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He headed back toward the water’s edge and she went with him.
She swiped at the ice cream, and now he knew why the ice cream shack had stayed in business for so long. That tongue of hers catching the creamy treat had him imagining carnal acts he had no business imagining. He wanted to wind his fingers in her hair and coax her down on the erection straining his jeans. Instead, he took a desperate bite of his own cone, welcoming the cold.
* * *
HER SEXY SPECIAL ops soldier was all rough and tumble. Blunt. Big and hard and tough. Odds were, he was also honorable, straight to the core. A man like him not only had rules—he kept to them. He was temptation personified—and Dani was a woman on a diet.
No more men for her.
After all, she’d already lost one fiancé. No, scratch that. You lost library books and socks and house keys. You lost those things because you couldn’t remember where you’d left them. As for her ex, she knew precisely where he was. Back in San Francisco with his new girlfriend.
Discovery Island was stunning at sunset, only a short distance away from the California mainland and surrounded by all that blue water. A beach walk with this man had seemed safe enough. Besides, who didn’t accept an offer of ice cream? The vanilla-and-chocolate sweetness was better than any orgasm she’d ever had, anyhow.
The chances of having a satisfying orgasm had gone down to nil when her fiancé had ditched her, although she was certain the chances hadn’t been that good before. She checked on the man keeping pace with her and reminded herself that she didn’t do casual sex. Not to mention her ex-boyfriend’s remark that having sex with her was far too predictable.
She took another bite of her ice cream cone.
Making cones with the soft-serve machine had been wonderfully precise, three twists of chocolate and vanilla, then the flick to finish the cone off. Exactly three point five ounces. She’d weighed her first cones, just to make sure, but she’d been a pro almost from the start. From the hard pull of the handle to start the flow to the sugary cardboard taste of the cone that was always soggy by the time she reached the bottom, she’d known what to expect.
Predictable.
The man eating up the sand in long, restless strides next to her was anything but predictable, however. Which made him perfect.
A burst of orange and yellow shot over their heads. The wind was strong enough that the beach ball was really flying. From the accompanying protest right before the ball hit the water with a sharp smack, the ball’s owner hadn’t expected it to go airborne quite so far or so fast. Small feet sprinted toward the surf, kicking up sand before the child came to a screeching halt at the water’s edge. He must have been told not to go in alone.
Her flip-flops hit the sand as Daeg shoved his cone into her hand. There was good-natured laughter in his voice as he pulled off his faded T-shirt. “I think we need a rescue here.”
The sight of that shirt coming off woke something inside her. The thin cotton had clung to some pretty impressive muscles, but bare chested he was spectacular, all thick ridges of muscles and sun-bronzed skin. He sported a handful of scars, including a long one that wrapped around his chest beneath two pairs of dog tags.
Still grinning, he plunged into the chilly water, jeans and all.
He dived effortlessly after the ball. Waterborne, the limp vanished and all she could see was the power of that body as he skimmed the waves.
“He your boyfriend?” The child by her side leaned into her, watching Daeg pop up to the surface, shaking water from his face as he snagged the ball.
“No.” That whole sworn-off-men thing.
“Why not?” Out of the mouths of babes.
Waist deep in the water, Daeg lobbed the ball back one-handed. The boy caught it, calling out his thanks as he scampered down the beach.
“Gallant,” she called. How many men did she know who would have been willing to soak themselves to the bone to rescue a child’s ball?
“Cold,” he countered, wading toward the shore. “We rescuers jump in first and think next. Occupational hazard.”
This was it.
This was her second chance.
The denim was molded to his powerful thighs as he left the surf. Wet, those jeans left nothing to the imagination—and boy, was she imagining things now. Starting with that sexy trickle down his chest as the water sluiced off him. Despite the June weather, the water was cold. His nipples were hard, tight nubs, and her mouth went dry. The look in his eyes was pure heat, though—and he was looking right at her. Stormy eyes. Dark green and framed by those ridiculously long lashes, still damp from his swim.
She could do this. Before she could second-guess herself, she carefully tucked his half-eaten cone on the ground beside his shirt and stepped into his body, sliding her arms up around his neck. The sensation of her skin meeting his was an icy shock.
“Nice rescue, sailor.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t spot any hesitation in him as he lowered his head to hers. The beach was almost empty now, the place all theirs. His eyes watched her until she wanted those lashes to drift shut, wanted him to lose himself in her. What if he didn’t desire her or she didn’t do this right? She shoved the hurtful memories of her ex’s accusations to a remote corner of her mind. Chances were, this could be different.
Better.
Then he groaned, not from pain, but from pleasure. His arms came up around her waist and back, one large hand resting on the back of her neck. Who knew that innocent touch could set her on fire so fast? “You’re killing me, you know that? I want you right now and we haven’t even finished our walk yet.”
Sweet relief and even sweeter arousal shot through her. She’d never been naughty, exactly, but now she tilted her head back as if she’d been born to flirt, trusting the weight of her head to that hand. Deliberately, she smiled, really slow. She could do this. Was doing this. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me right now.”
He smiled, and as he leaned in she forgot to breathe. Every inch of her was focused on the man holding her, bringing her mouth toward his mouth. His kiss. The pleasure was all consuming. She hadn’t known she could feel this way.
His mouth found the edge of her jaw, a soft brush of skin on skin. Was he waiting for her to do something? Tempting. His lips pressed a wicked pattern of kisses along her neck. She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but she knew she wanted to give it to him.
“Don’t tease,” she murmured. Her eyes drifted shut, closing against the last fiery rays of the setting sun.
“Not for too long,” he promised, and then his mouth found hers. Oh, this man knew how to kiss. His lips covered hers, exploring and tasting with every lick and stroke. His hand angled her head backward until she opened up for him and his tongue stroked inside her mouth.
Skin to skin, as they were, there was no missing that thick erection. But Daeg was taking his time. Her soldier was being a gentleman. She appreciated that, but she also wanted him, his heat and his strength. She wanted more than just his kisses.
His tongue dipped deeper, teasing her. The moan slipped from her throat before she could stop it. The raw, unfamiliar sound was shocking to her. She was losing this battle. The weakness in her legs warned her she had to stop before this went too far. But he felt so good.
Her soldier didn’t look bored—no, he looked 100 percent aroused.
Hungry.
For her.
* * *
DAEG HAD DIVED beneath icebergs and into plane wreckage where sharks were circling, but none of those missions had ever given him the adrenaline rush he felt when Dani licked the last bit of ice cream off her lips and proceeded to kiss the hell out of him. He was shocked—happily so—but he was also navy search and rescue to the bone. So he hadn’t thought—he’d reacted and kissed her right back.
And in the ten years since he’d last seen her, held her, Ms. Andrews had mastered the art of kissing. She was intense. Passionate. She didn’t give him her tongue right away. All that heat, right there, but she made him work for it, work for her. Coaxing. She wasn’t shy. She just knew what she liked now—and she hadn’t made up her mind about him.
He was going to make all her dreams come true.
When she slipped her hands from around his neck, he ignored the disappointment and the urge to keep her close.
“I need to go. I can’t—” she said, clearly at a loss for words. Good to know he wasn’t the only one that kiss of theirs had rattled.
“Dani...” he whispered, tracing her bottom lip gently with his finger. He wanted to kiss her again, and then he wanted to do more. Wanted to take her somewhere and make love to her until he couldn’t remember who he was or what he was doing here. That was a good plan, he decided, tightening his arm around her. An excellent plan, in fact. As a general rule, he didn’t take a woman to bed after a first kiss, but this was different, the exception.
“No,” she said and stepped away from him. His arm dropped to his sides.
Before he could say anything—or worse, not say anything—she began walking down the beach.
He let her go, but much to his surprise, he could still feel her, sense her presence. It was as if their kiss had branded him. And the taste of her. Sweet heat and all woman.
But what about her nerves?
Someone or something had spooked her badly. Recently. He’d like to fix whatever problems she had, smooth away the furrow she got right there in the center of her forehead as she stared at him. As if she was trying to figure out how she’d ended up in his arms, kissing the hell out of him.
He could have told her he didn’t know, either.
But he was sure he wanted it to happen again. He wasn’t done kissing her. Not by half. She’d given him a starting point and now he wanted more.
And he wasn’t waiting another ten years to get it.
3
DAEG PARKED THE motorcycle outside Deep Dive. He wasn’t in the mood for whatever his boys would dish up tonight. Cal and Tag had watched him go after the blonde on the beach. They’d see him come back soaking wet, and they’d demand details he didn’t feel like sharing. And that was the kicker, wasn’t it? What should have been a simple walk on the beach and a summertime flirtation had morphed into one of the sexiest moments of his life.
He couldn’t get over seeing Dani Andrews again after all this time.
She was even more gorgeous today. Back then, she’d been just a girl, no matter how mature she’d pretended to be, all long hair and longer legs. Those big, brown eyes filled with hopes and dreams. When he’d met her on the beach that night, he’d picked her up and dusted her off—metaphorically speaking. Part of him had wanted to go after the guy that had hurt her feelings. Another part of him, though... That was the part that had done the kissing. The same part of him that had shown up again today.
He should leave her alone.
Problem was, she was sweeter than sweet and no doubt far too nice for a guy like him. She was exactly what he was not—all white picket fence and happily ever after. Meanwhile, he’d be leaving Discovery Island—again—in a few weeks, and that was nowhere near enough time for a woman like Dani.
And yet he didn’t want to leave her alone. Not this time.
As he crossed the wooden porch, the weathered boards creaked beneath his boots. The door opened fast and silent when he got a palm on it and pushed. Sure enough, Cal was waiting for him, feet propped up on the counter. The familiar smell of Neoprene and dampness filled the air. The front part of the building was dedicated to the diver training portion of Deep Dive’s agenda, holding racks of wet suits, tanks and weights. Whatever was needed to swim in the ocean, Deep Dive had it in spades.
“You all done with the blonde?” Cal eyed the wet jeans but, good man, he kept the observation to himself.
Daeg rummaged in his duffel and came up with a change of clothes. He had to smile, remembering that walk on the beach. “She’s finished with me.”
“Bad luck.”
“True enough.” Ignoring the commiserating grin, Daeg headed for Deep Dive’s command center before Cal could get the next question out of his mouth. Sometimes a tactical retreat was the only way to go.
The steel-and-concrete-reinforced interior room was the heart and soul of Deep Dive’s operations. With bad weather inbound, today’s focus was on maintaining situational awareness, but that would switch to command and control when the storm hit. A floor-to-ceiling monitor displayed weather and radar maps, tracking both inbound and outbound vessels and weather. Cal had been granted permission to link into the local coast guard command center for incident notification and infrared cameras posted strategically around the island delivering real-time information about conditions on the ground.
Surrounded by a bank of computers and monitors, Tag’s fingers flew across the keyboard as the man fed data into the geographic information system that would map the approaching storm and identify problem areas in Discovery Island’s sector. That was Tag. He’d catalog every weather front, every current and navigation chart. The ocean held no surprises for Tag.
“You got a room booked for me?” While he waited for an answer, he shucked his wet denim and pulled on the dry pair of jeans.
Tag nodded and pushed away from the desk. The chair wheels rolled over the cement floor with a squall of protest.
“You sure you don’t want to stay put in Cal’s spare room?”
Cal knew everyone and everything on the island. His loud, crazy family, complete with numerous aunts and uncles, a mother and father and four sisters, still lived just up the road from Deep Dive, and Daeg had wondered if the appeal of diving for Cal was the silence. Not that Cal didn’t love his family—there was no getting around the fact he was fiercely protective of them—but getting a word in edgewise was a challenge, particularly in the big, rambling house with what seemed like a hundred rooms jammed full of people.
The Brennans had all but adopted him when he and Cal had met on the mainland at swim meets. He’d been an inner-city kid swimming in community pools. No dad in the picture and his mom working two jobs to make ends meet. When a car accident killed his mother, the Brennans took him in. No questions asked. Daeg appreciated that. He really did. They were the closest thing to a family that he had, but he didn’t want to field questions about his leg and his future, and they’d ask. Cal’s family always asked. Then they advised, argued and discussed. At length. Daeg needed some space.
“I see you’re camping out here in the back room,” he pointed out, and Tag grinned, acknowledging the hit. Tag might not have visited the island before this summer, but even he had guessed the dangers of the Brennans’ good intentions.
“It’s as well furnished as our San Diego place was,” he pointed out. The three of them had shared an apartment near the San Diego base, but the place had been little more than somewhere to crash between missions and none of them had bothered with decorating. The only furniture was a couple of futons and the racks where they stored their gear bags. They’d lived ready to roll out at a moment’s notice, and that had always worked well for Daeg.
Cal showed up and jumped into the conversation. “Congratulations. You’re now a happy resident of Sweet Moon.”
For the second time that day, Daeg took a trip down memory lane. While he’d never met Dani Andrews’s grandparents, he’d seen the couple a time or two. He’d also seen the place. From a distance. Yeah, he’d done his fair share of drooling from afar.
“That the only spot you could hook me up with?”
Tag smiled knowingly. The man had his suspicions about the blonde on the beach and Daeg’s current dress-code issues. “Problem with the digs already?”
“Be nice to our boy, Cal. Doesn’t Sweet Moon have a reputation for serving up happily ever afters? Maybe he’s not in the market,” Tag joked.
That was true. Daeg had more than enough on his plate, thank you very much. Hell, he’d had his hands full of trouble earlier today, and that was only part of the problem. Memories teased him. He instantly recalled Dani’s soft skin and the feel of her shoulders beneath his fingers. He was enjoying her right up until the minute she’d run out on him.
“Absolutely not in the market.” He swiped the keys to his Jeep from his desk. He’d leave the Harley in town for now; bringing both vehicles over on the ferry might have been overkill. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll go check in.”
His knee ached and he evened out his gait as much as he could as he headed for the door. He was off-kilter, the threatening rain putting a hitch in his stride.
“Time to catch up with the blonde on the beach?” Cal’s voice was all tease and no sympathy. They were back to normal.
Making a face at his partners, he left the command center.
He popped the roof off the Jeep and drove, enjoying the wind tearing past his face. The storm moving in had a smell all its own, the metallic warmth of the spray and the sharper bite of sea salt. He wanted to be out there, riding the waves and surviving that rough swim. The ocean would make him fight for every stroke. Damn, he missed that.
When Sweet Moon finally popped into view twenty minutes later, he almost didn’t recognize the motel. Time hadn’t been overly kind. The tiny front lodge was weather-beaten, the paint worn down to a seashell-pink color. Eight cabins were situated cheerfully around the main office, although a small army of stone cupids and amorous lawn ornaments arranged in precise rows had survived time’s test just fine. He had a sneaking suspicion that, if he counted, the cupids had actually been fruitful and multiplied.
The car sitting next to the building announced someone was in, so he parked the Jeep and headed for the office.
Home sweet home.
* * *
THE CORNY BELL Dani’s grandfather had strung up over the door jangled as the same person who’d torn up the drive too fast strong-armed his way inside. The door always jammed in damp weather, which Sweet Moon’s newest guest discovered as he forced it open with a muttered curse. She looked up with a professional smile and, well, there was Mr. Spec Ops and her own personal blast from the past. Daeg Ross. She hadn’t seen him in ten years, and now she’d seen him twice in two hours. What were the odds?
Her libido started singing hallelujah while her brain backpedaled furiously. He was not supposed to be here. She’d kissed him and left him on the beach. And that had been the end of that particular adventure. He did not get to come where she was staying.
And yet he was now strolling toward Sweet Moon’s front desk as if he owned the place. That lazy grin of his told her he was really glad to see her.
No way.
Kissing Daeg Ross on the beach had been an impulse, a dumb one. Letting him get any closer for a longer period of time would be risking disaster.
Why Sweet Moon? Why, of all the hotels and motels on this tourist-crazy island, had he picked hers?
She’d spent summers on Discovery Island with her grandparents, followed by her senior year of high school, the year she’d taken that cruel but delicious beach walk with Daeg. Her father had been developing a resort property in Jamaica and decided that a construction site was no place for a teenage girl. That was her father, though. Good-looking and charming, he was fun to be around, but he loved a good gamble—real estate or the stock market, he’d always been searching for the next big thing and was always on the move. Her summer months on Discovery were an oasis of peace and stability, a handful of weeks when she wasn’t speculating what her father would do next or where he’d take them. This was her refuge. The one place she could count on to remain the same.
“No vacancies,” she snapped before he said a word.
