Savin' Me (26 page)

“Get in? Where are we going?”

His grin was ear to ear, and his eyes were
positively sparkling when he took off his sunglasses. “It’s a
surprise. But if you don’t hurry up, you’ll miss it.”

Moving as quickly as possible, given she
still lacked full mobility, she climbed aboard with Erik’s help,
then settled onto the padded seat he installed for her. As soon as
she was situated, he pulled away from the pier, gave the boat full
throttle, and headed back across the river.

They were almost to the middle when Kat saw
them… three porpoises jumping and splashing, headed out toward the
Sound.

As Erik approached, he decreased his speed,
then set the boat to idle. As always, the creatures turned toward
his boat and began their dance.

Erik helped Kat out of her seat, then grabbed
the hem of her top and stripped it off over her head. “Hey,” she
said, playfully swatting at his hands. “What are you doing?”

He gave her a quick kiss and smiled broadly.
“You wanted to swim with them, so we’re going swimming.” His eyes
grew dark and heavy lidded. “I’ve been thinking. In the water, with
buoyancy on our side, we might be able to start our honeymoon.”

She didn’t need to hear the suggestion twice
or need further encouragement. Despite her repeated attempts to
consummate their marriage, Erik had been so afraid of hurting her
that cuddling and snuggling was as close to sex as they’d
gotten.

Moving slowly and gingerly, she undressed
Erik while he undressed her. It would have been easier and more
efficient to take off their own clothing, but she missed these
moments of intimacy with him and didn’t want to rush.

As she stared at his naked form, nervous
excitement rippled through her. It had been a long time since
they’d been together, and if it took getting in the water for Erik
to make love to her, she’d stay there until she was as shriveled as
a hundred-year-old prune.

She just hoped the porpoise weren’t under
age, because they were about to get quite a show.

Last Call

(The Heat Wave series books are loosely
connected stories that all take place in coastal locations, mostly
in North and South Carolina. The characters in Book #1 are
different than those in Book #2, but in Book #3 there will be a
merging of the two that will continue throughout the series.)

Gavin McLeod turned into the Blackout Bar and
Grill’s gravel parking lot, whipped his SUV into the first
available parking space, and slammed the shifter into park. The
vehicle was still rocking from the abrupt stop when he shoved the
door open and stepped out into the crisp evening air.

His chest expanded as he drew the heavy salt
air into his lungs, then let the explosive tension trapped in his
head and neck escape on a sharp exhale. The hour-long drive from
Myrtle Beach to Anticue would have been a relaxing trip, had it not
been filled with constant chatter and relentless questions from his
three female companions. Finally free of the confining vehicle, he
took a moment to let the peaceful calm of Anticue Island seep into
every cell of his body.

He hadn’t been to the island in... Damn, had
it really been fifteen years? The Blackout Bar and Grill was a new
addition, and the old fishing pier next door was closed. But other
than that, nothing about the island seemed to have changed.

The back doors of the SUV opened, and
two-thirds of the troublesome trio climbed out. Their four-inch
spiked heels dug into the loose, sandy gravel, pitching them
off-kilter, sending them to and fro. Too far away to grab either of
them, Gavin held his breath and hoped for the best. Each girl put a
hand to the side of the vehicle to gain her balance, then used the
car as a handrail as they made their way to the ballast-stone
sidewalk.

The other one-third of his problem—which
accounted for two-thirds of his headache—remained in the passenger
seat. If this were a date, he would open the door and help her from
the car like the gentleman his grandfather raised him to be. If it
were a platonic, non-forced date with a friend, he still would help
her from the car.

But this wasn’t a date. And he’d be damned if
he’d do
anything
to give the impression he was okay with Max
and Callie’s plan of manipulating him into pretending it was. In
fact, Gavin was so annoyed with Max, he was thinking of demanding
an increase in his profit sharing to cover his escort fee.

He stepped in front of the car, slipped his
hands into his front pockets, and waited. He would prefer to walk
away and leave her sulking, but he couldn’t hit the lock button on
the key fob until she gave up her petulance and opened the damned
door.

As Jen and Tiffany teetered along the uneven
stepping-stones leading to the bar’s side entrance, he took in the
details of the building and surrounding property. Weathered
clapboard siding hung like sagging skin on a decrepit skeleton, but
bright, lime-green trim gave the place a shot of vibrant color,
which made the battered siding seem less tired.

Wrought iron benches, brightly painted
Adirondack chairs, and copper yard ornaments created a profusion of
color along the sidewalk. Hand-painted price tags hung from each
piece, letting visitors know they, too, could have a bit of Anticue
in their own backyard.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as
his gaze settled on a copper windmill. His grandfather would love
the controlled chaos created by the bright colors and whimsical
atmosphere of the Blackout. He would especially love that
windmill.

The stone sidewalk continued past the side
entrance to a front patio and balcony that overlooked the beach.
During summer months, the pink, blue, and teal tables would be
filled to capacity, but on this early May evening, they sat
empty.

His gaze shifted to the deserted fishing pier
next door, and his smile faded. He and his grandfather had spent
many days tossing hooks there, and heavy sadness filled his chest
at seeing it abandoned and left to the mercy of the beach’s harsh
elements.

Tired of waiting, he peered at Callie through
the windshield and cocked an eyebrow, his message loud and clear.
Are you coming or not?
When she stuck her lip out even
further and crossed her arms, he gave her a suit-yourself shrug and
turned toward the entrance.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her
shoulders slump in defeat. She grabbed her purse from the floor of
the SUV, pulled the lever to release the door, and shoved against
it with a huff. “A gentleman would have opened the door for
me.”

Gavin smiled and kept walking. Maybe if he
turned into a first-rate asshole, he’d finally drop off Callie’s
radar. God knows, reasoning with her hadn’t worked. Neither had the
direct approach: I’m. Not. Interested.

All she’d ever seen was his refined business
persona. She had no idea the real Gavin, buried beneath the
expensive Italian suits, even existed. Maybe knocking some of the
polish off his redneck would be the answer to getting her to drop
her obsession.

Her friends were perched on wooden chairs at
a high pub table, looking around expectantly for a waiter. Out of
the ten or twelve people scattered around the bar, none looked too
interested in jumping to meet the girls’ demands.

The front wall that faced the beach was
actually two large doors that could be rolled out of the way to
create one large space between the inside and outside deck. At the
back of the room sat the L-shaped service bar. One end stopped
short of the kitchen entrance, while the other hooked back to the
wall. Two older salts sat on bar stools at the hooked end, sipping
their beers and talking.

One side of the room held a pool table, while
a jukebox sat in the middle of the building, wedged against the
center support beam. The rest of the area was filled with an
assortment of pub and picnic tables. The whimsical outdoor
atmosphere carried over to the interior, with brightly painted
walls decorated in copper sculptures and stained-glass pieces.

Gavin had wondered why Max would send him to
this little bar on an out-of-the-way island, but now he understood
the reason for the trip. Max had done this before when he wanted
Gavin’s opinion on a location. Without giving him any details, he’d
send him to “check it out.” Gavin would report back with his
impression, and, if the two men agreed the place held a unique
appeal, they’d mimic its style in one of Holden’s resort
properties.

This place definitely had a unique
appeal.

Had he made the trip alone, he could have a
lot of fun roaming around, checking out the artwork, listening to
the locals. But he wasn’t alone, so he might as well find out what
Callie and her friends wanted to drink, hook ‘em up, then leave
them to get sloshed while he wandered around and soaked up the
details.

***

Bartender Sunny Black had her head down in
the beer chiller, her arm buried to the elbow in ice, when she
heard, “Can I get a blowjob, sex on the beach, and a screaming
orgasm, please?”

She rolled her eyes and continued to shift
bottles in the cooler without responding. She really needed a
better system for taking inventory.

The problem?

Bent over like this, her ass stuck straight
up in the air, which seemed to be an open invitation for assholes
to hit on her by ordering the raunchiest drink names they could
think of. Hard to believe these guys thought she hadn’t heard it
all before.

She’d been hoping for a quiet night, so she
could close up early. But Mr. Hardy-har-har undoubtedly had a
posse—jerks always traveled in packs—and they always stayed until
last call, using every available minute to get as drunk and
obnoxious as possible. She’d be lucky if she got out of here before
midnight.

She shifted the Budweisers to the side and
resumed counting.
Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

“Ma’am, did you hear me?”

With her free hand, she pulled the Dum-Dum
out of her mouth and licked the sticky from her lips. “Look,
Romeo,” she said, tilting her head so her voice carried to him,
rather than echoing around the cooler. “I’ll give you five points
for a nice, smooth voice. But you lose ten for being a tad
overzealous.”

She jammed the sucker back into her mouth and
resumed counting.
Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

“What the hell are you talking…” His voice
trailed off, and then roaring laughter settled over her like thick,
heavy honey drizzled on a piping hot biscuit.

He seemed genuinely amused, and she grew
curious enough about the man behind the laugh to risk an
encouraging look. She leaned back and lifted her head so she could
see over the bar.

Holy cow.
Even while slurping on a
saliva-inducing butterscotch sucker, her mouth went bone dry.

The guy’s features were amazing. The Great
Sculptor had pressed her thumbs into the flesh of his cheeks, then
pulled an upward stroke, leaving behind a slight indention, while
at the same time creating high, rugged cheekbones. His square jaw
led to a square chin that projected a strong, confident individual.
His eyes were like brilliant sapphires, topped by severe dark
brows.

His features were sharp, and if not smiling,
he would appear harsh, hostile even. But softened by that grin, she
found him utterly—and literally—breathtaking.

“I think you misunderstood my request.” His
eyes twinkled with amusement.

As a bartender, Sunny met good-looking men on
a regular basis. Sometimes they tripped her trigger. Most of the
time, they didn't. What she felt now catapulted beyond mild
interest and ranked more like an internal explosion capable of
launching a rocket.

Her flirting game had been packed away so
long she wasn’t sure she still had it. And if so, she doubted she
could find all the pieces. But this guy... he made her want to sort
through the game drawer and find as much as possible.

The biting sting of ice—in which her arm was
still buried to the elbow—cut through the lustful haze, and her
muscle jerked involuntarily. She glanced down, trying to remember
what she was doing prior to having her motherboard fried.

Inventory. Right.

Embarrassment over her obvious attraction
also had her cheeks burning, and she could only imagine the glow
they were putting off. She bit down on the sucker, then tossed the
empty stick in the trash can by her feet. “Sorry for being a
smart-ass. Let me finish this and”—she smiled, and searched for a
flirty tone—“I’ll take care of you.”

His blue eyes darkened, and his eyelids
relaxed. A slow, rakish smile crept across his full lips, causing
the tiny cleft in the center of his chin to deepen. “I look forward
to that.”

Damn.
If they weren’t talking drinks,
this would be the opportunity of a lifetime.

When she finished counting the beers, she
patted her arm dry and grabbed three shot glasses off the shelf.
She sensed him watching her every move, and her skin heated under
his scrutiny. He wasn’t excessively tall, maybe six feet, but his
presence seemed to dominate her five-foot-four frame.

She wasn’t easily intimidated, but the
confidence and power he emanated, combined with the raw sexuality
she’d glimpsed a moment ago, made her knees week.

Just once, I want to have sex with a man
like that.

God, how she longed for a wild, tumultuous
fling that would knock her world off its axis.

Her bracelets jingled and her mouth watered
as she shook the canister of whipped cream. What a waste to put it
on the drink when she could squirt it on him… then spend an hour or
two slowly and deliberately licking it off.