by Marin Thomas
“No secret. I wasn’t sure you’d be comfortable at my place.”
Silence. Hell. What had started out as a great evening had slipped downhill faster than a California mudslide. He questioned whether there was any way to salvage the night or if he should throw in the towel and drive her home.
“Can we go to the beach?”
Her request caught him by surprise. “Why the beach?” He didn’t mind going but was curious about her reasons.
“I want to walk barefoot on the wet sand and watch the sunset.”
He got the feeling years had passed since she’d strolled along the ocean. “When was your last trip to the beach?” Before she answered, he added, “No, wait. Let me guess. Nine years.”
Her chin jutted in the air. “Longer than that.”
What had this woman gone through in her young life that had forced her to give up tennis, the beach and who knows what else? Had the jerk she’d gotten involved with several years ago not only broken her heart but also her life?
Maybe, just maybe, Aaron could be the man to put her world back together again. “Nicholas Canyon is quiet compared with other beaches around L.A.” He shifted the truck into reverse and swung out of the motel lot.
Although they drove in silence, the tension in the truck dissipated. He merged onto the Pacific Coast Highway, then eight miles and fifteen minutes later they arrived. At 7:00 p.m. the guard station sat abandoned. He parked near the sand. Most sunbathers had left for the day. One family ate a picnic supper on a blanket, and farther down the beach a group of diehard athletes played volleyball. “We might as well leave our shoes in the truck.”
“Mmm…warm,” Jennifer commented after stepping into the sand.
“Try sticking your feet in this stuff at noon in July. It’s like walking on hot lava.” Grasping her hand, he pulled her alongside him, then curled an arm around her waist. Together they trudged toward a small inlet fifty yards away. He didn’t come to this beach often because it was too rocky to surf, but the beauty couldn’t be beat.
He steered her toward the water’s edge, and when the first wave slapped their feet, Jennifer halted to watch the tide rolling in. “The beach doesn’t smell the way I remember it.”
“What should a beach smell like?”
She laughed. “A tropical paradise.”
“C’mon.” He pointed to a cluster of boulders. “Our tropical paradise awaits us.”
They slogged through the sand, stopping twice so Jennifer could pick up a seashell. When they reached the outcropping of rock, Aaron brushed off one of the boulders and they sat. “Do you swim?” he asked.
“No. I’m afraid of the water.”
He thought of his childhood summers on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, hanging out at Katama Beach with his brothers, then as teenagers fishing for bluefish and bass at Cape Poge on Chappaquiddick. He loved his summers near the water and couldn’t imagine how anyone could fear the ocean. “What happened?”
“When I was eight years old, my foot became tangled in seaweed. I panicked and swallowed half the ocean. My mother insisted I had never been in any real danger, but after that day I refused to go in the water past my ankles.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“What are you afraid of, Aaron?”
He struggled to think of a fear. He loved roller coasters. Loved snow skiing, rock climbing, surfing. “I don’t know.”
One delicately arched brow mocked him.
Well, there was one thing that made him anxious—taking charge of his own life. But how could he explain it to Jennifer, when he didn’t understand it himself? “Should we walk some more?” he asked, hoping she’d drop the subject.
Instead of answering, she scooted closer. Even with the smell of fish, saltwater and warm sand permeating the air, Jennifer’s scent went straight to his head. She lifted her face, bringing her mouth to his. Kissing was better than walking.
As far as kisses went, theirs was soft, chaste, appropriate for a public beach. But he longed for more, and the hot shimmer in her eyes said she had the same thing in mind.
After helping her down, he led her to a small hideaway nestled between two large boulders several yards away. They wiggled through the opening, then he tugged her down to the sand and settled her between his thighs. Arms wrapped around her, he nibbled her neck.
She tilted her head, offering better access to the perfume-scented patch of skin behind her right ear. “This is cozy,” she whispered.
He thought about her pretty dress getting dirty, but his mind went blank when she pressed his hand to her breast. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, fighting against the violent rush of desire that rocked him. The lighting in the tiny space grew dimmer as the sun began its descent in the sky. The dusk made his sense of smell and touch sharper. Fuller. He explored her breast, his hand testing the weight, shape and softness of her. Then he rubbed a finger over the top of her nipple. Her soft moan bounced off the rocky walls.
Needing to feel more of her, he freed her breast from the dress, turned her and took her in his mouth. Whimpers and sighs filled their rocky hideaway, their echo urging him on. His hand found its way under the hem of her dress and he slid his fingers along her toned thigh. Teasingly, he toyed with the edge of her panties. Cotton. He’d guessed right. He wiggled his fingertips beneath the cotton fabric and cupped her firm fanny.
Slow down, Aaron. This isn’t the time or place.
Then she swung her leg across his hip and thrust herself against his erection. Groaning, he buried his face in her cleavage and fought to keep his body under control.
Go ahead. Show her what only you can make her feel.
An inexplicable need drove Aaron to focus on Jennifer’s pleasure. With renewed intensity, he sought the feminine softness between her thighs. Caress after caress, he pushed her beyond reality into the land of fantasy. Shadows covered her face, concealing her expression. He relied on her lusty groans and earthy sighs to gauge her pleasure. Her breath blasted his face in forceful puffs, her nails dug into his arms and her pelvis thrust against his hand. Ah, this was paradise of a different kind.
He’d never experienced anything as moving as Jennifer in the throes of passion…Jennifer soaring in his arms. Suddenly, she flattened his hand against her mound, stilling his fingers. Her head fell back, her black hair cascading across his arm. Wave after wave crashed over her while he held her, cherished her.
When her breathing quieted, he snuggled her to him. His throat ached with a strange tightness and he swallowed several times to ease the pain. Not trusting his voice, he sought out her mouth. With his kiss, he told her that what she’d shared with him had been powerful and special. I’ll never forget this moment with you, Jenny.
Muted laughter filtered through the cracks of their cavern. He snatched his hand from under her dress, then straightened her clothing. A group of teens sauntered by several yards away but failed to notice Aaron and Jennifer hidden between the rocks.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Better than okay.” She caressed his cheek. “I wish you…”
“I’m fine. Better than fine.”
“But…” She nudged the front of his pants. “You’re still—”
“Hard?” He laughed. “I’m always hard around you, Jenny.”
“Liar.”
He felt her smile against his shirt. “Maybe not always this hard, but always ready,” he answered as he helped her to her feet. If they didn’t leave their love nest soon, he’d end up taking her on the gritty sand. Hand in hand, they meandered toward the parking lot, the pinkish-orange sunset casting a glow across the sand.
Halfway to the truck, Jennifer stopped and blurted, “I want to tell you about my mother and brother.”
Chapter Nine
Jennifer’s desire to share what had happened to her mother and brother humbled Aaron—and made him uneasy. What if he didn’t react the right way or say the right thing? Shoving aside his doubts, he insisted, “You can
trust me, Jenny.”
Her solemn brown eyes begged to believe him. “Michael, my ex-fiancé, was an impostor.”
Aaron winced, hating that he had anything in common with the man. He nodded to a shade tree not far from where he’d parked the truck. “C’mon. There’s a picnic table over there.” He clasped her hand, insisting she needed his support, when in truth he required the reassurance.
Once seated on the bench, Jennifer began her story. “I was a senior in high school when I met Michael at a party. He introduced himself as an insurance salesman working toward a degree in business.”
No insurance salesman Aaron knew of ever aspired to be a hard-core businessman.
“Although Michael was an anglo, he had several latino friends and fit in with everyone. We dated for a few months, then after I graduated from high school he proposed to me. I had plans to attend the local community college that fall, but we went ahead and set a wedding date for the end of the summer. The very next day my life fell apart.”
She pulled her hand free from his grasp and hugged herself. Aaron fought the urge to wrap his arms around her and protect her. He’d learned one thing about Jennifer the past few weeks: she wasn’t a leaner. She was strong, independent and determined. “What went wrong?”
“I remember the afternoon as if it happened yesterday.” She stared into space, lost in the memories. “A clear blue sky. No clouds. Mrs. Sandoval, our neighbor, making chorizo sausage and the smell drifting through the screen door. Antonio at Mrs. Maya’s house, playing video games with her boys. Delia setting the table. Papa still at work. Me cutting up a watermelon in the kitchen.”
Aaron pictured a scene right out of Mayberry, U.S.A. An ordinary day in the neighborhood. A day like any other.
“My younger brother, Rafael, and my mother sat on the front porch, discussing his latest purchase—a car. Mama demanded to know where he’d gotten the money to buy the brand-new vehicle, when he worked at the bowling alley for minimum wage.”
Jennifer shivered. “I heard the gunshots and jumped. The knife slipped, slicing my finger. Blood dripped onto the piece of watermelon.” She rubbed the tips of her fingers together as if she could still feel the sticky substance.
This story was worse than anything he’d imagined. When he’d considered the possibilities, he’d assumed a tragedy like a traffic accident or cancer. Not…not…murder!
“I raced through the house to the porch and caught a glimpse of a car speeding away with a gun muzzle sticking out the back window. My brother lay sprawled across the front steps and Mama sat upright in her chair.” Jennifer sniffed. “If not for the red stain spreading across the front of her dress, I would have thought she was napping.”
Aaron had to touch Jennifer. She deserved a hug and he sure as hell needed one. He slid an arm around her shoulders and snuggled her stiff body against his side.
“I screamed at Delia to call 911, then checked Mama, but I couldn’t find a pulse. When I touched Rafael’s shoulder, he opened his eyes. I told him to hang on.”
“I’m sorry, baby. So sorry.” Aaron brushed the hair from her face and ached at the pain in her watery brown eyes.
“‘Who were they?’ I asked Rafael.” Jennifer’s voice shook. “My brother warned, ‘Don’t marry Mike. He’s bad, Jen. He’s bad.’”
A chill slithered down Aaron’s spine at the twist in the story.
“Then my brother died in my arms.”
With the pad of his thumb, Aaron caught the lone tear that dribbled down Jennifer’s cheek. Words seemed inappropriate. Instead, he kissed her forehead, held her tight and said nothing.
“The following week, Antonio, Delia and Papa and I lived in a fog. But in the back of my mind I remembered my brother’s warning and questioned Michael the day of the funeral.”
Aaron had been too young to remember his parents’ deaths, but he imagined Pop had suffered the same way Jennifer and her family had when he’d had to make funeral arrangements for his wife, only son and daughter-in-law.
“Michael said my naivete and gullibility made me an easy target.” She laughed, the brittle sound startling Aaron. “He boasted that after we began dating, he talked Rafael into being his clucker.”
“What’s a clucker?”
“The middleman for a drug dealer. He connects buyers and sellers.”
“Your fiancé was a drug dealer?”
“A crankster. He manufactured methamphetamines.”
Damn.
“Michael claimed that my brother had aspirations of becoming a juggler, a teenage street dealer. He made his own deals, stealing Michael’s clients and undercutting his prices.”
“How long did this go on?” Aaron wondered why no one in the family had caught on to Rafael’s illegal activities.
“About a month. Michael claimed he’d had to use my brother and mother to teach the others who worked for him a lesson in loyalty.”
“I’m surprised the creep didn’t deny his involvement with your brother.”
“He knew I wouldn’t believe him. I always sensed that Michael resented my close relationship with my family.” Her voice dropped and Aaron leaned nearer. “I asked him if he’d been the one to shoot my brother and mother. He said he wasn’t stupid enough to pull the trigger himself.”
Rage swept through Aaron as he battled to remain seated and allow Jennifer the opportunity to finish her story.
“I picked up a folding chair and threw it at his head. The bastard laughed and asked, ‘Does this mean the wedding’s off?’”
“What did the police do?”
She shook her head. “Michael threatened to harm my father if I told anyone.”
Aaron wasn’t a man who settled things with his fists. He preferred to negotiate his way out of trouble. But right now he really longed to take matters in his own hands and make Michael, the loser, pay for what he did to Jennifer and her family.
“A few weeks later, the police arrested two men in a drug bust and they confessed to killing my brother and mother. But Michael remained free.”
“But—”
“In the end, it didn’t matter.”
Didn’t matter?
“A week before Christmas, Michael’s body was found in a Dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant. He’d been beaten, then shot twice in the head. Best Christmas present I’d ever received.”
Aaron strained to see beyond her I-don’t-give-a-damn expression.
“I had nothing to do with his murder,” she insisted. “But I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t glad he’d met the same fate as Rafael and Mama.”
“I wish it had never happened, Jenny.”
“I wish the same thing every day of my life.”
He didn’t know what to do or say to erase the pain, sorrow and hurt in her eyes. So he kissed her. He longed to give comfort and expected nothing in return.
Then she shifted, pressing her lips more firmly against his mouth. What had begun as a consoling gesture grew into a passionate embrace. “Let me take you back to my place, Jenny. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
Her fingers feathered across his chin. “Neither should you, Aaron.”
THEY MADE THE DRIVE to Aaron’s Bunker Hill apartment in silence. Unease edged into his thoughts, adamant that the timing for such a one-of-a-kind event was off. If he were a fairy-tale prince, he’d stick a noble feather in his cap and ride off into the sunset—alone. But he was a mere mortal, and he’d be damned if he’d walk away from an opportunity to make love to Jennifer.
He’d never considered himself a poetic man. But the woman sitting next to him, wringing her hands in her lap, stirred something inside him that urged him to be everything she’d ever dreamed of. Tonight, he’d do his best to be her Casanova. Her Prince Charming. Her Rhett Butler. Her everything.
He turned down a side street, then drove a half block before slipping into the building’s underground parking garage. After he pulled into his private space, he shut off the engine. Jennifer stared in silence at the number 2
0 painted in black on the concrete wall in front of the truck’s bumper. A long minute passed before she made eye contact with him. Desire, fear and yearning swirled in the chocolate orbs. Tell me you want this, Jennifer.
He waited for a sign. Nothing. He reached for the key, but her hand shot across the seat and clamped around his wrist. Rather than being painful, the sting of her short nails biting into his skin comforted. “I want this…you, Aaron.”
The soft confession abbreviated some—but not all—of the anxiety twisting his gut. “You’re going to be here awhile.” He kissed her. Had to. Had to chase the nervous shadow in her expression. “If I have my way—” he nibbled her lower lip “—you’ll be here in the morning.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “In your truck?”
“In my bed.” He held open his door and she scooted across the front seat and out of the vehicle. The elevator was next to the parking stall. After he pressed a button on the remote dangling from his key chain, the doors whooshed open. With a hand against her lower back, he escorted her into the private lift and punched the Close button. There were no numbers on the panel, only a red emergency button and a telephone to call for help.
As soon as the doors shut, he gathered her in his arms.
“Aaron…”
He suckled her earlobe.
“There’s a surveillance camera in here.” She pointed over his shoulder.
Although only his brothers and grandfather had remotes to the elevator, he’d had the camera installed for added safety. The security system tied into a monitor in his apartment that beeped, alerting him whenever someone got on the elevator. “No one is watching us, I promise.” He clasped her head between his hands and kissed her full out. The motion of the elevator rocketing up twenty floors, combined with the heavenly taste of her, sent a roller-coaster rush through him. By the time the doors opened, he was light-headed.
He stepped off, but Jennifer remained on the elevator, hunched in the corner. Her gaze wandered around the foyer. “Where are we?”
