by Mindy Klasky
For just that moment, she was his teammate’s baby sister. She was a wounded girl, who’d been hurt by some guy she’d trusted, who’d been embarrassed and torn apart in front of the people she wanted most to impress. She was scared. She was unsure. She was Lindsey.
So he made himself smile. He locked his seatbelt into place, and he grabbed the handhold above his door. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go.”
She waited until they were back on the freeway before she floored it.
~~~
Lindsey concentrated on the road in front of her. She knew she should be talking—that’s what polite people did on long car rides. She should at least tell Ryan to tune in a radio station, to blast whatever music he liked.
At least she should dig for one of the candy bars, to show her appreciation for his thoughtfulness.
But she didn’t do any of those things. Instead, she focused on the rumble of the car’s huge engine. She felt the vibrations in her thighs, measured them with each notch of her spine. She felt the sheer energy throbbing through her foot on the gas pedal, and she reveled in the power as she edged the Ferrari ten miles above the speed limit. Twenty. Thirty.
She was astonished when she saw the exit for Chester Beach. They couldn’t have driven across half of North Carolina, not in such a short time. But they had, of course. They had, because she’d floored the car. They had, because she’d ignored the rules, ignored the speed limit.
Ryan gave her directions once they were off the freeway. It was all simple enough—a handful of turns marked by an ice cream parlor on one corner, a miniature golf place on another. Everything in Chester Beach was shut up for the night, lights turned off, parking lots empty.
The last turn took her onto the cement apron of a driveway. She shifted the car into first and turned off the engine.
She should be exhausted—one night of sound sleep was hardly enough to make up for the craziness of the week before her would-be wedding. But the long drive had given her a fresh wave of energy. Staring at the road and concentrating on the tremendous power of the vehicle had boiled down all of her nerves. She felt like she was the same old Lindsey Ormond she’d always been, but concentrated, made a hundred times more pure.
She climbed out of the car.
The first thing she noticed was the scent, carried on a steady breeze from her left. It was sharp with salt, the pure, fresh smell of the sea. She caught her breath, the better to hold the aroma at the back of her throat, and then she could hear the ocean waves, soft and steady, like a murmuring giant.
She braced her palms on the roof of the car as she looked across to Ryan. “How far are we from the beach?”
“Two blocks.”
She was stepping onto the sandy asphalt of the street before she looked back over her shoulder. “Come on!”
“Lindsey,” he said, and he would have made a perfect actor because his voice conveyed urgency, even though he wasn’t speaking above a whisper. “It’s after two. Let’s go inside, and I’ll get you a beer. We can walk on the beach in the morning.”
She raised her chin to look up at the full moon, which was suspended halfway to the horizon. “The moon won’t be out in the morning,” she said. And then, just like they’d reached some decision, she headed down the road.
She’d known he would follow her—if only because she’d slipped his keys into her front pocket. She wasn’t surprised when he fell in at her side, walking closest to the road, guarding her from the would-be threat if any car came down the deserted street. Ryan was shaping up to be a pretty good knight in shining armor.
Not that she was some sort of princess, deserving to be rescued.
Princesses were good girls. They stayed in their castle chambers, combing out their golden hair. They edged their perfect feet into their flawless slippers, and they danced at balls until midnight, laughing and joyous and light.
Screw that. Lindsey’s hair was a tangled mess, and she’d traded in yesterday’s hideous blister-rubbing wedding shoes for summer sandals. Besides, she’d never been a fan of dancing, even when she’d been a child, standing on top of Zach’s toes, letting her big brother teach her the one-two-three steps of a waltz.
A row of buildings blocked the end of the street. Ryan led her to the right, through a narrow passage between a French fry hut and a pinball arcade. He hauled himself up one tall step to a boardwalk that gleamed silver in the moonlight, and then he turned around to offer her a hand. She made the leap herself, though, grunting only a little as she joined him on the wooden path.
The town of Chester Beach was closed up for the night. The nearby shops were dark, and chairs were stacked beside rugged metal tables. She turned on her heel and began to walk away from the sleepy buildings.
Ryan fell in beside her. If he thought she was nuts, he didn’t say so. He didn’t say anything at all, just shoved his hands in his pockets and matched her pace easily, even when she hopped off the boardwalk and started walking through the sand toward the ocean.
She only got a few steps when her feet slipped inside her sandals. Her ankle twisted hard against the straps, but before she could fall, Ryan’s fingers closed over her elbow. His grasp was firm, steady. “Easy,” he crooned. He shifted his fingers as soon as she was stable, letting his palm rest against her forearm.
Her breath hitched, but she told herself she was being an idiot. So what, if she’d fallen? She would have looked stupid, but Ryan had a pretty good idea that she wasn’t some perfect cheerleader, the type of girl whose makeup was always flawless and whose life never slipped out of control. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d fallen on her butt and made sweeping sand angels with her arms and legs. So what if she lacked dignity? She hadn’t exactly been the queen of grandeur for the last forty-eight hours.
Anxious to break the tension, to say something to take his mind off her clumsiness, Lindsey asked, “What’s that?” She nodded toward a structure looming down the beach.
“A fishing pier. During the day, there are vendors on top, with balloons and kites and stuff for kids. There are benches at the end, where some guys sit for hours, telling lies about the fish that got away.”
She laughed, pretty sure he’d told some whoppers in his day. His hand was still warm on her arm. Something about his steady touch, though, made her feel off balance, like she was slipping through the sand, tumbling toward the soft waves that were breaking on the beach below them. Her heart fluttered like it was fighting for balance too, and she gave herself a stern admonition to get walking, to stop talking.
She focused on the pull of her thighs as she lengthened her stride on the shifting sand. She leaned her head forward, narrowing her eyes just a little to focus on the hulking pier beneath the moonlight. She stretched out her fingers, ordering some of her tension to flow away, to leave her forever.
It felt good to use her body, to shake away the last of the tingling vibration from the Ferrari’s thudding power. It felt good to gulp down deep breaths of ocean air, cool and sharp with salt. It felt good to see Ryan out of the corner of her eye, one pace behind her, two steps closer to the water, steady and quiet as they closed the distance to the pier. It felt good to have her life—even this little bit of it, even the next single hour of it—predictable and easy and under control, even if she’d broken the rules to get here.
~~~
Lindsey Ormond didn’t have the first clue what she was doing to him. She didn’t realize that every time she took one of those deep, determined breaths, her shirt stretched tight across her chest. She didn’t know that the moonlight emphasized the faded lines of her jeans, the curve of her tight ass as she marched down the beach.
She didn’t know that he was about one second away from jumping her, right then and there, from pulling her down to the sand and rolling with her, edging his knee between her thighs and supporting his own weight on his forearms as he bent over her and tested her full lips, tracing them with the tip of his tongue.
Yeah. Right. And th
en he’d head back to Raleigh and stand up straight against his locker, bracing his abs to take the pounding Zach would give him. Maybe he’d be lucky—get off with only a few broken ribs.
It was the code, after all. Teammates didn’t go after each other’s sisters. Especially not teammates like Ryan. Not when Zach was one hundred percent aware of the crazy things that happened when there was too much alcohol at a hotel bar and too many girls in a hotel lobby and too many long, lonely nights in hotel hot tubs, hotel bedrooms, hotel suites where the drinks kept flowing and the girls kept coming and…
They were both breathing hard by the time they reached the pier. Lindsey barely hesitated before she strode beneath the hulking wood. He followed her, because what the hell else was he going to do?
The sound of the waves was louder beneath the structure; each crash echoed off the wood above them. The uprights sent spray into the air, a fine mist that shot a jagged line down his back. He licked his lips and tasted brine.
Determined not to think about other things he could be tasting, he took a few steps away and cupped his hands around his mouth. Throwing back his head, he hooted like an owl, the way his father had taught him years ago. The sound ricocheted off the underside of the pier, swirling around them like an entire flock of birds had taken up residence in the shadows.
Ten years since he’d lived in Chester Beach, but he still found the echo spot without a problem.
“Do it again!” Lindsey commanded, laughing.
He shook his head, though, and held out his hand, inviting her to join him at the right place—halfway between the third and fourth pilings, smack in the middle of the pier. “You do it,” he said, and he gestured for her to throw back her head, to make her own sound.
She curved her fingers beside her mouth and called out “Hoo!” but the sound was lost in the darkness.
“You’ve got to be in just the right spot,” he said, waving her a half step closer to the sea. She followed his direction, but she moved too far to her right.
“Hoo!” she tried again, but her shout died away before the next wave crashed. It was dark enough that he couldn’t see the disappointment on her face, but he heard it in her voice when she said, “It doesn’t work for me.”
Before he could remind himself not to touch her, his hands were on her waist. He planted his feet firmly, automatically gauging the distance to the breaking waves. He flattened his palms, guiding her a quarter-step back, bracing his thighs to keep them both in the proper spot. He couldn’t hide his grunt as her ass brushed against his crotch, as his cock reminded him that broken ribs would be a small penalty to pay for the grassy scent of her hair just beneath his nose, for the heat of her body, long and lean and taut against his.
That gasp through his clenched teeth echoed back a dozen times, bouncing off the wood, off the packed sand, off their bodies. He lied to himself, told himself she wouldn’t hear it, wouldn’t recognize his need, but he knew he didn’t have a chance when she stiffened beneath his palms.
Let go of her. Just step away.
But he didn’t want to drop his hands. He didn’t want to open up a space between them. He didn’t want to do all the things any sane man would do, any guy who wanted to live another twenty-four hours, maybe even with his dream job intact.
~~~
She wasn’t that naive.
She recognized the sound that had echoed all around them; she understood what it meant. She froze as she realized what Ryan had to be thinking. She’d practically kidnapped him, stealing his car for good measure. She hadn’t hesitated to be her seductive best when he’d held back; she’d looked up at him through her eyelashes; she’d stuck out her lip in a pout.
She’d spent the entire drive to Chester Beach thinking he was safe. He was one of Zach’s teammates, for God’s sake. Ever since her first crush on a ballplayer, on a left-handed pitcher with a killer curveball who had long ago been traded to Kansas City, she’d known Zach wouldn’t put up with her dating any guy on his team. He was her big brother. He laid down the law.
But she wasn’t a little girl any more. She was a woman—a woman who had been ready to become a wife two times in as many years. It wasn’t her fault the guys had gotten cold feet.
All right. Maybe it was her fault. Maybe she’d missed some clues along the way, failed to read messages, neglected to understand the subtle things that had all been left unsaid.
She understood things now, though. She understood that Ryan Green was standing behind her, his hands wrapped around her hips, holding her steady, away from his body. Away from the erection she was pretty much positive he was sporting.
She should step forward. She should pretend to be fascinated with the play of moonlight on ocean waves. She should chatter away about nothing, about the silver light on the boardwalk, about the gulls sleeping on the sand, balanced on one leg, about anything at all that would give Ryan a chance to get himself back under control.
But she’d made her decision the night before, when she’d TPed Will’s house.
Holding her breath like she was afraid she’d shatter her own determination, she turned to face the man behind her. She felt his fingers tighten on her hips for just a heartbeat, and then he started to pull away, to edge higher onto the beach, away from her and the crashing ocean waves.
She didn’t want to let him go.
His biceps were hard under her palms as she clutched him, harder than any muscles Will Templeton had ever dreamed of having. Don’t think about Will.
His thighs were hot against hers as she leaned into him, scorching through her jeans in a way Will Templeton had never done. Don’t think about Will.
His lips were soft beneath hers as she brushed against him, as he invited her to touch, to taste in a way Will Templeton had never done. Don’t think about Will.
Frustrated by the stupid tricks her mind was playing, angry with herself for not listening, she darted her tongue against the corner of his mouth. His lips opened easily, as if he’d only been waiting for her to make up her mind, for her to take the first step. His breath steamed against hers, sweet with Coca-Cola and candy bars.
His arms were iron across her back, keeping her balanced on the shifting sand. He pulled her close, closer, and her hands scrabbled across his shirt. Now that she’d opened Pandora’s box, she wanted more. She arched her neck, knowing that his hand would be there to support her head, that his fingers would tangle in her hair. He eased her lips to a perfect angle, and she moaned deep in her throat as a white heat rippled down her spine.
A good girl would be embarrassed by that moan. But Lindsey was ready to leave that good girl behind forever. She rubbed herself against Ryan’s chest, reaching behind her for his hand, the one spread against the small of her back. She clutched his fingers in hers, pulling them to the hot V at the top of her thighs, pressing his palm into the hard seams of her jeans. As he cupped her, hard, she fumbled with the single button, fighting with the zipper to free herself, to give him the access she wanted, she needed.
And then a piercing beam of light cut between them.
She cried out in surprise, feeling Ryan swallow half her exclamation even as he pulled away. She blinked hard, trying to stare into the white brilliance, trying to make sense out of the glare and the blanket of freezing air that smothered her.
Ryan edged his shoulder in front of her, protecting her with his body as he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the blazing light. Lindsey knew she should do something, she should fasten the button on her jeans, she should sneak her zipper back in place. But her body refused to follow her command. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think.
Because with Ryan blocking the worst of the light, she could see who stood in front of them on the beach. She recognized the navy uniform, the gold star glinting on a breast pocket, the utility belt heavy with a nightstick and handcuffs and a gun. She didn’t know the specific man, didn’t know a name. But she saw enough to realize she was about to be arrested by the Chester
Beach police.
CHAPTER 4
Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.
It was one thing to take charge of her love life. It was another to be arrested for public indecency. This was worse than last night, worse than getting caught throwing toilet paper over some magnolia trees. Looking back, she almost wished they’d been picked up in front of Will’s house—that little hiccup could have spared her from melting into a pool of embarrassment now.
Her father had gone down to the Raleigh police station often enough, to bail out Beth. Who was going to get her and Ryan out of the Chester Beach jail now? He’d said his father was at the house. What a way to meet Mr. Green. Pleased to meet you sir. Can I pay you back for bail?
Ryan had volunteered his father as a chaperone. Too bad Lindsey hadn’t taken him up on it.
But she’d had another plan in mind. If the cop hadn’t come along, what would she and Ryan be doing right now? Would she still be mauling him like a teenager on her first date? Would she have been reeling beneath those amazing hands of his, spinning from the detonation of another thousand tiny explosives triggered along every nerve in her body? Would she and Ryan be sprawled on top of each other, getting sand into all sorts of ultimately painful places?
She bit down on her lip, hard. She had to turn off the movie projector in her mind. She had to focus on the danger in front of her, on the policeman and her imminent arrest. She forced herself to swallow, to take a steadying breath as she did up her pants. She tested her voice in her mind, and then she licked her lips. “Officer,” she said.
“What have we got here?” the cop asked. “Lewd behavior. Indecent exposure. Perverted practice. Disorderly conduct.”
As he paused in his recitation, Ryan said, “We haven’t been disorderly. Yet.”
“Ryan!” Lindsey gasped. What was he doing? Trying to get them arrested? She clutched his arm with one hand, attempting to force some sense into his thick ballplayer’s skull.
“So,” the cop said. “You want to add resisting arrest to all the other charges?”
