Nameless Surrender

by Kristin Daniels

  He grinned. “Three. And a baby sister."

  "Wow. Big family. That must be great.” Her voice trailed off. She turned her head and stared out the front window.

  "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

  She shook her head and looked back at him. “No, there's just me. My mom died the year I turned nine. I suppose my parents never got around to adding to the family. They were both somewhat, well, busy all the time."

  "Zoe, I'm sorry—"

  She waved her hand to force a change of subject. The last thing she wanted to discuss was her parents. “Tell me about your brothers."

  Thank God he didn't press the issue.

  "I'm the oldest. Then there's Wes, younger by a year and a half. He's a detective on the north side of town.” Dean turned at a stoplight. “Next came Camden, or Cam as we call him. He's the odd man out, as far as career goes. Somehow he ended up with a degree in business. He moved to New York a couple years ago to try and make it big on Wall Street. My dad's still trying to figure that one out."

  She chuckled when he did, but the love and warmth he held for his family was evident.

  "Last for the boys is Aidan, the playboy of the family. He moved to Florida about a year ago, joined the force down there. He's a rookie now, but I give him another couple years. That boy's ready to blaze his way to the top. Once he settles down some, that is."

  Pride oozed from him, and she felt her internal resistance slip even further. “What about your sister? What's she like?"

  His expression softened. “Tessa. She's the brains of the family. She's in her last year of law school. Wants to be a public defender, of all things.” He tilted his head ever so slightly. “That's it for the Lucas family, which is good, because we're here."

  He turned the wheel, pulled under an arched sign that read Fuller's Marina, and parked next to an old-fashioned light post. Further down the hill, settled into a small bay, lay the marina. At least two dozen medium to large-sized boats floated, nestled among the docks.

  Dean came around to her door, and when she turned in her seat, he didn't hesitate to capture her waist in his huge hands. He lifted and lowered her to the ground. Her hands naturally lay on his shoulders, and they both stood quietly for a moment, caught in each other's gaze. He spoke first, breaking the trance.

  "The sunset will pass us right by if we stand here much longer,” he whispered, still holding her tight.

  When his heavy-lidded eyes bore into hers, her knees trembled. She braced herself for what she knew would be a devastating kiss.

  But to her dismay, he stayed true to his word, released her waist and held onto her hand instead. “Come on, you don't want to miss this."

  She followed him to the edge of the dock and stopped to slip off her shoes. He waited, and when she hooked the straps on her fingers, they continued down the path, winding their way around the floating docks until they came to a small yacht.

  "Nice little boat you have here,” she teased.

  He threw down a small gangway and helped her across. “Thanks, darlin'. Welcome aboard the ‘Seaduction'.” He gave her a wry smile. “My brothers and I bought her about three years ago as an investment. Now I don't think you could get any of us to sell her off. We've discovered a love of water that seems to run through each one of us."

  He motioned then toward an L-shaped bench at the rear of the boat. “Have a seat, get comfortable. I'll get the wine."

  "Okay."

  After she tossed her shoes to the side, she slid onto the soft leather sofa. It still held the heat of the sun from earlier in the day, and the warmth along with the suppleness of the leather relaxed her a little more.

  He returned with the stems of two wine glasses criss-crossed in the fingers of one hand, and an open bottle of red wine held in the other. He offered her the nearest glass and filled it half way after she took it from him.

  She sipped and waited for him to settle next to her. “Do you spend a lot of time out here with your family?"

  He leaned back and crossed an ankle over his knee; his arms open wide along the back of the sofa. “We try to. More so now that summer's coming to an end.” He lifted his chin toward the sky. “This part is what I really love about the boat. Sitting here at dusk, right when the sun is about to go behind that hill.” His voice lowered then, ever so slightly. “But this time I think I've found something even more beautiful to watch."

  She glanced at him and her heart skipped a beat. Literally stopped for a moment inside her chest. He wore a look of pure sensuality, and she had to look away before she got lost in his stare, got lost in him.

  The splendor of the deep oranges and bright pinks that faded into light purples in the evening sky did little to distract her from his arousing presence at her side. She sipped on her wine, finding herself suddenly mute.

  The rough fingers of his hand curled around her shoulder. “Does it bother you when I talk like that, Zoe?"

  She stared at the glowing orb as it sank behind the hill in front of her. After a few dry-mouthed swallows, she worked out a whisper. “I don't know.” The honesty in her answer surprised her. Yes, she liked his attention, but it all went back to the war inside her, the battle that raged between her heart and mind.

  She felt him move to sit on the edge of the couch. He placed his wine glass on the small table in front of them, then took hers from her hand and set it next to his. Warm hands reached around to cup her shoulders and turn her to face him. She averted her eyes, afraid to look in his. But he lifted her chin with a gentle thumb, so she had no choice.

  The brown of his eyes deepened to black. When she bit her bottom lip, his thumb came up and eased it from between her teeth.

  "Don't,” he whispered.

  The simple word blazed inside her. She shivered.

  "I don't say those things to upset you. But, I'm also not going to hide what I feel. I think you know the attraction I feel for you. I won't ever lie about wanting you, wanting to be inside you."

  Oh, God. Heat pooled in her sex while tingles flew around in a cataclysmic pattern within her.

  "I'll never push you, Zoe. When you're ready, come to me.” The edge of his lip lifted. “I'm a patient man. I can wait."

  When I'm ready? “Now!” screamed her body, but her heart—her damn fragile heart—clenched with a weakening wariness at the same time.

  He stroked her cheek and looked from her eyes to her lips.

  She wanted him to kiss her—heart be damned. The ache inside her grew, but burst when he removed his hand.

  "How about that dinner now?” he said.

  Before she knew it, he'd gotten up and left for the galley. Her pulse pounded and her mind reeled at what had just transpired.

  With very few words, he managed to chip away huge chunks of the armor that surrounded her heart.

  And she couldn't help but think perhaps it was time.

  * * * *

  Dean somehow made his way to the galley. Every step that took him farther from her tortured him, every second not in her presence killed him. But if he hadn't walked away when he did, he'd have kissed her. And that would've led to him wanting more, and the possibility he'd scare her off.

  He needed to remember that even though he knew who she was, knew what they'd shared together, she didn't. To her, he was just some random guy she'd met at work, not the man she trembled for, the man she broke her own rules for.

  As much as he loved their time together at Entice, the sex along with the physical intimacy, he craved the woman who waited outside more. The intelligent doctor. The woman with the kind soul. Even the woman with a broken, damaged heart. The sadness that sometimes shadowed her eyes crushed him. What he wouldn't do to be able to transform that look into one of pure happiness.

  He would, he vowed. Starting tonight.

  He uncovered plates piled high with his favorite steak sandwiches on rosemary bread and the simple potato salad he'd prepared earlier, setting them on a tray along with silverware and napkins. When he return
ed to the aft deck, she stood at the railing with her elbows perched on the edge. He set the tray on the table and went to stand beside her.

  "The water's so clear here,” she said. “Even at dusk, I can almost see all the way to the bottom."

  He didn't respond, and after a few seconds she looked at him. He prayed the lust and longing in his expression was difficult for her to read.

  "What?"

  He shook his head. “Nothing. I told you before, I like to watch you, that's all.” He lifted her hand and rubbed gentle circles over her knuckles. “Come on, let's eat."

  They sat at the table as the evening sky darkened. They ate, talked, and laughed. The conversation flowed with incredible ease. They shared stories of family and childhoods, discussed careers and the pressures that went with them. He told her about his parents, and she spoke a little of her mother's death and the aloofness of her father that resulted because of it. It didn't take much to figure out he'd been the angry older man at the hospital the other night.

  Her divorce had been brought up, a common tale of infidelity. The comment “and that's when my trust died right along with my marriage” rocked him, and he got the distinct impression she was withholding something about the story. He hated to see her in such pain, and with the ulterior motive of tamping down a sudden overpowering anger toward her jackass of an ex, he changed the subject and steered them into a more pleasant conversation.

  By the end of the night, he'd become captivated with everything about Zoe Grant. The time to end the charade and reveal his identity drew near. He understood the risk, but in order to get what he wanted, what he knew in his heart they both needed—each other—he had to take the chance. How could he keep up this pretense any longer when he'd glimpsed what a future with her would be like?

  He just needed to wait for the perfect opportunity.

  And hope to hell she'd accept him.

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  Nameless Surrender: Chapter 9

  All day long, Zoe lied to herself. Over and over again, she attempted to convince herself that she felt nothing for Dean Lucas. And over and over, she knew it wasn't true. Sometime during their dinner together, he had changed her perspective, broken down her walls and made her reconsider that huge step into the scary realm of “wanting more than a friendship."

  The way he listened, the questions he asked and his interest in every one of her answers made her feel ... well, cherished seemed a bit premature. But damn if she could think of another way to describe it. His caring gestures—a light finger that stroked her palm, a gentle hand that brushed the hair off her shoulder—those simple little acts, along with his rapt attention and overt sexuality, made her mull over all the “maybes” that floated in her head.

  But in truth, if she had to pinpoint when her feelings started to re-awaken, she'd have to go back to the time she spent at Entice. It was her partner there, and the primal connection she felt with him, that unearthed those emotions she'd kept dormant for so many months and laid the groundwork for her to want more.

  So now, as she stood in front of the boutique he'd asked her to come to, she had a decision to make. Even with her newfound outlook on life, she still considered herself to be a one-man woman. All relationships—God, was she really thinking about another relationship?—had ups and downs, but she could handle only one at a time, thank you very much.

  But which one?

  She craved what they both offered her. Compatibility and complete sexual satisfaction from one, tenderness and a sense of belonging from the other. Combine that with the passion and romance she knew they both could deliver and she felt torn up inside.

  Her mantra of late popped in her mind. Go with the flow, Zoe. The only way she could decide was to dive in head first, listen to her heart and see what happened.

  She checked her watch. 8:45 on the dot. The sign on the boutique's door stated it closed at nine, which meant they'd be here after hours. The thought of what he might have planned made her shiver.

  With a good amount of courage, a small amount of trepidation, and an underlying buzz of excitement, she pushed through the door.

  An older, attractive woman greeted her with a friendly, “Hello. Welcome to my boutique. How can I help you?” Zoe could've sworn she caught the hint of a grin on the woman's lips.

  Oh, yeah, she definitely knew why Zoe was here.

  Zoe straightened her back, determined not to feel ashamed or embarrassed for being there. In a strong voice, she asked, “Can you tell me where to find your evening gowns?"

  The portly woman came out from behind the counter. “Of course. All of our dresses are toward the back. Let me show you the way."

  Zoe followed her to the rear of the store where several racks of elegant dresses hung in rows of vibrant colors.

  "Any style or color in particular?"

  Zoe sifted through the gowns with the knowledge that none of that mattered. “Not really. Something simple. I like the deeper hues, maybe something in a dark wine. Oh, like this one.” She pulled out a curve-hugging straight gown with thin straps and a scrunched bodice in a deep cabernet.

  The sweet woman—most likely in her sixties—smiled. “I think that's a perfect choice. It's the ideal shade for your skin tone, dear.” She indicated the opposite corner of the shop with a twinkle in her eye. “Fitting rooms are right that way. Don't worry about the time, hon. Take as long as you need."

  Zoe returned the smile with a feeling that the older woman was a third party to her private evening.

  The elegance of the large rooms matched the sophistication of the rest of the shop, each containing a full-length three-way mirror, a plush settee, and an armchair in the corner. Zoe entered the last one on the left, set her purse on the chair and hung the gown from a hook on the wall. She stared at her reflection for a second, then lifted her hair and twisted it into a clip.

  Could tonight help her decide, or would it only confuse her further? She feared, as nights with him had often done, that this might only make her emotions murkier. But, she needed to let this play out, see where her heart led her. If the connection toward her partner spoke to her on a deeper level, she'd go to Miss. C., explain the situation and have her see if he might be interested in meeting without the anonymity.

  But if it didn't, and her compatibility and attraction to Dean felt stronger, she'd have to end it.

  For now, though, she thought as she stripped out of her clothes, tossed them to the side and slinked in to the gown, she'd enjoy tonight for what it was. The rest she'd figure out as she went along.

  She zipped the dress and admired herself in the mirror. The gown hugged her body perfectly. She had to admit she looked good. Damn good. As she smoothed the crepe fabric, the lights in the boutique dimmed.

  He's here.

  She grabbed the blindfold, tied it on, and stood in the center of the fitting room, facing away from the door. This would be the first time she'd meet him without the bindings, and she felt a little lost without them. She certainly didn't need to be tied down or restrained every time, but it always added that little something extra. The loss of control never failed to ramp up her excitement.

  Shivers coursed over her skin as she waited for him. Would he knock? Or would he enter silently? Should she have left the door open? And what on earth made her suddenly worry about such things?

  The quiet snick of the door answered her ridiculous musings. His presence assaulted all of her senses. The familiar cologne. The zing of him being near. Her heart thudded inside her chest. Her legs weakened.

  Clothes rustled. Heat radiated from behind her. Fingers stroked down both sides of her neck, trailed across her shoulders. Warm breath brushed the edge of her ear. Hands glided down her arms. Long, thick fingers entwined with hers.

  He wrapped her in a seductive embrace. The light hairs that adorned his bare chest tickled her back. He placed gentle, seductive kisses along her shoulder. The heat from his lips made her sex throb and her heart dance. When his hands left
hers and skimmed her waist to move to the top of the gown, she sucked in an unsteady breath. He chuckled, a soft, tender rumble deep within his chest.

  With unbearable slowness, he lowered the zipper, then snaked his large hands under the fabric and held onto her sides. His fingertips caressed the edges of her sensitive breasts. His lips nipped along the shell of her ear.

  Would he speak again? Did he expect her to? That last time, she couldn't help it. The words had fallen from her lips unbidden. But now?

  No, not now. Still undecided, she couldn't just yet.

  His hands traveled up and pushed the straps of the dress off her shoulders. With a light grip, he spun her until she faced him, and then pulled her arms from where they were still wrapped around her. The bodice of the dress fell to her waist. He cupped both of her bare breasts. The heat from his palms and the pressure of his grip drove her into a state of overwhelming desire.

  He drew one tight bud in his hot mouth and twisted the other between callused fingers. Through the onslaught of wicked sensations, she tossed back her head and moaned. His hands lowered to settle on her hips, and she drew in a surprised breath when he lifted her slightly and stepped forward. Within three strides, he held her secure against the wall of the fitting room as his mouth continued to wreak havoc on her over-sensitive nipples.

  She clutched at his short hair in an attempt to bring him closer. He released her nipple on a wet pop. He stood then, crushed her against the wall and kissed her. Deep. Hard. Unyielding.

  The kiss spoke of passion, hunger and a certain degree of possessiveness. He ate at her lips, left them to bite along her jaw only to come back and plunge his tongue inside her mouth once again. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against her lower belly as he ground his hips into hers.

  God, he'd turned wild, morphed into some kind of animal. Her breath squeezed from her lungs as he pushed her harder against the wall. A sudden unwelcome vulnerability filled her. The memory of Stephen, drunk as he scraped her body against the rough concrete of the pillar outside her building flew through her mind. Panic lurched up her spine. She placed her hands on his hard-muscled chest and pushed, but he barely budged.