by Candis Terry
He shrugged those broad shoulders.
Well, that was disappointing.
He lifted one dark brow inquisitively. “You?”
Brooke snagged her lip between her teeth. Answering his question would no doubt lead to more inquiries about her family, and she wasn’t ready to go there yet.
Maybe she’d never be ready.
For years she’d been judged based on her mother and father’s beliefs and behaviors, and the community in which she’d lived. It wasn’t a place she’d ever felt safe or loved, and she never planned to return.
Since she’d escaped she’d done her best to maintain radio silence on the issue. The less people knew, the less opportunity they had to criticize. Dec’s opinions mattered. And he was the one person she couldn’t bear to have judge her. Though she trusted him, she knew not everyone looked further than the dirty details. The situation over which she’d had no control had left a stain on her past. And as everyone knew, stains were impossible to ignore.
“I already said I wanted to find the love of my life and get married.” She let out a little more of Moochie’s leash.
“And do you have huge aspirations to be a mother?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. She hadn’t had the best role model with her own mother. Then again, she’d pretty much struck gold with her foster mother. So she was torn. “I’m willing to give it some serious consideration when the time is right. I like kids. Until they turn into teenagers. Then they scare me.”
“Tell me about it.”
An elderly couple strolled by, holding hands, and smiling in that special way two people who’d spent a lifetime together did. Brooke felt a little pang in her heart. She wanted to be just like that someday.
Dec never even noticed them.
“My sister, Nicole, became a little crazier each year she grew older,” Dec said, obviously not paying any attention to the couple who’d just passed them by. “Things haven’t gotten much better since she turned eighteen.”
“Well, don’t get your hopes up. She’s not out of the woods yet.”
“Is being a difficult teen a subject you’re familiar with?”
“Nope.” She’d been too afraid she’d be sent back where she came from to be difficult. “Don’t get me wrong, I was no angel.” Sometimes she’d had to push the envelope just to see if the Hastingses would truly never send her back for any reason as they’d promised. “But usually when I was given rules I stuck to them.”
A gull swooped and screeched, startling Brooke a little and causing her to bump into Dec. His hand came up to steady her.
“How about you?” she asked quickly, fanning down the flames his unintentional touch had ignited. “Rule breaker?”
“Totally.” Obviously the bump hadn’t affected him at all.
“How did I already know that?”
Without a response, he stopped in front of a seafood restaurant with a rooftop patio.
Looked like tall, dark, and bossalicious might have some secrets of his own. Which gave her another avenue to explore.
“How about this place?” he asked.
“Looks great. I’m hungry,” she said, knowing the only thing that would truly taste as good as it looked was him.
He waited for her to take the stairs ahead of him.
Brooke knew the gesture was because he was a gentleman, but part of her hoped he’d let her go first because he wanted to watch her go up the stairs in her short shorts. In any case, she made every step she took visually count.
“Wow.” She gasped as they reached the rooftop patio. “Great view.”
“Excellent view,” he replied, looking at her legs and not the mountains and ocean.
That single deviation from his usual business persona to a sexual alpha male gave her hope. It also made the ladies in the lingerie department stand up and shake their lace.
When his eyes finally made it back up to her face and he was once again in full control, he asked, “Hungry?”
“You have no idea.”
A server instructed them to select any table they wanted and said she’d be back shortly with their menus and water. After Moochie did a cute little dance, the server added that she’d bring a bowl of dog water and maybe even a snack.
They selected an umbrella table by the rail where they could watch the anchored boats bob on the water and a pair of sea lions frolic near a buoy.
“You ever wonder what it would be like to live on the ocean?” Brooke asked Dec.
“Nauseating?”
She laughed. He may not show it often, but the man had a wickedly dry sense of humor she truly enjoyed. “Do you get seasick?”
“No idea.” His big shoulders shrugged. “I’ve never been out in a boat. The closest I’ve come is a rotted canoe my brothers and I took out on the lake when we spent the summers at my grandfather’s place.”
“Being that none of you drowned, it sounds like fun.” She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Did you camp out too?”
“We did. ’Bout burned down the forest trying to figure how to make a campfire once or twice.” A nostalgic smile brushed his lips. “Most of the time we were big adventurers. Indiana Jones had nothing on us.”
“I’d love to see what you looked like as a child.”
“No you wouldn’t.” He shook his head. “I was tall and scrawny, and it took forever for my face to grow and match the size of my two front teeth.”
“Well, they’re perfect now.”
“Braces. Two years of metal tweaking torture.”
“I can’t picture you as a metal mouth.”
“You’ll get your chance. My mom has pictures all over the house. There’s one in the hallway with me in braces and lime green rubber bands. Guess I thought those were cool back in the day.”
This might be the most personal info she’d ever gotten out of him. Yes, she’d known he was one of five brothers and had a sister, but she didn’t know what kind of household he’d grown up in. She’d guessed, but didn’t actually know if his parents had been overprotective or easygoing. She didn’t know exactly how close he and his siblings were. And she didn’t know what kind of kid he’d been. Troublemaker? Teacher’s pet? Class clown? She could picture him as either of the first two, but not the last one. As an adult he was way too uptight to have ever been the funniest guy in the class.
Maybe the distance and time away from the office and the fast pace of the big city would do him good. He already seemed a little more relaxed. At least, relaxed for a tightly wired, always-on-the-go professional with colossal aspirations and a driving force for only God knew what.
“Did you wear suits and ties back then too?” she asked with a grin.
“Nope. Back then you couldn’t get me out of my jeans or a baseball uniform.”
“You played baseball?” Why did this even surprise her? It wasn’t like he’d suddenly shown up on earth in Giorgio Armani with a master’s degree in his hand.
He sipped his ice water and nodded. “Earned a full ride scholarship for it at San Diego State. That’s when I decided to move to California for good.”
“Ah. So you were an Aztec.”
“I was. But I only played one season.”
“Injury?”
He shook his head. “My brother Jordan had already been drafted into the NHL. Everyone knew he had mad athletic skills and would make a career with his brawn. I decided I wanted to make one with my brain.”
“So you don’t have that special twin connection with him?”
“My twin and I are polar opposites in every way. Especially now that he’s getting married.”
Brooke had met Declan’s twin and concurred they were nothing alike. Jordan Kincade had been a typical playboy jock that graced celebrity magazine covers with a different woman on his arm in every issue.
But if a total player like Jordan had been tamed by love, who was to say Dec couldn’t be next in line?
Before his twin had become engaged, Dec had nev
er given marriage much thought. Correction. He’d never given marriage any thought. How could he ever consider committing himself to one person when he was already completely devoted to his career? It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Especially someone he would obviously care about. Since his parents died, his views on the holy sanctity of marriage had shifted, warped like an old record left in the sun. His mom and dad had been married for thirty-five years. They’d been great parents and had a wonderful, supportive relationship.
Or so he and his siblings had always thought.
Now the façade had slipped and there were more questions than answers, leaving Dec to wonder why bother with the fuss of getting married in the first place. In his mind, a brief, passionate relationship was better than investing time with someone who may not actually be in it for the long haul.
Not that he planned to be in any kind of relationship—brief or otherwise—anytime soon.
At that moment their server appeared with a water bowl for Moochie and was ready to take their lunch orders. Brooke ordered Maryland-style crab cakes and a Diet Pepsi.
When it was his turn he told the server, “I’ll have the seared ahi and black coffee.”
Brooke gave him a funny look. Not ha-ha funny, but what-the-hell-is-he-thinking funny.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, fearful of what she had cooking in that fanciful off-the-clock brain of hers.
“Do you mind if I order something different?” she asked, scrunching her nose in a comically rueful way.
“Go ahead.”
“Cancel both of those orders,” she said.
“Hey, wait a—”
She held up a finger. “Instead, could you bring us the Triple Trouble Tacos? Is your salsa hot or mild?”
“We have both,” the server said, flashing Dec an occasional look. “The hot is made with habaneros. We do serve a special order salsa with ghost peppers and—”
“No.” Dec stopped the nonsense before it went any further. He was not about to create a five alarm fire in his mouth and scorch off his taste buds. Who knew when he might need them for something more delicious? Something other than food.
“No ghost peppers.” Brooke grinned, knowing she already had him backed into a culinary corner. “And if you could just serve it on one big platter then give us a couple of smaller plates that would be great.”
Since he’d once observed an adolescent Ethan lick the popcorn bowl he’d been sharing with Parker because he’d been pissed off, Dec didn’t share food off the same plate with anyone.
“And instead of soda and coffee, could you bring us a . . .” Her finger trailed across the menu before it stopped. “Shipwreck and a Voodoo Crush?”
“Right away.”
When the server left their table, a sly smile pulled at the corners of Brooke’s luscious lips.
“I don’t even want to know what’s in those drinks,” he said. “But you do realize we have to drive when we leave here.”
“And we have all of that . . .” She lifted her hand and extended it to indicate the wide expanse of sand perpendicular to the wharf. “With which to walk it off.”
Wanting to smile at her brashness, he leaned back in his chair. “Pretty ballsy changing my order, Ms. Hastings.”
The sunlight caught like spun gold in the wavy strands of her hair. He liked that her face was makeup free, but mostly he liked that she didn’t need a mask to feel confident. Not that he ever planned to date Brooke, but he’d dated a lot of women who’d refused to leave the house until their makeup had been perfectly applied and every hair was in place.
In his mind, all that preparation took away an opportunity for spontaneity. With his busy schedule, sometimes that’s all he could manage—a last minute invite. Brooke had so much sexy going on she didn’t need all that stuff. And today she’d pretty much proved that she was game for the whole spur-of-the-moment thing. Impressive.
“How many business lunches and dinners have I sat through with you, Mr. Kincade?”
He shrugged. “Too many to count.”
“Bingo.” She pointed. “And do you know what you order almost each and every time?”
“No.”
“Seared ahi.”
“And the problem with that is?”
“Boring.”
“I like ahi.”
“Good for you. But why not expand your horizons? Eating the same old same old every day is like having missionary sex every time the mood strikes.”
And why did she need to bring that up? Because his imagination definitely didn’t need a push in that direction.
“Shake things up.” She waved her hands upward like she was about to take flight. “Be daring. Live a little.”
Damn she was animated. How the hell did someone get like that?
“I’m happy with things the way they are.”
“Are you really?” As she leaned into the table, the unyielding fabric of that tight white tank top across her breasts dominated his attention.
He didn’t respond.
Couldn’t.
He was too . . . distracted.
“You know what they say; all work and no play . . .” she said with a shrug, leaving the remainder of that statement hanging like a noose.
“So you’re saying that eating fish tacos is suddenly going to shake things up in my life?”
“Breaking your same old song and dance routine will. After you’ve opened up the door, anything can happen. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
The server interrupted them to deliver a large plate of steaming soft tacos, bowls of salsa and sour cream, and two giant froufrou drinks with slices of pineapple and maraschino cherries speared by pink umbrellas.
Oh hell no.
He was not going to drink something that would immediately revoke his man card. But when Brooke plucked the cherry from her glass, dangled it in the air, and captured it with her tongue, he had second thoughts. By the time she settled the bright pink straw between the soft cushion of her lips and sucked the orange frothy drink into her mouth, he figured he’d be game for just about any damn thing. As long as he could watch her do that all day long.
A long blink brought his brain cells back together. “No.”
“No, what?”
“I’m not curious.”
“Oh come on. Play along.”
She sure liked to use the word play a lot.
She sucked on the straw again then looked up at him with an impish grin. “If you actually came up with some bucket list items you might act on them. Think about all the fun you could have.”
“How about we just stick to your list?”
She dragged a blackened salmon taco onto her plate, shook a spoonful of salsa on top of the fish then took a bite. Eyes closed, she hummed her approval. Dec didn’t know how someone just biting into a tortilla could be so sensual, but Brooke made it look easy.
“This is delicious.” She waggled her taco. “Your turn.”
“Evading, Ms. Hastings?” He dragged a lobster taco onto his plate, took a bite, and nearly moaned when the buttery flavor rolled over his tongue. When Brooke took another bite, he began to understand the implications of how sexy food play could really be.
Especially when she licked her fingers.
“The quandary is,” Brooke said after another sip of her umbrella drink, “that I do have a list. Which means I’ve already given the topic plenty of thought. Which means I’m much more fascinated with you and yours.”
“I’m pretty uninteresting,” he insisted.
“Are you?” Doubtful and challenging, she raised a sleek brow.
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.” She took another bite of taco and he couldn’t have stopped himself from watching her lips close over that tortilla any more than he’d be able to stop breathing and survive.
“Everything in my life is pretty routine,” he debated.
“You want to know what I think?” Taco in hand, she tilted her head as though he was
a puzzle she had to put together.
“I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”
Her straight white teeth tore off a chunk of taco and while she chewed she studied his face. Once she swallowed and sipped her drink, she grinned. “I think you’re afraid to have fun.”
He scoffed. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Except having fun.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” The growl in his tone should have stopped her.
It didn’t.
“Because when you describe yourself, you use words like uninteresting, routine, and busy.”
“Fear has nothing to do with it. That’s how I see myself.”
“Well, I see you as sharp, intelligent, diligent, stubborn, devoted to family, passionate about helping others, and . . .” She paused while her dark eyes roamed his face then dropped to his mouth.
Jesus. The look she gave him was so hot he wanted to break every damn rule he’d forced upon himself.
“And?”
“And . . .” Her full, luscious lips curved into a smile. “Chicken.”
“Chicken?”
“Yes. I’m doing everything I can right now to keep from flapping my wings in your honor.”
“Brooke?” As he leaned in just slightly to make his point, he had to do everything he could not to crack a smile. The idea was absurd, but he expected she knew that. “I am not chicken.”
“Sez the man who won’t let himself go enough to toss some items in a bucket list.”
“Fine. If you want to play this . . . game, I’ll bite. But since you’re such a big talker, how about you go first.”
Discovering more about Brooke was something he found he could do all day. It wasn’t just her answers; it was the way she responded. She had more passion in her little finger than most people did in their entire bodies. And as a man who really shouldn’t be attracted to her but was, he’d like to see how deep and far that passion went.
“If I go first, you have to give me an answer. No more dancing around.” She reached her hand across the table. “Deal?”
“Deal.” They shook, and it was everything Dec could do to let go.
“Okay. Let’s see.” Deep in thought she looked skyward then turned those melted chocolate eyes back on him. “I’d like to visit Hobbiton.”
