Bad Girl by Night (28 page)

The day was bright and warm, the boat immense and beautiful, and Carly tried her darnedest not to feel overwhelmed as she stepped from the dock onto the lower deck to find herself surrounded by handsome men.

“Everybody, this is Carly Winters,” Jake introduced her, then pointed out each of his friends as he said, “Carly, meet Shane Delacorte, Quinn Jamison, and Cameron Lynch—and the complainer up there is Rogan Wolfe.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” said Shane, a clean-cut professional type who came across as confident and flirtatious as he took Carly’s hand, then actually kissed it. The tiny kiss unexpectedly skittered right down her arm and into her breasts.

“Dude, she’s already taken,” said the less-clean-cut Quinn on a laugh. Both men wore their hair short and stylishly spiky on top, but Quinn’s unshaven look, plus his whole general appearance, made him and Shane appear to be polar opposites.

“Hello,” Cameron said with a light nod, and Carly instantly pegged him as being more reserved than the rest.

As Rogan descended the steps to join them, he lifted his hand in a wave. “Good to meet ya.” He was slightly more muscular than his friends with coal black hair and a bad boy air about him.

“Uh, where are Ethan and Mira?” Jake asked. “Are we picking them up closer to Charlevoix or something?” Jake had told Carly that the couple lived in the lakeshore town about fifty miles up the coast from Traverse City.

“Nope—they had to cancel,” Shane said. “Some big case he’s working on—couldn’t get away. Mira was pissed.”

“Damn,” Jake muttered. And Carly was disappointed, too. She’d learned that he considered Ethan—who’d gone from being a cop to being a lawyer—his closest friend in the group, and he’d thought Carly would hit it off with Ethan’s live-in girlfriend, Mira.

“Yeah, sucks,” Shane said.

“But Rogan doesn’t mind—do ya?” Quinn chimed in.

Rogan simply made a face in reply. “You guys make a bigger deal of that than it is. Me and Ethan are cool. Hell, we play on the same softball team all damn summer long.”

“Rogan used to date Mira,” Jake explained to Carly, and she nodded.

“About a thousand years ago,” Rogan added. “It’s all good.”

“So where’s Tara?” Jake asked Shane then. Carly knew from Jake that Shane had mentioned bringing his girlfriend, too—though, as with Carly, this would be everyone’s first time meeting her.

In response, however, Shane let out a discontented grumble. “She’s in fucking Arizona.”

When he said nothing more, Jake looked from Shane to the other guys. “Dumped him three days ago. Went back to the old fiancé in Phoenix,” Quinn informed them.

“Shit,” Jake muttered, shifting his gaze back to Shane. “Sorry, dude.”

The previously oh-so-confident guy just shrugged, muttered something about her being a bitch, then bounced back to his more confident demeanor to say, “But whatever. We’ve got beer, we’ve got a boat, we’ve got beautiful weather—let’s get this party started.”

 

 

C
arly had felt a little weird discovering that, as it turned out, she would be the only girl on the two-day excursion. Besides being intimidated by all that testosterone, she simply didn’t consider herself adept in the social arts. It was one thing to chitchat with people she’d known all her life in Turnbridge, or to make conversation with strangers in Winterberry’s about furniture, but it was another to comfortably hang out with a bunch of sexy cops who’d known each other for ten years.

Of course, when she’d confided this to Jake as they walked down the hall of the cabin cruiser—which she’d have classified more as a junior yacht—he’d told her not to worry about it, adding, “What’s it matter?”

And maybe that was true, even if she’d been looking forward to meeting Mira.

As they unpacked in one of the small bedrooms belowdecks, he added, “We’re just here for some relaxation in the sun, so you should try to do that—relax.” His sweet smile reminded her that she
wasn’t
the most relaxed person on the planet—and she decided it was good advice.

After Jake changed into swim trunks and left the room, however, she put on her zebra-striped bikini and her new notion of relaxation nearly fled the scene. And draping the short red sarong—an additional gift from Jake—around her hips didn’t do much to make her feel any less on display. Though she’d been perfectly cool with the idea of trading in her old one-piece for a bikini, she’d have never picked out this particular one on her own—but Jake had practically insisted, especially once she’d tried it on.

Of course, a glance in the mirror—just like back at the boutique—confirmed that she did look good in it. Her breasts curved provocatively from the two triangles of fabric, making her feel sexy. And Carly was fairly sure Dana and Beth Anne would faint if they could see her right now. But then, they’d have done more than merely faint if they could have seen her during
previous
visits to Traverse City, so maybe this was nothing. Just one more change to get used to.

When she joined the guys on the expansive lower deck, sprinkled with various outdoor chairs, a table, and a padded seat that wrapped all the way around the front of the boat, she appreciated their admiring glances as they greeted her. And she wondered if they could see her nipples through the bikini top—since she was pretty certain those mere glances were making the two peaks hard. If nothing else, the glances were certainly making her aware of her own body—and in a good way.

The vessel meandered slowly through the central lane of the marina, and when a long, wolfish whistle came from above, she glanced up to see Shane at the helm. He flashed a flirtatious smile and called, “How am I supposed to concentrate on driving this thing with such a gorgeous woman distracting me?”

“Feel free to ignore him,” Quinn said, lazing on a lounge chair, saving her from having to come up with a response.

“What—just because I let a woman know I appreciate her assets I should be ignored?” Shane said, still perfectly confident, almost arrogant.

“No,” Rogan replied, digging beer from a cooler a few feet from Carly. “You should be ignored because you have a shitty habit of flirting with other guys’ women.” It seemed to be said half in truth, half in jest.

From the padded seat along the edge, Jake spoke too quietly for Shane to hear. “Eh, cut him some slack. He just got dumped. And I’m not worried he’s gonna steal her away or anything.” He concluded by sending a quick, sexy wink in her direction.

When she ventured another glance up toward Shane, he seemed entirely undaunted by it all, telling her, “Don’t listen to ’em—I’m not that bad. I just think Jake’s a lucky bastard.”

“Hell,” Rogan said, “I don’t think that needs to be said. He’s the only guy here with a chick. And a hot one, too.”

“Who’s flirting now?” Quinn asked, chin lowered derisively.

But Rogan didn’t even look up from the cooler as he shrugged. “Not flirting. Just stating the facts.” Only then did he turn to Carly. “Beer, hon? Or—I think Shane brought some wine coolers, too.”

“Oh—not right now, too early in the day for me. But I’ll take a pop or bottled water.”

“Comin’ up,” Rogan said, dropping the cooler’s lid and opening up a second one behind it.

Jake told Carly they’d saved her the best lounge chair, so she playfully said, “My, what gentlemen,” and gladly took it. And from there the afternoon went on, full of snacking, sunning, and music from a boom box.

The occasional cottony cloud dotted a warm blue sky as they floated up the West Arm of Grand Traverse Bay, which then opened into the bay proper. Carly admired lovely houses tucked in among billowy green trees on the shore, as well as other stretches of coast where the water was edged strictly by forest, occasionally interrupted by small ribbony beaches of pale brown sand. Given that it was a holiday weekend, the bay teemed with boats of all sizes, but by the time they finally exited the bay into open water a couple of hours after departing, traffic was more scattered and Carly began to feel the great lake’s vastness.

She liked listening to Jake and his friends chat—they clearly enjoyed each other’s company, a fact that reminded her of the raucous laughter she’d heard from the group of H.O.T. cops that first night in the hotel bar.

She didn’t add much to the conversation at first, but over time she grew more at ease, even asking questions when they occurred to her, and they seemed perfectly happy to include her. She found out that, like the absent Ethan, Shane was no longer a cop, either; he’d traded in his badge to be a private investigator instead. “Not the kind you see on TV or in old movies, though, with rinky-dink little offices and wearing bad suits. I’ve got a highrise suite overlooking the Chicago River—and I only wear Armani,” he told her, finishing with a wink.

“Being a cop came with too many rules for Shane,” Cameron volunteered.

“Hell,” Jake said, “being a cop came with too many rules for Rogan, too—but he finds a way around them.”

They all laughed, Rogan included, even as he said, “Listen, those days are behind me. Mostly.” And as more laughter erupted, Carly decided that she’d been right in pegging Rogan as a bad boy. There was something about him she found wholly intimidating—yet totally hot at the same time.

She also discovered that soon after graduating from the police academy, Quinn had elevated his law enforcement status by going through the training and selection process to become an FBI agent. Though when Rogan mentioned it, Quinn balked. “Dude, we don’t just spout that out at will, remember? Shit.”

“Don’t worry,” Carly instantly assured him. “I won’t . . . rat you out or anything.” And when they all chuckled at that, it built her confidence a little and put her still more at ease with Jake’s friends.

Eventually Shane steered the boat in closer toward the shore, anchoring it and announcing he was ready for a swim. Since the hottest part of the day had arrived, everyone agreed it was a good idea, and when the guys all went piling into the water without a care, Carly realized they were great swimmers. She herself hadn’t swum much in recent years, so to be cautious she grabbed an old-fashioned inner tube from the deck before joining them.

Almost immediately, Jake swam toward her, dipped beneath the surface, and came up inside the rubber ring with her. And . . . mmm, it instantly felt
so
good to be back up against him, their legs mingling together underwater as she freed her hands from the inner tube to rest them wetly on his shoulders. “Hi,” he said low and deep, casting a wicked little grin.

“Hi,” she returned with her best playful, sexy smile. She’d never
had
a playful, sexy smile before Jake had come along—except maybe when in Traverse City—but it had developed very naturally along with their relationship.

She was a little surprised when he leaned in to give her a slow, sensual kiss—his friends were right there, after all—but she couldn’t resist kissing him back anyway. It felt fun and a little naughty to be wet with him this way, to feel her sensitive breasts rub against his chest through her new zebra-striped top.

When his thigh pressed into her crotch, though, and she realized he was getting hard against her leg, she drew back slightly, wide-eyed even if teasing, and whispered, “
Stop
.”

He let out a low little growl in response, flashing a wholly seductive look. “I can’t,” he whispered back. “You’re too fucking hot.”

“Sure,” Shane said off to their right, resting on a float now, “make out in front of the guy who just got dumped by the love of his life. I don’t mind.”

Carly knew he was kidding, but still felt a little bad for him—even when Rogan said, “She wasn’t the fucking love of your life, dude. You met her a month ago.”

“Well, I was getting serious about her anyway.”

Jake told Carly quietly, “Shane can be kind of a drama king.”

And Shane said, “I heard that, Lockhart.”

After they got out of the water, Carly stretched back out in her chair, letting the warm rays of the sun dry her. “Mmm, this is heaven,” she murmured, eyes shut.

“Just be careful you don’t burn, sweetie pie,” Jake told her.

“Sweetie pie?” Quinn asked critically.

“What can I say—I’ve got a way with words,” Jake joked.

“So this guy can get a chick as hot as you,” Rogan asked in Carly’s direction, “with ‘sweetie pie’?”

She was so relaxed by now that the conversation came to her as if through a haze, and she only responded with a light giggle, murmuring, “The ‘sweetie pie’ thing is silly, but he keeps me happy in lots of other ways.”

She hadn’t quite realized she’d said something suggestive until she heard the amused masculine snickers, but she merely let a lazy grin unfurl, no longer anxious about the situation. And she vaguely remembered Jake reminding her she needed to put on sunscreen—but she was in such a tranquil state she couldn’t quite make herself exert the energy. She’d never have dreamed a few hours earlier that she’d succeed so quickly at relaxing so much.

A few serene minutes had passed when . . . mmm, a soft, moist caress warmed her shoulder.

Realizing Jake was putting the sunscreen on
for
her, she didn’t even open her eyes. “That’s nice,” she heard herself say.

His voice came in a whisper near her ear. “Well, I don’t want you to burn—and you look too good not to want to touch.”

She bit her lip, merely letting out a languorous sigh in reply—then enjoyed the sensation as Jake smoothed the coconut-scented lotion sensually down her arms in a slow massage that resonated all through her. Next, he did her legs, starting at her ankles and working gradually upward. When his fingers dipped briefly to rub the sunscreen into both inner thighs, she emitted a tiny gasp—because she felt it in her pussy. And because she began to wonder if the other guys were watching.

The thought woke her up a little, made her want to open her eyes and check. But that would . . . break the spell. Maybe it was better she didn’t know for sure. And yet . . . she thought she
felt
their gazes. Felt them thinking she was hot and feeling a little jealous of Jake—or maybe even a lot. And the fact that she was letting it happen—even if she
had
been edging near sleep at the start—made her feel a little wild, and utterly sensual. This was not something Carly Winters would ever do. Except . . . she was doing it. So maybe Jake was right—maybe Desiree was a bigger part of her than she wanted to believe.