He's No Prince Charming (16 page)

“Okay,” she drew out the word, and pressed her lips together before turning toward the cabin door.

“Oh, Dakota?”

“Yes?” She paused and turned around.

“You’re a cute pain in the butt, if that’s any consolation.”

She smiled. “Maybe you’re not so rusty after all.”

Trace grinned when she disappeared behind the closed door. “We’ll see,” he said, and felt the sweet anticipation that comes with wanting a woman.

Deciding she needed to relax, she reached into the small fridge and found a couple of beers. After slipping the cans into Koozie cups, she took a deep breath and headed up to the cockpit. She spotted Trace sitting on the swim platform, dangling his legs in the lake.

“Beer?” she asked, and sat down beside him.

“Thanks,” he said. “Like Grady always says, it’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”

“I suppose there’s really no rules or time frame when you’re playing hooky.”

Trace took a swig and nodded. “You’re right, although you don’t seem like you were the hooky-playing kind.”

“And you seem like you were.”

“Yeah, I was,” Trace admitted with a grin. “I used to skip school whenever I could to practice bull riding at my uncle’s ranch. He’d cover for me, but my mother always had a way of finding out, and then there was hell to pay. Extra chores on the farm.”

“Are your mother and father still farming?”

“No. They sold the farm in Alabama and now have a little cottage by the beach in Gulf Shores.”

“Nice.”

“They earned it,” he said, and took another swallow.

“Do you visit them often?”

Trace looked down at his beer can, then out over the water. “Not as much as I should. My mother hovers. Wrings her hands. Dad doesn’t know what to say, so he says very little.” He shrugged. “Nothing is the same. It’s awkward.”

Dakota took a drink of her beer and fell silent, not wanting to seem as if she were prying. She was surprised at how much he had opened up to her already and didn’t want to push too far. So instead of asking another question, she pushed up to her feet and said, “Last one in is a rotten egg!” And then she held her nose and jumped in, making sure to create a big splash. When she bobbed to the surface, Trace remained on the swim platform.

“Haven’t heard that one in a long time.”

“Well, looks like you’re the rotten egg.”

“Been called worse.”

“Are you coming in or not?” she demanded, and sent water flying his way.

“Yes, but I’m gonna find something to float on,” he said as he pushed to his feet. A moment later, he returned with a couple of red ski vests and tossed her one, then jumped in without warning. “Lean back against me and slowly slide your legs through the arm holes.”

“It keeps floating away.”

“I’m holding the vest steady. Just slide right in,” he advised next to her ear, and despite the cool lake water, Dakota suddenly felt a flash of heat. “Got it?” he asked. When she nodded, he let her go, making Dakota wish she had fumbled a bit more.

“Works like a charm!” she declared as she bobbed up and down in the water. “Who knew?” She spun around in a circle but then quieted down. “Hey, if I get too over-the-top, let me know.”

Trace frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Sierra says I get too perky.”

“Just be yourself. Especially today. Promise?”

Dakota trailed her fingertips over the surface of the water and watched the ripples. “Therein lies the problem,” she said, and then looked at him. “I’m not sure I know just who I am. Sierra and I were talking about that the other day.”

“You’re good for her, you know. She acts all big and bad, but I see right through her. In a short period of time, you’ve given her confidence. She’s really starting to . . .” He shrugged, as if trying to find the right word.

“Blossom?”

“Yeah. You know I feel bad that I treated her like one of the guys. She deserved better.”

“Not your fault, Trace. She acted like one of the guys. It was safer that way,” she said quietly, thinking Sierra was not unlike him in some ways. But then she smiled. “Grady sure has noticed.”

“Tell me about it.” Trace leaned back and tilted his face up to the sun. “I told him that if he hurts her, I’ll kick his ever-lovin’ ass.”

“You think he will?”

“Not intentionally. He’s a good kid.” He hesitated, but then said, “They’ve been friends for a long time. I’d hate for them to lose that.”

“Wow, you’ve given it some thought,” Dakota commented, and then wished she hadn’t sounded so surprised.

“Maybe I’m not as heartless as you think I am.”

“I know you’re not. You don’t have me fooled, Trace Coleman,” she stated. Not wanting to spoil the moment, she gave him a quick splash. “Race you to the waterfall.”

“Wearin’ these ski jackets on our butts?”

“I thought you liked a challenge?” she said over her shoulder. It was slow going paddling forward while kicking her legs. “Last one there is a rotten egg!” She tilted sideways in her effort to gain speed and laughed. “I can smell you already!”

“The hell you say,” Trace shouted, and easily overtook her.

“Why, you!” she shouted back, and grabbed his feet.

“Let go!”

“No way. This works for me!” She laughed and let him pull her through the water. “You fell for my evil plan,” she teased, knowing full well he could kick her off if he wanted to. She laughed all the way to the edge of the waterfall, when he got his revenge and brought her beneath the spray of water. She protested, but he held her there until she laughingly begged for mercy.

Instead of swimming back into the daylight, Trace tugged her behind the cascading spray. The air turned measurably cooler in the shade, and the sound of the water hitting the lake became muted and deeper. Fingers of sunlight reached in to them, causing the water to shimmer and sparkle.

“Wow,” she said softly, and took a deep breath of moist air heavily scented with nature. “For some reason, I feel like I should whisper,” she said next to his ear. “Like we’re intruding into some special place,” she explained, and then lowered her gaze. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“Right now, or in general?”

Dakota giggled. “Right now.”

“In that case, no, I don’t. I understand what you’re saying.”

Dakota nodded with a smile, but then swallowed hard while gazing at him. His hair was slicked back and his wet eyelashes were dark and spiky. The scar that bothered him so much seemed to fade before her eyes, and it was only the masculine beauty that she saw. Lazy droplets of water slid down his face, but it was his mouth that caught and held her attention.

Unable not to, Dakota reached up and traced the outline of his lips with her fingertip—silky soft, wet, and warm. She slid her finger back and forth and then trailed downward and traced the dark stubble shading his jaw before looking back up into his eyes. She held his gaze while she leaned forward, letting him anticipate a kiss, but instead she licked his bottom lip, savoring the taste, the texture, before sliding the tip of her tongue over his chin and up to his jawline, which was lightly abrasive and sent a hot shiver down her spine.

“God, Dakota,” Trace said, and with a groan he threaded his fingers through her wet hair and tilted her head back so he could kiss her senseless. He pressed their bodies together, squishing the vests between them in an effort to get as close to her as he possibly could. They kissed on and on, deeply, passionately until they somehow got sucked beneath the waterfall.

And still, they kissed.

When reality set in that they were being pelted nonstop by water, Trace paddled them out into the open. While laughing, he pushed her hair back from her face. “Hungry?” he asked, needing a distraction, or he was going to kiss her all over again and not be able to stop there.

“Mmm, famished. The sun and the water always give me an appetite. You?” she asked in a breathless voice.

“Yeah, let’s go dig into Sierra’s feast.”

They paddled back to the boat, laughing at Dakota’s clumsy progress. “Your arms are longer. Not fair!”

“You want some cheese with that whine?”

“No, but a cold beer will do,” she said, and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“I sounded like I belong here, didn’t I?”

Trace grinned. “As a matter of fact, yes. But don’t get too cocky at Dewey’s,” he added with a pointed look. “You know, like standing up and announcing that fights are stupid.”

“Well, they are. I was just stating a fact,” she protested as she tried to untangle her legs from the ski vest. “Are you going to help me, or just watch me struggle?”

“I think I’ll just watch you struggle,” he replied, and was rewarded with a splash.

“Whoa!” Dakota said as she finally slid her legs from the armholes. “You must have been drinking when you thought of this idea.”

“Mmm, that’s a good guess. Of course, I think it might have been a Grady Green suggestion.” He took her vest and tossed it into the boat. “After you,” he offered, and pointed to the ladder, but then said, “On second thought . . .”

“I won’t fall,” she promised, but sure enough one of her wet hands slipped on the metal. She ended up catching herself.

Trace chuckled, but secretly wished she had fallen into his arms. Once he was up in the boat, he tossed her a towel.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, I’m gonna check my phone to make sure all is well at the marina.”

“Okay. I’ll get the lunch out on the table below. I feel like I’m getting too much sun on my shoulders and back.”

“Let me see.” Trace frowned and came over to her. “I should have put some lotion on you. Damn, I’m sorry, Dakota. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’ll be okay,” she said as she showed him her back.

After sweeping her hair out of the way, he said, “You’re getting pink. I think there’s some sunscreen in the medicine cabinet in the head. If you find it, I’ll put some on your back. If not, I want you to put on one of my T-shirts when you come topside. I have a few in the small closet next to the galley.”

Dakota turned around and smiled. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The thought of her soft, supple skin burning set his teeth on edge. In fact, the thought of any harm coming to her whatsoever bothered him. God, how he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her again, but he didn’t want her to think he had ulterior motives for asking her out on the lake, and so he refrained.

“Come on down after you check your messages.”

“Okay,” he answered, and then remembered something. “Hey, that reminds me. Your phone rang earlier. Did you ever check your messages?”

She appeared surprised. “No. I’ll look and see who it was. Thanks.”

Trace nodded. “Sorry, I should have reminded you. Hope it wasn’t anything important.”

“Probably not,” she commented. “I’m pretty much D list at this point.”

“D list?”

“Never mind.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Not important.”

Trace watched her disappear below and waited for the feeling of unease of getting this close to her wash over him.

But it didn’t.

Dakota Dunn, with her contagious laughter, gentle nature, and quirky humor, was slowly drawing Trace out of his shell and making him want to ease back into living. Add a sexy little body and unpretentious sensuality to the mix, and Trace would have to be made of stone to resist. Dakota was doing what Trace thought was impossible, and was healing him from the inside out. If he wasn’t careful, he knew he could fall in love with her.

But then again, he once rode bulls for a living.
Careful
wasn’t exactly in his vocabulary. “And look where that got you,” he murmured as he checked his phone for messages. Oh, but if he were honest with himself, Trace knew he’d do it all over again, even knowing the outcome. Besides, he reasoned, Dakota was a beautiful woman, not a bucking bull. What could she possibly do to hurt him? Risk taking was in his nature, in his blood. Careful, he decided, was overrated, not to mention damned boring.

“Ohmigod!” came from below, followed by a muffled scream and what sounded like a determined growl. “I’ll get you, I swear I will!”

“Fine and dandy,” she ground out. “Don’t you even think about moving!”

“Me?”

“No, him!” She shifted her weight from foot to foot like a prizefighter and pointed at the spider. “I’m just guessing it’s a
him
. Maybe not. How do you know?”

Her heart thumped hard and she narrowed her eyes at the ugly black spider from hell. “You already know my phobia, so work with me here.”

“Want me to do it?”

“Yes,” she readily agreed, but when he took a step closer, she raised the spatula in the air as if it were a stop sign. “I mean, no!”

Trace halted in his tracks. “Okay . . .”

“I’m going to conquer this stupid phobia and kill it myself!”

“Good for you,” Trace declared in an encouraging tone. He waited. And waited. With longing, he eyed the lunch sitting on the table. “Um, Dakota?” he whispered.

“Shhh! You’ll make it move,” she whispered back. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and she raised the spatula an inch or so higher in the air and turned to Trace. “I can’t do it. Here.”

When she thrust her spider-killing weapon at him in defeat, Trace shook his head. “How about we do it together?”

Dakota looked at him in surprise and gave him a jerky nod. “You must think I’m such a dork. Afraid of something so stupid,” she said when he came up beside her. She turned to the spider and glared. “I am not afraid of you,” she boasted, but when it scurried an inch to the right, she took a quick step back and bumped into Trace.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Dakota, lots of people are afraid of spiders. Everyone is afraid of something.”

“Really? What are you afraid of?”

“Storms.”

“Liar.”

“The dark.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Heights.”

“Shut up! I bet you’re not afraid of anything. Anything silly at least.”

Trace drew in a breath and blew it out. “Okay. Santa.”

Dakota spun around and looked at him. “What?”

“I’m afraid of Santa Claus.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded slowly. “As a kid, I hated that whole notion of him seeing you when you’re sleeping.” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “Knowing when you’re awake? Damn, I had this awful feeling he was watching, waiting, peeking in my window at night.”

“How sad,” Dakota said, and patted his arm. “But Santa is a jolly, happy soul.”

“I think that was Frosty the Snowman.”

Dakota frowned and started humming the “Frosty the Snowman” tune. “Oh, you’re right.”

“But I have to tell you that I found him to be creepy as well.”

“Anything else? Mickey Mouse? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“You’re stalling. Come on, now. Let’s smash the spider. You and me together.”

Dakota closed her eyes and blew out a breath. “Okay,” she said, and allowed Trace to put his hand with hers and raise the spatula overhead. The spider was lounging in the small sink, and for a moment she thought he was so innocent and didn’t deserve to die just because she found him to be abnormally large and scary.

“Dakota, spiders can be nasty. They bite. Don’t feel guilty. On the count of three.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him and blinked down at the spider.

“Don’t think about
Charlotte’s Web
.”

“I wasn’t, but now I am.”

“Then remember that spiders lay lots of eggs.”

“Okay! That oughta do it!”

“One. Two.
Three!
”

Dakota resisted, but Trace held her hand firmly and together they swung downward and squished the spider. “Is it dead?”

“You mean your eyes are closed?” he asked from behind her.

“It still counts!”

“Yes, it’s history,” Trace replied with a grin, as he reached forward and washed the remains down the drain. “You can open your eyes now.”

Dakota peeked into the sink and sighed while enjoying the feel of leaning against him way too much. Finally, she turned around, put her hands on his chest and looked up at him. “Step one is conquering my fears. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his warm skin. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, and her own heart started beating wildly. “Are you ready to eat?”

“Sure,” she said, somewhat disappointed. Dakota could see the longing in his eyes but he glanced away, telling her that he was fighting his attraction to her. She didn’t know whether to throw caution to the wind and push forward or do the safe thing and back off. Trace made the decision for her when he turned around and scooted onto the bench seat flanking a round table. Dakota joined him and scooped some potato salad onto her plate. “I guess this folds down into a bed,” she commented to make conversation, but then felt her face grow warm.

“Yes,” he answered while slathering mustard on his sandwich.

“Ever sleep on it?” she asked, trying to act casual instead of embarrassed.

“Sometimes.” He scooped potato salad onto his plate as well. “It’s been a while. I do like it, though. The water sort of rocks you to sleep, and it’s peaceful out here on the lake, especially in one of these coves. Drinking a cup of coffee in the early morning while the sun rises and the lake is as smooth as glass is a calming experience.”

“Mmm,” she said after swallowing a bite of potato salad. “I bet it is.”

“Ever slept on a boat before?”

“No,” she answered, really wishing she hadn’t brought up the subject, but in her effort to try to prove she was perfectly okay talking about beds and sleeping, her mouth just would not close. “But I bet I would like it a lot.”

There’s only one way to find out
hung in the air between them, but Dakota couldn’t bring herself to say it. Maybe more kick-ass lessons from Sierra would give her the confidence to say just what was on her mind, but she wasn’t there yet. She crammed a bite of sandwich in her mouth to keep from saying one more word about beds and sleeping.

And yet she thought about it.

When Trace fell silent, she wondered if his train of thought was leading him down the same dangerously delicious direction that included bare skin and silky-soft kisses. The thought made her so hot that a bead of sweat rolled down her back despite the welcome breeze coming in through the cabin door and the small window propped open directly above their heads. In an effort to cool off, she reached for her cold beer and took a long swallow. But just when she thought she had her wayward thoughts under control, they both reached for the carrot sticks at the same time. When their hands brushed together it was as if a hot shot of electricity started at Dakota’s fingers and traveled downward.

“Sorry,” she offered in an embarrassingly breathy voice.

“No problem. You okay? You look kind of flushed.”

Dakota waved her hands in front of her face. “It’s kind of stuffy down here,” she explained. “Think we can cool off in the lake?”

“Sure,” Trace answered. “But you need some sunscreen on your back and shoulders. You look for it while I put the leftovers away. Sierra packed enough to feed an army.”

Or more for later
, Dakota thought to herself. She knew that her friend would like nothing better than to see her and Trace hit it off. “Okay,” she answered, and slid from the bench seat. “You said the lotion should be in the head, right?”

“Right. If not, I’ll dig out a shirt for a cover-up.”

“Okay,” Dakota agreed, even though wearing a shirt held little appeal. She located the lotion in the small cabinet beneath the sink, nosed around a bit, and then brought it out to him. “Found it.”

“Good,” Trace said from where he was bending over while putting leftover food into the fridge.

Dakota angled her head and ogled. The man had an ass you could bounce quarters off. When he straightened and turned around too quickly, Dakota acted as if she were studying a map of the lake that was tacked to the wall, but by his slightly amused expression, she guessed she was busted. “I just bet that map comes in handy.” She pointed at it while shaking her head.

“Sometimes. Let’s get some of this lotion on you.” He reached out for the bottle. “Now turn around.” When she complied, he said, “This might feel cold. Hold your hair up for me.”

Dakota swept her hair up from her neck and waited in anticipation of the cold lotion to hit her heated skin. “Oh!” she said, and pressed her shoulder blades together. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I warned you,” Trace said with a low chuckle, but then fell silent while he spread the sunscreen over her shoulders. His hands felt strong and warm, and when he slid the silky lotion over her neck and then down her back she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from moaning. She just bet he would give a masterful massage with slippery hot oil.

“I don’t want to miss any spots.” Trace tried to maintain his composure, but his body instantly reacted to the erotic sensation of rubbing his hands over her soft skin. One little hook held her bathing suit top in place, and with the flick of his finger . . . an audible groan escaped that he tried to disguise as a cough, but ended up sounding as if he were choking.

“You okay?” Dakota asked.

“I’m fine,” Trace answered, not sounding okay at all. He reached for his beer and took a long pull. “Something in my throat,” he lied, and thumped his chest and coughed again, sounding so fake that he almost laughed.

“Better?” she asked, and turned around with concern in her eyes.

“Mmm-hmm,” he answered, and thumped his chest again.

“Good. Want me to do you?”

“Uh,” Trace stammered. “Do me?” The bottle slipped through his fingers and landed on the floor with a thump.

“I meant, do your back,” Dakota explained with her face flaming.

“I know,” Trace scoffed, which was a big fat lie. For a heart-stopping minute his imagination had run wild. “I didn’t think you meant
do me
like in—aw, hell,” he growled, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. She melted against him and opened her warm, soft lips. She was pliant, yielding and so damned sexy he could hardly stand it.

Threading his fingers through her damp hair, he tilted her head back and explored every inch of her mouth before moving to her neck. She gasped and slid her hands up his back while angling her head to give him better access. Trace took full advantage and kissed a path over her collarbone to the slope of her shoulder. “Maybe we should wait to swim,” Trace hotly suggested in her ear. “Let our food digest.”

“Mmmm, yeah. To be sure. Oh!” she moaned when he nibbled on her earlobe and then sucked it into his mouth. She reached up and gripped his shoulders while starting her own moist trail of kisses over his chest. When she licked his nipple and lightly nipped it, Trace knew he had to make love to her or regret it forever.

And he was done dealing with regret.

“Dakota?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Give me a second to put the bed together.”

“Okay.”

Trace kissed her and then turned to quickly fold down the table and convert the dinette into a bed. He pulled out the middle cushion, located a cover and pillows, and completed the job in record time before lifting Dakota onto the cushions. “Come up to your knees,” he requested, and when she did he reached behind her back and unhooked her bathing suit top. “God,” he breathed when she tugged it over her head. He gazed at her wearing nothing but blue bikini bottoms, and then reached out and cupped her breasts, circling her nipples with his thumbs. When she sucked in a shaky breath, he leaned in to kiss her deeply. Finally, when he hoped she was wet and ready for him, he said, “Dakota I want to taste you.”

“Trace—”

“Please. I want to. Need to.” He kneeled down and then scooted her forward and nuzzled her mound while holding her ass in his palms.

“Dear God,” she said softly, and threaded her fingers through his hair.

Trace teased and nibbled while kneading her cheeks until she gasped, and he hoped she wouldn’t be able to resist what he wanted to do next.

Dakota felt as if she were melting from the inside out. She didn’t know it was even possible to be this aroused. Her legs trembled, making it difficult to remain on her knees, but she could not resist the feel of his mouth on her this way and so she grabbed his shoulders, closed her eyes, and held on for dear life.

His tongue felt warm and moist through the fabric, and when he moved higher to nuzzle her navel, she moaned. But then without warning, he tugged her bikini bottom down over her thighs. “Brace your hands on my shoulders and lift up your knees.”

Incapable of uttering anything other than breathy noises, Dakota merely nodded and complied. He made quick work of tossing her suit to the side and then bent his head back to the task of driving her wild. His mouth felt shockingly hot on her bare skin, and when his tongue continued to caress her, she all but came undone.

“Trace,” her voice was a throaty plea.
This is too much, too intense
, she thought, and when she inhaled a shaky breath, he caressed her gently, lightly, holding back for her to catch her breath before plunging deeply, sucking, licking, loving her intensely. And a moment later, he sent her soaring over the edge.