Tatum, now twenty and going to college to study public relations with a plan to work for her brother’s growing winery, had organized a play night for the children of attendees in a different wing of the mansion, with popcorn and other treats, and a host of games for them all to play with prizes for everyone.
And the dress...
It was black, tight down to midthigh and then split on the sides to just above her knees. She’d still been on an extremely tight student’s budget when she’d purchased it, and it had been the only thing at the overrun store that had been classy enough for the event, in her size, and with a price tag that wouldn’t deprive her and Ethan of lunches for a week.
The top part of the low-cut dress consisted of satin shoulder straps. Had she been smaller-busted, there would’ve been no cleavage showing. That evening she’d worn a short red satin jacket she’d found on the clearance rack at the overrun store. It was Christmastime, so it looked as if she’d picked the perfect outfit for the occasion.
Tonight, mid-April, on a date...no way was she wearing the red jacket.
But she had a black sweater, short and a blend of Lycra and wool. She’d bought it to go with the crop top she’d worn for working out in college, but who had to know that?
Which brought her back to shoes. She’d never be able to dance in the high heels she’d settled for...
She tried them on, studying herself in shorts and a T-shirt in the full-length mirror attached to the back of her bedroom door. Too sexy. Definitely.
Walking back and forth in front of the mirror, forward and backward, turning to see herself from behind, she bit her lip.
Her calves looked...attractive.
But when she walked in those shoes, her hips swayed back and forth.
Tad might notice. In fact, he might like the whole ensemble. Might want to partake of...
She shook her head. Kicked off the shoes. She’d had an erotic dream with him as the star two nights before. Probably because although they’d talked about their attraction, about being together, he’d still never even kissed her.
And she wanted him to. Badly.
It was a matter of wanting what you didn’t have, she told herself.
Great way to get a woman to want you—lead her on and then do nothing.
Tad wasn’t the type of guy who’d lead a woman on, though. Or do nothing about it if he did.
Other than Wednesday out on the trail, when would he have had a chance to kiss her? Ethan was always with them.
What if he kissed her and she messed up kissing him back? It wasn’t like she’d ever had hot sex in her life. Or been all that good at kissing. Always too closed in on herself. Feeling like a loser because she’d let her father’s issues do that to her.
She’d never been a raving beauty. And when you felt ugly, it was hard to imagine someone else finding you desirable.
With that thought, she lifted up her shirt, turning to see herself from different angles. Slender at the waist. Smooth skin, if a little too white in a state where tanned blondes were the norm. Her breasts looked good. She’d always thought they were her best feature.
Her thighs did, too, she decided, dropping her shirt as she put the shoes back on and paraded again.
Until she caught her gaze in the mirror. What was she doing?
She was a twenty-eight-year-old medical professional. A mother.
If he liked her enough to kiss her, then fine.
If she liked his kisses, she’d kiss him back. If he didn’t like her kisses, they’d take it from there.
She needed to get Jimmy’s present wrapped. And talk her son into taking a shower because he was sleeping in someone else’s sheets that night. She checked the battery on the watch she’d bought him for Christmas. A kid version of a smartwatch, designed to keep kids safe when they were apart from their parents. They could make and receive calls with up to four people.
Hers was the only number programmed in it.
Might not be a bad idea to have Tad’s there, too. Just in case. With something practical to do, she warded off the panic for another few minutes.
Chapter 15
Tad was going to keep his hands off her. Or die trying. From the second she opened her door to him that evening, he’d been salivating. Wanting her like he’d never wanted a woman in his life.
Even more than the first time he’d had sex. He’d been eighteen, the summer before he’d started college. She’d been five years older than him—working at the same restaurant he had. He’d had women since, a fair share, but only those who were happy to keep things casual.
He’d done some research that afternoon, and took Miranda to a five-star restaurant with a renowned chef, but not because of the stars or the chef. The place was situated on a cliff overlooking the Pacific and had a wall of windows on the ocean side. He’d been lucky enough to get a reservation for a window table for two, and was glad he had when they were seated and he looked across the candlelit space to see the glow in her eyes.
“This is wonderful,” she said, her voice caressing him like a warm massage. “I’ve never been to a place like this in my life.”
Her hair, down as usual, was shining and curled around her shoulders. She leaned forward and, not expecting the move, he found that his gaze was trapped by her cleavage. Something he’d purposely been avoiding. He could see the swell of her breasts, right there, naked, in front of him, and got instantly hard.
Then her words registered. “Never?” he asked. Although the chief hadn’t always been a millionaire, he’d done well for himself, making six figures by the time Dana would have been old enough to be taken out to fancy places.
“Nope,” she said, still glancing around. And then, sobering, looked at him. “I...grew up in foster care, remember?”
Right. He knew better. And yet...when she’d first made the statement, he could have sworn she was telling the truth. Not just Miranda’s truth, but Dana’s, too. The whole truth.
Surely, even if it was only for her high school graduation, the chief would have treated her to an elegant dinner. Tad had been out with him twice, and that had just been for informal job interview conversations.
Brian O’Connor liked fine food.
So did Miranda, as it turned out. She enjoyed a good glass of wine, too, although they limited themselves to one apiece since he was driving.
“I have a bottle at home,” she said as they were waiting for their check after dinner. They’d talked about innocuous things, like books they’d read, movies they’d seen, which ones they’d liked. They’d found several in common, and a couple not so much. She went for the more emotionally intense. He liked action. “The wine at my place won’t be as good as this was, but it’s in the fridge chilling...”
She was inviting him in.
He wanted to go in.
* * *
Miranda called Barb Randolph as she waited for Tad to get the valet to bring the car around. She didn’t feel like herself, was tingling with awareness and anticipation, but she was still a woman who knew she was solely responsible for the little boy she’d taken on the run with her.
To save their lives from a madman who should’ve been the one person in the world who’d protect her.
The man was famous for saving lives. Revered for it.
The irony wasn’t lost on her.
And she wasn’t going to let it taint this night, either. As soon as she heard that Ethan was doing well, had eaten three pieces of pizza and was with Jimmy and his dad in their workshop—where James was making both of the boys little cars out of wood—she was just a woman with the most gorgeous man on earth.
At least, that was how Tad seemed to her as he came strolling toward her, his long legs and firm body filling out that fitted black suit with the red satin tie. She could have worn her jacket, after all.
She could pretend he wasn’t as
hot as he seemed, except that she’d seen those legs. Knew how muscular and firm they were. Had seen the boxers, too...
Were they blue tonight?
Shivering with the need to know, she took the hand he held out to her and walked with him to his SUV, not caring that the slit in her dress rode up to the silken line of her black panties as she climbed inside.
She caught him looking. And smiled. Noticing how he pulled the corner of his jacket closed.
Being with a man, being in want, being wanted, was delicious. If this was healthy living, she was all for it.
After he started the engine, it was quiet inside, dark and intimate. He reached for the radio controls, finding a streaming station that played soft music with no commercials.
“Dinner was delicious, thank you,” she said as a love song that had come out a couple of years before filled the car.
She’d heard the song a hundred times. Knew the words. It had never meant a darn thing to her.
Suddenly every word was etching itself on her body.
And she got nervous.
She wasn’t in love. Couldn’t be in love.
But she was in a whole lot of like. Infatuation, even. Respect and a ton of lust...
And didn’t know squat about casual sex. Not personally.
“You want to stop at the beach? We could take off our shoes and walk in the sand,” he suggested as they drew closer to her part of town.
A reprieve. And romantic, too.
“We could stop at my place, pour some wine into plastic cups and walk over.” She’d have to change shoes. Or go barefoot.
“You want more wine?”
Not as badly as she wanted him.
She nodded.
He stopped at her house. And poured the wine while she changed into flip-flops. He got a pair of his own out of the back of his SUV as they passed it on their way down the driveway.
“From my gym bag,” he told her. “I don’t go barefoot in the sauna.”
Neither did she...when she’d gone to the sauna back in college. Her roommate at the time, a girl she’d only lived with for one semester, had teased her about it. That was the first time she’d gone to college. She silently took his hand as they started down the street.
* * *
Tad was about ready to explode. He’d clearly been without sex for too long, and he was having a hard time thinking about anything else. Found his thoughts thinning as though the synapses in his brain had gone numb. His penis had not. Darkness hid the evidence, for which he was thankful.
But he had to keep his wits about him or risk making a huge mistake. He couldn’t afford another one of those. Which was why he was carrying a cup of wine but not drinking from it.
He didn’t want to lose his closeness with her. And not because of her father. But because she’d come to mean more to him in eight short weeks than he could fathom. His life, a life that had been like a spinning top, had finally settled in a little beach town in California, thanks to the woman walking beside him in the dark, holding his hand.
And yet staying in Santa Raquel wasn’t a reality he could seriously consider. More and more he knew that he needed to get back to work. That quitting what he did—putting himself on the line to save lives—would destroy part of who he was. He needed his work.
And he needed her happy, too. Such an odd concept, to care so much about a person that his or her happiness made you feel...satisfied.
The air was cool and although she was wearing a sweater, she shivered. Removing his jacket, he put it around her shoulders and then took her hand again.
“You’ll need this,” she said, turning as though to shrug out of it and give it back to him.
He knew he wouldn’t need it. Not for the warmth. He was burning up.
And darkness was his cover.
She hesitated, but let the jacket stay where it was. Let herself accept the gift. And he could feel her struggle. Like she had to fight, constantly, to accept anything from anyone.
“I washed your windows.” The asinine comment blew out of him.
“What?”
“The day after you were talking about not getting to the outside windows. I came over and washed them for you.”
What the hell was he doing? Trying to piss her off?
Or ingratiate himself? No, not that. Definitely not that.
“Oh.” She didn’t miss a step. Didn’t drop his hand. But she was quiet for a minute or two and he couldn’t gauge her mood or come up with any guess as to what she was thinking.
“I didn’t notice,” she finally said. “I’m sorry. And thank you.”
All appropriate responses. But he wanted the truths she held inside.
“I shouldn’t have been on your property without letting you know. Shouldn’t have touched your house without letting you know.” One more block to the beach. They couldn’t get there soon enough. Maybe he’d take a headlong dive into the ocean.
“So why did you?”
“Because I wanted to help you and had a pretty strong suspicion that if I offered, you’d refuse.”
She chuckled. “You’re probably right.” Then, shaking her head, “I know you’re right.”
He didn’t want her agreeing with him. He wanted her writhing beneath him.
“I took away your choice about making that decision,” he said, feeling as cantankerous as he ever got. Playing to the victim in her, even though he was taking advantage of his private knowledge about her. His secret knowledge.
It was all to remind himself that their playing field wasn’t level. To make her less into him because he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to say no to anything she offered.
But one less secret felt pretty damned good, as it turned out.
“Being a friend means having someone’s back enough to know when that person needs help,” she said.
Oh. God, what was he going to do with this woman? The minute he felt he had it all under control, she surprised him again.
In ways that captivated him.
They’d reached the sand. Kicked off their flip-flops, leaving them on the edge of the sidewalk. No one else was out, but the beach, reserved for homeowners in the neighborhood, which included Miranda’s cottage, seemed to beckon them.
Not only were the waves rushing in to shore, but lights shone out on the ocean from some kind of vessel, and the shoreline in the distance was dotted with lights from houses and establishments. The sand was cold between his toes, in direct contrast to the heat of her hand in his.
“You need your coat back,” she said as a breeze lifted the hair on his head.
“I need the fresh air,” he told her. And then said, “You ever listen to older rock bands? You know, the classics?”
“Like the Eagles?”
“Yeah, or Kansas. They have this song, ‘Dust in the Wind.’ You ever hear it?”
“Dah, dah, dah...” she hummed the tuned. And then recited a couple of stanzas about dust and wind and how small each person really was.
“Sometimes I think about that, how we’re all little more than a grain of sand,” he said, talking in a way he never talked aloud. Sharing thoughts that embarrassed him somewhat. “And I take comfort in that.” He glanced over at her. Her hair was blowing back from her face, the moon shining on her cheeks. He moved in, not thinking, just moving, taking his lips to hers and then, in the last second, pulled back.
“It’s good to know I don’t always have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders,” he told her, hoping she’d see that she could feel the same way. That he could somehow find a way to truly lighten her load. Other than by washing a few windows. “Sometimes, I can just be one grain of sand blowing in the breeze, and the world won’t even know I’m not doing anything.”
“I heard a wise woman speaking once.” Her voice was louder. They had to speak up to
hear each other over the waves. “I can’t remember the occasion or what exactly she was talking about. But at one point she said, ‘All shall be well,’ and the words stuck with me. Sometimes, late at night, if I wake up and the world seems too heavy for me to carry, I tell myself, all shall be well. In the long run, no matter what I do or don’t do, no matter what does or doesn’t happen, all shall be well. Usually, remembering that, I can let go long enough to fall back asleep.”
Just like a grain of sand, able to lie on the beach and not matter, for a minute or two. A moment to lay down your burden and rest.
She got it. And he was glad.
Chapter 16
It was way too chilly to sit on the beach. Or even think about getting naked there. When Tad suggested heading back, she readily agreed, although she’d only had about three sips of her wine. She dropped the cup into the trash can as they passed it, and he did, too.
There was more at home, chilled. Mostly she just wanted to get there. To be alone with him.
The whole day had been building to this point and the walk on the beach had made it completely clear to her. She wanted this.
And all would be well.
The universe had sent her a man when she was ready to meet him, and yet, if he’d offered to wash her windows, she’d have turned him down.
For no good or rational reason.
She wasn’t going to turn him down that night. She was ready to start living again. Being a woman, a person, not just a mom and a PA.
While she loved being both of those things, she needed more.
It was time.
And she’d met a man, developed feelings for him, and was ready to take this first step. To get on with her life.
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