Seduced in Sand (3 page)

If word got out about her
delivery
, and she wouldn't be surprised if it did, she'd put it off to the bad date they already knew about tracking her down. She'd just as quickly say she'd dealt with him and was lining up another date. Denial was her best chance at keeping her friends off the scent of man-related gossip.

Maybe, if her luck was remotely decent, her friends would let the matter drop. If she was really lucky, Danny would let things drop and she could move on without internal conflicts.

Chapter Four

Tabatha smiled at Connor as he held the door for her. The oceanside seafood restaurant had been a nice choice for their second date. She'd been a little concerned by his profile listing him as an attorney arguing cases as high as the Supreme Court. He'd turned out to be hysterical and had her laughing all through both their meals.

Tonight's laughter had centered around stupid human stories fueled by the people they met through their jobs. His were about some of the outlandish lawsuits and courtroom antics. Hers were mostly about the ridiculous things brides requested for venues—like the couple who'd thought it would be a good idea to exchange vows in a row boat.

“Want to walk?” Connor nodded toward the beach across the street.

Tabatha loved looking at the ocean, feeling the sand beneath her feet, hearing the waves and smelling the salty air. She hadn't walked on the beach since moving to Miami though. It had been avoidance, because the beach reminded her of Danny, but moving on meant no more avoidance. She enjoyed Connor and figured he was as good a companion as any for her first sandy outing.

“Sure.”

They crossed the street at a jog as the numbers on the crosswalk timer counted down from five. The thin heels of her shoes struck the pavement with solid clicks. The softness of her skirt brushed her ankles. Once they reached the sand, she pulled her shoes off and hooked the strappy backs on her index finger along with her matching clutch. Connor removed his dress shoes and socks, stuffed the socks in the shoe toes, and then rolled the hems of his slacks up.

Tabatha dug her toes into the sand, wiggling them in the cool grains. The caress whispered along her sole, up the sides of her feet and curled around her heel. Her eyes drifted closed and she sighed with pleasure. Why had she stayed away? Why had she given Danny the power to keep her away from something she'd loved?

Why was she thinking about Danny during her date with Connor?

“Ready?” With his shoes in one hand, Connor offered his hand.

Not tall, but a few inches taller than her, thin and sexy in a suit, she easily pictured him in a courtroom. Now she saw that he fit just as completely on the beach. He could be serious, but he still knew how to play. Her stomach flip-flopped when he smiled at her and he made her laugh easily.

“Yeah, I'm ready.”
To take a chance.

Hand in hand they headed toward the water's edge where the sand squished cool and moist between her toes. Every frustration of dealing with contract negotiations, indecisive brides or bridezillas was scuffed away by the light abrasion of the sand.

“I miss this.”

“Walking?”

“Walking on the beach with a sexy man in the day's fading light.”

“You think I'm sexy?”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes and rubbed her arm against his. “Like you didn't already know that.”

“It's still nice to hear.”

“Well, I'm not saying it again so you'll have to get more ego strokes from someone else.” Light and friendly, with no talk of seriousness, was the chord they'd struck on their first date and it seemed to be the chord they were sticking with.

“Fine, but just so you know, I'll stroke whatever you want me to as many times as you want.”

She chuckled. “Connor, are you trying to talk dirty?”

“It wouldn't work on someone as classy as you.”

“Not in the least.”

“Then what would work?” He tugged on her hand, pulling her to a stop and turning so he faced her. “What would it take to get you to kiss me?”

She lifted her head and met his pale blue gaze. Her stomach flip-flopped again. It was the main reaction she had to Connor and she had it so often when she was with him it was almost predictable. Nervousness was new. She swallowed it back. “Just ask.”

He dropped his shoes to the ground and rested his newly empty hand on her hip. “May I kiss you, Tabatha?”

Smooth as satin, the request moved through her. She arched her back the tiniest bit and licked her lips, wishing she'd refreshed her lip gloss after dinner. “Yes.”

Sighing deeply, he released her hand and rested his second hand on her other hip, dug his fingers in and pulled her close. He lowered his head and claimed her mouth with his. For a first kiss, she expected something slow and tentative, sort of testing and teasing while they got to know each other. Connor had a different idea.

Leading with a thrusting tongue, he pushed his way into her mouth. Shock robbed her of breath and had her gasping. He took it as an invitation and thrust deeper while pulling her against him, rocking his hips forward. He wasn't hard, but he was on the way there, and his mouth was sloppily wet.

As much as she'd liked spending time with him and talking to him, she equally disliked kissing him. She tried to pull back, but he misread the signal, or ignored it. He pulled her closer still, practically grinding himself against her. His lips surrounded hers and good God in heaven he made a sucking sound every time he took a breath.

The flip-flop of anticipation in her stomach turned to a roll of dread and she understood why she so often had the sensation around him. Her body had been warning her how wrong he was for her. Her fingers fisted on the shoes she still held while she pressed her other hand against his shoulder. Finally taking her hint, he moved back and looked down at her with glazed over eyes.

“I could do that all night.” His voice was thick with a passion that felt a little too darkness-tinged.

“That would be moving a little too fast for me.”

“I thought you were looking for fun.”

Fun and groping were not one in the same, at least not for her. She would be okay if she never felt another flip-flopping sensation in her stomach. “I've been having fun with you, Connor. I'm not sure you're defining it the same way.”

He stepped back, releasing her completely. “Beauty like yours is made for bedroom games. Expensive dinners and conversation are for settlement negotiations.”

“Perhaps you should have used those last two dinners more effectively.” A switch had flipped on Connor's personality that left her wondering who she'd been dining with. She'd thought herself to be a decent judge of character. He just lacked character. “And you might win more of the cases you argue if you'd listen to the person across from you. As for finding a woman willing to be a bed buddy with no desire to talk, change your dating profile to include your salary and mention your desire for sex play. You might be surprised how little conversation you need to have.”

“Do you really think that would work?”

As much as she'd laughed on their dates nothing had been funnier than this moment. The jerk was actually considering her advice and didn't see anything wrong with it. Sadly, she knew there were women out there looking for what he had to offer. “I really do.”

He picked up his shoes and took another step back. “Excellent. I'll do that. I get enough conversation at work.”

“Then I wish you the best of luck.” Tabatha found herself grateful for the habit of always carrying cash and a credit card on her dates. She had a feeling she was about to be getting herself home.

Leaning forward, Connor kissed her cheek. “Thank you. Good luck finding a man who likes to talk.”

“Be sure to call Tulle and Tulips when you find your trophy wife.”

“I will.” He thanked her again as he turned and walked back toward the restaurant. The man was so unchivalrous it didn't occur to him that not taking her home was rude.

Maybe it was her job, or maybe it was simply the way she was wired, but she needed to be more than a piece of arm candy or a bedmate. The idea of kissing him had been exciting. The reality had been close to what she guessed it would be like to kiss a sucker fish.

And then she'd uncovered what he really wanted in a woman. Suddenly, a man's ability to be on time for an engagement didn't matter as much. Especially if the man was kind, carried a conversation nicely and genuinely cared about the woman at his side.

A kiss isn't a kiss when she thinks she's gonna drown. Take your time, men, unless you want her to run away. #dategonewrong

Shaking her head and laughing over the disaster that was their second date, Tabatha tweeted her tragedy and turned the way they'd been walking. She hadn't played at the beach like Danny had, but the beaches of California had been a place where she could relax and recharge. Connor may have been a lousy human and a deplorable kisser with one-track expectations, but he'd made her laugh and he'd gotten her back on the sand.

He hadn't been a complete waste of time.

“Got it!” Danny dove into the air, extending his arm high above his head, and spiked the ball over the net, slamming it into the sand at his opponent's feet.

Drake picked up the ball he'd just missed and turned to his teammate Logan. “We can do this.”

“Twenty eighteen,” Will called out, listing their score before the other team's.

They played Drake and Logan often in practices, rarely in competition, but they never treated the matches any differently. Any time Danny and Will stepped onto a court they had one thing in mind. Winning. They might lose a set on occasion, but never a match. Undefeated was a word Danny hadn't thought would ever apply to him.

Drake tossed the ball to Will, who passed it to Danny. “One more point, D, and the match is ours,” Will said.

“It's a done deal,” he promised as he set up to serve.

Rolling his neck in a circle, something he always did before a serve, he caught sight of a couple a little ways down the beach, near the water's edge. Not just any couple but Tabatha and another man. Her date wore a suit with the pants rolled up at the bottom. She had on a tight-fitting top and a long and loose skirt that floated around her legs as she walked. Tabatha commanded his attention.

So many times they had walked the beach just like she was now—with another man. She'd hold her shoes in her left hand, twisting them a different direction with every step. Then there was the way she angled her head to listen to whoever was talking. She'd always been good at giving others her full attention when they spoke, like she cared deeply, whether she knew them or not.

“D. You gonna serve?”

“Yeah.” He turned his attention back to the game with the ball poised on his left hand. His gaze drifted back to his wife and her date. The man pulled her against his body and kissed her. Silhouetted against the lowering light of the sun, her body stiffened. She'd never stiffened in Danny's arms.

“D!”

“Sorry.” Jerking himself back to his job, he tossed the ball and slammed his hand against the leather skin.

The ball raced over Will's head and then the net. Drake dove for the ball, barely managing to bump it as he skidded across the sand on his stomach. Logan squatted low and bumped the ball higher, giving Drake time to rise and hit the ball onto Will and Danny's side of the court.

Will volleyed it to Drake, who volleyed it to Danny. Distracted by Tabatha pushing her date away, Danny almost missed the ball. Instead of connecting fully, his hand grazed the surface, sending the ball wide and out of bounds on the other side.

“Twenty nineteen,” Drake called with a note of victory.

Clearly aware of Danny's distraction, even if he didn't know the cause, Logan served the ball toward Danny, driving him close to the court boundary. Down the beach, Tabatha pushed her date away again. Danny missed the ball.

“Twenty twenty,” Drake said more victorious than the last time.

Will retrieved the ball and walked to Danny and followed his gaze down the beach. “You gonna play this game or be a voyeur?”

“Play.” His response was automatic, but he didn't look away from Tabatha or the way her body curved beneath her clothes. When her date turned and walked away, leaving her standing on the beach alone, rage coursed through Danny. No man given the honor of spending time with Tabatha should leave her standing alone on a beach.

Catching the irony, and growing angry with himself, because he'd left her alone on more occasions than he could count, Danny turned back to the game. “This ends. Now.”

Tossing the ball back to Logan, Danny spread his legs and prepared for the rest of the game. He'd come to Miami to prove to himself and to Tabatha that he had what it took to be a serious adult. One part of that was to stop letting people down, and Will, even in a practice match, was a big part of that.

Logan tossed the ball into the air and served it again to Danny's side. This time, instead of it soaring past him, Danny turned sideways and bumped the ball to Will on the front line. Will popped it high and Danny rushed in for a dig that made a slight pop as leather smacked sand.

“Twenty-one twenty,” Will said as he caught the ball and went to the serve spot. “Stay sharp, D.”

His spine tingled with awareness and he knew without looking that Tabatha had walked close enough to see them. She was watching him. Her attention moved across him, awakening a hum of determination. The moment he'd wanted was here. He had a chance to show her how serious he could be about something and he'd be damned if he failed.

“Serve the ball,” he said to Will.

Will tilted his head in acknowledgement and served. Back and forth, each side taking their three hits, they volleyed the ball. Each round of volleys grew more aggressive and each round invigorated Danny more, driving him harder and harder to prove himself.

Every contact his hand made with the ball he pictured another man kissing his wife or he saw her walking out or her not giving him another chance. Every failure and disappointment and frustration from the last year bubbled to the surface and fueled his game.

He would win this set and then he would win back his wife.

Drake and Logan called to each other with every hit. Will and Danny did the same. Tabatha sat in the sand just inside the ring of light from the court lights. Her skirt pooled around her and she rested her chin on her knees, watching intently. He had her attention and he was going to keep it.