Caught Between a Rock and a Hunka Man (Caught Between Romance Book 3)

by Sheila Seabrook

  She jumped back before he could touch her, blinked her eyes open, and snatched the panties off his head. “My name is Marla.”

  Betty shouldered her way between them. “No need to be embarrassed, dear. It’s not like he hasn’t seen your undies before.”

  “I was eight. He was eleven. There’s a big difference between then and now.” She frowned up at him, eying the masculine lift to his brow and the breadth of shoulders which blocked out the dock and ocean behind him. His body heat radiated toward her, causing her to inhale the scent of man and salt air, and because she was smart and practical and—as her ex-husband had informed her—cold as a dead fish, she gritted her teeth against the warmth he offered and looked him square in the eye. “Clearly I’m not the type of woman to wear this type of lingerie.”

  His expression remained impassive, but there was a definite twinkle in his eyes, something that sparkled with affectionate humor, something that caught at her heart. “I can see that now.”

  Her mother huffed out a sigh, shouldered her aside, and snatched the panties from her hand. “It’s my suitcase. Is everyone happy now? FYI. My daughter wears granny panties and girdles.”

  Heat flared into Marla’s face. “Mother.”

  But her mother ignored the warning in her voice. “Marla’s been going through a bit of a dry spell—”

  “Geez, Mom.” A flush started in her chest and headed north to her ears, and it was all she could do not to find a plastic grocery bag and try to hide inside it. Or maybe stuff it down her mother’s throat. “He doesn’t want to hear this.”

  “Oh yes I do. Go on, Mrs. Blackhorne.” A hint of laughter spilled through his words, and even though Marla stopped rolling her eyes long enough to glance at his face, she saw nothing but serious intentness there.

  Right. Except the Reed Readner she remembered didn’t have a single serious bone in his body. In high school, he’d been all diver strong and surfer hot. All football and soccer and cheerleader girlfriends clinging to his big bad brawniness. And now he was supposed to be a scuba diving instructor, probably with scuba diving groupies hanging on to his big bad—her gaze swept over his chest again—everything.

  “—and I thought it was time she came out of her shell—”

  Determined to ignore the both of them and regain at least a teeny portion of her pride, Marla reached down and snagged a see-through bra off the dock. “No, trust me, it’s not time.”

  “—and reengaged in the dating life.”

  “You know perfectly well it’s a self-induced sabbatical,” Marla snapped as the tenuous hold on her self-control shattered. She turned on the heel of her flip-flops to face Reed, raising her chin in the air with hopes that she’d appear as if she had a bit of her pride intact. “If you’ll just ignore my mother and help me, we can get this all picked up before anyone else arrives.”

  Reed laughed and reached down to grab an item off the dock. “Yeah, my parents are bound to be as shocked as you are by the indecent display of…” He paused and straightened, and this time his laughter was uncomfortable and self-conscious. “What’s this?”

  Marla stared at the thing in his hand. Whatever it was, it was long and thick and—

  With her cheeks flaring with heat again, she snatched it out of his hand and dropped it into the open suitcase. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

  She went to work, grabbing and dropping whatever she could find into the open suitcase, until she could no longer resist the urge to glance Reed’s way. When he snagged a blood-red bra from the ground, he held it up, looked at her through the peek-a-boo nipple holes, and quirked one eyebrow like a horny seventeen-year-old.

  Letting out a disgusted snort, she snatched the bra from his hands, then turned to face the other direction, every erogenous muscle in her body shrinking in embarrassment as the tenuous hold on her temper frayed. She grabbed a pair of four inch heels off the ground and held them in front of her mother’s nose. “Mother, these are not your shoes and this is not your lingerie. What the heck is going on?”

  Her mother looked over her shoulder toward Reed and lowered her voice. “Maybe I was hoping for some action this weekend.”

  Marla scooped up a handful of silky material and dropped it into the open suitcase. “The only action you’ll be getting is a bus ride back home.”

  Across from her, she saw Reed snag another naughty bra from the deck railing, a skimpy thong from the dock floor, and a pair of handcuffs from beside the suitcase. Those big hands of his all over the delicate underwear did funny things to her stomach.

  Unable to watch, she turned her back on him and looked at the clothing scattered across the dock and then at the second suitcase sitting near the first. A bad feeling squeezed her gut. “Mother, what’s in my suitcase?”

  “Don’t worry, honey. I didn’t touch a thing. Boring as it might be, everything on your list is packed inside.”

  Relief swept through Marla because there wasn’t a single stitch here that would cover more than a third of her body, especially with the extra ten pounds she’d gained since the divorce.

  Her mother dangled a pair of fur-covered handcuffs in the air and called out, “You there. Reed. Do you know what these are for?”

  His gaze flickered to Marla, his eyes full of deep blue mischief, before he returned his attention to the bracelets being handed to him.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Straight-faced and calm as a rock, he took them from the older woman. As he dropped them in the suitcase, he met Marla’s gaze and gave her a dorky, sexy—goofy—grin that settled deep in her stomach with a whoosh. “Your mom is pretty kinky, French Fry. I wonder if she’ll lend me the handcuffs sometime?”

  Her mom picked up a whip and slapped it against his chest. “Sure. And this, too. My baby likes it rough.”

  Marla folded her arms across her chest and glared at the man who encouraged her mom’s unacceptable behavior. A beguiling smile flirted with his mouth, successfully renewing her determination to stay far away from him. Men were nothing but trouble…and a trip to heartbreak hotel.

  And Reed fit squarely into the worst category of all because he’d proven he couldn’t stick.

  As her mom scurried away to retrieve a sheer lavender nighty, he leaned into her shoulder, his voice low and naughty. “You know, French Fry, this may be the most fun we have for the next three days.”

  Exasperated by her desire to lean into him—and maybe wrap her legs around his waist and go for the ride of her life—she stepped to the side and broke all physical contact. “This is what you call fun?”

  “Compared to my parents, your mom is a blast.” He peered down at her and sobered. “You should relax and enjoy it.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Serious as a heart attack which, by the way, you’re going to have if you don’t let go of some of the tension you’re holding right here.” He gently tapped his index finger against the middle of her forehead, then laid his open palm against her churning belly. “And here.”

  She slapped his hand away, took a step back, and nearly lost her balance over the edge of the dock. Before she could go for a dip in the ocean, he caught her around the waist and dragged her into the safety of his arms.

  Marla clung to his broad shoulders and felt the impact of his lean muscles press into her. Instant heat suffused her body, but when she pushed away, she nearly lost her balance again. She grabbed on tight and held on for dear life. Through gritted teeth, she said, “I’m not tense. Well, maybe I am, but not for any of the reasons you might think. If you came home more often, took on your share of responsibility—”

  His jaw flexed and he steadied her before he stepped away and let go, the humor and heat in his gaze dimming. “Don’t go there, French Fry.”

  Marla could feel her insides start to quake and turning her back on him, she refocused on clearing up the evidence of her mom’s inability to recognize boundaries. As a stiff breeze threatened to blow her off balance, she reached down to snatch a hot pink, bar
ely there nighty off the boat dock before it rolled into the water.

  When she straightened, her gaze ricocheted to the other side of the dock where Reed raced for a cream colored, sequin studded corset only to have a dive bombing seagull beat him to the shiny material. Without hesitation, he jumped into a power struggle with the treasure-hunting seagull and somehow managed to wrestle the corset right out of the stubborn bird’s mouth.

  Her mom sidled up to her. “Just stop and think, honey. All you need to break your dry spell is the right man. A sailor out to sea for long periods of time, desperate for a little female—”

  “Stop.” Marla dragged her attention from the man she was ogling, and faced her mom, determined to nip this latest idea in the bud. “We are not—let me repeat—not looking for a man, desperate or otherwise.”

  With an annoyed snort, Betty crossed her arms over her chest. “If I don’t do something, it will be you and me living together till I’m too old to even remember your name.”

  “And what’s so bad about that?” she countered, determined to be cool, reasonable, and practical, all those cold-as-ice things her boss, Paul Readner, appreciated the most. All those same traits that her ex, Bill Taylor, had used against her right before he’d walked out the door. “I’ll be there to take care of you when you need assistance.”

  Her mom’s expression elongated with disappointment. “Oh honey, I worry about you. Who will take care of you?”

  Marla turned her back on the woman who wanted to push her out of the nest, and faced the horrible truth.

  Six months after her divorce, she was still reeling from the fact that she’d been abandoned again, by another man she’d put her trust in.

  And finding a husband-for-the-night wasn’t going to mend the disillusioned and broken pieces inside of her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Reed Readner let his gaze wander along the sexy sway of Marla’s backside, up the gentle slope of her back, to the rigid set of her shoulders, and vowed to stay as far away from her as possible. Because if ever there was a woman who screamed house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, a daily commute on the busy highway only to be stuck in a dead end job with a windowless office, she was it.

  And there was no way he was ever returning to that.

  As he turned his back on her, a barely there negligee drifted past him and took a nosedive off the dock into the water. Reed dived in after it with hopes the cool water would wash away the feel of Marla’s curvy body in his arms so he could get his head back on straight.

  But it didn’t, so he forced himself to refocus on the upcoming trip.

  All week long, he’d wished for the mother of storms to delay—or better yet cancel—the three day celebratory trip that his mom had arranged for his dad. But there wasn’t a cloud in sight, which meant he was trapped, by the end of the three day trip guaranteed to look exactly like the woman currently flirting with his every thought, so tightly wound he’d probably snap.

  It was going to be three days of sunshine and calm waters and temperatures in the nineties with nowhere to escape but Davy Jones’s locker.

  Reed climbed back onto the dock, the thoroughly soaked negligee in hand, his attention once again arrested by the woman with a perplexed frown on her face as she nudged at another naughty sex toy with the toe of her flipflop before she bent to pick it up.

  In the years since he’d been gone, the gangly awkward girl who’d followed in his wake had grown into a tantalizing—but definitely not unforgettable—woman.

  “Looks like your family vaca turned x-rated, bud.”

  Reed turned to face his partner and friend, Travis McNeil, who was holding out a pair of bright red crotchless panties. Grabbing the bit of fabric, he stuffed it into the pocket of his wet shorts. “That would be a definite improvement over what I have to look forward to. Want to trade places?”

  “Give it up, bud. My no will never change to a yes. I have my own parents, remember?” Travis glanced around the dock area, the shadows in his gray eyes momentarily gone. “This island is like heaven on earth.”

  “Says the guy who didn’t grow up here under the authoritative eye of an overbearing dad,” Reed muttered.

  “At least you had a dad and a home.” Travis handed him the device in his hands. “I brought you an update on the weather. There’s a storm brewing east. You shouldn’t run into any problems, but you might want to adjust your course slightly just to make sure you avoid it.”

  Reed studied the images and reports on the iPad, and plotted in a new course before handing the device back. “I’ll check in with you nightly.”

  “Sure thing.” Travis took the tablet and tucked it under his arm. “I noticed a For Sale sign on a beach bar and restaurant—”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” he said, determined to nip his partner’s latest idea in the bud. “You can chill out here while I’m gone, but as soon as I return, we’re heading back to the mainland.”

  “Sure, whatever you say.” Travis regarded him with barely veiled curiosity before his attention turned toward the women approaching.

  Reed followed his gaze to see that the woman who had once been best friends with his mom had one hand manacled around her daughter’s wrist like a convict’s shackle and was literally dragging her across the dock in their direction.

  He felt the edge of his mouth quirk up. “You might want to run.”

  The women reached them and Betty slapped Marla’s hand against Travis’s chest. “Are you single? My daughter is recently divorced and she’s looking for a man.”

  The leggy blonde with the tight bun on her head who had once been like a kid sister to Reed, snatched her hand back and glared at her mother while her cheeks turned a rosy pink.

  “I apologize for my mother,” she said as she raised her arm for a handshake, then noticed the long dildo in her hand. With a sigh, she switched the item to the other hand, wiped her palm against her sundress, and went for the handshake again. “I’m Marla Blackhorne, and just to set the record straight, my mother is looking for a man, not me.”

  “Travis McNeil, Reed’s partner in crime, currently single should you ever change your mind.” After shaking her hand, he turned to Reed and clapped him on the back. “Looks like you’re going to have your hands full with this bunch.” Travis gave a one fingered salute and backed away. “Have a safe voyage. See you in three days.”

  As his friend strolled toward the local dive shack, Betty linked her arm through Reed’s and smiled up at him. “My daughter is tense.”

  Reed bit back a smile and fingered the silky material in his pocket. “I can see that.”

  Marla gripped the dildo in her hand as though it were her mom’s neck and glared at the older woman. “I have reasons why I’m tense and one of them is standing right in front of me.”

  Betty leaned into Reed and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “It’s because she works all the time. Twenty hours a day. Seven days a week. When is there time for romantic dinners? Cuddling? I told her that a woman needs sex. It keeps her skin fresh, and her mind and body relaxed. Maybe you could—” She let go of his arm, made an O with her thumb and index finger, then used her other index finger to make an in and out motion. “—you know, while we’re out on the water, find some alone time and do my daughter.”

  Silence filtered over the three of them, and as Reed met Marla’s horrified gaze, he couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

  Marla rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, and stood there, dildo forgotten in her hand, toe tapping against the wooden dock. “That’s enough, Mom.”

  But apparently Betty wasn’t finished. As she quit making the obscene gesture, she refocused on Reed. “It’s why Bill divorced her.”

  “Mother.”

  “You married my cousin, Bill?” he asked, surprisingly disconcerted by this revelation. At her drop dead glare, he raised one brow and swallowed back a grin. “With your charming personality, I can’t imagine why he would want to throw you back.”<
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  Despite the fact that she was now turning twelve shades of red, she held his gaze, her dark brown eyes dead as stone. “What’s between Bill and me isn’t any of your concern or my mother’s. Or for that matter, anyone else’s.”

  On the highway, a car backfired, ending their exchange. As Marla turned her back on him and shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun, Reed dragged his attention away from the intriguing woman before him, and recognized his dad’s gold and brown two toned ’75 Oldsmobile. It swerved off the highway, into the parking lot, and narrowly missed a light post.

  Over her shoulder, she gave him a triumphant smile. “Your parents are here. Let’s see you relax now.”

  Beside him, Betty hissed and bent to pick up a sheer piece of material that the breeze had blown around her ankles.

  The Olds narrowly miss a parked vehicle, bumped across a curb, and sped down the first row of cars. Reed felt his whole body tense. “Should he be driving?”

  “He’s turning sixty-five, not ninety-five.”

  “It’s her fault he looks so old,” Betty inserted as she held up a see-through nighty, a black corset, and another pair of spiked heels. She dropped the items into the suitcase, grabbed Marla’s arm, and slapped her hand against Reed’s chest. “I’ll finish picking up. You two better help with the luggage. Heaven knows the beauty queen probably packed at least nine bags for our three day trip.”

  Reed experienced the warmth of Marla’s hand against his chest, bare skin against bare skin, before she pried her arm out of her mom’s grip and broke the physical contact.

  Ignoring the heat generated by that simple touch, he winced as the big car reached the end of the row, turned the corner without the brake lights lighting up, and with a squeal of tires, sped down the next row.

  “I don’t get it,” he muttered. “How did Mom convince Dad to come on this trip? He hates boats and water.”