“All work, no play, darlin’,” he said, and slapped his hands together. “Let’s get some shoes on you and lock up.”
And just like that, instead of taking off her clothes, he had her putting more on. Socks, sneakers, and then a zip-up sweatshirt. “I thought we could walk,” he said.
“If we’re careful, we can run across the highway right here.” She watched him pull from the van a beat-up leather backpack that had a baguette sticking out the top and a striped blanket, rolled tight, tied below. “But we can’t cross the railroad tracks.”
He glanced at her as he slid the door shut. “Why not?”
“Because it’s...it’s a rule.”
“Made to be broken,” he said, shouldering the pack.
Another shiver tumbled down Erin’s spine. I’ll try my very best to persuade you to take a little walk on the wild side. To take a little walk with the rebel inside me.
It shouldn’t sound so enticing. “Um…”
While she continued to mentally dither, he merely grabbed her hand in a no-nonsense grip and began walking.
It was a moment’s effort to sprint across the blacktop of the two lanes of highway. Then they trudged through grasses and iceplant to reach a portion of track that sat atop a seventy-five-yard-long trestle. “See,” Erin said, pointing. “We can’t just hop over them. We have to pick our way along the ties until we can jump down on that berm over there.”
“We can do it.” Knox glanced in both directions, then squeezed her hand. “Let’s go.”
She dug in her heels. “Knox…”
“Wild side, babe,” he said, then began towing her forward.
Her reluctance felt silly once they safely had traversed the piece of track and found their feet in the sand. He looked down at her. “You okay?”
A bit breathless, but that could be because he still held her hand. And because of that striped Mexican blanket strapped to his backpack. On a weekday, on this stretch of coastline, they had the beach to themselves. It was breezy, but the sun was warm, and if they found shelter behind one of the many dunes, they wouldn’t freeze if he decided to—
But had he made that decision?
And what was hers?
“I’m okay,” she said, swallowing hard.
Then he was towing her again, until he came upon a smooth stretch of sand between two five-foot mounds topped with long, dried grasses. Instant privacy.
Her heart started to pound as he dropped her hand and went about freeing the blanket. With the flick of his wrists he unfurled it then spread it flat, a fringed oasis of red, blue, and green. Standing at one edge, he toed off his running shoes then peeled away his socks.
He raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Ready?”
For what? But then he dropped onto the striped covering and she didn’t know what to say or do besides remove her own footwear so she wouldn’t track sand either.
He patted the space beside him. “Get comfortable.”
Feeling self-conscious, she dropped to her knees and crawled to where he indicated, hoping no scratchy particles made their way onto the fabric surface. They could be uncomfortable later if they found their way into certain personal spaces…
Wait a minute.
Was she really considering having sex with Knox Brannigan? But it seemed some of her was, anyway, because her heart continued to slam against her ribs and the shivers running over her skin felt more like thrill than reluctance.
Planting her butt on the blanket, she sat up straight, her fingers going to the zipper of her sweatshirt. In this sheltered location, it was much too hot for an extra layer of clothes.
The sound of the metal teeth parting was loud, even over the constant shush of the waves. Knox glanced over and her hand froze, poised between her collarbone and cleavage.
Did he think she was rushing to the undressing?
“Good idea,” he said, and, reaching for the hem of his own pullover sweatshirt, yanked it over his head. The T-shirt underneath rode up with his movement, revealing a slice of tanned, rippled abdominal muscles.
Her mouth went dry. Oh, God.
She’d gone without touching or being touched by a man for six years. Getting close to one such as this might cause her to go up in flames before either of them got fully undressed. She’d told Deanne that she needed a tame first ride following her spell of celibacy. Knox was anything but. He was a high-octane machine, sleek and powerful and capable of speeds and maneuvers outside of her experience or abilities.
How gauche would she appear if she made some excuse and took off running for home?
“Erin?” Knox tossed his sweatshirt aside. “You haven’t moved. Do you need help with that zipper? Is it stuck?”
“I…uh…”
While she searched for an answer, he scooted closer and brushed her hand away. Then he grasped the metal pull. As he eased it down, he lifted his gaze to hers.
“I think you need to breathe, darlin’.”
She did her best, taking in short pulls of air as he parted the two sides of the fleece. His hands went inside the garment to cup her shoulders, bared by the stretchy tank top she’d worn for yoga class. He swept his palms down her arms, igniting nerves as he stroked her naked skin.
The sweatshirt bunched at her wrists, and he took hold of the ribbing of her right sleeve and slowly worked it over her hand. He did the same on the left side, the innocuous action seeming excruciatingly intimate to her hyper-aware self. When she was finally freed, he lobbed the fleece toward his. It settled on top, for all the world looking like a lover snuggled up to her mate.
Or maybe that was just Erin’s hormonally influenced imagination.
Wearing a small smile, Knox studied her face. His hand reached for the strap of his backpack and drew it closer. Then he flipped back the top and reached inside, rustling around.
What was he seeking? A condom? Surely he would have a condom.
Then his arm was withdrawing. She stared as it emerged from the mouth of the pack.
Chapter 6
Knox offered Erin the clear bag he cradled in the palm of his hand. “Grapes?”
Her wide eyes shifted from the fruit to his face and then she burst out laughing, her body flopping full-length onto the blanket.
Now it was his turn to stare, bemused, as she continued giggling, her arms crossing her flat belly as if it hurt. He leaned over her, fascinated by the amusement lighting her face. For once, her wariness around him had dissolved completely.
“Do I want to know what you find so funny?” he asked, his own grin twitching the corners of his mouth.
“No,” she choked out, her head moving from side to side. It loosened the bun on the top of her head, and he tucked his finger under the band to release the coil of her hair.
She didn’t seem to notice as her giggles slowly subsided.
“No?” he asked again.
“No.” When she sat up again, her silky hair slid in shiny strands around her shoulders.
He wasn’t going to push for an answer right now. A man with his experience knew when to hold back.
It was his intention to go slowly with the seduction as well. An attempt to persuade her into sex was inevitable—another night of craving her had proved that he wanted her almost beyond reason, and he was, frankly, unpracticed at denying himself—but pouncing wasn’t his style. So he’d hit upon the idea of a casual lunch as an appetizer before the entrée and dessert that would be their bodies, a bed, and hours of exploration.
She plucked the grape bag from his hand now, opening it to pop some of the fruits free of their vine. Her cheeks puffed like a chipmunk’s as she filled her mouth.
He laughed. “Greedy thing.”
Silver eyes dancing, she chewed with relish. A trickle of juice escaped the seam of her lips, and he found the sight so erotic he hastily looked away before his own greed got him into trouble. God, he wanted his hands on her. Bad.
But moving too fast wasn’t the way.
So he turned his
attention to the provisions inside his backpack, drawing out each item and placing it on the blanket between them—a plastic container of plump, marinated olives, a wedge of Brie, the baguette, and then a packet of thick, chocolate chip-and-walnut cookies.
She grabbed them up. “Did you get these at Bonnie’s Bakery?”
“I did,” he said, taking them back. “But sweets don’t come first.”
“What?” Erin pouted, which he found adorable. “Now you want to follow rules?”
“Steps, darlin’. One thing at a time.” He passed her a small wooden cutting board and a knife, withdrew a packet of sliced salami, and then nudged the loaf of bread in her direction. “You make the sandwiches.”
Keeping her busy would keep any residual nerves at bay. Confident he was on the right track with her, he leaned back on his elbows to watch her slice and arrange, every movement of her delicate hands graceful.
He wanted to feel them on his skin. He wanted to draw each slender finger into the wet heat of his mouth and suck on iy, running his tongue over the sensitive inner surfaces until he felt her shiver and heard her moan.
She glanced up at him, a quick flash of silver from beneath her lashes. “I suppose you’ve been on a lot of picnics.”
“My share.” Knowing what she was getting at, his lips twitched. “But every single one of them is different. Special in its own way.”
One of the sandwiches went on a napkin he’d also unpacked, and she passed it over. “I’m not as much of a picnicker as you. As a matter of fact, I haven’t shared an…an outdoor meal in some time.”
“It doesn’t require vast experience,” he assured her smoothly, trying not to laugh again. Outdoor meal. “Only enthusiasm. I think I can help you with that.”
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “You.”
“Hey,” he protested. “I didn’t start the metaphor.”
“But you brought the food.”
He groaned. “I don’t know where to go with that. Can we just enjoy lunch?”
She sent him another quick look. “Oh, all right. Pass the olives.”
They demolished nearly everything. At the end of their feast only a small curve of sourdough crust remained, and a lonely trio of olives. The rest was a mere memory, including the bottles of water he’d also provided.
With the leftovers and trash stowed in the backpack, he stretched out on the blanket and closed his eyes. After a moment, he sensed her doing the same.
Turning his head, he studied her beautiful face, her dark lashes fanned against her cheekbones. She looked as replete as he felt, but he suspected there also ran through her veins the same hum of anticipation that he was experiencing.
Smiling, he savored that sweet knife-edge of keen sexual arousal awaiting its unleashing. The “before” interlude had its own charms and was one of his favorite steps in the game of mating.
Though her eyes remained closed, Erin’s rosy lips parted. “MBA, huh?”
“Yeah, earned it part-time a couple of years ago,” he said, not sure if he regretted telling her. His brothers didn’t even know about it. “I got my bachelors at the University of California at Santa Barbara. Double-majored in beer and surfing.”
She made a scoffing noise. “What did you really major in?”
“Econ,” he admitted, surprised she didn’t just let the bullshit go. “You know, most people look at me and swallow ‘beach bum’ hook, line, and sinker. Including my family, by the way.”
“Why would you want to give them that impression in the first place?”
To fulfill expectations. Colin Brannigan had come to label his second-youngest son as unserious and irreverent.
And Knox used his laid-back image to decrease expectations, too. With six brothers cutting wide swathes in worlds that ran from high finance to adventure filmmaking, Knox didn’t want his own pursuits compared to their accomplishments.
“I don’t know,” he muttered now.
“So, you wanted to go to work in a suit and tie,” Erin said. “Interesting.”
Now it was his turn to scoff. “The suit and tie were never the draw.”
“No?”
“And I really do like to surf,” he said. “It’s a passion.”
“Still…” she said, “Econ. MBA. You don’t need those to learn to shred the waves.”
“I could shred the waves when I was ten,” he said. “I went for those degrees because…” What was he doing? This kind of soul-searching and heavy conversation he engaged in with exactly…nobody.
He glanced over at Erin to see her eyes open now, the expression in them calm. Waiting. Non-judgmental.
“All those brothers,” he heard himself say. “Each one of them knew what he wanted, and none of them wanted to do whatever that was under our father’s thumb. Even Perfect James, who was probably closest to him, had enough of Dad as boss after being expected to oversee his six younger siblings for years.”
“So you thought you’d be the one to work with him?”
“I briefly made the attempt when I was twenty-one. After college.”
“Briefly?”
Knox threw his forearm over his eyes. “Yeah. When I was still young enough to want to win his approval. When I was naïve enough to think he would ever give me that.”
“You clashed then?”
“Brutally. Often. Maybe if he’d let me start in the mail room like I asked—”
“Are there still mail rooms in companies?”
“Of a sort. Anyway, he didn’t like anything I did.” He laughed a little, the sound bitter. “Those last six words sum up the entire relationship.”
A small hand crept into the free one resting at his side. Erin squeezed his fingers. “I’m sorry.”
“He thought I never took anything seriously,” Knox said, trying to breathe despite a tightness constricting his lungs.
Her hand continued to clasp his.
“So I made sure it looked exactly like that on the outside, once I quit.” He let his arm fall from his eyes to stare up at the sky, a blue so flat it appeared ironed.
“Hence the beach bum image.”
“And the part-time bartending.”
“You don’t know how to make a mai tai?” she sounded crestfallen.
He laughed as he thought she meant him to, the chains around his chest easing a little. “No, I do. And I take regular shifts to help out. But I invested in that bar with a friend.”
Erin’s gaze narrowed. “With a friend or for a friend?”
Sitting up, Knox shrugged. “Turns out to be the same, since we make bank.”
Now she shifted position, sitting up too and mimicking his pose so both their knees were drawn up, their feet toes-to-toes. “What else?” she asked.
His brows rose. “Uh…”
“What else have you invested in?”
“Well…”
She snapped her fingers. “The card game. Greetings from an Admirer. Did you put up some cash for that?”
How had she guessed? “I might have. Very little.”
Erin’s head tilted. “How do you find people who need…what do they call them? An angel investor?”
Reaching out, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Now, you know I’m no angel, darlin’.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Knox.”
“Okay, okay. I keep in contact with one of my profs from business school. He hears of things. Small stuff. Steers interesting proposals my way. And I know a lot of people who introduce me to other people.” Smiling, he tickled her toes with his own. “So I own part of a shoelace company. Very trendy shoelaces. And a surf shop.”
“Your dad didn’t know any of this? What about your brothers?”
Knox shook his head. “My brothers are busy with their own interests. And Colin would have considered the mom-and-pop style enterprises I put my money into a waste of time. He was more a go big or go home type of guy.”
“But what you do is big,” she said, her brows cinching together over her s
mall nose. “Really, really big.”
Bemused, he gazed into her earnest face. “You think so?”
“I know so.” She leaned toward him. “Knox, don’t you see? You give people their dreams.”
He froze, an instant denial stuck in his throat. You give people their dreams.
The words unsettled him, signaling an intimacy he hadn’t invited. Didn’t want.
“I…uh…” Stymied, he looked away and reached for his backpack. “It’s getting late.”
Too late, a voice inside him whispered. This woman sees you. She sees something inside you that your father would never appreciate and your brothers would never imagine.
Erin glanced down at the slim sports watch on her wrist. “Yikes. We’ve got to hurry. I’ve got to prepare for my next class.”
As they gathered up the picnic things, she chattered about inconsequential matters, and Knox found his tension easing. When she bent to lift the blanket off the sand, he gazed on her great ass and felt the familiar rise of lust—something he knew quite well how to handle.
Yeah, back to well-known territory.
Dinner, he decided. He’d suggest bringing groceries to her place tonight where he’d make them a meal. And then have dessert in bed.
It was time—all his instincts told him she was as interested as he. Tossing the pack onto his back, he followed Erin as she led the way toward the trestle. She hurried, almost floating over the surface of the sand, and he smiled at the image she made—a bright butterfly flitting through the sunshine-and-salt laden air.
His spirits buoyed higher as he watched her clamber onto the railroad tracks. The gloom he’d seemed to be carrying around lately now gone.
Go, sex, he thought, grinning. A shag with the yoga girl and he’d be back to his old self, slinging drinks, shredding surf, and keeping things light.
He glanced over his shoulder at the ocean, watching the small waves form and fold, form and fold. All’s right. All’s right with the—
Then he heard it, ominous as thunder. Wheels rumbling on a steel track.
His heart shoved to his throat, and he whipped around to see that Erin was two-thirds of the way along the trestle. A monster was barreling toward her, a gigantic, lethal land-eel that would eat a butterfly. Or squash it flat.
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