by Jodi Redford
Ty offered her a reproachful look. “Kay, what are you doing?”
“Saving you and Gibb the embarrassment of asking me to leave. I know that’s why you two came in here. To figure out a nice way to let me down easy.”
“That isn’t why we came in here.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “No? Then why?”
Not like he could tell her his boner was to blame. Even if it was the truth. “You don’t have to leave. This house is plenty big enough for the three of us.”
“I appreciate your willingness to share the house with me, really I do. But I think it’s better if I find a hotel room or something. No biggie.”
“Actually, it is. This is Venetian week,” Gibb pointed out. “Every hotel and rental within sixty miles is booked solid.”
Kayla’s face fell. “Aw, damn it. I forgot all about that.”
She looked so dejected by the news Ty saw no other choice than to hug her against him with a comforting squeeze. “Offer’s still open to stay with us.”
Gibb surprised him by nodding. “You can have the house. We’ll bunk in the pool house.”
He squinted at Gibb. “We will?”
The stubborn slant of Gibb’s jaw remained as unbendable as marble. “Yeah. We will.”
Kayla shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not,” Gibb said. “We’re offering, and you’re going to say yes.”
She blinked at Gibb’s smooth command.
Ty’s previous annoyance at Gibb’s unsubtle cock-blocking evaporated slightly. Normally Gibb’s domineering ways bugged the shit out of him, but he couldn’t deny it possessed the desired effect of flustering Kayla to the point she seemed at a loss for words. Which afforded him the opportunity to ease her doubts however he could and convince her to stay. “Have you seen my parents’ pool house? Not like Gibb and I would be roughing it out there.” Shit, that was putting it mildly. The structure was a hell of a lot more luxurious than his and Gibb’s living quarters at the marina. “Even has a grill down there, so we won’t be getting in your hair all the time using the kitchen.”
“There’s a bathroom too,” Gibb added. “So we’re covered there.”
“And an outdoor shower.” Ty adopted his most roguish smile—the one that usually won his way with the ladies and routinely earned a black scowl from Gibb. “See? You won’t know we’re around.”
“You know darn well I was already aware of the shower.” Averting her gaze, Kayla fidgeted with the strap of her purse.
Reminded of the unintentional peep show he’d provided her earlier, Ty indulged in a slow grin. Knowing her eyes had been on him while he’d been washing off the sand from his jog on the beach stirred a wicked heat wave through him. Recalling his teasing promise to give her something more interesting to observe, he imagined pumping his cock while the outdoor shower’s warm spray trickled along his balls and the crack of his ass. Better yet, Kayla’s soft, wet tongue could be swirling over his cock head at the same time. His dick bobbed beneath the towel, giving a resounding Hell yeah to that mental scenario. He barely caged his moan.
Gibb gave Ty another suspicious glance before eyeing the distinct bulge under the towel. “I’ll make sure Ty keeps his showering limited to the pool house.”
Ty swore Kayla looked disappointed by the news. He filed that observation away for later analysis. “So what do you think? We have a deal?”
“I still feel weird letting you two sleep out there while I get this huge place to myself.”
“We could always stay in here with you.”
“Ty,” Gibb growled warningly.
“What? I’d hate for her to get lonely.”
Gibb donned one of his patented I-wasn’t-born-yesterday-you-fucker glares. “Your selflessness is beyond commendable,” he drawled. “But I’m sure Kay would prefer some privacy.”
She gnawed her lip. “Are you absolutely certain you don’t mind this arrangement?”
Both he and Gibb shook their heads, and she took a deep breath before allowing it to spring free in a rush. “All right, in that case…I accept your offer.”
Her shaky capitulation filled Ty with unexpected happiness. Christ, you’d think she’d agreed to warm his sheets for the next couple of weeks with the way he was no doubt grinning like a fool.
Then again, that’d be a proposal he’d have an impossible time resisting, even without them sleeping under the same roof.
Chapter Three
Ty’s off-key whistling a grating soundtrack, Gibb stowed his duffel bag on one of the twin green-and-white-striped chaise lounges in the pool house.
This was a goddamned disaster in the making. He’d have to keep an eagle eye on the potentially volatile situation, or risk Ty getting neutered by an irate Bailey if she discovered her brother making time with her best friend.
To make matters worse, he’d be a lousy liar if he denied he was equally attracted to Kay. Shit, talk about the understatement of the century. She’d always gotten his juices going. Big time. Blonde, with curves that didn’t quit. A sweet smile and expressive blue eyes a man could get lost in. She was also smart and funny as hell. Generous to a fault. Her list of desirable qualities went on and on, but her one attribute that’d always kindled his lust until it straddled the danger zone was the way she blushed.
Every single damn time he’d witnessed her going into lobster-red mode he couldn’t help wondering if a dirty thought was to blame. An even bigger part of him hungered to provide a few distinctly dirty musings for her to mull over. Like how he lay awake at night, wondering what kinds of sounds she made when she came. Fluttery sighs and moans? Or was she a screamer?
These thoughts aren’t helping me at all. The snugness behind his fly threatening to cut off circulation to vital parts, he grimaced and risked a glance in Ty’s direction. No doubt that horn dog would have no problem asking Kay if she was a screamer in bed. He’d likely request a demonstration too.
No sooner did he silently grumble the fact, and guilt poked at Gibb. Despite being a raging man slut, Ty was good people. He’d always been there for Gibb, no matter what. When Gibb discovered his ex, Lorna, had been cheating on him left and right, it’d been Ty who’d pulled Gibb out of his vast pit of depression. Eight months later, after the divorce was finalized and Gibb moved into Ty’s improvised bachelor pad at the marina, it’d been Ty who convinced Gibb it was time to get over Lorna’s betrayal by getting laid. Gibb sure as hell hadn’t expected his reentry into the land of sex to be courtesy of an all-nighter with the Simpson twins, but he couldn’t exactly complain.
Actually, he could, since his dick ended up sprained after six rounds of nonstop sexual gymnastics with Kimber and Josie. Shit, his twins still tended to head for higher ground whenever the sisters dropped by the marina on the pretense of chartering one of the Boston Whalers for the day. Seeing through their scheme didn’t take much effort, and he always managed to foist the job off on Ty. Considering Ty never came back to the dock walking bowlegged, it was safe to assume he’d found a way to resist the nympho twins.
Sprained dick aside, his friendship with Ty was something he’d never take for granted. It was the primary reason Gibb had sworn an oath to never breathe a word about the night seven years ago that’d rocked his world—in more ways than one. He refused to jeopardize his tight bond with Ty by bringing up any of it. Even if it did hurt and rankle him that Ty sucking him off had obviously damaged Ty so thoroughly he’d immediately rectified the situation with a strict regimen of banging every woman in Florida.
Regardless, Gibb was well aware of the monster he’d helped create by not stopping things before they went too far that night. God knows, he didn’t want to dwell too hard on the reason he’d loved the hot, brain-frying, un-fucking-believably fantastic suction of Ty’s mouth working him over.
Bottom line, he owed it to Ty—and Kayla—to do his part in ensuring nothing bad came of this close proximity they were all forced to share.
He unzipped
his duffel and pulled out the dog-eared spy novel he’d brought with him from home. Tucking the paperback under his arm, he crossed to the mini fridge in the corner and grabbed one of the frosty longnecks he’d stored in there earlier.
“I’ll take one of those while you’re buying,” Ty called out as he aimed the remote at the flat screen.
After grabbing another brew, Gibb ventured to the chaise Ty was stretched out on and handed over the spare beer. “Didn’t think of it ’til now, but I could have asked Reese if she’d put us up. She probably wouldn’t have cared.”
Ty scratched his bare belly, and Gibb did his best not to fixate on the deeply defined V lines disappearing beneath the low-slung waistband of Ty’s navy boxer briefs. When Ty glanced up at him, Gibb quickly looked away with a rough clearing of his throat.
The beer bottle clunked onto the tile floor, followed by the gentle swoosh of the chaise cushion deflating slightly as Ty shifted around. “Your sister still hasn’t forgiven me for subjecting you to the Simpson twins.”
“Neither have I.”
“For shit’s sake, your dick’s fine now. Quit your bitchin’.”
He gave Ty the stink eye and settled on the opposite chaise-quasi-bed before cracking his book open. Five minutes into reading, he lost his concentration as the volume on the TV increased to a level that could be heard two counties over. Growling under his breath, he hefted from the cushion, collected his beer and stalked toward the French doors.
“Where you goin’?”
He shot Ty a dark look over his shoulder. “Somewhere quiet.”
“Christ. You on your period already?”
Flipping Ty the bird, Gibb stepped out onto the pool deck and closed the door, sealing off Ty’s obnoxious chuckle. As if it possessed a will of its own, his gaze trekked overhead to the main house. Soft light splashed from the trellis chandelier over the kitchen island.
I’d hate for her to get lonely.
Deliberately tuning out the taunting echo of Ty’s words, Gibb headed for the far end of the privacy fence. Releasing the latch, he let himself past the gate and followed the planked path toward the dunes. Other than a few shell seekers and joggers, the beach was unusually dead for a Sunday.
Perfect.
Swigging a mouthful of beer, he scouted for a prime spot to watch the tide come in. A few yards down the beach, a familiar blonde occupied a blanket spread upon the sand.
For a few seconds Gibb stood entranced as he watched the evening breeze flirt with Kayla’s curly locks. She pulled her knees up toward her and clasped them, her attention set on the foamy waves breaking in the distance. Pensiveness radiated from her. Odd, considering the tranquility of her surroundings.
He hesitated, every instinct warning him that approaching her while she was in a vulnerable state would only trigger his protective instincts and ultimately feed his raging attraction to her.
He’d learned the hard way where his weaknesses lay. Four years in a marriage that’d been doomed from the start gave him ample opportunity for self-analysis. His penchant for taking in the lost, wounded and damaged had reeled him right into Lorna’s arms. Too bad she’d spent a good portion of her free time in other men’s arms while they were married. After his divorce, he’d held firm to one promise—to never open himself to that level of hurt again.
Holding tight to his resolve, he took a step backward. Kayla brushed one of the wind-whipped strands away from her eyes, awarding him an unobstructed view of the sadness stamped across her face.
Aw damn. His sigh weary, Gibb unlocked his feet from their rigid stance on the sand and strode toward Kayla. “Up for some company?”
She gave an almost imperceptible jolt before glancing in his direction. Her expression cleared with a quick, wavering smile. “Sure.”
He kicked off his sand-encrusted flip-flops and copped a squat. Roughly a foot and a half separated him from Kayla on the blanket, but it might as well have been a centimeter, considering his physical awareness of her. Every subtle shift of her bare legs. Wiggle of her toes. When he began wondering how sensitive the arch of her foot would be if he kissed and licked it, he knew he was in some seriously deep trouble. He stole another gulp of beer before corkscrewing the bottle down into a makeshift cubby he’d dug in the sand. Kayla’s scrutiny felt like a warm ray of light prickling along his skin. Giving in to the draw, he moved his focus to her.
There was a softness to her expression that immediately alerted him to where the conversation was most likely headed. “Bailey told me your divorce was rocky. I’m sorry.”
“No more so than my marriage.”
She winced. “Sorry again.”
“Thanks. I’m okay now.” Mostly. There were sections of his soul that Lorna hadn’t completely eviscerated. Eventually time would scab over the few remaining flesh wounds, and he’d be able to think of his ex without the words heartless, she-devil and cheater constantly hovering in his mind. “Enough of my sob story. What excitement have you been up to all these years?” He did a fast tally in his head. “Jesus. I think the last time we saw each other was your sophomore year of college. You stopped coming to the beach after that.”
She eyed him for a brief spell. When the familiar blush he was so enamored with reappeared, it took every ounce of his control not to lean forward and ravage her mouth. As it was, watching her nibble her bottom lip made it all too easy to imagine sinking his teeth into that pillowy softness. Nipping. Biting. Leisurely licks and suckles. Capturing her sweet, intoxicating moans as their tongues glided together.
The fantasy was so real it took a moment for reality to crash into him. Jogged from his erotic trance, he angled his thigh, hoping it’d hide the obvious tent in his boardshorts.
His thoughts immediately retraced to the pretty blush that’d entranced him seconds ago. Leave it be, you moron. Even as he gave himself that stern warning, the words edged past his lips in a betraying mutiny. “What were you thinking just now while you were looking at me?”
The blossom of pink deepened on her cheeks. “Nothing.”
Liar. Much as he wanted to push her on it—confirm that she’d indeed been indulging in some equally racy thoughts about him—that kind of knowledge wouldn’t help him keep his hands off her. Considering it was his job to ensure Ty did the same, it’d be fucking hypocritical of Gibb not to make a valiant effort of guaranteeing his own dick stayed in his pants where Kayla was concerned. He wisely chose to steer the conversation to safer waters. “Still waiting for you to fill me in on what you’ve been up to.”
“I’m a writer.”
“No shit?” He wagged his head and smiled. “Not surprised. You always did have your nose buried in a book.”
She swatted his shoulder playfully. “Hey, I seem to recall you being a bit of a bibliophile too.”
He stared at the hand she still had absently draped on his arm. The touch was perfectly innocent, but it didn’t stop his dick from perking up again with an eager salute. He forced himself to ignore the stirring in his groin. “Yeah, but I sure as hell don’t have any talent for writing. Have anything published?”
“Yep.”
“Damn. You mean I can make everyone jealous by saying I know a famous author?” He grinned. “I’m going to buy your entire backlist and have you autograph them for proof.”
Dropping her hand back into her lap, she developed a sudden interest in a grainy patch of sand on her knee. Despite her attempt at hiding her face, he spied the pink glow on her cheeks. “I’m not sure my books would be to your taste.”
Intrigued, he studied her closer. “Why?”
“They’re kind of…” she dragged in a deep breath and finally looked at him, “…sexy.”
Well hell. Now he was for sure buying everything she’d ever written. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“Then you would be one of the few people in my life to think so.” Weariness and a hint of the pensiveness he’d noticed earlier descended in place.
“Afraid I don’t understand. Why
would anyone have a problem with what you write?”
She rolled her lips together, the tension radiating from her palpable. “Because they think it’s immoral and cheap and reflects badly on me. Or more to the point—them.”
“Them?”
Kayla met his eyes briefly before glancing away. A few relevant clues he’d overlooked before suddenly stood out in glaring evidence. In all the years she’d been coming to Wicked Shores, she’d never stayed anywhere but at her parents’ exclusive North Shore summer residence. Pretty damn telling that she’d decided to change her routine. Or maybe she’d been given no other choice. He’d only met her mom on a handful of occasions. His immediate impression could be summed up in three words—beautiful, cold and superior. It required minimal perception to determine a woman like Belinda English would be ridiculously ruled by appearances.
A slow anger built inside him, tightening his muscles. “Kay, whatever your mom said—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She pasted on a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Like hell it doesn’t. What you’ve achieved is something to be proud of. If she can’t see that, then that makes her a pretty fucking lousy parent.” He grimaced when her eyes widened a fraction. “I didn’t mean to be insulting. But your mom spouting that sanctimonious bullshit to you royally chaps my ass.”
“In her defense, it probably didn’t help matters how she ultimately found out about my alter ego. I’m at least partially to blame for hitting her with that unexpected whammy.” Kayla sighed in response to his arched eyebrow. “I write under the pen name Ella Kay. Up until six months ago, no one knew what I really did for a living, including my fiancé. You’d think me writing under a nom de plume and no one being the wiser of my real identity proves that my mom doesn’t have to worry about me sullying the family name. But she’s still convinced my dirty skeleton will tumble out of the closet.”
It was damn difficult for him to concentrate on the whole of Kayla’s conversation when his brain had stalled after she’d thrown the word fiancé out there.