At his truck, outside the house, he heard a car approaching and looked up to see Tommy pulling into the driveway alone, in his rental car. Nio tossed his things into the truck cab and walked to meet him.
Grinning like a caught child, Tommy shook his head at him. “Figures you’d be here, since you didn’t come home last night. Get lucky?”
With a patient shake of his head, Nio said flatly, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Okay. If that’s the way you want it.”
The guys had gone out last night to a local bar and it surprised Nio that anyone had even noticed he hadn’t made it home. “I thought you’d be sleeping off the hangover this morning.”
“Nah. I’m on a break from drinking,” Tommy told him, tugging a tool belt out from the front seat. “Holly’s idea. I mean, she’s right. I was hitting it a little heavy for a while. So I’m humoring her. For now.”
He knew about Tommy’s drinking. And Paul’s and Mick’s. Each of them dealt with the war in their own way. Alcohol had numbed its share of pain and memories. Nio had never felt it his place to intercede with anyone but Trey, but he was glad for Tommy’s sake that his wife Holly had. He was like a loaded gun at times and alcohol only muddied those dangerous waters.
Tommy looked up at the palm tree across the yard. Nio followed his glance.
“So, I’m busted, okay? I was gonna come and get the last of those fronds before anyone tried to nursemaid me again.” Nio passed him a look. “What? Call me a perfectionist, but I don’t want to see the last of them up there.”
Nio shook his head. “I hired a crew. They’ll be here soon. That really why you’re here?”
He shrugged. “Why else?”
“You tell me.”
Wrapping the belt around his waist, he focused on the buckle. “You a shrink now?”
“Hey, you know better.”
Tommy turned and stared off at the ocean that stretched out into the vastness past the cliff at the edge of the property. “Yeah, I guess I do. I guess I just wanted to stare out at the ocean and sort some stuff out. Let me ask you something.”
“Anything.”
“If you could go back and change things with Becca, change how things went down, would you?”
Nio frowned. “This is about me now?”
He turned back to him. “Would you?”
Nio would have given anything to change things back then, but that was just wishful thinking. He and Becca had lost ten years they’d never get back but there was no help for that. “No. It had to be the way it was.”
Tommy squinted and stared off again. “I would. You know? With Holly.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Holly’s great.” All the guys loved her and had known her for as long as they had Tommy. If there was more to the story than that, the guys had kept that quiet.
“She is,” he agreed. “It’s not that I don’t love her. I do. The problem is me. I’m so…screwed up.” Since the war, was what he didn’t say. “I can’t be what she wants me to be. She has…expectations. So, I’m here. She’s home. I let her stay behind. I think she wanted to come.”
“She could’ve come,” Nio said. “She’s welcome.”
“I know, but this is better. I would’ve screwed that up, too.” He swallowed thickly. “She wants a kid you know. Can you imagine? Me? A father?”
“Why not?” Nio asked. “Maybe it would be good.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t.”
“You’re not the first to be scared about having a kid.”
“Including yourself in that?”
Nio hardly dared allow himself to imagine that far down the road. But if he did, having children with Becca was something he wanted. Something he saw them doing one day. If…
He clapped Tommy on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m still trying to get past Becca hating me.”
Tommy cocked a brow meaningfully at the cottage. “I hate you doesn’t always mean she actually hates you.”
God, he hoped so. Despite all evidence this morning to the contrary. “We’re all,” he began, feeling his way into what he wanted to say, “all trying to work through stuff. There’s no shame in the struggle. Without that, we’re all just—”
“Happy? Sober?” Tommy finished with a sarcastic laugh.
“Surviving,” he answered. “It’ll get better. Just let it.”
“Right.” Tommy raked his hair back with one hand. “Hey. I’m starving. Want to go get some breakfast in town?”
With a nod, Nio said, “I could use some coffee.” He indicated his truck. “Get in.”
“Yeah, ya know, you look like hell. You sleep on the floor or something last night?”
Nio just smiled. “I’m buyin’.”
“The hell you are…”
“Get in the truck.”
Tommy grinned at him. “Anybody ever tell you you’d make a damn good master chief?”
“Only you,” he replied, “so far.” And on Tommy’s bark of laughter, they pulled down the driveway and headed into town.
*
It was nearly noon as Becca showed the elderly Wyndhams and their three dogs off the yacht they’d wanted to see, but the memory of sex with Nio last night swam to the forefront of her thoughts and it was all she could do not to sway at the recollection. He’d surprised her at every turn and his lovemaking was no exception. Sweet and deep and knee-meltingly hot—Nio, back in her life, even for this briefest of times, was like a shot of happiness just when she’d needed it most. And she couldn’t mistake it for anything more permanent. The universe had thrown her a bone and probably intended for her to gnaw on it a bit. What was so wrong with that? Couldn’t she just enjoy him while he was here?
On the one hand, there was today. On the other, there were the consequences of today—tomorrow. By next month, or next year he’d just be another memory she’d store away to pull out and look at now and then. Wouldn’t he?
Such theoretical questions made her head throb. They did not, however, make dealing with people like the elderly Wyndhams any easier. Becca gritted her teeth and finger-waved goodbye to Marcel and Idina as they toddled off up the boardwalk of the Dana Point Marina, away from the yacht they’d summoned her here to show them today. The pre-owned fifty-two-foot luxury craft, equipped with every possible bell and whistle the two of them could want, was a little on the small side for the money, they’d complained. After all, they had their King Charles spaniels to think about—three little terrors who’d come along for the tour. The smallest, brown and white one had poked a claw through the perfect upholstery of the bench seating at the stern.
That would have to be replaced, and her boss, Bob Gandy, would probably fire her when she told him since she’d sold absolutely nothing in the last month here. Nothing except the contract that had come in a few days ago from some rich corporate magnate on a yacht that was her listing.
And while the lost sale to the Wyndhams was frustrating, it wasn’t what made her want to bang her head on the wall. It was the way Mrs. Wyndham had patted her hand when they left and discreetly murmured how sorry they both were she’d been forced to take such a menial job selling other people’s yachts, when they knew, perfectly well, she’d been born to better things.
Marcel had, of course, known her late father who, in better times, had sat beside him on the board of the Dana Point Yacht Club and presided in the courtroom next to his. But that was before the fall. Before the gigantic tumble from the good graces of Laguna’s elite club on Oceanside Drive. Before her life took a left turn down a road she hardly recognized anymore.
“No go, huh?” asked her coworker Alissa Bannister, who was studying her computer screen as Becca walked into the yacht sales office at the end of the pier. “I thought they were looking to downsize.”
Milo jumped up to greet her. Which was one of the benefits of this job. The office was dog friendly. “I’m guessing the spaniel triplets are not quite ready to compromise,” Becca said. “Is Bob around?”
Pushing her horn-rimme
d glasses up on her nose, Alissa looked up past her dark curls. “Not yet. He said he’d be in later.”
“I guess I can keep my job a few hours longer, then,” Becca said with a sigh.
“Bob may seem like he’s always on the warpath, but really, he’s a big teddy bear.”
“Yeah? Well, lately I’m not getting that warm, fuzzy feeling from him. I should be thanking my lucky stars corporate execs peruse the internet. Speaking of which, has the marine surveyor appeared yet?”
“He called to say he was on his way. Traffic in the canyon. But I’ve got you one better.”
“Oh?”
She nodded toward a lone figure standing on dock nineteen, perusing the channel. “See that tall heartthrob standing at the end of the pier? He’s the one.”
Becca turned to look and her heart stuttered a moment.
Nio.
Chapter Seven
Heat prickled through Becca at the memory of his mouth on hers. His heat against hers. Her lips tingled and she pressed them together. But dampness struck between her legs at the thought of him touching her there again. And other things he’d done. “Uh…what do you mean he’s the one?” she asked Alissa.
“The exec who purchased the yacht. He’s come for the survey. Wants to ride along. He came in and asked for you by name. And can I just tell you? He is yummy.”
Executive? She blinked at Alissa in shock, then peered back through the window. “You mean…he works for the executive who purchased the yacht?”
“No. He’s actually the guy. Wait…you know him?” Alissa asked a little breathlessly.
She nodded, her gaze taking in the dark denims and black linen sports coat he wore over a white shirt. Those clothes seemed like they’d been tailored for him.
Alissa eyed her expression. “That look either means he’s your secret lover man or he’s about to be. And since I know you’re totally engaged to Steven it can’t be—”
“Steven and I are broken up,” she said, still watching Nio. “But don’t breathe a word to anyone. We are standing up for Lilah and Graham tonight and there’s no reason for them to get wind of it.”
Alissa snapped her mouth closed then ran over to hug her. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Becca.”
“It’s all right,” she said, even though it definitely wasn’t. “He cheated on me and he’s moving to Atlanta.”
The other woman blinked at her in outrage. “Men!”
“Right?”
“This?” Alissa said, patting her on the back. “This is why I’m still a single woman. You just can’t trust men.” She stepped back to appraise Becca. “Can I make you some tea? You look a little…”
“Hungover,” she admitted.
“Naturally.”
“I’d better go talk to him.” She grabbed her camera.
“I would.” Alissa followed her to the door. Outside, the gulls swooped and called over the outer channel as Alissa touched her arm and said, “And if you’re off men entirely, which would be completely understandable, feel free to give him my number and put in a word for me? I make a mean lasagna.” She shrugged innocently when Becca grinned back at her.
“So,” Becca said, “all that talk about staying single and not trusting men was just…?”
“Yeah. I’m almost thirty-seven. I just said that to be supportive.”
Becca laughed. “Thanks, Alissa.”
She winked. “Anytime.”
Becca was glad for the ocean breeze that ruffled her hair and cooled her suddenly hot skin as she left the office and opened the security gate at the end of the pier. A thousand questions stumbled through her mind, not the least of which was What the hell?
Nio turned as she walked down the dock toward him. A smile lit his handsome face. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.”
He produced a bakery bag smelling deliciously of…donuts? “I figured you might need a little pick-me-up this morning since you disappeared before I could take you to breakfast.”
She just stared at him, ignoring the bakery goodness wafting from the bag. “Don’t try to ply me with sweets. What’s going on here?”
“Going on…? Oh, about the boat, you mean?”
“Yacht. That’s a yacht, Nio, and don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He dug into the bag and popped a few powdered sugar donut holes in his mouth. “You sure you don’t want some? These are really—”
Her head was spinning. “You’re…here for your boss, right?” she asked, hoping for an explanation she could grasp. “He asked you to come and inspect the vessel he purchased?”
He squinted off across the water. “Not exactly.”
She folded her arms. “What? Exactly.”
“Well,” he said, licking his fingers, “I’m the boss. And this isn’t exactly a corporate purchase. It’s personal.”
She took a step back, her brain tilting like a pinball machine. “Oh, my God, Nio. Are you…are you dealing drugs?”
He threw his head back and laughed.
“Money launderer?”
“No. Jeez, Bec. You know me better than that. I told you about the tech thing I do.”
She could not wrap her brain around this. This yacht cost more than some houses. “You mentioned you’d worked on it. Not that you owned the company that created it!”
“I planned to tell you. It just hasn’t come up yet.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth. “’Cause I’ve been too busy talking about my own screwed-up life. Oh, God, Nio. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m such a—” Suddenly, she peered up at him. “Wait… Wait. This yacht contract came in a week ago. Long before we ran into each other at the beach, before I knew you were even coming here. And before you could possibly have known where I worked. Except you asked for my listings by name.”
He ran a hand across the back of his neck and shrugged. “And your point is?”
“So when you said at the beach that you were looking for me, you actually already knew where I worked. Where I was.”
He squinted at her, à la Clint Eastwood when dialogue failed him.
Alan Broyles, the marine surveyor, chose that moment to come tromping down the dock with his bagful of equipment. Fifty-something, with a belly that looked like it had seen its share of good beach food, he made the dock dip as he walked toward them, waving a deeply tanned hand.
“So sorry I’m late. That traffic is getting worse every day. Took me forty minutes to get down Laguna Canyon alone. Should’ve taken Crown Valley off the 5 Freeway.” He stuck his hand out to Nio. “I’m Alan Broyles, the marine surveyor. Miss Howard? And, sir, you must be the buyer.” He glanced down at his clipboard. “I have an LLC, here. Let me see…”
“Antonio Reyes.” Nio shook his hand, keeping an eye on Becca, who had found something interesting on the dock planking to stare at. “I’m the buyer.”
“Okay. Shall we go aboard, Mr. Reyes?”
“Yes, let’s,” Nio said, jumping at the change of venue. “Ms. Howard?”
“We’ll be right with you, Mr. Broyles,” she said. “Why don’t you go on ahead of us?”
“Please call me Alan. Take your time. I’ll just get started on the non-mechanical inspection.”
“This isn’t the time or place,” Nio told her after Broyles had walked away.
She blocked his path. “Oh I think it is.” She snatched the bakery bag from his hand, reached in and shoved a donut hole in her mouth. “You wrote a contract on that yacht,” she said around the mouthful. “Surely you didn’t execute this contract just to get me to sleep with you? Please say you didn’t.”
He leaned closer, brushing the powdered sugar from her lip. “I’ll try to forget you said that. And one thing has nothing to do with the other.”
She pushed his hand away. “I’ll just have to take your word on that. But you already lied to me. Admit it.”
“I didn’t lie,” he hedged. “I just didn’t fully disclose.”
“Oh, that is just—” S
he blinked at him. “So, what are you telling me? That you’re…you’re rich?”
“Well…yeah.” That old Nio smile crept to his mouth. “Let’s say I’m…comfortable.”
“Oh.” She blinked, then laughed. “Well. I guess you showed them. All of them. I wonder if my father would have appreciated the irony.”
“It’s just money, Bec.”
She snorted. “It’s only ‘just money’ when you have it. When you don’t, you’re ‘just broke.’”
“You think I don’t know that? What I meant was the money is just the end result of something I’ve worked hard at. Something I did to prove to everyone—your old man, you and maybe even myself—that I was worth more than everyone thought I was.”
“My father? You hated him. And, of course, that all completely explains why you left without a goodbye.”
He sighed. “Mija…”
She shook her head at that endearment. “And I don’t need your charity either—”
“This is not—”
“—which is clearly why you bought this vessel. So I’d get the commission. And while we’re on the subject, how exactly did you find me? Did you hire your private investigator brother Trey to find out just how broke I am? Shake out all my skeletons? God knows, the Family Howard has plenty of them.”
Alan Broyles stepped out onto the bow with his clipboard, inspecting the chrome on the starboard railing. He sent them an awkward smile.
Nio grabbed her arm and steered her farther down the dock.
“Yes. Okay. Trey did some reconnaissance on you. At my request.”
“Reconnaissance? Is that what they call invasion of privacy these days?”
“So shoot me. I wanted to know more about you before I came.”
“And you just happened to be there to catch me when I needed catching last night.”
“Yeah, I was. But what happened between us last night has nothing to do with any of that,” he said. “It just happened. I don’t see why you’re mad.”
“Ha! You wouldn’t! That’s just like you…men. We will discuss this later,” she said, glancing at the inspector. “Or maybe not. You have a yacht to evaluate and it’s my job to see that you’re happy with your purchase. Are you? Happy?”
Unsung Hero Page 9
