of something else—”
“Everly!”
“Okay, okay.” He turned over.
She could see the outline of his magnificent butt. Stop looking at his ass! Get busy.
With studied purpose, she turned to tending his wound. As a scientist, she wasn’t particularly alarmed at the jagged kerf. But as his lover—yes, she was his lover and that thought brought a heated flush to her skin—she experienced a tug of sympathy in the pit of her stomach. The teeth marks weren’t excessive, but he would forever bear the scar of their first date. He could never forget her no matter how hard he tried. He was marked. One day, he’d tell h
is future wife the story of how he went scuba diving with Jack Birchard’s daughter and by the end of the afternoon he’d been shark bit.
Or maybe not. Maybe he would leave her out of the story altogether and just talk about rescuing the boy. For no good reason, the thought of being left out of his future narrative saddened Jackie.
She cleaned the wound with peroxide and then bandaged it up again. “I’d tell you to stay off it for a few days but I have a feeling you wouldn’t listen to me.”
Scott sat up, looked down to admire her handiwork. “You’re right. I’m not one to sit around, but thanks for this.”
“Don’t mention it.” She dealt with putting away the supplies to keep busy. He didn’t make any move to put his pants on. Where was this going?
They stood looking at each other; neither one of them said anything, but the air fairly crackled with tension.
Then thankfully, miraculously, the phone rang. The caller ID flashed her professor’s number. “I have to take this,” she said.
“Sure, sure.” He finally reached for his pants as she snatched up the phone and turned her back.
“Hello.”
“Jackie, Professor Donnelly here.”
“Is something up?”
“I didn’t receive your weekly report and I’m just calling to check in. You’re never late with your assignments and since you’re out there on your own, I worried.”
Stunned, Jackie gulped. In her flustered state over her date with Scott, she’d forgotten to send her report. It was prepared. Ready to be emailed, she’d just forgotten to press Send. Was she that thrown off balance? “I’m so sorry. The date slipped my mind.”
“It’s no problem really. Like I said, it was so uncharacteristic of you that I got concerned.”
“I’ll email it to you right now, Professor Donnelly, and I promise this will never happen again.” She had never missed a deadline and she was mortified to have done so now.
This is what happens when you let sex take over your brain.
“No worries. Now that I know you’re all right, I’m happy.”
“Thanks for checking up on me,” Jackie said, then rang off.
“Troubles?” Scott asked.
“I’ve been neglecting my work.” She cradled the receiver.
“Because of me.”
“I try not to blame others for my mistakes.” She pushed a hand through her hair.
They studied each other across the length of the room. The expression on Scott’s face said he wanted to scoop her into his arms and take her to bed. The pounding in Jackie’s chest said she wanted the same thing.
She wasn’t going to go there. Scott was sexy as all get out and she really enjoyed herself with him, but this was her career, her livelihood, her life. He was nothing except a good-looking distraction.
“I should go,” he said.
She didn’t argue.
He moved toward the door. “Thanks again for the nursing care.”
“You’re welcome.”
He opened the door, turned back at the threshold.
Just go.
Jackie planted one bare foot against the side of her opposite leg, stood like a stork. She forced a smile and tried not to think too hard. “Have a good night.”
“When can I see you again?”
“We should cool it for a while. I have a lot of work to do.”
“I understand.” He shook his head and Jackie realized he didn’t understand at all.
Neither did she.
“I guess I’ll see you when I see you?” he asked.
“I’ll give you a call in a few days.”
“Do you have my number?”
“No.”
“Give me your cell and I’ll program it in.”
“Just tell me. I can do it.”
He clenched his jaw, and then told her his number. “Will you remember it?”
“Yes,” she told him, but she knew she would not. Better to forget him now before she got in any deeper. It had been a fun night, but it was over. She had to get back on track. Had to recommit to what was the most important thing in her life.
And it wasn’t Scott.
10
Sun over foreyard.
—Coast Guard equivalent to “It’s after five, time for a drink.”
THE FOLLOWING DAY Jackie kept her head buried in her work, managing to forget about Scott for large chunks of time, and then she’d hear a song playing from the bar down the street or catch a whiff of some delicious scent wafting from the food vendors along the beach and it would remind her of him.
Finally, she got up, shut the window, turned on the air-conditioning and went back to analyzing the data being sent to her computer through the satellite feed. She’d just shaken off lingering memories of last night in the aquarium when the doorbell rang.
Sighing, she put her laptop aside and got up. Who could it be? Not too many people knew she was here. She checked the peephole and when she saw Scott standing on the landing, her stomach took a nosedive at the same moment her heart soared. Oh, stop it, seriously.
It occurred to her that she did not have to answer the door, but he rang again and a fluttery sensation went through her body.
His smile widened as if he knew she was watching him. In his hand he held a brown paper bag that he raised to the level of the peephole. On the paper bag were written the words in block letters: SCOTT’S HOME COOKING.
Don’t answer it. Be strong.
She opened the door.
“Hey,” he said, looking sheepish.
The old Jackie would have snapped his head off with a smart retort for interrupting her work, but this new sappy Jackie that she did not recognize stepped aside and let him in.
What the hell?
He held up one palm as if anticipating an argument. “I know you’re busy and I don’t want to interrupt your work, but I wanted to make sure you were eating right. You took care of me last night, I figured turnabout—”
That was as far as he got. She took the sack from his hand, set it on the table, then turned back to plant a big kiss on his lips.
“Wow,” he said, “if this is what happens when a guy brings you food, I’m cooking for you all the time.”
“Shh.” She kissed him again, her fingers going to the buttons of his shirt.
It seemed her body had taken her mind hostage. She didn’t think. Couldn’t think. Not for one second. She just ripped his clothes off and it didn’t take long before Scott was doing some equally enthusiastic ripping of his own.
In under a minute they were naked and Jackie was lying under him on the floor of her living room carpet. Both of them breathing like runners on the last mile of the Boston Marathon.
Their gazes meshed and they fell down the well of each other. Scott’s masculine energy filled Jackie to the brim. There was no room for anything else but him. He stoked in her a desperate, insatiable thirst. A thirst so vast all the oceans of the world evaporated to a single drop.
How could this be? How could she have become so deliriously bewitched by him?
This bombardment of emotions terrified her.
The air between them vibrated. Each molecule alive with awareness. Their entire time together had been like this. A daring adventure.
At last, Jackie understood why she’d always been blasé about sex. No man had ever made her feel this way. Feminine. Wanted. Sexually powerful.
It felt glorious.
And scary as hell.
He was glorious. All biceps and triceps and gluts and hamstrings. She couldn’t ever remember having such a well-built lover. She would remember this man’s body for a long time to come.
And his face! Straight out of a daydream—square jaw, prominent cheekbones, dark hair.
She thought he was quivering, but then realized it was her, shaking so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. Why was she trembling?
His hand was a silken glide, his lips delicious. He swirled his fingers over her navel. Softly and sweetly, he
kissed the leaping pulse at her neck. He dropped down the length of her throat, and then took tiny succulent nibbles.
Then his tongue went traveling farther south, flicking out to lick one tight nipple, while his thumb achingly rubbed the other straining bud, drawing it into his furnace of a mouth. His thigh tightened against her leg and his abdominal muscles hardened to pure, smooth steel.
“Scott…” She breathed his name on a sigh.
Then he did something so wonderful with his illicit tongue that her eyes flew open and she lifted her head up off the floor. She had to see what he was doing to make her feel so good. Her gaze latched on his lips as she watched him drawing her nipple slowly in and out between his teeth.
She dropped her head to the ground, arched her back. “Go lower.”
He dipped his head, trailing his tongue down the middle of her chest to the flat of her sternum before he veered off into other territory.
His hand danced at the juncture of her thighs. She parted her legs, allowing him to slip a finger between them.
And then his mouth and his fingers were in the same place. His lips closed around the tiny throbbing head of her cleft while his fingers tickled her entrance.
“Yes,” she hissed as he moved his mouth back and forth, his silky hair a glossy glide between her fingers. “That’s it.”
She surfed the flow of emotions, navigating the swell of bliss and longing and discovery with unexpected dexterity. His warmth embraced her, bracing as a hug and she experienced a sense of rightness with him that she’d never felt before.
He took her up to a place she never knew existed. He was a fascinating adventure and she couldn’t get enough.
A sudden bittersweet sensation seized her. This moment could not last. She knew that. She closed her eyes, determined to ignore the overwhelming sadness. It was okay. The feeling would pass. Honestly, this was all she needed from him. One brief slice of pleasure. Delicious and homey as apple pie with vanilla ice cream.
And he was licking at her as if she was indeed vanilla ice cream, sending sweet shock waves of sensation throughout her body. Binding her to him with wiredrawn skill.
She broke all at once. Fragile as the thinnest peanut brittle. The orgasm hit and she shattered, breaking into pieces in his strong, safe Coast Guard arms.