“Is that a fact?” she said in a tone dry as dust. “How fortunate for you.”
He thrust a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not bragging. I’m just usually very careful about that sort of thing. So the fact that I didn’t even come close to thinking before I opened my mouth threw me in a panic, and I fell back on what I knew would work. Because where I can’t seem to do a damn thing right with Austin, you never make a misstep.”
“Are you kidding? Of course I do.” But the corners of her lips crooked up. “Still—flattery works.”
For a moment they simply looked at each other in silence. Then Jenny said, “You wanna see my real favorite place?”
He had no particular reason to feel so pleased, but he did all the same. “Sure.”
“Do you know where Oak Head is?”
“Isn’t that the beach over by Dabob Bay?”
“Yes. Take us there and I’ll tell you something flattering about your parenting skills in return.”
“Deal.” He hit the throttle, sending the boat jetting across the water, and grinned when he heard her laugh. He’d always liked boating, although he hadn’t actually done any since he’d left Razor Bay. Up until then, however, his summers had been filled with taking turns driving when water-skiing and bellyboarding with his crowd. With exploring every inlet and shoreline along their part of the canal.
They approached Oak Head a short while later. A few feet from the shore Jake cut the engine and raised the propellers. The Bayliner’s bow scraped against the pebbly shore as it drifted up to the beach.
Jenny had climbed to straddle the point of the bow, the rope and anchor in hand, and he watched the knot in her hair slide another half inch down her neck. Then she jumped onto the beach and held the rope taut to keep the boat in place and, hauling his mind back to the business at hand, he climbed out.
He relieved her of the line and dragged the boat up until half the bow rested on dry land. Stretching the anchor line tight, he dug the points of the anchor into the sand and shale to prevent the craft from floating away on the still-rising tide. Once the chore was complete, he trailed her up the beach, glancing away when his gaze threatened to linger longer than it should on the hypnotic twitch of her hips.
Stopping at a stand of driftwood separating the beach from the cliffs, they settled on one weather-bleached, silvery log. Twilight was coming on fast, the sun hovering on the mountaintops. Feet planted in the finer sand fronting the log, they sat in silence for a moment, simply admiring the golden light and high clouds that were uplit like a Maxfield Parrish painting.
Then he turned to her. For a few additional seconds he studied her profile, admiring the flush that boating had raised in her smooth olive-skinned cheeks.
He drew a quiet breath and slowly exhaled. “Okay, lay it on me. I could use a compliment on my parenting skills right about now. Because from where I’m sitting, I really suck at it.”
“I doubt you appreciate how much I’d love to agree,” she said in a low voice, scooping up a handful of sand and staring straight ahead while the grains drifted through her fingers, until she was left with a couple pebbles that she flicked toward the waterline. “Maybe then I could talk you into leaving Austin here when you go back to your life in Manhattan. God knows I wouldn’t feel nearly as crappy as I do at the prospect of you taking him away,” she said to the sand between her feet. She turned her head to look at him. “But you know what, Bradshaw? You really don’t.”
“No?” It was pathetic how hopeful her words made him.
“No. You did the right thing making Austin demonstrate his ability to safely pilot a boat.”
“It turns out he’s a responsible driver.”
“He truly is—and I credit Emmett for that. He was an ardent promoter of boating safety.” She made a shooing gesture. “But that aside, you also handled Austin and Nolan’s manipulation of the whole Transformer video thing the way a real dad would do.”
He snorted. “I let them get their way.”
She grinned at him. “Yes, you did. But you didn’t let them have it all their way, and sometimes that’s all parenting is—picking your battles. Watching a video on a non-school night when the other kids’ parents have told you to your face they don’t mind having an extra kid isn’t worth fighting over.”
“Thanks.” He swayed in her direction to bump shoulders, then wished he hadn’t. There was just something about touching this woman—something he’d be smart to avoid. He moved away, inching down the log.
And felt her eyes on him.
Then the weight of her gaze was gone and she sat quietly for a moment before she said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Anything to take my mind off...what I don’t want it on.
“What are your plans for The Brothers?”
“Huh?” Swinging a leg over the log, he straddled it to face her. “What do you mean, what are my plans?”
“For when you go back to New York. Did you plan to sell it?” She was clearly trying not to show her tension, but her shoulders looked stiffer than a preacher’s neck at a hooker convention.
“No! Jesus. Why would you think so?”
“You’ll be living on one side of the country while the resort is on the other.”
He hitched a shoulder. “Maybe so, but it’s clear you’ve been running it just fine without any input from me. And it’s Austin’s legacy.” He gave her a level look. “Right?”
“Yes. Emmett left me a quarter share in it, but the rest is in trust to Austin.”
“And you’re the trustee.”
Her chin went up. “Yes.”
Her bristling tugged a smile from the corners of his lips. “Believe me, I have no problem with that. Better you than me.”
Her eyebrows rose. “That’s an...interesting comment. Coming from someone with a business degree.”
“Like I already told Max, I never actually got my degree.” His own brows drew together. “And how the hell does everybody know what my major was, anyway?”
“Please.” Elbows tucked in, arms angled out and hands held palms up, she turned from side to side indicating their surroundings like a game show hostess exhibiting the grand prize. “Small pond,” she said, then swung back to flourish those same hands at him. “Big fish.”
“You know, that everybody-knowing-everyone-else’s-business shit was right up there on the list of things that bugged me most about Razor Bay when I was a kid.” He shook his head. “Still, as Austin’s trustee, you must already know that you have nothing to worry about as far as the resort goes. Emmett put you in charge of Austin’s finances—that means you can legally do whatever the hell you want.”
She jackknifed upright. “I would never—!”
“You think I don’t realize that? My point is, you don’t need my permission to do the job you’ve been doing. But if you want it, you’ve got it. Take care of Austin’s investment, that works for me. Anyone with eyes in their head can see you’re crazy about him, and I do know you’d never do anything that wasn’t in his best interests. Hell, I didn’t come here to mess with whatever arrangements you’ve got going. I just want to get to know my kid.”
“Okay.” Evidently mollified, she faced front again, staring at the show playing above the mountaintops as the sun sank behind them, turning the thin clouds above them a deeper, richer gold. “Thanks.”
He’d seen the view a thousand times and opted to watch her instead. She steadfastly ignored him—if she was even aware that he was staring—and, drawing a deep breath of the salt-tinged air, he looked around the deserted beach.
And admitted slowly, “For all my problems with Razor Bay—and I own up to more than a few—this is really nice.”
“I know.” Her own issues with him apparently forgotten, she turned to face him, swinging her leg over the log to mimic hi
s pose. Hands braced against the sand-and-wind-weathered wood between them, she leaned in, her dark eyes shining with enthusiasm. “I love this spot. I love that you can see civilization just across the canal, yet this end of the peninsula is still largely undeveloped. I hear there are a few places up on the bluff, but down here it’s just pretty and quiet and...nice.”
He found himself edging forward. Despite the ingrained survival instincts he’d developed as a teen, which were semaphoring frantic don’t-go-there flags in his mind, he couldn’t come up with a reason compelling enough to back off.
Planting his own hands until his fingertips were half an inch from touching her pink-tipped nails, he picked up his feet and raised his butt off the log, balancing his entire body weight on his palms. When he lowered his torso again, his knees brushed hers. “Pretty, quiet and nice,” he said softly. “Kind of like you.”
“Yeah, right.” She made a rude noise. “You’ve clearly never heard me when I get away from the resort. I’m not particularly quiet on my own time.”
“But you cop to the pretty and nice?”
“Hell, yeah.” She gave him a cocky smile. “Surely you’ve heard I’m Razor Bay’s reigning beauty? It’s common knowledge. And I’m so nice, goodness sheds from me like stardust. There’s often a stampede to collect the glittery wake I leave everywhere I go.”
He nodded solemnly. “I have heard you’re quite the paragon.”
“Oh, yes.” Then she threw back her head and let loose a deep belly laugh like the one he’d heard that night in the Anchor, her white teeth flashing while peals of contagious laughter poured from her throat.
Little by little she subsided, until she finally pressed a fist between her breasts and inhaled a deep breath. She gave him a little one-sided, close-lipped smile that was sexy beyond belief. And sighed contentedly. “Aw, man, I needed that. Is there anything that feels better than a good laugh?”
“Yes,” he said, his heart beginning to thump, thump, thump against the wall of his chest. “This.” And closing the distance separating them, he lowered his head and kissed her.
He wasn’t prepared for the jolt that a mere touch of the lips gave him and didn’t know whether pressing his to hers was the smartest thing he’d ever done—or a big mistake. It felt contrarily like both.
What he did know was that he’d meant to keep it brief. Well, probably, anyhow.
No. He likely had.
Okay, the truth was, he didn’t know what the hell he’d intended—actual thought didn’t seem to be playing a major part in his actions. Anything even resembling cognition had apparently drained from his generally facile brain and disappeared like water poured into the sand. So although he felt Jenny’s start of surprise, the lion’s share of his attention was focused firmly on her lips.
God. Such soft, soft lips.
They were smooth and so incredibly supple as they cushioned his own. And Christ on a crutch, they were sweet. As if she’d just bitten into a Rainier cherry and a hint of its juice lingered still.
It made him greedy for more and, lifting his head, he came at her from another angle. He opened his mouth over hers, then dragged it closed again to apply persuasive suction against the pliable fullness of hers. He tickled the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, wordlessly encouraging her to open to him.
She made a soft sound deep in her throat. Slipped her hands between the open lapels of his jacket to press against his chest beneath his worn, soft Columbia U. hooded sweatshirt.
And shoved him back, ripping their mouths apart.
Fuck. Fuck!
They stared at each other, only the lap of the tide against the shore and their ragged breaths sawing in and out of their lungs breaking the quiet of the evening.
“What the... You can’t just—” She snapped her lips shut against the fragmented sentences issuing from them. Shot him some you’ve-got-some-’splainin’-to-do eye contact. Cleared her throat. “What was that all about?” Her eyes a little wild, she licked those soft, soft lips.
Which, Jake noticed, slicking his tongue over his own, were reddened from his kiss. “It was—” What, genius? He scratched the back of his head. “Hell if I know. I wanted to kiss you and couldn’t talk myself out of it.” His shoulder hitched. “Trust me, I gave it the old college try, but there’s just something about you. It makes me crazy.”
“Oh. Good. The diminished capacity defense.” Then, deepening her voice, she said in a truly bad imitation of guy-speak, “‘It’s not my fault, judge. She made me do it.’”
Jake couldn’t help it; he laughed. “Yeah. Something like that.” Her way of refusing to take crap from anyone—or maybe it was only him?—shouldn’t give him such perverse pleasure. Yet for some reason it did just that. To avoid examining that too closely, he changed the subject. “I bet you’ve heard a hundred times you taste like cherries.”
“What?” She looked at him as if he’d gone insane. “No, of course I haven’t.”
“You’re kidding me. How could you not? You’ve got lips just. Like. Cherries. Hand to God. I’ve never experienced anything like them.”
She blinked at him. Then... “Ohmigawd, that’s a line, isn’t it?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him. “Oh! You are smooth. I bet you say that to all the—”
“Jesus, you’re a hard sell. You honestly think anyone in their right mind would go around spouting that trash on purpose? Hell, I’m embarrassed to hear it coming from my mouth. But you can take this to the bank,” he said irritably. “I said it because it’s true and I can’t believe no one else has ever told you so. You taste just like fucking cherries!”
“Silver-tongued devil, thy name is Jake.” She crooked an amused smile at him. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I bet women tell you all the time, hey?”
“I’ll give you silver-tongued.” Disgruntled, he let his gaze wander back to her mouth. But that was clearly a mistake, for all it resulted in was his once again licking his lips and tasting a trace of those cherries.
Her smile faded. “Dammit,” she whispered. “This is just asking for a big dose of regret.” Raising her hands, which had somehow remained on his chest, she grabbed two fistfuls of the hoodie covering it and yanked him to her as she half rose off the log to kiss him.
Yes! He opened his lips beneath hers and sucked in a breath when her tongue slicked over his lower lip. His vision developing a distinctly red tinge, he wrapped his fingers around the backs of her legs, pulled her forward, then lifted her effortlessly to straddle the spread of his thighs. Resisting the urge to jerk her atop his burgeoning hard-on, he instead raised his hands to carefully frame her face, his fingers sliding behind her ears while he framed them with his thumbs.
His fingertips bumped the precarious knot of slippery hair behind her left ear, and it lost its fight with gravity, unraveling down her neck. Its cool, smooth weight as it waterfalled over her shoulders and partway down her back buried his fingers to the second knuckle, and streamers of it draped over the backs of his hands and wrists.
That was all it took—that and her renewed flavor as it spread across his tongue—to turn him inside out. From his mouth, his fingers, his thighs, sensation ricocheted to his brain—only to be immediately sent out again as fractured, kaleidoscopic impressions.
A beckoning woman scent that owed nothing to perfumes or soaps. Smooth skin. Warm skin. No, not warm, hot. That faint taste of Rainier cherries.
More than delicious. Damn near addictive.
He smoothed his hands down her neck beneath the loose hair, outlined her shoulders with his fingertips. She was such a little thing—a fact he couldn’t seem to retain with any kind of permanency, considering how it managed to surprise him anew every time he saw her.
But as his hands explored the smooth flesh on her shoulders, then stroked the length of her back, he decided to cut him
self some slack. He saw not only with his eyes but what she projected. And evidently she viewed herself as an Amazon.
Jenny did something talented with her tongue, and all thoughts fled as the blood in Jake’s head aimed for more southern climes. Wrapping his hands around her hips, he picked her up once more and this time set her exactly where he wanted her.
Then sucked in a breath at the feel of the soft notch between her legs unerringly pressed against his cock.
She ripped her mouth free. “Gawwd,” she exhaled, her eyes heavy lidded and darker than midnight as they gazed into his. For a few hot seconds she oscillated her hips, riding him like a wet-dream cowgirl on a slo-mo mechanical bull, setting up a friction between their sexes that all but crossed his eyes.
Then out of the blue she stilled, and the sensual haze in her eyes began to evaporate while something that looked perilously like panic flashed in their depths. A second later, she scrambled from his lap and shoved to her feet.
“My God.” She hitched her leg over the log to stand militarily erect in the little patch of sand. Her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breathing, she gazed at him in consternation. “What the hell have you started?”
“Hey, don’t put this all on me,” he snapped, his cock throbbing in unrelieved misery. “I might have started it, but nobody forced you to keep it going.” Not that he’d had any complaints while she’d done so.
Her shoulders snapped back and her arms crossed over her breasts. “So much for Mr. Smooth.”
He felt heat suffuse his face. Usually he could be counted on to be smoother than silk; he didn’t know why with her he had all the finesse of a pimply faced boy stealing his first kiss then pulling the girl’s hair to let her know she hadn’t affected him.
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