ELLA walked along the beach enjoying the last warm rays of the sun as it sank below the horizon. The waves lapped at her feet, the water of the Gulf of Mexico cooling as the temperatures caught up with the calendar. Roscoe, her neighbor’s eight-month-old Great Dane puppy, joined her as usual, bounding ahead to bark at sandpipers and seagulls before circling back to hurry her along. It was the Friday after Halloween and summer was officially over, but there were still a few tourists on the beach taking advantage of the just-warm-enough weather and off-season rates to grab one last long weekend before the winter set in and the snowbirds arrived from up north.
The thought of the influx of winter residents from the snow-laden states made her think of Chicago and Mel, which quickly led her thoughts to one particular Yankee transplant. Not that Matt had been far from her mind at all in the past three weeks; he had a way of sneaking in no matter what else she tried to focus on.
She’d dived headfirst into her new job just two days after the moving truck left, figuring work would be the best cure for the homesickness that niggled at her late at night. But while SoftWerx challenged her, it didn’t bring any sort of satisfaction, and she blamed Matt for sowing discontent in her chosen career field.
It didn’t help that Matt turned out to be serious about that “let’s be friends” thing. Although he never called, he did send fun, flirty e-mails pinging into her in-box, and much to her own amazement, she’d begun to look forward to seeing his name in the return-address field. She’d even flirted back, enjoying it.
Well, until last week, at least, when Matt told her he was going to a meeting in New Orleans and asked her to make the drive over for the weekend. That had pretty much stopped her in her electronic tracks. Matt was safe to flirt with when he was in Atlanta, but seeing him again wasn’t something she was quite ready to deal with just yet.
“What do you think, Roscoe? Should I have gone to New Orleans?” The black puppy trotted tiredly beside her on this last leg back to the house, but looked up when she said his name. She patted his head. “It’s a tough call, I know.”
Roscoe wasn’t helpful, but he had been a good listener on these walks, particularly when it came to the confusing nature of her feelings for Matt.
She liked him. He liked her. For someone else, it would be so easy. Ha. Each e-mail moved her a little closer into dangerous territory. They were close to becoming actual friends now. That wasn’t what she’d planned on.
Instead of forgetting him, she was getting to know him better and she was constantly being reminded of the guy who had almost made her let down her guard.
That guard—the one Melanie kept dogging her about—was what had kept her sane and grounded all her life. Matt was a loose cannon in her otherwise orderly life. He was a nice interlude, a fantasy that had been fun to explore, but the reality was far too complicated to contemplate.
And that was the exact reason she hadn’t agreed to meet Matt in New Orleans. His invitation had been a wake-up call, reminding her of her earlier intention to limit any contact with Matt whatsoever. And, more important, why she’d come to that decision. She’d claimed she was too busy at SoftWerx to get away, but it was a flimsy excuse, and she figured he’d seen straight through it.
“Too late now, right, Roscoe?”
But Roscoe ignored her, not even perking up his ears at the mention of his name. Then, with a bark that belied his usual playful puppyness, he took off across the boardwalk toward her house behind the dunes.
From her vantage point on the boardwalk, she could see her back porch and the man standing on it who had caught Roscoe’s attention. A lost tourist, probably. It wasn’t uncommon for tourists to get lost and end up knocking on her door looking for their vacation rental. Heck, she’d even had a couple try to move in—locks were important around here for that simple reason.
Roscoe’s barking gained the man’s attention, and he turned in the direction of the sound. She watched as he spotted the dog first, then traced Roscoe’s path in the direction of the beach to where she was stepping off the boardwalk. She was finally able to get a good look at the man, and when she did her heart skipped a beat.
Matt. What on earth was he doing here?
She struggled to find her equilibrium as he called out a greeting to her. She wanted to be angry that he was here without an invitation—especially since she’d turned down his invitation for the weekend—but part of her was thrilled.
“Hey, El.”
Be cool. “Hi, yourself.” She accepted the quick kiss on her cheek before adding, “What are you doing here?”
Matt laughed. “Nice to see you, too. I—Ooph!”
Roscoe, still barking with excitement, jumped on Matt, both paws landing squarely in Matt’s crotch. After grabbing the dog’s paws and dropping them gently to the ground, Matt squatted to pet the slobbering dog without exposing himself to clumsy puppy feet. Roscoe reveled in the attention, rolling onto his back to give Matt access to his tummy. When Matt complied, Roscoe’s big head lolled back in doggie delight.
I know exactly how you feel, Roscoe.
“Who’s this?”
“That’s Roscoe. He belongs to Molly across the street. He tags along when I walk on the beach.” At the sound of her voice, Roscoe seemed to remember where his loyalty should lie, and he scrambled back to his feet to stand at her side. She pointed her finger at the blue cottage almost identical to her own. “Go home, boy.”
Head drooping, Roscoe obeyed.
Brushing sand and dog hair from his jeans, Matt stood. “Nice place.”
She crossed her arms and leaned against the porch railing. “At the risk of sounding rude, I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here?”
Matt cocked an eyebrow at her. “Well, if Mohammed won’t come to the mountain…”
“I told you I was busy this weekend. Work, you know.”
“Yes, and you’re a terrible liar—even by e-mail.”
So he’d figured that out, too. She shrugged and dug the door key from her pocket. “I never realized I was so transparent.”
“It’s just part of my job, ma’am.” He grinned. “It’s a lawyer thing.”
The smug look on Matt’s face bordered on smackable, but he was just too cute to deny. And since she could admit to herself, at least, that she was glad to see him—even if it did cause heart flutters—she opened the door and ushered him in.
Matt’s eyes widened at the mess that greeted him, and she smothered a chuckle. The furniture was in place, but the stacks of boxes, barren shelves and blank walls seemed to catch him off guard.
“Lord, El. Am I going to have to unpack you, as well?”
That did cause a chuckle. “Hmm, the free labor is tempting. Especially since you did such a good job packing those boxes. But, no. I’m having some work done on the house, now that I’ll be living here full-time, and there’s no sense unpacking before the contractors arrive. Would you like something to drink?”
He nodded, and the mindless task of playing hostess gave her something to do with herself. Matt’s presence seemed to cause the room to shrink, and it felt like the heat had kicked on. Distance, she thought. Distance is what I need. The bar counter separating the kitchen from the living room was a flimsy barrier, but she seemed to breathe a bit easier with it between them.
Matt stood on the other side of the counter and nodded at the roll of house plans. “I can’t believe you’d jump right in to house renovations. I would’ve thought you’d want to settle in first.”
“Gran and Gramps always wanted to expand this place—add another bedroom, extend the porch and screen part of it in, redo the kitchen—but they never seemed to have the money. Gramps had those plans drawn up years ago, but something always came up and it never got done. This job at SoftWerx finally means I’ll have the money to do what Gramps wanted.” Matt was watching her closely, so she hurried on. “No time like the present, right?”
“So the job’s going well?”
She plastered a smile on her face. “Oh, yeah. I’m really busy and there’s a learning curve to navigate, but it’s really challenging and a really great opportunity.”
Matt smirked. “Really?”
Stop babbling. Damn Matt anyway for rattling her about her job. She needed to get control of herself and make actual conversation. “You know what? I’m hungry. If you’re here for a visit, why don’t we go get some dinner? I’d offer to cook, but once again, you’ve caught me with my cupboards bare.”
“I kinda like catching you ‘bare.’”
Heat rushed to her cheeks and at the same time desire curled through her belly. It was a strange combination. Only Matt could embarrass her and turn her on at the same time.
“I know a great place. Let me go get changed.” She forced herself to walk calmly to her room. As she shut the door behind her, she suppressed the urge to bang her head against it. This was insane. She wasn’t supposed to be seeing Matt anymore.
What a mess.
Dinner. Dinner would be safe. She could get her head screwed back on straight and decide what to do next.
Fifteen minutes later she knew exactly how wrong she was. Placing herself in the close confines of Matt’s sports car was a monumental mistake. Why couldn’t he have gotten a regular rental like normal people? Something midsize, with plenty of space inside. No. Matt rented a little red sports car, which meant his big body took up a great deal of the front seat. She was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, and if she moved too much, her arm slid against his, raising all the tiny hairs on her arm from the contact.
To make matters worse, the faintest whiff of his scent clung to the inside of the car, and every time she inhaled, she got light-headed at the rush.
She tried to sit very still and breathe shallowly through her mouth.
“Are you okay?”
Not in the least. “Fine. The restaurant is just up on your left.”
She was out of the car the second it stopped moving, not even waiting for him to come around and open her door. Matt arched an eyebrow at her quizzically, but said nothing as they walked in.
The hostess showed them to a battered booth, and she slid in to her side, grateful for the table’s width between them. But when Matt’s long legs bumped hers, she knew it was going to be the longest meal of her life.
She flagged down their server.
“I’d like a very large, very cold, very strong margarita, please.”
Of all the ideas Matt had about what he would do once he and Ella were together again, battling seafood wasn’t one of them. His visions always centered on Ella naked and writhing beneath him, those gorgeous legs of hers wrapped around his waist as he slammed into her. Instead the only legs he was fondling at the moment were hard and spiny and formerly attached to a crab.
Ella had been a nice distraction once he returned to Atlanta and his assistant dumped a pile of paperwork on his desk. Firing off e-mails took no time at all and provided a break when he needed one. She never initiated contact, but she always replied to his messages. It was a simple, easy friendship, but he spent far too much time thinking about her.
He’d been more than a little disappointed at her refusal to meet him in New Orleans this weekend. The mere idea had filled him with enough erotic fantasies to cause possible embarrassment if his mind wandered during a meeting. While Ella might be surprised at him for showing up on her front porch, he couldn’t be that close to her and not at least try to see her.
But he hadn’t been prepared for the need to get her to the nearest horizontal surface that had hit into him the moment she appeared on the boardwalk. If it hadn’t been for that puppy’s unerring aim…
Instead he found himself sitting in a restaurant that could best be described as a dive, wrestling his dinner out of its shell.
“Hold this side and twist when you pull. You’ll starve to death before you get enough meat out doing it your way.” In demonstration, Ella deftly pulled the crab leg apart, and the meat slid out in one perfect piece. She dipped it in butter and popped it in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste. “Yum.”
His body reacted instantly. He’d seen a variant of that look directed at him. As her tongue snaked out to lick a drop of butter from her bottom lip, sweat broke out on his brow and he shifted uncomfortably. The woman even made shellfish erotic. Enough small talk. He needed to get her out of here. Now. He reached for his wallet.
“How’s work?” she asked, completely unaware of the thoughts in his head.
The question stopped him from doing the ridiculous and dragging Ella out of the restaurant by her hair, caveman-style. He settled into his seat and reached for his beer, hoping the cool drink would magically cool his libido.
“About the same. Busy.”
Ella shook her head. “You work too hard. Too many long hours in the office isn’t good for a person, you know. Fresh air is important.”
“I’m getting some now. What could be fresher than a sea breeze?”
She ran her finger along the edge of her glass and licked the salt away, tormenting him further. “Still, I can’t think of anything I’d be willing to do for sixty or seventy hours a week. No matter how enjoyable.”
Heat moved through him again. The beer wasn’t helping. He waited until he caught her eye, then held her gaze far too long before moving his eyes deliberately downward. When he finally returned to her face, her pupils were dilated and color flagged her cheeks.
“I can think of something.”
He heard Ella’s breath catch, and she looked away. A split second later, he heard her signal for the server.
“Check, please.”
Need bordering on pain flooded in, displacing the flash of disappointment he’d felt when she’d broken eye contact. He fished out his wallet and threw a stack of bills on the table. Grabbing Ella’s hand, he scooted out of the booth and sprinted for the parking lot with her in tow.
Ella slid into the passenger seat of his rental as he cranked the engine. Unable to wait any longer, he dragged her into his lap and found her lips. She moaned, pouring gasoline on the flames licking him.
In the past week, he’d decided he was remembering Chicago wrong—that no woman could taste that good or feel so perfect in his arms. But the reality proved the memory true. He reached for the seat control, reclining the back and giving them more room.
His hands found the hem of her T-shirt and slid under to feel the soft skin of her belly contract at his touch. Ella’s nails dug into his shoulders as his fingers moved higher to find the swell of breast above the lace-edged cup of her bra. She hissed, arching into his hand, and the hard point of her nipple pressed into his palm. She rocked against him, and he grabbed hold of her hips to increase the friction.
She was fumbling with the snap of his jeans when loud catcalls and a thump on the hood brought him forcefully back to reality. Three teenage boys stood in front of the car, whistling and making suggestions.
Sanity returned. Sweet heaven, he was seconds from taking her in the front seat of a car in a parking lot like some horny high-schooler.
Five minutes. He would have to hold on for the five minutes it would take to get her back to the house.
Ignoring Ella’s moan of protest, he moved her back to her seat and threw the car into gear.
Ella’s hand snaked into his lap to rest on his thigh, only inches from the part of his anatomy controlling him at the moment. Her fingers moved slightly, causing the muscle in his thigh to jump. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel, trying to concentrate on the road. “Dammit, Ella! Are you trying to get us killed?”
In the darkness of the car, he heard her whisper, “Hurry.”
The gravel in her driveway crunched under the tires and he slammed the gearshift into Park. Ella was already out of the car and turning the key in the lock as he caught up.
The lock disengaged, and the door swung open. Scooping Ella up in one arm, he closed the door with the other as her mouth clamped on his.
Those legs finally wrapped around his waist, and she murmured, “First door on the left,” against his lips as her fingers threaded through his hair.
Ella’s bedroom. Thank heaven. Two more steps and he wouldn’t have to worry about taking her on the floor.
The bed groaned as they landed on it. Ella struggled to her knees, tugging at the hem of her T-shirt. In one swift movement he had his shirt over his head, and with his assistance her shirt and bra joined it on the floor a second later. Ella’s head dropped back when his hands cupped her breasts, and she grabbed his shoulders for support as he thumbed her nipples to quivering peaks. When his mouth replaced his fingers, her nails scored across his back.
“Matt,” she whispered.
The husky sound of his name on her lips scorched through him. It was easy enough to sweep her off her knees and onto her back where he quickly freed her from her jeans.
He ran his hands across the smooth skin of her hips, reacquainting himself with the feel of her as Ella’s hands worked fast at his zipper. Then it was his turn to groan as delicate fingers wrapped firmly around him, sending hot bolts of lightning through his veins.
Pulling Ella under him, he whispered an apology in advance. “This won’t be slow and easy.”
“Good,” she panted, and his heart thudded in his chest.
Ella was wet and warm as he slid into her. He struggled to keep his sanity as she moved beneath him, matching his rhythm. He felt the tiny shudders begin, heard the breathy moans that meant she was close.
Her hands fisted in the sheets and she arched against him, shouting his name and pushing him over the edge.
His last clear thought, though, would’ve sent Ella running for the door.
The shifting of the bed woke her up. Exhausted from more than three hours of nonstop sex, she’d finally fallen asleep around midnight, overly aware of Matt’s big body taking up a large portion of her bed.
Again.
In an odd way she didn’t want to examine too closely, it felt perfectly natural to have him next to her. Not that her bed had felt empty or anything, but it had felt strange to sleep alone after sharing a bed with him. When Matt eased out from under the covers, she knew it. When he didn’t return within a few minutes, she rolled to her side and pried her eyes open. Searching the dark room, she saw him in front of the sliding door of her bedroom, looking out over the beach.
“Whatcha doing?”
He started at her voice, then came to kneel at the edge of the bed. He had put on his jeans, she noticed, but nothing else. Her mouth watered at the sight of his broad chest, shocking her a little. After several mind-blowing orgasms, she should be all sexed out.
Obviously not.
Moonlight streamed in through the glass, giving Matt a slightly otherworldly glow as he stroked her hair back out of her face.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s fine. What were you looking at?”
“The beach. The moon’s bright enough to make the sand glow. Pretty cool.”
She nodded in agreement.
Matt leaned on his elbows, causing the bed to dip and making her roll slightly toward him. “Why don’t we go for a walk on the beach?”
“A walk?” Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. At his enthusiastic nod, she glanced blearily at the clock. “It’s three o’clock in the morning.”
“But there’s a full moon and you’re not sleeping anyway.”
“It wouldn’t kill either of us to try,” she grumbled.
“Come on. It’ll be romantic.”
Matt was obviously keen on this walk idea. She needed sleep, but since he’d done everything short of turn her inside out to pleasure her this evening, she could humor him on this.
“All right.” She stretched, then gathered her clothes from the floor. “But I’m sleeping late tomorrow morning, and I expect you to cook breakfast.”
“Deal.” Matt broke into a brilliant smile and she realized she couldn’t stay grumpy at him for long.
The night breeze coming off the water was cool, and she grabbed a sweatshirt to pull over her head as they headed toward the beach. At the head of the boardwalk, Roscoe appeared like magic, barking happily.
“Shh, you’ll wake the neighborhood.” The puppy sped away down the steps, reappearing as an inky spot on the snow-white beaches ahead. He barked as if encouraging them to hurry.
Matt reached for her hand and held it as they walked comfortably in silence. Occasionally a crab, glowing white under the moon, would skitter across the sand toward a wave, but other than Roscoe, they were alone on the beach. It was quite romantic, like something out of a movie, and she felt as if they were the only two people on earth at the moment.
Matt broke the silence first. “Is it always this quiet down here at night?”
“Pretty much. It’s almost all residential this far down the beach. The rentals are all houses—no condos or hotels, you’ll notice—so we mostly get families. The college kids like to stay farther up the beach in Gulf Shores, so we miss a lot of that noise and hassle. This time of year, though, it’s mostly just locals, and they are asleep at three in the morning,” she finished pointedly.
Roscoe came bounding back to check on them, circling once and nudging her hand for a pat of affection before heading off to sniff in the sand dunes.
“You think you could get him to go home?” Matt asked suddenly.
She blinked at the strange change of topic. “It’s doubtful. Why? Don’t you like dogs?”
“I like dogs just fine, but I hadn’t counted on having one for company just now. He’s cramping my style.”
“Oh, please. What style?”
She was treated to an overdramatic sigh that was quite amusing coming from a big guy like Matt.
“A beautiful moonlit night on the beach, a beautiful woman…My plans involved seducing you and making love on the beach in the moonlight, but that’s very hard to do with Roscoe about.”
Don’t laugh. She bit her lip, but Matt looked so exasperated that a small giggle escaped anyway. “You tourist boys. You’ve watched way too many movies. The last place on earth you’d want to have sex is on the beach. You get sand in all sorts of uncomfortable places.”
Matt arched that eyebrow at her, making her want to yank it back down. “And you know this from personal experience?”
“As a teenager, I did my fair share of making out on the beach—mostly with tourist boys who had the same notion as you. In theory, it’s great, but the reality is scratchy. My friend Sara used to call it ‘sandpaper sex.’” Matt winced, and she nodded. “So Roscoe or no Roscoe, there’s no way you’re getting lucky out here. At least not with me, that is.”
“Another horribly romantic idea killed by your pragmatism.”
“Sorry.” She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him. “But walking is nice, too. You can get lucky back at the house later.”
Matt perked up at that. “I’ll race you.”
“Very funny.”
“Come on, you’re the track star. Let’s see you run.”
She couldn’t resist the challenge in his voice, and she took off down the beach. Running on sand was tough on her knees and ankles, but she quickly put distance between her and Matt. Roscoe, yapping excitedly at the change of events, ran at her side, and they both beat Matt to the boardwalk by a full half-minute.
“Damn, girl, you are fast.” He sat on the wooden stairs with a loud groan. “I guess I need to add more cardio to my workout.” He took deep gulping breaths before adding, “You don’t happen to have a defibrillator at the house, do you?”
Ella massaged a burning thigh muscle, unable to dredge up any sympathy. “You’re the one who wanted to race, tough guy. It’s not my fault your ego had to take a beating.” She took a deep breath herself. “I’m so out of shape.”
“Your shape looks pretty good to me.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She was feeling magnanimous after her win. “Let’s go in. I need a drink of water, and you can throw a few more compliments my way.” As Matt pulled himself to his feet with a groan, she added, “I may have shot down your romantic From Here to Eternity moment, but I can offer you a hammock on the side porch with a nice view of the ocean.”
“A hammock, you say?”
“It’s romantic, yet it has a degree of difficulty built in. You interested?”
“Very,” he said, as he took off briskly toward the house, leaving her standing where she was and feeling slightly bewildered.
He was halfway to the house when she heard, “Race you!”
“Men,” she muttered.