Feels Like the First Time

by Marina Adair

  “You going to call her? Tell her your stick isn’t as much fun to cuddle with, you miss her, and you’re sorry?” Luke asked.

  He did miss her and he was sorry as hell. But he didn’t know how to make it work. Her family needed her right now. And she’d been clear that he wasn’t a member anymore.

  Hawk leaned against the bar and rubbed his hand over his chest, trying to ease the raw ache that had been gnawing at him. It didn’t help. Nothing he seemed to do helped. It just got worse, deeper, hollower. “I don’t think she needs one more complication in her life right now.”

  “Easy,” Luke said. “Then don’t be a complication. Be a friend, or pain in her ass, or whatever the hell it is that you two consider flirting. Just don’t be one more person who she loves that walks away.”

  Hawk froze. “How do you know she loves me?”

  Luke laughed. “Because unlike you, I haven’t had my head shoved so far up your ex’s ass over the years, so I’m able to see the way Ali looks at you, man.”

  His friend hadn’t seen the way she looked at him the other night. His gut twisted just thinking about it. “I’m over Bridget.”

  “I know that, but I don’t think you realized that until a few weeks ago,” Luke said. “Or you would have known that Ali has loved you since college. And I think you loved her back.”

  “Yeah, like a kid sister,” Hawk said, then realized that wasn’t true. He’d had feelings for Ali, but she’d been a junior in high school, and he’d been ready to head off to college that next fall. Then he met Bridget, and well...

  Here they were.

  “Shit.” He didn’t want to be here. Not with Ali. He wanted to be the guy who made her smile. “I crushed her.”

  “Maybe,” Luke said quietly. “But this is Ali we’re talking about. She never stays down for long. And you’re a fighter, Hawk. That’s what you do, so why are you ready to call it so early in the game?”

  “Because I don’t want to fuck this up any more than I have,” he admitted.

  “Or are you afraid of getting fucked over?” Luke asked, and intuitive bastard that he was, he’d nailed it.

  This was as much about Ali as it was about him. He’d promised himself after his divorce that he’d never be played like that again. But the only way to take home the trophy was to commit fully to the process.

  He’d committed himself to finding love with Ali, but he’d been too gun-shy to commit to making that love work. And at the first body check of the game, he’d called foul and benched himself.

  “Fuck.” He sat down on a stool, or maybe it was his legs that gave out. He wasn’t sure, but suddenly the weight of what he’d done was too staggering to remain upright.

  “That right there, my friend. That is the look of true love.” Luke clapped him on the back. “Now I suggest a nice bouquet of flowers, maybe some wine, and lots of groveling.”

  He was going to do more than grovel; he was going to lay it all out there and commit to whatever she needed to meet him at center ice. From there he’d take her hands and slowly guide her to the goal. Or maybe, they’d wind up on her side.

  He didn’t care. As long as they were together.

  “Kennedy’s going to kill me,” Hawk said. “But can you handle the meet with the clients today?”

  Luke sighed, like a man who wasn’t going to get his. Not that Hawk minded; Luke had been getting his regularly for the better part of the year.

  It was Hawk’s turn.

  “I’ll do the wine and dine part here,” Luke said. “Because Kennedy would kill me if I didn’t. But you have to meet them”—he looked at his watch—“in twenty minutes at Bay View. Give them the highlights, that cover of Sports Illustrated grin, and then send them my way and I’ll close the deal.”

  “I owe you,” Hawk said, grabbing a bottle from beneath the bar and heading toward town. He’d meet the clients, then he’d hunt down Ali.

  But he wasn’t going to grovel. Ali deserved pampering. Cake pops, whiskey, honest words…and lots of pampering.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Hawk pulled into Bay View and was driving around the orchard toward the back of the property when he saw his clients. From the distance he could see four of them, sitting around the picnic table on the back porch.

  As he drew closer, it appeared to be a family—eating a picnic on his porch. He was used to people coming up from the beach and wandering around the property, as if this were some kind of tourist attraction. But what the hell? No one had ever ventured near the house, and this family even had a wicker basket and checkered tablecloth.

  “Not going to happen,” he mumbled as he parked his bike. “This is private property. You’ll need to take your picnic back down to the beach.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the older man sitting closest to him said. “This is my son-in-law’s house. I didn’t think he’d mind.”

  “Marty?” Hawk said, getting closer and coming to a hard stop. His heart pounding against his rib cage for him to keep moving forward. “What are you doing here?”

  “You’ve missed the last few family dinners,” a soft, sexy, and nervous voice said from the back of the table. “So we thought we’d bring the family and burgers to you.”

  Hawk watched as Ali moved out from beneath the shadow of the porch and slowly down the steps, looking like a warm burst of sunlight on a frozen winter’s day. She was in a cute denim skirt, with a summery top that matched her eyes, and a sad smile that matched his heart.

  She didn’t stop until she’d closed the distance between them, leaving only a step of separation. “That is, if you’re still interested.”

  * * *

  Ali’s heart beat so loudly, she couldn’t tell if he’d answered. It didn’t help that her father was asking if Hawk had brought dessert, because, in his opinion, there was a serious lack of dessert on the table.

  But when the silence became too much to bear, she added, “If not, then…”

  “Then what?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to invite you back next week.” She tilted up her chin, to show him that she meant business. “And the week after.”

  “And then what?” he asked, taking the smallest step forward.

  Ali bit her lip to keep it steady. She wasn’t sure what to make of all his questions, but she was going to be sure to leave nothing unsaid. “Then we’ll bring dinner to you, at the bar. I know how much you love Burger Barn.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said.

  “It won’t?” she asked, looking up at his handsome face, looking for a sign as to how to make this right.

  “No.”

  Ali fought to keep it together. “I know my family is crazy, but beneath all of the drama, we have a lot of love to give.” She looked up at him. “I have a lot of love to give, Hawk.”

  “I know.” He closed the final step and took her hands and smiled. “That’s why it won’t be necessary, because there is no way I could ever say no to making a new memory with you, sunshine. Whatever you are offering, I am interested.”

  She thought about their last conversation, and how she never told him that he was everything she wanted and more. “Hawk—”

  “Let me finish,” he said, bringing her hands to his mouth. “Whatever you want to give, I promise to protect and treasure. If you need time with your family, I can be patient. If you need someone to take Marty to an appointment, I’ve got an extra helmet,” he said, and she chuckled. “And when you need someone to hold you when it gets rough, I’m your guy. I love you, Ali, exactly for who you are and for how fiercely you love the people in your world.” He bent down, getting eye level so that she could see his truth. “All I ask is to earn the right to be a part of that world.”

  “He’s one smooth talker,” Marty said, but Ali ignored him and focused on the man in front of her. On her future. Her heart pounding so rapidly, she was afraid it would explode with happiness.

  “You already are a part,” she
said, sliding her arms around his middle. “You’re the funny parts, the loud parts, and quiet moments. You’re the part that makes me laugh when I want to cry, and makes me feel safe when I do cry. You’re the part of my life I thought was missing, but you’ve always been right there.”

  He held her close. “I always will be, no matter what.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, because you are the best part, Hawk,” Ali whispered, emotion making it hard to speak. “You once asked me what I wanted, what would make me happy. No outside expectations or responsibilities. Just a raw, instinctual want.”

  “You said to step out of the shadows and feel what it’s like to have the light shining down on you,” he said, and Ali didn’t know if she was more touched that he’d remembered, or that when he said it, he sounded as if he was making her a promise.

  “I was wrong. I want to walk in the light, with you by my side,” she said.

  “Sunshine, you are my light, and I want to wake up every morning holding you in my arms and feeling your warmth next to me.”

  “Only if I get to hold you back.”

  “How long are we talking?”

  She looked up into those soft brown eyes, loving eyes. “I was thinking that forever sounded right. That’s how it works with family.”

  Hawk gave a shuddered breath. “Forever works for me.”

  “I love you.” Ali went up on her toes and showed him just how much. And when they were both smiling through the kiss, she asked, “Bradley Hawk, would you like to come with me to family dinner night?”

  “Say yes,” Bridget said. “Ali already packed you a burger.”

  “It’s not a burger, son. It’s made out of turkey and wrapped in what they claim is a lettuce bun. I’ve never heard of a bun being made of lettuce, but as long as you brought pie, we’re good,” Marty said.

  Ali laughed at her family, then cupped his cheek. “Say yes, Hawk.”

  “God, yes.” Hawk pulled her in so tight, she couldn’t breathe, but Ali didn’t care, because the second his mouth came down on her, she could feel. All of his support and admiration—and his love. She could feel it surrounding her. And she’d never felt happier.

  “I love you Aliana Marshal,” he whispered against her lips. “I always have and I always will.”

  “I’ll never doubt it again, and I’ll never let you go,” she vowed.

  “Even if I told you there’s a bouquet of cake pops for you on my motorcycle?” he asked with a grin.

  “What fun are cake pops when you have no one to share them with?”

  Look for the first book in the Destiny Bay series, Last Kiss of Summer.

  An excerpt follows.

  Chapter 1

  Kennedy Sinclair had taken only two steps toward her new life and already her toes were beginning to pinch.

  “I don’t think I have what it takes,” she admitted, plopping down on the changing room bench to loosen the buckles on her new Comme Il Faut ballroom dance shoes, sighing as the blood rushed back to her feet. The red satin straps were trouble enough—looping tightly around the ankle and pulling across the tops of her toes, pinching off all circulation—but the heels were the real problem. Staggering toothpicks that added enough height to cause light-headedness and excessive teetering. A result, no doubt, from attempting to perform aerobic activity in depleted oxygen zones.

  Or her body’s preference for practical.

  Too bad for her feet, she was done with practical. At least for the summer, she thought, taking in her matching cardigan set, glasses, and hair secured with a pencil at the back of her neck. Sure, right then, she supposed she resembled the bookkeeper that she was. But in a week’s time, the summer semester at the culinary school she did bookkeeping for would end and she would be in Argentina—spending the next few months in the most exciting way possible.

  Getting engaged.

  “Engaged,” she whispered to herself. A warm bubble of giddiness bounced around her stomach and tickled her heart.

  Her boyfriend of four years, Philip, had been selected for an educational exchange program, teaching elevated Southern cuisine for the fall semester at one of the top culinary schools in South America. Not that anyone was surprised by the honor. Philip was handsome, charismatic, and the youngest master chef at Le Cordon Bleu School in Atlanta. In addition to being the perfect boyfriend—he scored a solid 9.9 on the compatibility test she gave him on their first date—he was so dedicated to his career that he’d elevated the school to worldwide acclaim.

  Sometimes he was almost too dedicated. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Dedicated people tended to be reliable and stable. They had the ability to see things through—something her perpetually unemployed mother could benefit from. But lately Philip had spent so much time heating up his teaching kitchen, he couldn’t even manage a simple tangled-sheets stir-fry when he got home.

  So when he asked Kennedy to go with him to Argentina, days after she’d found a sizing slip to her favorite vintage jewelry shop, she’d nearly exploded into tears. And had been walking around in a bliss-induced haze ever since.

  She’d once read that traveling together ignites romance and intimacy between couples, opens the lines of communication, and builds healthy relationships. So it was the perfect time for them to reconnect, to take their relationship to that next level in an exotic land—to make that commitment into forever.

  For her to have a long-overdue orgasm.

  What better way to embrace what was to come, than with a new pair of shoes that made her feel sexy, spontaneous, and exotic. Daring even. There hadn’t been a lot of opportunity for that in her life. She’d been too busy trying to find a safe harbor in an unpredictable childhood, which left her a little uptight. Okay, she was obsessed with organization and order, but now that she had a secure future ahead of her, and a stable man by her side, it was time to push the comfort of their relationship a little and experiment with new things.

  Standing again, precariously balanced on her heels, she looked at her toes in the changing room mirror, then to the sensible cream flats she’d been dancing in for the past few months they’d been taking lessons. The flats matched her outfit—and her future if she didn’t do something now to spice it up.

  A loud thump sounded from the changing room beside her, followed by a low moan. Thinking someone had teetered right out of their heels, Kennedy pressed her ear to the wall.

  “Is everything okay in there?” she asked, dropping to her knees when the only response was another thump, this one vibrating the wall between them.

  A similar pair of mile-high red heels stood on the other side of the divider, fastened around a set of gorgeous tanned legs, which had a little gold anklet with an orchid charm dangling.

  Oh my God! It was their tango teacher, Gloria. The woman who had inspired Kennedy to come to class early and try on the red shoes in the first place. The twenty-two-year-old Latin ballroom champion had legs to her neck, enough hip action to tempt the pope, and wore raw sex appeal like most women wore perfume.

  And speaking of hip action!

  Kennedy covered her eyes, then peeked through cracks of her fingers to watch as a pair of black and white, very classy, very masculine, wing-tipped shoes stepped toe to toe with the red heels, one of which lifted off the ground to lightly trace up the outside edge of her partner’s leg and wrap around in a perfect caricia.

  The wing tips stepped even closer, another thump ensued, then Kennedy heard the telltale sound of a zipper lowering.

  Frozen, Kennedy watched as the wing tips started rocking in a perfect T-A-N-G-O rhythm, working toward, what Kennedy knew, would be a standing O. Back and forth, they swayed as the soft moans turned louder and the panting drifted under the dressing room door.

  Kennedy found her hands were a little sweaty because for the first time in her life, she didn’t have the right answer. Should she sneak out of the room and run for it?

  A good choice, except she’d never been all that graceful and didn’t ha
ve a sneaky bone in her body. Even worse, the hinges on the changing room door squeaked when she had come in, and getting caught would make for an awkward class. And she really loved their class.

  It was the one hour a week when she had Philip all to herself, his undivided attention as he’d swept her across the floor, making her feel elegant and feminine. For a woman born with the coordination of a gazelle in snowshoes, it was something of a feat—something she wasn’t willing to lose.

  Which left hiding until they finished. An option that rather intrigued her. In fact, Kennedy felt embarrassed, intrigued, and a little bit naughty all at the same time. She also felt a tinge of disappointment, which started in her chest and moved up into her throat, because leaving the lights on was as kinky as Philip got. In fact, this might be as close as Kennedy would ever be to a standing-O-Tango.

  With that sobering realization, she took a seat, pulled her knees to her chest, and stared at the wall. Which was all kinds of ridiculous.

  It wasn’t as if she could see anything through the wood divider, but sitting there in her red shoes gave her the courage to imagine. Only she didn’t have to imagine much since the thumping got louder—and so did the dancing duo next door.

  “Ai, papi,” Gloria said, her accent making every vowel sound like a promise. “You are such a good lo-bar.”

  “Uh,” was all Mr. Lo-bar said. A single release of air that was neither sexy nor expected from an experienced Latin Lover. It was more of an admission that he’d had all he could handle. Not that Kennedy was judging—she had crested her comfort level about two moans back.

  “Yes! Yes, papi,” Gloria mewed and Kennedy closed her eyes. She had to. She was a private person by nature and tried her best to respect others’ privacy, so the guilt began to build low in her belly. But before it could settle, Gloria cried out. “Just like zat, Phil-ep.”

  Kennedy’s eyes flew open and the guilt quickly faded to confusion and finally shock. She climbed on the bench to get a look at this Latin lover Phil-ep who uttered a simple “Uh” in the throes of passion.