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SEBASTIAN STOOD SHIRTLESS IN DR. Kentwood’s exam room and prayed for a good outcome. The idea of surgery made him cringe, but coming from a family of EMTs and chiropractors, it had been drilled into his head to take care of his body, and to do it in a timely fashion before any more damage could be done. What they hadn’t instilled in him, his trainers and his contract with the Cobras did.
Millions of dollars on the line was one hell of a motivator.
It was precisely why, although he’d love to mask the pain with a stoic expression, he wouldn’t.
He’d had to fight to choose his own doctor. It went against every guideline of his team, but what scared him more than an injury that could end his career was the chance of an addiction to pain meds. He’d seen too many players over the years, in their desperation, go down ugly roads to numb the pain long enough to play just one more game, one more season. It left them permanently disabled, their life in shambles, and battling addiction.
Not him.
Part of that fight for choosing his own care was his agreement to total transparency. Team doctors reviewed every report with their specialists. Sebastian’s part was to be completely honest about his pain and range of motion.
So far his team managers and specialists had remained hands-off, with the exception of a few pushes for surgical intervention sooner rather than later. Surgery was always their go-to. It got their player back sooner, as long as the operation was successful.
With it being December, and the season over, he had time to navigate a less aggressive treatment plan.
Dr. Kentwood came through the door at just that moment, wearing a reassuring smile that Sebastian had learned meant nothing. The doc had kept that same expression on his face when he delivered bad news. He’d probably make one hell of a poker player.
“Mr. Macina! How are you today?”
Sebastian let out a breath. “I’m hoping you’ll tell me.”
“Well, let’s take a look.” He set his chart on the counter and washed his hands in the sink, whistling as he did. As if he wasn’t in the position to make or break Sebastian’s trajectory in life with one exam... or a surgery.
Added to that, Sebastian hated whistling. Of course, he’d lock himself in a room for twenty-four hours straight with nothing but whistling if the doc had good news for him.
“Okay, I want you to raise your arm all the way up as if you’re raising your hand, then slowly lower it to the side. I want you to maintain control of the movement for as long as you can.”
“Okay.” Sebastian nodded, raising his arm. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. He had this.
There was pain. It wasn’t severe, but it was there, and maybe that was a good thing. It served as a reminder to be careful. He lowered his arm until it was almost straight out, and then it fell to his side despite the effort exerted to keep it up.
He blew out a breath. “I can’t imagine that’s good news.”
“It’s not great news, but it’s not the worst either. I was hoping you’d make it a little farther before you lost control, but you’ve made progress since I saw you last week. I want you to keep up with your regimen and come back in seven days for another checkup. The good news is, the tear is healing. We’re just going to hope it will do so fast enough on its own. We’ll know where we’re at in a couple of weeks for sure.”
Sebastian slid his arms into the sleeves of his button-down shirt. He’d adopted wearing them since the injury, since it was easier on his arm. “So, let me ask you... what’s your recommendation on dancing?”
Dr. Kentwood leaned against the counter and tucked the chart to his waist. “Well, I guess that depends on the dancing. For the most part, you’re fine. No lifting anyone, no using that arm to support the lucky lady in a dip, but other than that you should be good.”
Sebastian shook his hand. “Thanks.”
Dr. Kentwood opened the door and turned back. “I know it’s not the news you were hoping for, but if it comes to surgery, your prognosis is among the best. I can’t offer any guarantees, but I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you have the most advanced team and the best care.”
Sebastian nodded, his throat thick with fear, and gratitude.
Dr. Kentwood smiled one last time and headed out of the room, leaving Sebastian in the silence.
He sighed. No dwelling on it. When he’d found out the original prognosis, he’d given himself one night to wallow. One liquorfueled night he couldn’t remember. It had taken him two days to bounce back from that bender, but the misery ensured he’d never do it again.
Instead, he’d try something new. He’d go back to the condo and get ready to meet Kate and see where the night took them.
Maybe he’d even find out what the hell was going on with carrying her dead husband around with her.
Kate stood naked in her bedroom, staring at the dress she had picked up earlier that day, wary as if it were a snake about to strike. The fabric was perfectly harmless; it was who she would turn into when she stepped into it that had her worried.
The dress made her want to do things.
Dangerous things.
She had a damaged heart still in the process of healing.
She’d spent the afternoon getting tweezed, waxed, moisturized, pampered, her pores vacuumed, her hair dyed, cut, and dried... so many procedures that she wondered if the final package had turned into false advertising.
She hadn’t tried on the dress since she had been serviced from head to toe, and she prayed she’d at least be marginally happy with the result, so she could relax tonight.
Relax? Yeah, right.
Scraps of lace she had picked to wear underneath now lying at the edge of her bed drew her attention. She hadn’t bought sexy underwear in almost three years. She thought she had forgotten how.
Sure enough, though, the minute she had buried her fingers in all that lace, a feral smile had settled on her lips, and years of expertise guided her way.
Stepping into the black lace thong, she turned to see her ass in the full-length mirror. Not exactly a gym-rat booty, but chunky and monkey seemed to be in hiding, so she’d take it. After spending the afternoon building her confidence with some pampering, she could admit that it wasn’t half bad.
She hitched up the matching lace balconette bra and examined herself again. How the hell did Jamie Lee Curtis rock it the way she had in True Lies?
It didn’t matter. Sebastian liked her despite her being more than a decade closer to the grave than he.
Stepping into the dress, she wiggled the fabric up over the curve of her hips. Once she slid her arms in, she froze.
How the hell was she going to get the zipper up?
Shit.
She reached behind her to the top of her ass where the zipper started and moved it about six inches before she couldn’t reach anymore. With the zipper stopped just below mid-back, she contorted her arm up and dropped it down to her back with no luck.
Turning in the mirror, she saw she was a good three inches away.
Now what?
She could have Sebastian do it. She laughed. That was one way to start the date. She could brace herself on her convertible and give him her back; put on a show for the locals.
How would that fit into the husband killer whispers?
She was half afraid to find out.
If it were just her, she wouldn’t care. But she had a sister who lived here now and a nephew in school. Abby’s husband had a business and people who respected him.
Stupid gossip was one thing.
But letting gossip take on a life of its own and spill over into the lives of people she cared about, that’s where she drew the line.
So, yeah, she’d handle her own zipper issues.
She searched the room for something, anything to use to raise the zipper. Her gaze landed on the rawhide cord dangling from her old cowgirl hat, a reminder of her youth when she had spent her weekends line dancing with her high school besties.
Their lives had taken different directions, and the hat was the only thing she had left to remind her that the memories were real.
She slid out the cord, lowered her zipper, reached around, and looped it through the hole. With one hand feeding the loop up while she stretched to grab it with the fingertips of her other, she pulled the cord up and smiled when the zipper stopped at the top.
Smoothing the fabric, she spun in the mirror and grinned. She may not be twenty, but she looked fabulous.
More importantly, she felt it.
With one last check on her makeup, which had been done at the salon, she tucked her dark hair up into a loose side bun at her nape. Loose tendrils danced around her face, their soft strands brushing her cheeks.
“God, I clean up well.” She swallowed hard. “I’d almost forgotten,” she whispered.
She had spent so much time up Abby’s ass for not taking care of herself or seeing her worth, and somewhere along the way, Kate had taken a hard slide right down the same hole.
Well, no more.
Black high-heeled sandals called to her from a box on the top shelf in her closet. She had purchased them for a date with William, but he died before she ever had the chance to wear them.
She slipped them on, and with that motion the last piece of the old her slipped into place. It was time to see if she still had it, and with a twenty-something, hot baseball player no less.
Fifteen minutes later, Kate pulled into her usual spot and found Sebastian leaning against the bench at the entrance onto the sand. The lamplight shone on him as he stood with his hands tucked confidently in his pockets.
His black dress shirt shimmered. Probably silk. The way the fabric danced over his skin made her itch to touch it.
Touch him.
Black chinos clung to his muscular thighs. He smiled at her, but made no move to meet her at her car.
What was he up to?
She stepped out and leaned against her door, in a sort of showdown to see who could hold out the longest.
He lost.
He ducked his head with a grin, pushed away from the bench, and sauntered over to her.
Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her skin tingled. God, it was like she was a teenager again going on her first date... only now, she was a full-grown woman and could follow wherever the date led.
Taking her hand in his and raising it, he brushed his lips over the sensitive skin on the back. “Now, that is a phenomenal dress.” He pulled her away from the car and guided her into a twirl as if they were on the dance floor.
She smiled, and he yanked her up against him, his hand curling around her waist, holding her there. Dark eyes searched hers. “Are you ready for an adventure?”
Her heart hammered in her chest, and her throat tightened. “I am,” she said with a nod. “Whatever may come.”
“Hmmm.” He grazed her chin with his finger. He settled the pad of his thumb on her bottom lip, pulling it away just a fraction before letting it settle there once again. “Just one matter to get out of the way first, I think.” He shifted on his feet and held her face in his large hands. Lowering his mouth to hers, he tasted her, ever-so-gently sucking her upper lip into his mouth and tracing the edge with his tongue.
Her body responded with a rush of heat so shocking she gasped, swaying closer to him, grabbing his waist to keep herself upright.
He growled low in his throat and slid a hand down her back, settling it right over the curve of her ass, giving it a squeeze as he nibbled her bottom lip.
With a pat he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. “Not gonna lie, I would be okay with taking you right here against this hot car.”
She put a palm to his chest and leaned away from him with a laugh. “Oh, no, you don’t. We need to spend at least an hour together tonight before either of us entertains the idea of naked.”
He brushed a tendril away from her cheek. “Before we entertain it? Too late. I’ve pictured you in an array of compromising positions since I met you.”
“Yes, well, I spent the day getting plucked, prodded, and tortured to be ready for tonight, so the public is going to get a glimpse of me in this dress.” God, why did she just admit that?
He had the good sense to cringe. “Sounds painful.”
“You have no idea,” she said with a laugh.
“Why do women go through all of that? I found the woman on the beach hot. Why go through all the extra? I can’t guarantee men notice that anyway.”
She laughed, the wax session on her down below flashing to her mind. “Oh, you guys notice.” She dangled the keys in front of him. “You’re driving.”
He narrowed his eyes at her comment, but he snatched the keys and walked her around to the passenger side, opening the door for her. “There’s something about that laugh... I’m almost scared. Seriously, though, the only things I’ve ever noticed are implants. Mainly because, in my world, it’s harder than hell to find someone without them.”
She stepped her left foot into the car and turned to him. “You don’t like implants?”
“God, no.”
“Really? I thought men liked that hourglass look.”
He leaned back and looked her up and down. “You’ve got that hourglass look. The best part? It’s real. You don’t look like a cartoon.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over her cheek. His hand settled against her rib cage, his thumb grazing the underside of one of the very real breasts in question.
She took a shallow breath and focused on the sensation shooting from her breast to straight between her legs. “No cartoon here,” she choked out.
“No. And when you’re naked and I’m thrusting into you, your breasts will move as they were meant to,” he whispered against her ear.
Her stomach bottomed out as she volleyed between excitement and trepidation. Her ears buzzed, and a sizzling burn flowed along her skin.
When she opened her mouth, trepidation had won out. “And fall right into my armpits,” she muttered as a sort of defense mechanism. It’s like if she just got it out of the way and mentioned all the things that might go wrong, they wouldn’t seem so bad later when they did happen.
“What?” he said on a laugh.
She shrugged and bit her lip. “Well, that’s what happens with real breasts, especially after thirty-five, and since you only asked me out yesterday, I didn’t have time to add a breast lift to the list.”
“I’m almost scared of your list. I can’t imagine you needed much. And I use the word ‘needed’ lightly. I’m attracted to you just the way you are.”
She had to get this back on even ground and back to the funny. “Listen, what we women do as part of our pre-date regimen is the difference between Playboy centerfold-worthy and weird sex manual with hand-drawn illustrations of women with 1970s full-bush-glory.”
He winced. “Message received. I’m horrified yet oddly intrigued by that description.”
“I seem to say things around you. I mean, I’ve always just kind of said what comes to my mind, but it usually takes me a while to get there. But with you, it just rolls on out. I don’t know if I should be proud or apologize.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re colorful and so damn real. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He nudged her into the seat. “Come on, there’s a new jazz club on the north end of town. The Nest. I’ve heard good things about their gumbo and jambalaya. Best part, they have a dance-floor.”
She nodded. “My sister went there with her husband. She loved it.”
“Then it won’t disappoint. Hop in,” he said, then closed her door before circling around to the driver’s seat.
She clicked her seatbelt, pressed her knees together, and partially turned to him. “Don’t hurt my car.”
“It’s a beauty. Where did you get it? Your husband leave it behind for you?” he asked, sliding the key in the ignition.
“Actually, my friend Jeremy came across it and knew just what I was looking for, so he gave me a call. He runs a shop on the outskirts of Tallulah Cove between where the wineries end and the foothills of the mountains begin,” she said, remembering the day well.
After William died, she convinced herself she better just go for getting all of the things she had ever wanted while she had the chance. She’d watched William put things off despite having the money, always figuring there would be more time.
“Jeremy, huh?” he asked, his lips twitching.
“Yes, Jeremy. He was the one person who took me seriously about the car and didn’t think it was the first sign of me losing my mind. Jeremy is good people.”
She had just been about to call Jeremy to let him know she had come to her senses, or had finally caved under the weight of judgment, when her phone rang, and he had the perfect car.
He cupped a hand over her knee, his eyes roaming over the skin on her thigh. The way his eyes filled with lust encouraged her. “Then I have him to thank for the view every morning,” Sebastian said.
“Huh?”
“I’ve been coveting your car for a week,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lap.
“You’re a successful baseball player, you could have bought a hundred Impalas without even blinking.”
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have noticed yours and would have never met you,” he said with a squeeze to her knee. “Damn, woman, you have killer legs.”
For all her doubts, she’d have to thank the man upstairs for everything that fell into place when she bought that car. And Jeremy, she’d definitely have to thank Jeremy for giving her the extra nudge she needed.
He’d talked her into an adventure, and it led her to this one.
Everything had aligned, making her wonder if she should just throw caution to the wind for once and stop overthinking every aspect of this attraction to Sebastian, more his attraction to her, and just roll with it.
“Thank you. Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said with a wink.
TALLULAH NIGHTS 
CHAPTER FOUR
