by Judy Duarte
“When I was just a little kid,” he said, “maybe four or five years old, my grandparents came to visit. It was right before Halloween, and Granddad’s wife made me a purple superhero cape to go with my costume. Even days after I’d gone trick-or-treating, I wore that silly thing all the time. And whenever I’d see my mom standing at the kitchen sink and gazing out the window, I’d climb one of the nearby trees and jump out of it. I knew I couldn’t really fly, but I’d pretend to. And my mom would really freak out.”
“Surely you don’t blame her for doing that. You could have broken your neck.”
“Yeah, I know. But she used to hit the roof about a lot of things. And the older I got, the more protective she seemed to get. I can’t tell you how many camping trips I missed because she couldn’t go and didn’t want to let me out of her sight.” Clay took a sip of his cola, wishing he’d gotten another beer instead.
“I’m surprised she let you play football,” Rickie said.
He laughed. “I grew up in Texas. We love high school football.”
“You’re damn straight,” Rickie said. “Friday Night Lights and all of that. Did your mom go to your games?”
“Hell, she sat in the front row for every single one. And once, when I was sacked especially hard, she ran out on the field to make sure I was okay. The coach had to tell her to back off and return to the bleachers.”
Again there went that pretty, heart-strumming smile that lit her honey-colored eyes. “Your poor mom.”
“Maybe so. But she would have been better off having a girl.” One like Rickie, who would have enjoyed baking cookies with her or sitting in a cozy chair reading storybooks. A girly-girl who wouldn’t mind sticking around the house all day instead of messing around with the guys and getting ready to jump on any wild-ass idea that Clay or his friends thought would be fun and exciting.
“Hey, Bullet!”
At the sound of Poncho’s voice, Clay looked over his shoulder to see his buddy manning the grill. The ladies had moved over to the grassy area, too. And from the looks of it, the evening’s festivities had begun.
“The hot dogs are just about ready,” Poncho called out. “Come and get ’em.”
“I’ll bring a couple of plates back for us,” Clay told Rickie.
When he returned, one plate was loaded with hot dogs. The other held a couple of paper cups filled with condiments.
“Oh my gosh.” Rickie laughed. “Who do you expect to eat all of that?”
He shrugged. “I thought you’d want more than one.”
“No, I’m not very hungry—or a big fan of food that comes wrapped in a bun.”
He handed her the empty plate. She took it, then reached for a hot dog from the stack. When he sat beside her, this time sitting on the edge of her towel, he asked, “So what kind of food do you like?”
“Anything served in a tortilla.”
“Tacos and burritos, huh? I like Mexican food, too.” Clay reached for a hot dog, just as Duck turned up his iPod, which he’d programmed with all his favorite country-western tunes.
“Ooh,” Rickie said. “I love Toby Keith.”
“Me, too. Apparently we have a lot in common.”
“We do?”
Clay nodded. “We both grew up in small Texas towns. And we like football, Mexican food and country-western music.”
“That’s true,” she said.
Rickie was a girl after his own heart—at least for the rest of the weekend. He was batting a thousand when it came to finding things to like and admire about a woman he wasn’t ever going to see again.
Yet that didn’t matter. Not on a night like this. Maybe it was the tropical breeze, the moonlight glistening on the water or the soft sounds of a sultry ballad that played in the background.
Hell, maybe it was her. Or just him.
Whatever it was, the air was filled with sexual promise.
A glance at his buddies proved that. They’d already formed couples.
Had Rickie noticed? Was she feeling it, too?
As another tune began to play, something alluring and suggestive, Clay cut a glance at Rickie and tried to read her mood. She was still seated, but she’d closed her eyes and was gently swaying to the music.
Clay got to his feet, and when she looked up at him, he held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
Her lips parted, and for a moment, he thought she was going to decline. But she surprised him by slipping her hand in his and letting him draw her to her feet, away from the light—and the others.
* * *
Clay couldn’t believe his luck. He’d wanted to get his hands on Rickie ever since he first laid eyes on her, and now he was dancing with her in the sand.
She felt so good in his arms. Their swimsuits left little to the imagination and didn’t provide much of a barrier, so he held her skin to skin.
The coconut scent of her sunblock mingled with the tropical fragrance of her shampoo, something floral. It was an interesting combination. And intoxicating.
Her breasts, soft and full, pressed against his chest, and her cheek rested on his shoulder. But they weren’t just swaying to the music, lulled by the beat. There was a lot more than that going on. Pheromones filled the night air, and his hormones were pumped and at the ready.
He ran his hands along her back and over the tiny bow she’d tied to hold her bikini top in place. It wouldn’t take much to remove it. Just a little tug on one of the strings.
It might be a tempting thought, but it wasn’t one he’d put into action. Instead, he continued to caress her sun-kissed skin until he came dangerously close to the small piece of red fabric that barely covered her lovely backside. It took all he had to refrain from moving lower, from stroking her...
Watch yourself, man. Don’t ruin the moment.
He wished it would last forever, but it wouldn’t. Minutes from now, the last chords of this song would fade. Then they’d return to where they’d been sitting in the sand. Or maybe Rickie would say good-night and leave him out here alone.
If that happened, he’d deal with it. Like they said, all good things must come to an end.
And then they did. All too quickly. The music that followed the love song had a lively beat, one that lent itself to a Texas two-step. Something better suited for a crowded dance floor on a rip-roaring Saturday night than a moonlit tropical beach.
Rickie was the first to draw away, breaking their embrace and dashing the romantic mood—until Clay took a close look at her face in the soft amber glow of a distant porch light.
When she looked up at him and smiled, his body hardened with desire for her, and he damn near stopped breathing.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Should we take this inside?”
“Good idea.”
Granted, she might only be suggesting that they go indoors, turn on her favorite playlist and dance in private, but right now, with his hormones raging, he’d follow her anywhere.
She took him by the hand, led him across the grass and to the front of the bungalow. After opening the door, she stepped inside and flipped on the light switch. He followed her in.
He still wasn’t sure what she had in mind until she crossed the room, headed for the sliding glass door that provided a beach view and drew the shutters, securing their privacy.
Apparently, they were both on the same page. He scanned the single room that provided a sitting area, a kitchen and a double bed. It was small, but nice. Clean and cozy.
He took a moment to check out the simple island decor, the framed surf posters, a watercolor of a sailboat on the high seas, a display of conch shells on a shelf near the wall-mounted television.
“This place is pretty small,” Rickie said, “but big enough for me.”
She’d implied earlier that someone might join her here. He suspected she hadn’t wanted him to think she was all alone. But apparently, she felt comfortable with him now.
She closed the distance between them and studied his face, his mouth. She lifted
her index finger and wiggled it at him. “You have a smidge of mustard on your lip. Do you mind if I...?”
He probably ought to be embarrassed and swipe his hand across his face to remove any smears or brush off a lingering crumb, but he longed for her to touch him. “Go ahead.”
She placed her finger against the side of his mouth and gave it a little rub. If he had anything there, it wasn’t much.
As her hand lowered, he reached for her wrist and held it firm. “I’m not sure where this is heading, Rickie, but I know where I’d like it to go.”
She gazed at him for a couple of beats before tossing him a breezy smile. “Looks like we’re both in agreement.”
He could have swept her into his arms right then and there, but it wasn’t that easy. He released her wrist. “There’s only one problem. I don’t have any condoms.”
She bit down on her bottom lip and furrowed her brow, apparently stymied by their dilemma.
He supposed they could walk into town and look for a drugstore. But that was going to put a big damper on the mood.
Suddenly, she brightened. “I just remembered. I have one in my overnight bag.”
“Then we’re in luck.” And not just because of the condom. Rickie was a sexy little package, and he was glad she was prepared.
“I’ve had it for a while,” she confessed. “I don’t make a habit of inviting men home.”
He believed her. And somehow that made tonight even more special. He opened his arms, and she stepped into his embrace. As she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed their nearly naked bodies together, he cupped her jaw and drew her lips to his.
The kiss began sweet, but within a heartbeat, it deepened. She opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to mate with hers, dipping, twisting and tasting as if they were so hungry they’d never get their fill.
He let his hands slip along her neck, to her shoulders and down to her waist, where he stroked her skin and explored her curves. When he reached her breast, his thumb skimmed against the red fabric, across a taut nipple, and her breath caught. A surge of desire shot right through him. With one hand still kneading her breast, he used the other to reach around to her backside, cup her bottom and pull her close, against his erection.
She pressed back, rubbing against him and heightening his arousal until he was tempted to lift her into his arms and carry her to bed. But before he had the chance, she ended the kiss.
“I’d better go find my tote bag. We’re going to need that condom.” She strode across the room and to the sofa, where a blue canvas bag rested, and reached inside. Moments later, she turned to him with a smile, holding the small packet like a prize. “Got it!”
Silently thanking whatever island god was looking out for them, he took her by the hand and led her to the bed. She placed the condom on the small nightstand. Then she reached behind her back, removed her skimpy bikini top and dropped it to the floor. As she peeled off the tiny bottom piece, his gaze never left her.
If he’d thought she was gorgeous before, he found her flat-out breathtaking now, standing before him in all her naked glory. Feminine perfection at its finest. And tonight, she was his.
Following her lead, he slipped off his board shorts, then joined her on the double bed and eased toward her, determined to please her and to make sure she wouldn’t have any regrets in the morning. He sure as hell wouldn’t. Not when their chemistry was off the charts.
She reached for the packet and handed it to him. He tore it open. Once he’d protected them both, she reached for his erection, opened for him and guided him home.
Okay, not home. That sounded too permanent, too lasting. This was a temporary relationship, a fling, one that was as short-term as a beachfront vacation rental. Here today, gone tomorrow.
He shook off the stray thought as he entered her. As he thrust deep, her body responded to his. She arched up, matching the tempo, creating their own.
As she reached a peak, she cried out and let go. He shuddered, releasing with her in a sexual explosion, their very own display of fireworks. He almost wished the rush could last forever—
No, not forever. This was just a one-night deal—or, hopefully, two. He’d have to make a drugstore run first thing in the morning and purchase a box of condoms. They’d never have the time to use them all before they said goodbye on Sunday morning and went their own ways. But after what they’d just shared, he suspected they’d need quite a few.
* * *
Erica never slept with anyone on the first date, let alone the first meet. But she’d been through a lot in the past month, suffered a tragic loss. And for some crazy reason, she’d wanted to feel a connection to another human being. To be held. To be...
Well, she didn’t expect to find love or anything like that. But she’d thought it would be nice to feel liked, valued and appreciated.
And wow. She’d gotten so much better than that.
She wasn’t a virgin, but neither would she consider herself to be sexually experienced. That was, until tonight. Bullet had taken her to a place she’d never been before—and one she feared she’d never go again.
She felt beautiful. Special. Adored.
Their lovemaking had turned her world on its axis—in a good way. While basking in his arms during a stunning afterglow, she’d been able to forget the funeral, the grief, the meetings with her parents’ attorney, the house that needed a slew of repairs before she could sell it or find renters.
But more than that, she’d found herself reevaluating the future.
Not her decision to reenlist, of course. That wouldn’t happen. She’d found strength and courage in the Army. She also had a sense of pride in herself and her accomplishments. There was no way she’d go back to Texas and to the small-town life she’d once known.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t see Bullet again. Maybe visit him sometime. She might even be able to spend her next leave with him in Texas.
Of course, she had no idea how he’d feel about seeing her again after this weekend. Either way, a future together didn’t seem likely. Not many men would want to follow their wives from base to base.
Okay, so she was putting the proverbial cart before the horse. Their heartbeats had barely slowed to normal, and they’d yet to say a word about what they’d just done, let alone discuss what might come next.
So she continued to lie with him, cuddling in bed with their legs entwined. But she wasn’t ready to move, unless it was closer to Bullet.
When he pressed a kiss on her brow, she finally spoke. “That was amazing.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She’d hoped he’d say that, although she had every reason to believe he felt the same way she did.
“I could stay here forever,” she said, then wished she could reel in her words. She hadn’t meant to overstep or to imply something that might frighten him off. So she added a bit of a disclaimer. “I meant stay here on the North Shore. In this cute little bungalow. And if I didn’t have to go back to work, I’d stay in bed with you.”
He stroked her shoulder, which suggested he hadn’t let her comment bother him.
What would he say if she suggested they meet up in Texas in the near future? She could take personal leave so she could find renters after the handyman had made the repairs to the house. Up until now, she’d planned to hire a property manager so she wouldn’t have to do it herself.
Still, if she oversaw things on her own, she could look up Bullet. Would he be up for something like that?
He said he no longer lived on the family ranch in Wexler, but he hadn’t mentioned where he lived now. So it might not work out the way she thought it would.
Actually, there was a lot she didn’t know about him. It hadn’t mattered earlier, but it did now. She supposed they’d have to talk about stuff like that.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Did they have time for that kind of discussion now? Or should she let it go until morning? She propped herself up on her elbow and glanced ov
er Bullet’s shoulder to get a better look.
Apparently, he must have realized what she was attempting to do, because he asked, “What time is it?”
“Almost twenty-one hundred.”
He stiffened. “What’d you say?”
“I’m sorry.” She sighed softly. “Military time comes naturally to me.”
He didn’t respond right away, but the muscles in his arm seemed pretty tight.
“Were you in the military?” he asked.
“Actually, I still am.” She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to lay her cards on the table, to have that little talk now. “I’m going to make a career of it. Why?”
His biceps twitched. “Something tells me we just came to a place where the old don’t-ask-don’t-tell line would be appropriate.”
Uh-oh. Now it was her turn to stiffen.
“What branch of the service are you in?” he asked.
A sense of foreboding crossed her mind, and her heart hammered in her chest as if trying to break through her rib cage. “I’m in the Army.”
He inhaled deeply, then slowly blew it out. “Where are you stationed?”
“Schofield Barracks. Does that matter?”
“It might.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Surely he wasn’t in the Army, too. If so, was he stationed in Texas? But wait, that’s not what he’d said. Was it?
She rolled away and practically shot up in bed. Then she folded her arms across her chest and turned to him. “You lied to me. You’re not a cowboy from Texas.”
“I grew up on a ranch in Wexler, and I’ve ridden plenty of horses over the years. But I never claimed to be a cowboy.”
“So you’re in the Army, too?” she asked, dreading the response.
“Yeah, I am. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one to withhold some details over the last few hours.”
“I am on vacation,” she said. “But only until tomorrow night, when I have to check in at the base.”
Bullet sat up and scrubbed his hand over his hair. Please don’t let him be an officer. It was against regulations to fraternize.
