Chapter Twenty-Three

SISSY BROUGHT HER swimsuit. “This weather.” She fanned herself. “I figured we’d be better off running lines in the pool.”

Em made a face, but Kota waded right in. It was hardly a hardship. Sissy got her start as Miss November. She could rock a bikini.

Being obstinate, Em parked herself at a table in the shade and went to work on her laptop.

Sissy pouted pillowy lips. “Can’t you send her to Malibu or something?”

Kota played dumb. “What’s in Malibu?”

Sissy tossed golden curls. “Just get rid of her so we can . . . you know.” She jiggled her eyebrows, and more.

All that jiggling persuaded him. “Hey, Em, take the afternoon off.”

She curled her lip and stuck like a tick.

He climbed out of the pool and dripped his way to her table, leaning on it with both hands. “You’re chaperoning me now?”

“She’s a short step up from a porn star.”

“When did you turn into a prude?”

“You used to have standards.”

“When?”

“Since you hit thirty-­five.”

“Maybe I’m regressing.”

“No, you’re in denial. That’s different.” She tipped her head at Sissy. “Send the bimbo home. We need to talk.”

He stood up straight and curled a lip of his own. “I haven’t gotten laid in two weeks. The last thing I want to do is talk. And the thing about Sissy is, I don’t think she’s looking for conversation.”

He reached over and closed her laptop. “Skedaddle, Em.”

She left scowling.

Which left him alone in the pool with Sissy.

He waded into the shallow end and leaned back against the side, stretching his arms along the edge.

She breaststroked toward him, a slender raft floating on jumbo pontoons. Green eyes made emerald by contacts raked his chest. “I’ve heard about you, Kota. Girls talk, you know.”

“Is that so?” His lids lowered to half mast, his sexy squint. “What did you hear?”

She stood up, the water chest deep on her five-­foot frame. Her breasts bobbed like buoys.

With one fingertip she traced a line from his throat to his waistband. “I heard you’re a stallion.” She tucked her finger inside. “I wanna go for a ride.”

He’d heard worse come-­ons. He’d delivered a few himself. But maybe Em was right, maybe he’d raised his standards, because Sissy, with her centerfold tits and blow-­me lips and Barbie-­blond hair, wasn’t getting a rise out of him. Not even a twitch.

As she’d quickly discover if she gave his waistband a tug.

He couldn’t let that happen. His reputation was at stake.

He needed a boner, and fast.

Catching her questing hand in one of his, he reached behind her neck with the other and tugged the string that tied up her halter. Out popped her double Ds, the nail-­hard nipples pierced with solid gold rings.

As if it was scripted, she cupped one, offering it up. He made himself take the ring in his lips. He flicked it with his tongue, and she threw back her head like a . . . well, like a porn star.

His dick shriveled to pinky-­sized.

“Kota,” Tony called from the doorway. “Your ma’s on the phone.”

Thank God.

Kota spit out the ring, leaped out of the pool, and had the phone in his hand before Sissy could do more than gape. Throwing her an apologetic wave, he darted inside.

“Hi, Ma. How you doing?”

“I’m fine, your father’s fine, everything’s fine.” She blew past the small talk. “I just got the nicest phone call from Christy.”

What?” He exploded out of the chair he’d sunk into. “Did you hang up on her? I can’t believe she’s harassing you. I’ll call the cops, get a restraining order—­”

“Kota.” Her shut-­up-­and-­listen-­to-­me tone. “It was a nice call, and I was very happy to talk to her.”

“About what? Was she pumping you for information? I hope you didn’t tell her anything—­”

Verna cut into his rant. “She called to apologize to Roy and me for misrepresenting herself.”

He bit his tongue to keep from calling bullshit at the top of his lungs.

“She explained the situation. Mind you, she wasn’t making excuses. She only wanted us to understand that she was under some pressure from the higher-­ups at the newspaper, and she made some bad choices—­”

Bad choices?” He couldn’t hold back. “Ma, she snuck into Tana’s wedding, planning to spread it all over the paper. She lied to everybody, including her father. Including you. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she snuck into my house, taking notes for her story—­”

“Hold it right there. Don’t stretch the truth, young man. I have it on good authority that you lured her to the house.”

Damn Em’s big mouth.

“I also know,” she went on, “that Christy’s computer had no notes of any kind on it.”

“She was taking mental notes,” he said stubbornly. “And she hitched a ride to the island to keep spying.”

“Invited herself, did she?”

He set his jaw. “If I knew who she was, I wouldn’t have asked her.”

“But you did, and I very much doubt your motives were pure, my boy.” Verna was taking no prisoners. “Can you tell me you didn’t plan to take advantage of her?”

Heat rolled over his skin. His face burned like fire. “At least I didn’t hide my intentions. She knew what was what, which was more than I knew. I thought she was interested in me, not Tana.”

“I’m sure that stung.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He forked a hand through his hair. “I don’t like being made a fool of.”

“So she took advantage of you? She used her time on the island to insinuate herself with your brother and Sasha?”

He paced the room. “Not really.”

“She pumped you for information about them?”

“No.” She’d never asked one question about them.

“You’re telling me she relinquished a golden opportunity to dig up information on the bride and groom?”

“I guess.” He stopped at the window. Outside, Cy belly flopped into the pool and doggie-­paddled toward Sissy, who fled up the steps, aghast.

“And what about your life?” Ma was relentless. “Did she pry into your secrets? Press for juicy details?”

“Not exactly.” He’d volunteered everything. “But she pretended to care. About the animals. About me.” Humiliation made him squirm. “She . . . she said she loved me. And I thought I loved her. So I told her stuff. Stuff I don’t usually talk about.”

Ma softened. “And when you did that, dear boy, what did she do?”

“She . . . ” She listened. She wept. She told him where she lived.

And then she called her boss and quit her job so she wouldn’t have to betray him.

He rested his forehead on the window. “What do you want from me, Ma?”

She laughed lightly. “I only wanted to tell you I got a nice call from Christy. The rest, my boy, is up to you.”

LEGS SHAVED, BROWS tweezed, clean hair curling over her shoulders, Chris shimmied into a flirty-­skirted sundress boldly splattered with fuchsia and black flowers.

The mirror said it flattered her bottom-­heavy shape. She decided to agree with it.

When she walked into the kitchen, Ray’s eyes bugged.

“Be nice,” Chris said. “It’s a fragile illusion.”

“It’s working.” Ray pouted. “I want your legs and your ass.”

“The ass you can have. I’ve got twice as much as I need.” She found her keys on the counter where she’d tossed them two weeks ago.

Ray perked up. “Where to?”

“The Apple store.”

“Boooor-­ing.”

“I need a new laptop.”

“You should make him give yours back.”

And wouldn’t that be a fun phone call? “Not worth it. Everything was in the cloud anyway.”

“He’s a dick.”

“He’s angry. He has a right to be.”

“Don’t defend him—­”

The door shook under a hammering fist. They eyebrowed each other.

The fist pounded again. Ray slid off her stool and peered through the window. “You’re kidding me.” She yanked open the door.

There stood Dakota, larger than life, hot as the devil, and mad as a hornet.

All the saliva evaporated from Chris’s mouth.

“What do you want?” Ray threw in his face.

Kota peeled off his aviators, baring the squint. “I’m looking for her.” He pointed his chin at Chris like a gun.

“Why?” Ray held her ground bravely, earning Chris’s respect.

He tightened the squint another dangerous notch. Ray wilted, and Chris found her voice. “Don’t bully her.”

His eyes widened. “Bully her? I barely opened my mouth.”

“Don’t play dumb either. You know the power of the squint.” Stepping in front of Ray, she crossed her arms to hide the trembling. “Why are you here?”

“You called Ma.”

She lifted her chin. “So?”

“You riled her up.”

“Baloney. She was perfectly calm and very pleasant. It’s you who’s riled up. For no reason. I apologized, and that was that. I’m not planning to call her again.”

He plainly wanted to menace her, but she’d taken the wind from his sails. “Yeah, well, you better not” was the best he could do.

She pressed her advantage. “I called Sasha too, as you’ll find out soon enough. I apologized, and she graciously accepted. That’s it, it’s done. I’m not trying to be besties.”

“So you apologized to everybody but me.”

She dropped her eyes. “I wasn’t sure how to reach you.”

“I’m standing here now.”

Yes he was, filling her door like a warrior, steel arms crossed like swords over armor-­plated pecs.

Gathering her courage, she lifted her gaze to the face she loved. The beautiful, furious face. And her heart broke again, because his jaw was chiseled in granite, his lips pressed flat in an angry line. And his eyes, once as warm and soft as the sea, were a deep and frigid blue.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Oh God, was she sorry. She’d had it all. She’d held that staggering face in her palms.

Those arctic eyes had melted for her.

Now they sneered down on her. “That’s it? Where’s the pantload of excuses you dumped on Ma?”

“No excuses,” she said simply. “Reasons. Selfish, shortsighted reasons that seemed important then, and ridiculous now.”

She took a deep breath and went on. “I don’t expect you to care why I did what I did. It’s my actions that matter, and I’m not proud of them. Sneaking into the wedding was stupid and embarrassing. And once we . . .” She made herself look into his eyes, when she wanted to sink through the floor. “Once we got involved, not telling you was unforgivable.”

“Damn right it was.” He glowered. “So don’t expect it.”

“I don’t expect anything,” she said. But she wished for everything.

His glare was acid on raw skin, too painful to endure. “I’m sorry,” she said again, and stepping back, she started to close the door.

He stopped it with the flat of his hand. “We’re not done yet.” He raked her with his eyes. “You look better,” he said gruffly.

She didn’t wince, at least not visibly. “A shower will do that.”

“Why’d you run?”

“I was embarrassed. I looked like shit. I wasn’t expecting to see you. Take your pick.”

“I’ll go with embarrassed. You should be.”

She threw up her hands. “If I had a do-­over, I’d quit my job instead of crashing the wedding. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Rubbing my nose in it is a waste of your time. I’m doing fine with that on my own.”

“I doubt that.” He leaned in. “I doubt you realize the damage you caused.”

She held his fiery gaze. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Forget about me,” he said, looming. “Tri won’t eat. The little fucker won’t eat since you left.”

“Oh my God. Is he in the car?” She tried to look around him, but he filled the frame.

“Even if he was, what difference would it make? He’d see you once, but it wouldn’t be enough. He’d still miss you. Think about you. Dream about you.”

She stopped trying to peer around him and looked up into his face. “Kota, I—­”

“What difference would it make?” he said again, bitterly. “It would only remind him how it was when he thought he could trust you.”

“But he can.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “He can trust me. I love him.”

OH, HOW KOTA wanted to believe that. With his whole being, he longed to believe.

His heart, the same heart that ceased beating on the tarmac two weeks ago, now pumped like a piston. Every muscle, every fiber, strained to reach for her, to hug her to his chest, absorb her through his skin until she sang in his veins.

He needed to get out of there before he did something stupid.

“Wait here,” he said, and stalked to the Porsche. He tried to lean in to get her laptop, but Tri was on top of it, dancing on his hind legs like a showgirl. He’d heard that smoky voice too, and like Kota, he’d let his heart get out in front of his head.

“Forget it,” Kota muttered. “I only brought you along for the fresh air.”

But the fool dog only got more excited, hopping in a circle, panting like he’d run a marathon. Whining, and Tri never whined unless . . .

Suspicious, Kota whirled. Christy was right on his heels.

“Back off,” he snarled.

“No. Let me see him.” She tried to go around him.

He blocked her. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

“You just said he misses me.”

“That doesn’t mean he wants to see you.” He crossed his arms, ignoring the canine hysteria behind him. “He’s not dumb enough to let you fool him twice.”

She leveled a look. “Enough already. I’m not throwing myself at you, Kota. I get that you don’t want anything to do with me. But Tri”—­her voice caught—­“I never got to say good-­bye to him.”

“You don’t deserve—­”

From behind him, a thud, then a yip. The crazy dog had flung himself over the door and onto the pavement.

Now he raced around the car and dove at Christy’s leg. She scooped him up to chin level, and he went wild with his tongue as she laughed and cried all at once.

Only a hard-­hearted bastard would break up their love-­in.

“Quit it,” he said, swiping Tri from her hands. “Quit teasing him.”

Her empty arms fell. For a long moment she looked into his face, hers etched with misery. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry I hurt you so badly that you’d hurt Tri to punish me.”

Is that what he was doing?

He stuck the squirming dog under his arm. “He doesn’t know you like I do. I’m protecting him.”

“No, you’re waving him under my nose.” Her shoulders drooped. “I know what I lost, Kota. I can’t think of anything else. I can’t sleep. All I can do is eat, and you see where that’s gotten me.” She waved a hand at herself.

He used the excuse to eyeball her body, as amazing as ever. He swallowed the saliva that pooled on his tongue. “You look okay,” he said gruffly. “None the worse for wear.”

She gave a weak little laugh. “This dress hides the second ass I’ve grown.”

More saliva. “It’s nice. The dress, I mean.” He cleared his throat. “Nice dress.”

She almost smiled. Then she stiffened her shoulders. “Why are you really here, Kota?”

Why was he here, torturing himself, torturing Tri, who wriggled like a worm under his arm?

He grabbed the laptop and gave it to her.

“Oh.” Like it was the last thing she expected. “Okay. Thanks.” Tucking it under her arm, she backed up toward the house, and Tri, the traitor, squirmed even harder.

“Wait,” he blurted, and she paused, sadness and uncertainty written on her face. “Just . . . wait.”

He took a deep breath. Then, closing the space between them, he held out Tri. She took him with her free arm, and he snuggled against her breast. Lucky bastard.

Making himself step back, he said sternly, “He’ll overeat if you let him. So don’t, because if he gets fat, he won’t be able to get around.”

Her eyes had gone wide. Her lips parted, and trembled.

“He’s lazy,” he added harshly. “He’ll want you to carry him everyplace. Don’t, because—­”

“He’ll get fat.” A tear slid down one pale cheek. “I won’t let him. I’ll take care of him.”

“You better.” His voice was rough with emotion. He channeled it into a growl. “Or I’ll be back for him.”

She buried her nose in Tri’s neck. “I promise I’ll never let anything hurt him.”

He believed her, but it didn’t make leaving either of them any easier. He bit down on the inside of his cheek. If he didn’t walk away now, he’d bawl like a toddler.

Then she lifted her gaze, blinking back the tears swimming in her warm caramel eyes. His throat closed up tight.

And it was a damn good thing, or he’d have spit out something stupid.

Instead, he whipped open the Porsche’s door and threw himself into the seat, refusing to watch her in the rearview as he burned rubber down the road.