Storm Warning

by Sydney Somers

  She drew another deep breath, the rays of the setting sun warming her face, a soft evening breeze whispering across her cheeks. When she finally opened her eyes, she gave up on her original plan of taking a quick walk on the beach and sat, pushing her toes deeper in the cool sand.

  She’d left the Tuscan-style resort and headed down the beach until there weren’t so many people around. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who longed for a little more privacy. Farther up the shore a man stood ankle deep in the rushing surf, his pants rolled up to his knees. His blond hair was cut short, his jaw dark and his gaze fixed intently on the horizon.

  Since giving up reporting on the music scene and falling in love with investigative journalism, she’d come to rely on her gut and had gotten good at reading people. Everything from the man’s slouched shoulders and hands thrust in his pockets, to the pensive expression on his face, made him a little…lost.

  Blair dropped her sandals on the sand beside her. Even the spectacular sunset she could never appreciate in the city did little to keep her attention from drifting back to the man every few seconds. He’d closed his eyes, and for a moment, she imagined him enjoying the rush of water over his feet, the warmth of the sun, the caress of the breeze—just as she had.

  She knew without glancing at her watch she’d need to get back to her room soon to change for dinner, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. It could have been because sitting there as the sun sank lower on the horizon, the familiar tang of salt on the air, was the closest thing to relaxing she’d come to in weeks. Yet part of her knew she didn’t get up because she couldn’t bring herself to stop staring at the guy in the water.

  He’d waded a little deeper and the surf threatened to soak his pants with the next swell. Somehow, she figured he wouldn’t have cared. She draped her arms over her raised knees and leaned forward, trying not to make it obvious she stared at him. He wasn’t so far away that she couldn’t tell he was attractive. It hadn’t been that long since she’d taken notice of an attractive man. The no-show had been easy on the eyes too, but it had been a long time since she’d found herself so…riveted.

  He took another step forward and she half expected him to dive into the water fully clothed. To see if he was just that crazy was as much of a reason to linger as any. He stood angled in her direction and she could see his shirt was only buttoned halfway up. She didn’t mind the added glimpse of bronzed skin and ran her gaze from head to foot.

  A burst of laughter rang out down the beach, and she turned toward the sound. A man dressed in lime-green swim trunks half dragged, half carried a squealing blonde into the water. Blair smiled at the scene, a touch envious at the tight grip the man had on the blonde despite threatening to dunk her. Much the same way the woman fought to get loose, but clung to him as though there wasn’t another place she’d rather be.

  More than once Whitney had warned Blair that her romantic heart would hold her back in the sometimes cutthroat field of journalism. Her friend had been right—to a point. More often than not, the world wasn’t a warm or romantic place. The stories she covered were often layered in greed, manipulation and corruption. But instead of growing cynical, like some of the more seasoned writers she worked with, she refused to give up the dreamy parts of herself that kept her from becoming too jaded by the world she lived in.

  When Blair finally returned her attention to the man she’d been fascinated by, she found his attention was no longer fixed on the horizon—he was staring at her.

  A heartbeat turned into two, then three as she held his gaze. She couldn’t look away, transfixed by the intensity in his eyes that made the twenty feet separating them feel more like two. It should have been awkward to meet any stranger’s eyes for that long, yet she almost forgot to breathe.

  Another burst of laughter erupted from the couple playing in the water, breaking the spell. She turned again, watching the pair emerge and stagger a bit before the man collapsed on a towel, hauling the slightly tipsy woman down beside him. Blair couldn’t decide if alcohol was a factor or if neither of them cared who watched as the man slipped a hand between their wet bodies, his fingers sliding along the bikini-bottom strap that curved around the woman’s hip.

  Blair let her gaze linger enough to see his fingers slip beneath the edge of the blonde’s bikini. The woman’s body bowed up in pleasure, and Blair averted her gaze. She dared a glance to her right, wondering if the stranger also watched the other couple.

  His gaze remained locked on Blair.

  A soft moan carried on the breeze from down the beach, and a flush she hoped the man couldn’t see crept up her face. Her pulse kicked up as she sat motionless, not wanting to draw attention to herself and make it appear as though she was watching the blonde be felt up, and not ready to break eye-contact with the stranger.

  From the corner of her eye, she could swear she saw the top of the blonde’s bikini tossed across the sand. With the couple providing the most wicked of inspirations and a gorgeous man staring at her so intently, it was impossible not to let her imagination run away with her for a minute.

  Lured from the water, the sand warm beneath her feet. Being pulled to the ground, water dripping down her body, between her breasts. Even the discomfort of sand abrading her skin would be easily forgotten with a sexy stranger intent on tracing the lines of her swimwear, slipping under the edges to find her already hot and damp for him.

  Blair shifted on the sand, squeezing her thighs together to soothe the ache she’d created with the brief fantasy. The man gave the couple a quick look, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile as he met Blair’s eyes one last time before he turned and headed down the beach.

  Her blood was still moving slow and thick through her veins when she ordered herself to her feet. She spared no more than a glance at the couple as she walked away, the man’s dark head lowering to draw the blonde’s breast into his mouth.

  Forcing her thoughts away from both the intimate scene and the stranger, she focused on why she was here. If she didn’t get a move on, she’d miss her chance to see who would be joining Holson for dinner.

  After a quick shower and slipping into the gauzy sundress she’d bought for her no-show date, she decided to leave her shoulder-length hair down, thinking the normally lackluster tresses didn’t look so bad tonight. She usually preferred to shove her hair back where she wouldn’t have to deal with it until a few uncooperative tendrils worked their way loose and made her seem like she had affection for light sockets.

  She carried a discreet digital camera in her clutch purse in case a stellar photo opportunity presented itself. Always better to be prepared—another lesson she’d learned early on when an editor had griped about not having a decent picture to go along with a robbery story she’d covered. Since then she tried to keep one on her or within easy reach. She wasn’t holding her breath that she’d be lucky enough to catch Holson doing anything illegal tonight, but it paid to be ready.

  Blair followed the same illuminated path she’d taken earlier, passing other guests also on their way to dinner or out for a stroll. Here the hundreds of glittering stars in the night sky weren’t lost to the glow of city lights, and more than once she barely avoided a collision with another guest in her effort to pick out the Big Dipper.

  She’d already made a reservation for herself at the same poolside restaurant as Holson, and the waiting hostess directed her to the bar for a drink while she waited for her table. It wasn’t until she took a seat and ordered a glass of wine from a local vineyard that she felt herself being watched.

  The two seats next to her were empty, but the third was occupied—by the man from the beach.

  Chapter Two

  Maybe vacation isn’t looking so bad after all.Drew shifted on his chair, leaning back to see past the brawny pro wrestler bragging to his small entourage gathered at the end of the bar. Even if he hadn’t seen the woman from the beach standing on the fringe of the dining crowd, her alluring scent would have snagged his attention.
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  In an outdoor space overwhelmed by the suffocating smells of overpriced designer perfume—one woman’s in particular was bound to give him a migraine—expensive wine and liqueurs, chlorine from the pool and roasting food in the kitchen on the other side of the decorated partition, it should have been impossible for his senses to pick her out. Had he not spotted her on the beach, pretending she wasn’t watching him, he might not have come to identify the soft tease of vanilla and lavender as belonging to her.

  He cursed under his breath as the wrestler stood to punctuate whatever point he was making, obstructing Drew’s view of the woman. In the last few weeks women had fallen to last place on his list of priorities, and for a man with a consummate appreciation for the finer sex, that was saying something.

  This one, however, intrigued him. After weeks of having his personal life thrust into upheaval and wondering if he was losing his edge, he’d been pretty damn sure nothing could take his mind off any of it. He’d even convinced himself sex wouldn’t do much to distract him—right up until he locked gazes with the woman on the beach and she didn’t look away.

  An instant awareness of her had burrowed straight through his gut, intensifying when her attention drifted to the couple down the beach. He’d been close enough to notice her immediate response to the other couple’s display, her shoulders tensing, her cheeks flushing.

  Then the man had stripped off the blonde’s top and things got rather interesting. Not with the couple, who seemed to get off knowing they had an audience, but with the stunning brunette shifting restlessly, her breath coming a little bit faster, her increasing arousal playing havoc with his senses. Had it not been for his cell phone vibrating in his pocket, he would have walked up to her.

  The wrestler finally sat back down, but Drew no longer saw the woman standing at the edge of the restaurant. Frowning, he scanned the room, absorbing details the average human eye wouldn’t catch or process half as quickly. Times like this he couldn’t complain a bit about the abilities his mutated DNA gave him. If he hadn’t been cornered by a stealth demon three years ago, he wouldn’t be so confident the woman was still close by.

  He straightened in his chair, prepared to track her if necessary, when she slipped past a group being seated to his right. She studied her purse as she took a seat at the bar and waited for the bartender. Drew was reassured when no one immediately joined her. Instinct told him she wasn’t the type to watch a stranger so closely, hold his gaze so intently, if she hadn’t come here alone. At the same time, he found it hard to believe the attractive woman could be unattached.

  Her light brown hair fell in soft waves, framing her face until she tucked one side behind her ear with a practiced, almost annoyed, brush of her fingers. He already knew her eyes were a pale blue and a few freckles her make-up didn’t hide gave her a naïve quality that softened the determined expression on her face.

  Everything seemed to skid to a stop as he waited for her to notice him. Her shoulders stiffened when she finally felt his eyes on her, and she glanced first in the wrestler’s direction.

  He waited, his lungs holding his last breath hostage until she finally looked at him. Her lips parted in surprise before a glimmer of a soft smile caught the corner of her mouth.

  No way around it, he was officially fascinated, and she had yet to open her mouth. A sure indication he’d ignored his libido for far too long. A fact his body cheerfully pointed out—primarily from behind the zipper of his pants.

  “Hi,” he said lamely.

  And that was it. Nothing else sprang to his lips. Nothing clever or playful. Nothing at all. He could count on one hand the few times in his life he couldn’t think of anything to say to a woman. Clearly, losing his edge applied to more than just slaying demons.

  She glanced at the counter briefly, then turned in her chair to face him more fully. “You didn’t decide on a swim after all?”

  It took him a moment to process that she’d said more than “hi” back. When he was done being impressed by her ability to string together a whole sentence, let alone vocalize it, he’d have to figure out what she was talking about.

  “You looked ready to dive right in,” she clarified when he hadn’t said anything.

  “It crossed my mind.” A lot of things had, things he’d wished he could escape by diving into the water and not surfacing until the uncertainty that nagged at him was washed out to sea.

  Not wanting to revisit his earlier musings, he shifted on his seat, enjoying the hum of arousal that infused his bloodstream.

  “I hope you didn’t hold back on account of having an audience.”

  “No more so than the couple on the beach.”

  She ducked her head, a soft smile curving her lips. “Probably a first for me.”

  “Swimming with your clothes on or playing a voyeur?”

  Her confident laugh was as appealing as the slim-fitting dress that exposed most of her back, one of the barely-there straps ready to slip off her shoulder any second.

  “Both,” she answered and took a sip of her wine.

  Pushing his drink down the bar, he slid into the chair next to hers and held out a hand. “I’m Drew.” Flirting with a woman was a lot easier when he could get his brain to cooperate.

  She gave his hand a tentative glance, then carried through. “Blair.”

  Warmth curled up his palm, and only when her cheeks flushed and she trapped the edge of her lip between her teeth did he grudgingly release her.

  She took another drink of her wine, her fingers curling around the stem of the glass. She angled her head toward him. “You’re staring,” she whispered.

  “Sorry.” He reached for his drink, his fingers slipping on the glass. Hell, he was losing his edge. He barely tasted the alcohol he tossed back, a little unnerved by the way Blair sized him up. Attention from an attractive woman was never a bad thing, but Blair’s gaze was unapologetically probing. Sexy as hell, but damn probing.

  She shrugged. “Don’t be. It’s not like I didn’t do the same thing.” The confession seemed almost hesitant, and pulled his attention straight to her glossed lips. Strawberry flavored.

  She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze sweeping the room almost as efficiently as his did.

  “Waiting for someone?”

  Blair shook her head, lifting her glass to her lips once more. “So, business or pleasure?” she asked.

  “Neither.” Not when his tracker wasn’t picking up any demon activity. Though pleasure started looking more promising about an hour ago.

  She propped her chin in her palm, her brows knotting together curiously. “So either you aren’t supposed to be here or you don’t want to be here.”

  “Depends on the perspective.”

  “And yours would be…” Nothing on her face reflected anything but genuine interest, but something in her tone felt a little too finely tuned.

  Drew gestured to the bartender for another drink, then turned in his chair until he faced her completely. His thigh brushed hers, the fabric of her dress riding a little higher to expose more of her legs. Her fingers paused where they idly traced the rim of her glass, resuming a heartbeat later, but not without him wondering if she’d felt the brief touch as he had—all the way to the bone.

  Despite that he was definitely treading on her personal space and enjoying every second of it, she didn’t back away.

  “Why do I get the impression you’re good at asking the right questions?”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Sorry. Occupational hazard.”

  “Professional tarot card reader?”

  When she laughed, he longed to say something else equally amusing just to hear it again.

  “My grandmother reads tea leaves, but that’s the closest I come to possessing any clairvoyant abilities.”

  Her attention drifted over his shoulder again, and this time he turned, following her gaze to a table tucked near a wrought iron half wall that separated the restaurant from the poolside.

  The three men, on
e seated with his back to them, were all impeccably dressed from their stiff-collared shirts and expensive black suits, to the tips of their polished black shoes. The trio looked as though they’d just stepped out of a boardroom.

  “Which one?”

  Blair blinked. “Pardon me?”

  He gestured over his shoulder. “Which one do I need to worry about? Because if you ask me, none of them strike me as your type.”

  She smiled playfully, propping her chin in her palm. “Really? You’ve spent what, a total of five minutes with me? What makes you think you know my type?”

  “You seem to enjoy talking to me, and since I could never be as stiff or as dull looking as those three, I think that makes me more your type.”

  “I’m reserving judgment on you, but I highly doubt he’s my type.”

  “Ah, so you have been scoping one of them out.” He craned his neck to get a better look. “Please tell me it’s not the guy in the monochromatic blue shirt and tie.” Drew shuddered.

  “Don’t stare at them.” She tugged on his arm until he looked away—which he took his time with, indulging in the soft grip of her fingers that warmed his skin. It took her another few seconds to remember she still held onto him, and she snatched her hand back.

  “And before you ask, no, I will not get his number for you.”

  Blair pressed her lips together, struggling not to laugh. “It’s really not what you think.”

  “That’s good because I’m a bit on the competitive side and the odds are not in that guy’s favor.”

  Her brows scrunched together. “You don’t know who he is?”

  “Should I?”

  Skepticism darkened her eyes. “That’s Jonas Holson, up and coming senatorial candidate.”

  “If you say so.” He was too busy tracking demons to do more than catch up on ESPN highlights before falling into bed at night. His interest in politics began and ended with the occasional mimic demon creative enough to wreak havoc by choosing to take on the likeness of a government official. “Why is he of interest to you?”