Sea of Seduction: A Single Dad Sports Romance

by Jennifer Evans

I thought of Coco and her delicious scent, her smooth skin, her swollen nipples that had strained against the tight blouse. Damn. I wanted to suck her sweet little nipples and hear her moan.

  I thought about my vow of celibacy.

  What was it I heard someone in town say the other day? Just because I’m on a diet, doesn’t mean I can’t read the menu.

  I stared at the phone and laughed. Americans had the craziest sayings.

  Chapter Four

  Coco

  “Beep beep!”

  I looked out the window, and there was Rhys on his moped, ready for our ride to work. I race-walked into the early morning sun to greet my friend.

  He patted the seat. “Hop on, baby. Hell’s Angels, move over.”

  I placed my hands on my hips and stared at the spit-shined purple moped. “Did you really get new bumper stickers?” The moped didn’t exactly have a bumper, more of a skinny wheel protector like the ten-speed bike of my youth, but there was room on either side for stickers. One read: “Only you can prevent tailgating.” and the other said, “Caution! My meds are wearing off.” Rhys handed me a helmet, and I tucked my long hair underneath, strapping it tightly.

  It was an exceptionally gorgeous California morning as we made the six-block trek to the shop. I inhaled the glorious scent of pine mixed with sea air and smiled, thinking about Dominick and the bet.

  It had started out as a harmless prank, but when I called him yesterday and heard that delicious Latin accent, and remembered his dark, flowing hair, those sea green eyes, and that body. Man, oh man; that body. Dominick was a tall man and every inch the athlete with his broad shoulders, well-developed arms and perfectly formed fingers. Oh yeah, baby; I could already feel his caresses on my skin, and my thighs squeezed together involuntarily as I imagined wrapping my legs around his taut waist.

  Rhys swerved around a car, and I gripped the seat tightly. “Slow down! Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Honey, this baby doesn’t go above thirty-five, and I’m only doing twenty. If we crash, the worst you’ll get is a rip in your jeans.”

  We made the short drive, passing commuters along with the usual procession of surfers with boards strapped to the tops of their vehicles. When we passed the surfing beach, I spotted Dominick’s truck. It wasn’t difficult to pick out—a faded red Chevy truck. Most folks in La Fortuna wouldn’t be caught dead driving anything other than a Mercedes or BMW, but Dominick must not have cared. “Stop!”

  Rhys flinched and skidded to a stop. “Holy bananas! What’s wrong? You trying to give me a coronary?” He pulled over and let out a huge breath. “Are you okay?”

  I pointed enthusiastically. “Look! It’s Dominick’s truck.”

  Rhys smirked. “What a heap. The man will be serenading you with a transistor radio and picking you up for dates in his jalopy.” He raised his eyebrows. “That’s if you make it to dates-ville with the hunk, which my four thousand bucks say you won’t.”

  “Shut up and let me do my thing.” I swung one leg over the moped and unbuckled my helmet. My gaze scanned the landscape. “He must be surfing.” I dug around in my pocket and gave him the keys to the store. “You open the shop, and I’ll be planning my trip to Canyon Ranch while I wait for that sexy Brazilian to get out of the ocean.” I turned on my heel and spanked my butt. “Watch and learn, baby.” I gave a little salute and sauntered toward the parking lot. I looked over my shoulder and fashioned my fingers into an L on my forehead. “See you when I see you, loser. Get ready to pay up.”

  He gave me the middle finger and putt-putted away. The last thing I heard was him yelling, “It’s your funeral, Coco. He’s not putting out!”

  What did Rhys know? Just because Dominick never had a girlfriend? I’ll bet he was discreet in his romantic endeavors. Yes, that was it. Discreet.

  Oh, who was I kidding? I’d lived in Southern California all my life, and the La Fortuna area was filled with athletes: triathletes, surfers, even a few pro baseball and basketball players lived in our small community. Everything was in walking distance; it was impossible to fade into the background here. And gossip? It was one of the reasons I kept a low profile myself. The moment one of the eligible bachelors had a girlfriend, every tongue in town wagged about where they’d been, what they’d been doing and whose husband or wife was filing for divorce as a result.

  One athlete got caught with his pants down as he enjoyed the sunset from the deck of a high-class wine bar in town with a hot young thing. Broad daylight? Seriously dude? The whole town had a field day with that one. And me? I just watched from the sidelines, still single.

  The warm sun hit my face as I removed my sandals and walked on the cool morning sand. Surfers started their days early, and there was already a crowd of athletes out in the ocean. I sat down with a sigh and scanned the sea for Dominick. Who could tell who was who out there when they all wore the same black wetsuits?

  Then I spotted him.

  Dominick was hard to miss because he was far and away the best surfer. Some people are born with style. Having watched the surfers all my life I knew that some were great at the mechanics, but they just couldn’t get over their dorky mannerisms while surfing. I watched one guy do this geeky thing with his hands, holding them like they were claws. Another practically flailed; his long skinny arms waving around like the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. Another crouched down so low that I felt like telling him, “You know, there’s a bathroom—a public restroom right here—imagine!”

  And then there was Dominick.

  I recognized his dark hair and athletic build. My mouth practically hung open as I soaked in the masculinity, the power and the strength he surfed with. The other athletes seemed to stay out of his way. As I watched, I noticed a few surfers pull their boards back at the last second lest they surf in front of the Brazilian stud. Once, I even heard Dominick let out a loud whistle as another surfer attempted to surf in front of him.

  Chills prickled my scalp. His surfing was sexy as all get out. Dominick knew his stuff.

  I’ll bet he knows how to wax a board all right. I wonder if he’d take some of that hot wax and drizzle it over my body? I chuckled as I thought of the bet. It had started out harmless enough, but now that I was in, I was in it to win it. My competitive streak reared its head, and Rhys had no chance.

  Canyon Ranch. A smile played upon my lips. So what if Rhys and I liked to tease each other with goofy bets and contests? If I was going to have a little passion in my life, I could certainly do worse than Dominick. I shivered, remembering the way he had undressed me with his gaze.

  Maybe he was just as lonely as I. Not lonely. Lust-filled. Yeah, that’s a better term. We were a healthy male and female, and I for one was ready for some attention. All the anti-aging formulas in the world couldn’t compete with great orgasms.

  Now here’s a thought: how about I take and bottle Dominick’s semen and sell it in my boutique? Five hundred bucks a vial, ladies and this lotion is guaranteed to smooth all your wrinkles and …

  I was jolted out of my reverie when I spotted Dominick striding my way. His wetsuit clung like a second skin, every muscle in his rock hard body was accentuated—strong legs, powerful chest and arms that could crush a person and force the wind out of their lungs. He stopped, set his board down, turned around to look at the ocean and began the process of unzipping his wetsuit. I clenched my thighs together. Oh baby, don’t do that because if you slide that wetsuit any farther than your waist, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. He pulled the wetsuit off his arms and torso, and I saw Dominick’s gloriously sculpted bare back for the first time. Christ almighty, there ought to be a law! No man had a right to tease the women on the beach with that olive skin, that dark hair that dripped seawater, that …

  He turned and picked up his board, and as he was straightening, he noticed me and smiled. With a walk that I convinced myself was a trot, he made his way to me. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Oh, you kn
ow, I work not too far, and I sometimes walk to work, and I live just down the street and I …”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “It’s just that you look sunburned.” He smiled. “Mind if I sit?”

  I batted my baby blues and patted the sand. “By all means.”

  He sat so close that seawater seeped into my jeans. He turned to face me, and I wanted to cover his mouth with mine and feel his glorious tongue. His lips were so full, and I wondered if they tasted as yummy as they looked. “So,” he said, “Do you surf? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you down here.”

  “Nope. Wish I did, but I leave that to the experts like you.”

  “Well, maybe you need to learn.”

  Maybe, I thought, but if it meant spending time in the sun and risking skin cancer then no way Jose was I putting myself at risk. I smiled hugely. “Maybe I do.” I leaned back on my elbows, arched my back and thrust my chest up toward the sky, my long hair falling behind me into the sand. Dang it! I should’ve pulled my top down further before he sat next to me. “Maybe you can teach me.”

  His gaze swept over my body and rested on my breasts for a few seconds too long. He snapped his attention back to my face. “Maybe I can.” He cleared his throat. “My daughter and I, we come down here just about every day. When she’s done with school. How come we never see you? Do you live close?”

  I was risking radiation poisoning by sitting here talking to Dominick as the sun grew stronger. Death by skin cancer or death by heart attack? I thought as my heart beat wildly in my chest. “Doesn’t everyone live close in this town?”

  He folded his arms over his legs and gazed out at the ocean. “Yep, I guess you’re right. I like small towns, though.”

  I wanted to ask him a million questions. How did you become a psychic? How old is your daughter? Where’s her mom? Why don’t you have a girlfriend? How would you like it if I straddled your body right now and ripped that wetsuit off? I smiled. “They can be a little gossipy at times, but La Fortuna’s a gem. In fact, it means the fortune in Spanish. But you probably already know all that seeing as you’re Latin and all.” I was babbling. My plan had been to wow him with my flirtatiousness, and here I was acting like it was my first time talking to a guy.

  He glanced at his wristwatch. “What time do you need to be at work?”

  “Whenever I feel like it.” Jeez, that sounded dumb. I was no slacker, didn’t want him to think I was. “I mean, my associate is opening the boutique this morning.”

  He moved to a crouching position. “Well, I’ve got to get to work. My first appointment’s in thirty minutes. Can I give you a ride?”

  “Sure!” Slow down Coco, don’t sound too eager.

  Dominick extended a hand to help me up. His grip was strong and sure. “Up you go.”

  As we walked to his truck, I was hyperaware of Dominick’s masculinity. I glanced surreptitiously at his bare torso; it was golden from hours in the sun and he had the sexiest, rock-hard, six-pack abs. His broad chest rippled under the morning sun, the muscles taut and rugged. His narrow waist led down to a perfect V that disappeared underneath his wetsuit. I sucked in my breath.

  When we reached the parking lot, Dominick shoved his board into the bed of the truck.

  Five surfboards sat in the back of his rig. “You sure you’ve got enough surfboards?”

  He ran masculine fingers along one of the boards. “This is my longboard for the smaller stuff.” His hand stroked another. “This is for fast waves.” He broke into a huge grin when his hand ran the length of a third. “And this baby is my big wave gun.”

  I stared at the long, pointy red surfboard. “Big waves? You mean like the one in the photo on your wall?”

  He threw his head back, and a cascade of seawater flew through the air. “Nah. That was at a sexy reef in Tahiti.” He gazed at me with those intoxicating green eyes and grinned. “I think of that place as sexy.” He winked. “This baby is meant for the big stuff.”

  My mouth hung open. “You don’t surf those big waves out at … what’s that place up by San Francisco?”

  He cocked his head. “Mavericks?”

  “Yeah. That’s it.”

  My voice was small. “You don’t surf there do you?”

  He gave a small chuckle. “No. My surfing has been more along the lines of the waves on the pro tour. Big wave surfing is a different sport. Not for sissies, that’s for sure.”

  I glanced at the surfboard. The tip was deadly sharp, like an arrow that could impale someone. What if that board flew up in the air and thwacked down on his body? “So why do you have a big wave … What did you call it again?”

  “A big wave gun.”

  “Why’d they have to call it that? Sounds like it could kill you.”

  He leaned over and spoke directly to the surfboard. He stroked it, and in a loud stage whisper, he said, “You’re not killing anyone today, are you meu amigo?” He scrunched up his face and looked at me. “Are you always this deep a thinker?”

  I laughed and swatted him. “I’m just not used to the surfing world.” I thrust out one hip and placed my hand there in what I hoped was an alluring manner. “I’m more of a delicate flower.”

  His gaze traveled the length of my body again. Much more slowly this time. My body grew hot under his intense scrutiny. Finally, his startling green eyes met mine. “That you are, minha flor.”

  I clapped my hands together. “Well! I’d better get to work.” I softly touched his arm. “Unless you want to show me exactly what that big wave gun can do. It sounds pretty racy to me.”

  He laughed. “Wish I could take the day off, but the women of La Fortuna call.” He opened the passenger door for me. “In you go, Ms. Coco.”

  He settled into the driver seat and patted the dashboard. “She may not be much to look at, but Silver’s never let me down.”

  “Silver?”

  “You know, Chevy Silverado. My daughter nicknamed her.” He reached across me and pulled the seatbelt over my breasts. “Let me help you. It’s got to be cinched just right.” He put one hand on my shoulder, and his hands brushed my breasts as he secured the belt. I wiped sweat off my upper lip. He cranked the engine with much coughing, and it roared to life. “It’s on the main drag, right?”

  I gave him directions, and we made the short drive to the blaring of his Latin music. The artist was a sensuous crooner wailing about amor and other goofy words I tried to remember from Spanish class.

  The whole time he drove, I couldn’t take my eyes off his broad chest, his muscular wetsuit-clad legs and the way he worked the manual transmission with smooth strokes, his fingers flexing, his bare foot on the clutch. His luxurious dark hair fell to his shoulders and seawater dripped gently onto his skin. I wanted to lick it up.

  When the music reached a crescendo, he beat the rhythm out on the steering wheel, his head moving in time to the music. He gazed at me and smiled broadly.

  “It’s this next left.” We drove down the main drag, past the historic La Rosa Hotel and The Grind and Gossip and then we were there.

  He jerked the truck to a stop in front of the shop. He let out a low whistle when he saw the perfectly tended glass storefront. White pebbles created a carpet for the base of the large onyx ball—a piece of artwork a local artist had created that rotated and also doubled as a water feature. “This place looks fancy.”

  I fumbled with the seatbelt. “I do what I can.”

  “Here, let me get that for you.” He turned and undid the seatbelt. Then both his hands held my shoulders and his mesmerizing green eyes stared into mine for so long I thought he was going to kiss me. His breath was hot on my face as he whispered, “So, Ms. Coco Bennett, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  My eyes closed to a half-lidded position, my mouth salivating for the feel of his tongue on mine. I snapped them open. “What? Oh, right. Our appointment.”

  His green eyes stared into mine without blinking. Then he
jerked back. “I’ll see you then.” He hopped out of the truck, jogged around and opened my door with a grand flourish. I felt his gaze burn through my skin as I strolled to the shop in my best feminine hip-swinging way. I turned and gave a little wave.

  The cool air hit me when I entered the shop, a few patrons already milling around. Rhys jogged to the window. “Well if that truck isn’t sexy, I don’t know what is.” He turned to me with a grin. “You weren’t gone long. Did you really think he’d have you pressed up against the steering wheel?” He rolled his eyes. “In the parking lot?”

  I put my fingers to my lips. “Sh. Stop. He gave me a ride to work, okay?” I strode toward the back office, smiling good morning to my regular customers.

  When we were in the privacy of my office, I jumped up and down and danced in place. I let out a whoop and bumped hips with Rhys. The feeling of being around Dominick was better than any rejuvenation formula. I felt ultra-awake and filled with energy. “He is so sexy!”

  I told Rhys, “I can feel those high-priced massage therapist’s hands all over me right now.” I leaned in until I was inches from his face. “And I can taste the gourmet food. Not only that,” I placed my finger under his chin. “I am going to send you pictures of every sunrise and sunset over the desert while I sip herbal teas in the morning and drink anti-aging potions at night.”

  He shoved me playfully. “Keep dreaming sister. You are going down, down, down.”

  I wandered through the store and to the display window hoping for a glimpse of Dominick’s truck, but he was gone.

  I hugged myself and shivered, Dominick’s hot touch lingering on my shoulders.

  Everything about the man was pure sex. He was masculine, strong and athletic. I’d never been with a pro athlete before and couldn’t wait to feel that hard chest, biceps and run my tongue along his six-pack abs.

  As I stood at the window, something nagged at me.

  Why did Dominick have one of those big wave surfboards if he only surfs the “sexy” waves?

  Chapter Five