Special thanks to Jody Payne, at Evensong Farms, for sharing her knowledge of horses. Any mistakes are entirely mine.

“S o tell me, just how drunk do you have to be to have sex in a PortaPotti?”

Tyler Last swallowed and set his longneck bottle on the bar, the thought of his excesses forming a knot in the pit of his stomach. “Too damn drunk.” He fixed his gaze on the rodeo clown’s smiling face. “I’m through. With everything. As of right now. I already sold my ranch and packed my truck.” He picked at the label on the sweating bottle. “I’m only thirty-two, and I’m the old man of the circuit.” He shrugged. “And I’m sick of getting my ass kicked, hardly able to crawl out of bed the next morning.”

“You’re never in the same bed the next morning.”

“Yeah, well, there’s that, too.” He tipped the bottle to his lips again and then returned the smile of the redhead at the end of the bar. Maybe outright quitting was too hasty. Tapering off might be easier. Throwing money on the smooth surface, he said, “See you around,” and headed toward the woman. After all, a guy had to ease into the turning-over-a-new-leaf thing.

 

Tyler rolled out of bed and walked naked into the bathroom. With a cautious glance at the redhead sprawled across the mattress, he closed the door until it clicked and then turned on the light.

Damn. He scrubbed his face with his hands, forking them through his hair. He’d done it again. Other than the fact that she had red hair—and he could attest to the fact that it was natural—he had no idea what she looked like. Wouldn’t recognize her if he saw her again.

Which he definitely did not plan to do.

Dropping the used condom in the trash, he thanked god he at least hadn’t been too far gone to remember the condom when he looked at the filthy mess of her bathroom. He glared at his bleary reflection in the dirty mirror and stepped into his jeans. No doubt about it, he’d sunk about as low as he was going to go.

It was way past time for a serious attitude and lifestyle adjustment.

He took a cautious glance over his shoulder, ten minutes later, at the darkened house and eased onto the leather seat of his pickup.

Where the hell was he? His stomach clenched. It took a minute to remember and get his bearings. Damn, he hated when that happened. And it happened too often of late.

The powerful engine of his Silverado roared to life. With a pop of the clutch, he headed for the southbound highway, towing all his worldly possessions: a leather satchel of clothing, his newest horse trailer, and his only friend in the whole world, Jim, his palomino quarter-horse stallion.

The pink glow of dawn feathered the horizon by the time he spotted his exit. Paradise Beach, Population 1312.

“Now thirteen hundred and thirteen,” he muttered, “and I sure as hell hope it’s my lucky number.”

The road to his grandmother’s place looked different. More new buildings and homes than he remembered. He took the back approach, coming to a stop behind the stables.

After lowering the ramp, he slapped the horse’s flank and gave a short whistle. “C’mon, Jim, we’re here.”

The horse did not budge.

“Jim! Yah! Back it up, bud.” He gave a short yank on Jim’s tail.

The horse crowded closer to the front of the trailer.

“Damnit, Jim! I’m tired. I need some sleep.” He wedged between horse and wall and walked to stare face-to-face. “Don’t do this to me again. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The horse snickered and turned its head.

He grasped Jim’s ears and forced the animal to face him. “Back. Up.”

Tyler threw his weight against the horse’s shoulder and pushed, but Jim had him on weight.

Working up a sweat, he finally convinced Jim it was in his best interest to get out of the trailer and into the stable. After feeding the horse and making sure he was comfortable in the stall, Tyler headed toward the house and the welcoming light from his grandmother’s kitchen window.

It took a minute to locate his key to the back door. The second he stepped in, inhaling the familiar scents, he knew everything would be all right.

“Sonny?” His grandmother’s chirpy voice echoed down the hall. “That you?”

“Yeah, Gram,” he answered, already bent in front of her double-door refrigerator to look for leftovers.

Steps sounded in the hall, but he had his eye on a triple-layer chocolate cake and was now looking for milk.

“Shut that door, you heathen, and come give your granny some sugar!”

He immediately complied, hugging her close to his heart and bending to place a smacking kiss on her soft, powdery smelling cheek.

Loosening his embrace, he stepped back and looked at the woman who’d been like a second mother to him. “Gram!” He made a big deal of perusing her, not entirely sure he was comfortable with the feminine peignoir set. “Lookin’ sexy, there! Got a new beau?” He loved teasing her and waited for her playful swat.

Instead, she chewed her lip.

“As a matter of fact, I have more than that.” She motioned toward the hall door, where a tall, distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair stood in a robe.

“This is Mason,” Gram said. “My, ah, husband.”

Tyler paused and then set the carton of milk on the granite counter. “Stop clowning around, Gram.”

The man—Mason—stepped forward, hand outstretched.

Tyler looked at it. With hands like that, he doubted the guy had ever done a day of hard labor in his life. Probably didn’t even know how to ride.

He took the hand and held on. Best to establish his territory from the get-go. “Tyler Last.”

Mason gripped his hand and didn’t break eye contact. “Mason Edwards.”

Tyler tightened his grasp.

Mason reciprocated.

The old guy had balls, he would give him that.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Gram groused, “would you two stop your pissing contest?”

Tyler dropped the older man’s hand and stepped back to the counter to pour a big glass of milk. “Soon as I polish off a hunk of cake and drink this, I’ll be heading upstairs to bed. I need at least a few hours of sleep.”

“That’s a good idea,” Gram said, walking to rise and kiss his cheek. “We’re going to do the same thing. Our flight leaves this afternoon.”

“Flight?” he asked around a mouthful of cake.

Gram nodded, blue eyes bright. “Yes. We’re going on a deepwater diving trip for our honeymoon.”

“Since when do you dive?” Could Mason be trying to kill off his grandmother to get her money and property?

“We took lessons,” Mason piped in. “We’re both certified deepwater divers.”

“I thought you were into parasailing these days,” Tyler said to Gram. Parasailing she could do right there in Paradise Cove.

“Nah—got bored with that.” Gram batted her eyelashes at Mason, and Tyler’s recently ingested cake threatened to reappear. “Let’s go back to bed, Pookey.”

Pookey?

By the time Tyler put his dishes in the dishwasher, he heard a suspicious sound and walked to the hall.

“Please, Lord, don’t let that be what I think it is,” he muttered.

He stood there and listened. Damn. Looked like he was sleeping out in the stable with Jim.

His grandmother was having sex.

T hings were definitely heating up. Pushing wakefulness aside, Tyler reached for his elusive lover. She licked his face. All over. Then whinnied. Whinnied?

He jerked awake and found himself eye to eye with Jim. He shoved away the horse and stood, adjusting his jeans.

“Shut up,” he said, pointing at Jim, and then headed for the house. Celibacy was more difficult than he’d imagined.

Banging on the bathroom door greeted Tyler, half an hour later, when he turned off the shower.

“Sonny! Get out here and kiss me good-bye. And I have something I need to tell you before I leave.”

Maybe she and good old Mason weren’t really married. That would be good. One less thing to worry about.

“Be right out.” After a cursory drying, he stepped into boxers and a clean pair of jeans. Still buttoning the fly, he opened the door. “What is it?”

“Oh, my Lord! What happened? You look like you’ve had the snot kicked out of you!” Gram tugged on his arm and turned him to look at his back. “Have you seen a doctor?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” He glanced over his shoulder, able to see the tops of the welts the redheaded she-cat had made on his back, on top of the bruises he already sported from his last rodeo performance. “That’s one of the reasons I’m retiring.” He bent to scoop a T-shirt from his duffel bag and slipped it on. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Well, there’s no other way but to come right out with it.” She paused. “I’m a businesswoman, as of last month.”

“Care to explain?” He sat down on the hall bench, pulling his grandmother down with him. He sensed there was more and wished she would just spit it out.

“I went into a partnership with Roger Ferris. You remember him, don’t you, Betsy Ferris’s boy?” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, he’s become quite the real-estate tycoon around Paradise Beach. In exchange for selling him some of my beachfront property, he made me his partner! Isn’t that wonderful?” She smiled up at him, not looking like it was all that wonderful.

“Gram, what are you not telling me? I know you have a plane to catch, and I have some serious beach time scheduled, so I—”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, damnit!” Gram’s hand flew to her mouth as though she was shocked at what it had just said. “I mean, I know you’ve always loved the peace and quiet of Paradise Cove, and, well, it may not be, ah, as quiet or peaceful as you remember.

“Roger and I are building a luxury beach community on the cove. Beginning almost next door and running along most of the beach. My house will ultimately be used as the clubhouse.” She peeked through her eyelashes and shrugged. “Unless any of my heirs want it. And, well, since my house is sort of part of everything now, I have to abide by the deed restrictions of the community.” Her shoulders slumped. “What I’m trying to tell you is livestock is forbidden.”

“Meaning?” Although he had a sneaking suspicion of where she was headed.

“No horses.”

“Too late. Jim’s already in your stable.”

She nodded. “I assumed as much. What I’m trying to tell you is you’re going to have to keep him hidden during your visit.”

“Hannah!” Mason’s voice boomed down the hall. “We need to hit the road if we want to get lunch before we check in.”

Gram stood and gripped Tyler in a fierce hug. “I hope you find the answers you need while you’re here,” she whispered, her peppermint-scented breath calming him as much as it had as a child.

His grandmother had underestimated the potential volume of the construction noise, Tyler decided a few minutes later when he stepped onto the beach. With the hammering, sawing, and tractor and backhoes in operation, he could scarcely hear himself think. And what was that awful squawking?

He walked down to the edge of the water and looked at the flurry of activities. In front of it all, at the edge of the beach, a scrawny, black-garbed character paced, yelling into a bullhorn. He squinted. What in the hell was she wearing?

Damn. A smile crept across his face, despite the irritation of all the noise. She was dressed as the grim reaper.

 

Meg Holder gripped the bullhorn in her sweating hand and did her best to disguise her voice. “Stop the construction! Now! Paradise Beach is for everyone to enjoy, not just the privileged few! Stop the construction or face the consequences of your sins!” She tried for a maniacal laugh, but inhaled spit and went into a coughing spasm instead.

Wiping her palms on her costume, she caught a glimpse of her watch. Yikes! It was past time to head home for a quick shower if she ever hoped to get to work.

Her Miata was beyond hot in its hidden parking place. After a quick glance around, she shed her grim-reaper attire, stuffed it in the trunk, and hopped in the car. The skin on her back and thighs, exposed by her white halter top and denim shorts, immediately protested the feel of hot leather. Even her teeth were hot.

Thirty minutes later she took a turn on two wheels and screeched to a stop in her allotted parking space. A glance at her watch confirmed she’d just made it on time. Again.

“Morning, Mr. Ferris!” she called as she breezed through the front door, baring her teeth in a smile.

“Meg.” He nodded and made a big deal of looking at the clock. “Perhaps you should try setting your alarm for an earlier time.”

And perhaps you should stick this job where the sun doesn’t shine. Of course, she couldn’t say that. She needed the job. But if the lottery ticket in her purse was a winner, she was so out of there. The first thing she would do would be to buy up all the property along Paradise Cove and then tear down the high-priced tenement her boss was building.

She sighed. Unfortunately, for now she was stuck in a thankless job, barely making her bills and working for a boss that made Attila the Hun look attractive.

Attila—rather, Roger—cleared his throat, drawing her attention.

“Didn’t we forget something, Megan?” He glanced pointedly at the empty coffeemaker. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks,” Meg replied, dropping her purse into the drawer of her desk. “Too much coffee makes you jittery, you know.”

He made a sound like a growl. Coffee also made you irritable, she thought as she got up to make the stupid coffee.

Terra, Roger’s personal—and she took the position to an all-new level—assistant, shot Meg a condescending, from-the-teeth-out smile.

Meg glared at her. Everyone knew Terra only got the job because she let Roger know she had no problems with a little slap and tickle behind closed doors.

Meg shuddered. No job on Earth would be worth having sex with Roger Ferris. Yuck.

An eternity later, it was finally quitting time. She turned off her computer and switched the phones to the answering service. Bent beneath her desk to retrieve her purse, she heard Attila call her name.

“We’re taking off now,” Roger said to Meg, while at the same time smiling at his bimbo next to him. “Can I trust you to remember to lock up this time, after you dump all the trash?”

“Sure.” But I’ll need a bigger bag for Terra. “No problem.”

Without a backward glance, the two of them left.

“You’re welcome. Thanks so much!” she said to the empty doorway. “You have a fabulous evening, too.”

After her daily trip to the dumpster, she locked the office and headed for Paradise Cove.

Everyone on the construction site left early on Friday, so there was no need to don the sweltering costume.

The sun was setting by the time she finished her dinner and a quick shower. Clad in a tropical-print, gauze wrap skirt and halter top, she padded barefoot onto the sand of Paradise Cove, blanket draped over her arm.

Tonight, as always, she wondered how many nights she would have before access was closed to her and so many others.

Pushing the gloomy thought from her mind, she sat on her blanket and reached into her thermal bag for a wine cooler. She twisted off the top and took a drink, watching the brilliant colors of the sunset.

Was it wrong to pray for a winning lottery ticket? Anxiety gripped her chest, thundered through her entire body. Wait. What she felt was more than anxiety.

She blinked twice, sure she was imagining. That couldn’t be a cowboy on a golden horse riding down the beach, glowing in the waning sunset.

Could it?

T yler didn’t want to think about how happy he was to see another human being. Gram and Mason hadn’t even been gone twenty-four hours, and he was already desperate for conversation.

He pulled back on Jim’s reins, slowing to a trot, and appreciated the view.

A woman with dark, shiny hair sat alone on a blanket on the beach. In the shadows it was difficult to see her face, but he knew without a doubt she was pretty.

Jim chose that moment to do his show step, prancing sideways down the beach. He leaned close to the horse’s ear. “Cut it out. I’m fine. I know how to talk to women. Just get me over there.”

In response, Jim reared up on his hind legs. It was a pose they’d done many times, but tonight it embarrassed Tyler. He pushed down on the pommel. “Damnit, Jim! Now just walk,” he said when the horse returned all four hooves to the sand.

The sight of the horse and rider, silhouetted by the sunset, took Meg’s breath away. They were magnificent—so picturesque they could’ve been a movie poster.

She hurried to close her mouth and appear nonchalant as they approached.

“Howdy.” The cowboy tipped his white hat.

Did he really say “howdy”? Before she could respond, the horse executed what looked remarkably like a bow.

“Did your horse just bow?” It had to be a dream. Real cowboys and horses didn’t do things like that.

Teeth glinted. “Yes, ma’am, he did.” The man stroked the horse’s pale mane and then patted its golden neck.

Leather creaked. The cowboy dismounted, his expression unreadable, and stood by the horse’s head,

Meg struggled to regulate her breathing. Before her stood the living, breathing embodiment of her every fantasy.

The horse nuzzled the man’s shoulder and pushed his back with enough force to make him stumble.

“Cut it out, Jim!” He swatted at the horse.

“You named your horse Jim?”

He jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels to peer up at her from beneath his hat brim. “What would you have named him?”

She thought for a moment. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Silver?”

He grinned, teeth again flashing in the emerging moonlight. “But he’s a golden palomino, not silver. I think Goldie would sound sort of sissy for a stallion.”

She laughed and he joined in. He had a nice laugh.

Without invitation he sat on the blanket and placed his hat on his bent knee.

“Hi,” he said, his voice warm and intimate.

“I don’t remember seeing you here before.” She shifted an inch or two toward the edge of the blanket and concentrated on her breathing. Dang, he smelled good. She swallowed in an effort to prevent drooling.

“That makes two of us.” He reclined on one elbow, like he was posing for a calendar. “My grandmother owns the place on the bluff, up yonder.” He pointed toward Hannah Gardner-Edwards’s house. “I used to spend every summer here. If I’d met you, I’d have spent even more time here.” He closed the gap between them. “I’m Tyler.”

Her breath fisted in her chest. Shoot, shoot, shoot. He was the grandson Hannah talked about fixing her up with? If only she’d known. Hard on that thought came another more depressing one. Now, with her grim-reaper persona, getting to know him could be risky. A glance at his tan, handsome face sent a shot of yearning through her.

It might work. Thoughts of her Powers of Seduction book came to mind. Don’t give too much away on the first meeting. Make him work for it. She mustered a weak smile at his introduction and said, “I’m not.”

She held her breath, relaxing only when he widened his smile, as opposed to getting up and running into the night from the weirdo on the beach.

“You’re going to tell me your name, aren’t you?” He leaned closer. His minty breath bathed her heated lips. “Or am I going to have to kiss it out of you?”

Was he for real? Did lines like that actually work? Then again, this was a ships-passing-in-the-night kind of thing. Did it really matter?

Running her tongue over her dry lips was purely instinctual, but Tyler growled deep in his throat as though she’d done something erotic. So, she did it again.

“Better men than you have tried and failed,” she lied when she found her voice.

He smiled against her mouth. “I doubt that,” he said, his words vibrating her mouth an instant before his lips took possession.

She doubted it, too.

She would like to think she opened her mouth to stop him, but she knew better. He deepened the kiss, the warm smoothness of his tongue tangoing with hers as he lowered her to the blanket.

Good thing she was laying down or else she would have collapsed in a boneless pile of need. She closed her eyes tighter. If he was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up before the good part.

His calloused hands slid up her rib cage, grazing the sides of her breasts—making them heavy and aching—to settle beneath her hair. His knuckles bumped against the back of her neck while he worked the tie of her halter top.

Her heart began beating double-time, her breathing shallow. What they were doing was so not her style. But what had being herself gotten her? Her lack of a love life was what demanded she buy the seduction book in the first place. If she didn’t use the tips, what was the point?

Within seconds she was bare to the waist. Cool Gulf breeze caressed her breasts, tightening her nipples.

She should protest, she knew. And she might if she could form a coherent sentence. Which was really hard to do with his hot mouth devouring her right breast while his calloused hand kneaded the left one. Dang, it felt good.

Tingling started at her toes and worked its way up, surging moisture between her legs. It would be so embarrassing to climax from just a kiss. But it had been so long since she’d felt any kind of arousal. She gripped his firm buttocks through the worn denim and squeezed, attempting to pull him over for more intimate contact.

The horse whinnied and stomped, vibrating the sand.

Tyler stopped midsuckle, his back stiffening.

“I have to go.” In one movement he tugged her top into place and hopped to his feet. He tipped his hat. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

“But—” Was it something she did?

He took a few running steps to vault into the saddle.

And he would have vaulted into the saddle, had the horse not taken a side step at the last second. Instead, jean-clad rear met hard-packed sand with a thud.

Until that moment, she’d never heard a horse laugh. She bit back a smile and picked up her wine cooler.

 

Cheeks burning, Tyler stood and dusted himself off. Jerking Jim’s reins, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Jim, damn him, lagged back until Tyler thought he would rip out the horse’s teeth if he tugged any harder. After a few more steps Jim followed docilely back to the stables.

“You made me look stupid out there, you know,” he told Jim, back in his stall, as he pulled off the saddle. In reply, the horse snuffled. “Yeah, I know, but old habits die hard. One kiss and I went into autopilot. Thanks for reining me in. I meant what I said. I’m turning over a new leaf.”

The horse snorted.

Tyler returned to the empty house, took a quick shower, and then stretched out naked on the cool sheets.

His first day as a new man, and what did he accomplish? He almost scored another one-night stand—the very thing he had vowed to stop. No more anonymous sex.

And he’d been made a fool of by his horse. That wasn’t new. It was one of the reasons he’d decided to retire. Jim was smarter than him; he began refusing to go into the arena quite a while before Tyler’s decision to retire. They both knew it was time to move on.

His thoughts swung back to his mystery woman; memory of her sweetly scented soft skin had him hard in record time. He shifted on the sheets and then did something he hadn’t done in years. He took matters into his own hand.

Every inch of skin on his body was on fire. Her heady scent again filled his nostrils. Would she have touched him like this? He cupped his balls, rubbing the pad of his thumb across the sensitive skin while his other hand gripped his iron-hard cock. At first the strokes were slow. He increased the pressure and speed, his breath coming harder and faster, his strokes emulating his mystery lover’s responsive body.

One thought of her, poised above him, took him to the brink.

Muscles tightened from his feet up the backs of his legs to his butt. His back arched. His release slammed into him. He shuddered and drifted off to sleep only to awaken a little while later, tangled in the wet sheets, hard and needy again.

He looked at the mess he’d made earlier and groaned. There was only one thing left to do.

Laundry.

 

Don’t be a tease by withholding sex. Don’t be shy. It’s a safe bet your target is more turned on than you by the prospect of physical gratification.

Meg’s cheeks heated. Her guilty glance swept the office as she shut the Powers of Seduction book and tucked it safely into her tote.

She’d been bold—as least, she thought she had. What made Tyler run?

The chime on the door sounded. Tyler walked in in bold, magnificent, living flesh and blood.

If she were the fainting type, she was sure she’d be on the floor.

Mortified he would reveal that they had met, she slumped lower in her desk chair and hid behind the computer monitor. How on earth had he found her?

Tyler glanced her way, then zeroed in on tacky Terra. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine what drew his attention.

Terra shoved her boobs together with her upper arms and leaned over her desk. Probably on the off-chance he hadn’t seen all her assets. “May I help you?” she purred in her imitation sex-kitten voice.

To his credit, Tyler didn’t seem to be struck mute by Terra’s obvious flirting. He removed his hat and nodded in greeting. “Roger Ferris in?”

“Did you have an appointment, Mr….?”

“Last. Tyler Last. I’m Hannah Gardner-Edwards’s grandson.” He looked past her to the door of Roger’s office. “I really do need to speak with Mr. Ferris. On my grandmother’s behalf.”

Terra slumped back in her chair, her collagen-enhanced lips in a pout she no doubt practiced in the mirror. “Sure. Go on in.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, Meg shot out of her chair. “I just remembered I need to, ah, pick up some doughnuts and, um, go to the post office.” She grabbed her tote and fished for her keys as she walked to the entrance, one eye on Roger’s door. “I’ll be back in a while.”

“But who will answer the phone? Take messages? Make appointments? Meg, what if—”

“Don’t worry! You’ll be fine.” She had to get out of there.

Tyler frowned at the sound of a familiar voice coming from the outer office, then looked down at the model of the beach community. What had he just noticed before he started listening to the voices? Oh, yeah. “There’s no public beach access.”

Roger Ferris nodded and leaned back in his executive chair, fingers tented. “It’s a gated community. Don’t you think public beach access would negate that?”

Tyler regarded the weasel for a moment before responding. “In Texas it’s illegal to have a private beach.”

“Who said anything about a private beach?”

“In effect, that’s what you’re doing by not having public beach access.”

“The public can always access the beach,” Roger assured him with a smirk. “By water.” At Tyler’s look, he went on. “The law states no private beach, which means it has to be accessible. It is accessible.”

The snake in the grass had a point. Damn him.

Without a word, Tyler nodded, put on his hat, and walked out of the office. Maybe he should talk to the grim reaper.

The blonde bimbo tried to waylay him again, but he kept walking. The dark-haired girl was gone. He could escape.

Outside he shook his head and resettled his Stetson. There was a time, not long ago, when he would have taken what the blonde offered.

Images of the mystery woman on the beach again drifted through his mind.

He didn’t even know her name. Why did he feel so connected?

The blonde was more the type he’d always been attracted to, yet she left him cold. Hell, he hadn’t even noticed the other one, except that she had dark hair and, for an instant, his heart had tripped at the thought of running into the one woman who had captured his interest.

No doubt about it, in his mind he’d already cut a filly from the herd.

“H ell, no! We won’t go! Hell, no! We won’t go!” Sweat trickled beneath the black grim reaper’s garb, sticking Meg’s T-shirt to her heated skin. “Public beach means public access! Save the beach!” she yelled into the bullhorn.

The Texas sun beat down as hot as it had since her arrival two hours ago. Weren’t the construction workers ever going to pack up for the day, so she could leave?

A movement caught her peripheral vision. Tyler! And he was headed straight for her. For a moment she stood, admiring the sure stride, the long gait, and the lean hips, while he steadily closed the distance between them.

She turned to run, but he was quicker. A hard hand clamped around her arm and held fast.

“Who are you and why are you so determined to stop construction?” he asked, peering down into the eye holes in her mask as though he could see right to her soul. “We need to talk.”

Hot and tired, not to mention sexually frustrated, thanks to him, she made a growling sound and tugged to free her arm. He held on.

She really hated to do it, but if he found out who she was, he could jeopardize everything. Thoughts of her embarrassment on the beach Friday night gave her strength.

With a mighty swing she whacked him in the head with her bullhorn.

He fell to his knees but was obviously unhurt.

Hefting her tunic, she grabbed her sign and sprinted for the safety of her car, relieved that no footsteps followed.

Tyler got to his feet, rubbing the spot where the edge of the bullhorn hit. Lucky for him, he had a hard head.

Behind him construction noise dwindled as the workers put away their tools for the day. He glanced at the setting sun, anticipation making him forget the grim reaper.

Tonight he would discover the name of the future mother of his children. Or have a hell of a good time trying.

 

Meg dabbed perfume in her cleavage—well, what cleavage she had, anyway. Compared to tacky Terra, she was practically flat.

Excitement sizzled through her veins. She patted the seduction book and said a little prayer. It’d been so long since she’d had sex, she was almost giddy. She picked up the giant economy-sized bottle of chilled wine, two glasses, and headed for the beach.

The double handful of condoms she’d tucked into her bra gave her bustline an interesting, though lumpy, appearance and scratched with each step.

Finally she reached her destination. She set the bottle and glasses aside and spread her blanket on the sand, then sat down to wait. Moonlight gilded the water. Tonight the beauty escaped her; the waves did not work their soothing magic. Each lap on the shore was another minute she waited alone.

She felt the vibration before she saw them. Rider and horse moved as one entity, coming ever closer with each powerful beat.

Moonlight bronzed Tyler’s bare chest, his powerful muscles rippling the awesome expanse of smooth skin. Atop his golden head was the ever-present hat. As he drew closer, she saw he wore cutoff jeans and…boots?

The horse stopped. Tyler alighted in one graceful movement to stand before her in all his magnificent glory. Wow. She hoped she didn’t blow her chance.

Her gaze traveled hungrily over his incredible body, causing her to worry about her physical shortcomings. Even his legs were beautiful.

“Nice boots,” she said and then winced. Smooth, Meg, smooth.

Tyler appeared not to notice. His grin flashed white. “You like ’em? They’re my beach boots.”

“Beach boots?” Was he kidding?

“Yep. Had ‘em made special just to wear here.” He hefted one leg, the boot close to her face. “Eel.”

She could only nod, having a direct view up the leg of his cutoffs. It thrilled her to see he was commando beneath his shorts. She took that as a good sign.

While he settled on the blanket, she reached for the wine and glasses.

“I missed you this weekend,” Tyler said close to her ear.

Her stomach flip-flopped at the thought. He’d actually noticed she wasn’t around. Imagine that.

“I, um, had stuff to do.”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, leaving a burning trail of need. “I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

Lordy, he had a smooth voice. Deep and rich, with just a hint of the Texas drawl that always made her hot. She shifted on the blanket, wishing she hadn’t worn the thong panties that were trying to escape the hard way.

“No. I was busy. Really.”

“Kind of lonely,” he murmured against the shell of her ear, causing the fine hairs on the back of her neck to stand at attention.

“You had Jim; you weren’t totally alone,” she said in a weak, breathy voice, then tilted her head for easier access.

His low laugh rumbled where his chest touched her ribs, setting off vibrations deep within her. “I’d never do this with Jim,” he said, then ran the tip of his tongue along the outer rim of her ear. “I’d get hairs in my teeth.”

She hoped her giggle didn’t spoil the mood, but the mental image of him dragging his tongue along the horse’s ear was just too hilarious.

In the gathering darkness, he grinned down at her. “I knew I could get a laugh out of you.” His lips brushed the tip of her nose. “Are you going to tell me your name tonight, darlin’?”

The intimate smoothness of his voice, combined with him calling her “darlin’”, almost broke her resolve. Almost.

She shoved the chilled wine bottle between them, gaining some distance. “Why don’t you pour the wine while I think about it?”

Wine splashed into the goblets, the surf and Jim’s occasional snorts the perfect counterpoint.

Tyler dug a little hole next to the blanket and sunk the bottle to keep it upright and then turned back to her, his glass raised. “What are we drinking to?”

His light eyes reflected the moonlight. She swallowed and racked her mind for an answer. Finally she said, “You decide.”

He looked out at the water for a while, hat tugged low on his forehead. Then he smiled and removed his hat.

She didn’t trust that smile, but she definitely felt its heat clear to her bones. Whatever he was thinking, she instantly knew she wanted to be a part of it.

“Wagers.”

“Wagers.” She took a sip of wine. “What kind of wagers?”

“You never played strip betting?” He touched his bare chest with his spread fingers in a gesture of mock surprise.

“I don’t think you have either.” She took another sip. “I think it’s something you just made up.”

“Careful, you’ll hurt my tender feelings.” He finished his wine in one gulp and countersunk the stem in the sand. “Let me explain the rules, darlin’.” He held up his hat. “I’ll bet you I can throw my hat to hang on my saddle. If I make it, you have to take something off.”

“And if you don’t?”

He grinned. “That’s the beauty of this game. It’s a win-win proposition. If I lose, I take something off, and so on, until we’re both nekkid.”

Pressing her lips together to keep from smiling, she asked, “But what’s the purpose of the game?”

His teeth flashed in the darkness. “To get nekkid.”

She laughed. “Gee, what a surprise.” Since she had every intention of getting naked with him, she had no objections. “Go ahead. Try.”

Without looking in the horse’s direction, he let out a short, shrill whistle and threw his hat like a giant Frisbee back over his shoulder.

Jim shuffled to the side. The hat landed gracefully on the pommel.

“You cheated,” she pointed out, pouring more wine into both glasses.

“No rule says you can’t use props.” Glass rims clinked together. “Take it off,” he ordered in a raspy voice, then took a sip of wine.

“What should I take off first?” She finished her wine, hoping to muster courage.

“Lady’s choice.” He leaned back on his elbows and crossed his ankles, drawing her attention to his beach boots.

Meeting his gaze, she stood and reached beneath her skirt. With a little shimmy, the thong slid down her legs, after which she neatly stepped out of it and tossed it to the far side of the blanket.

The way Tyler looked at her was enough to make her spontaneously combust.

Sitting back on the blanket, she arranged her skirt for maximum coverage and picked up her glass. “Your turn.”

“What’s the bet?” His voice sounded choked. That was a good thing, in her opinion.

“I bet I can say the alphabet before you can finish off that glass of wine.” Before he got the glass to his mouth, she took a deep breath and began, finishing with a triumphant “…X, Y, Z!”

Tyler swallowed the last of his wine on Z. “Damn, you talk fast!” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Did I make it?”

“Nope.”

Rising, he unzipped his cutoffs, one metal tooth at a time. When he stopped, she raised an eyebrow. “If I take them off,” he said, “the game is over.”

A smile tilted her mouth; the wine was definitely giving her a buzz. Blaming the wine was preferable to the idea of Tyler causing her heart to race and the feeling of light-headedness. “No, you’d still have on your beach boots.”

“Believe me, darlin’, the boots would be no hindrance. Maybe you should take something else off…just to make it fair.”

A ripple of awareness flushed her from head to toe.

With deliberate, slow movements, she unlaced the front of her knit tank top. The front popped open, revealing her lace-covered breasts.

In a flash, Tyler had her in his arms, tugging the top down her arms and tossing it aside.

“Maybe we should kiss a while, to cool down,” he said against her lips.

Although kissing Tyler made her anything but cool, she was game. She slid her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down the last millimeter to initiate the kiss.

Laying her back on the blanket, he covered her with his hard body, taking command of the kiss. His hand snaked into her bra cup and held up a condom package.

“My own personal condom dispenser. How did you know I needed one?” He grinned, wiggled his eyebrows, and said, “I like it.”

His boot heel clicked against her ankle, causing her to wince.

Breaking the kiss, she dared, “I bet you can’t take off your boots without using your hands.”

He leaned back and smiled. “Nope. And neither can you take off your skirt that way.” He sat up and tugged off both boots in record time and then looked pointedly at her. “Game over. Skirt. Off.”

Knees wobbling, she stood and tucked her thumbs under the elastic waistband of her pink gauze skirt. Ever so slowly, she lowered the skirt. Cool sea breeze caressed her hips and navel. The skirt inched lower.

Gaze locked with his, she let the skirt drop to her feet. A fine mist from the Gulf glazed her skin, whispered across her exfoliated folds.

The next instant, Jim whinnied and knocked into Tyler, pitching him forward. His head hit Meg’s abdomen, knocking her flat on the blanket.

Tyler did a face plant between Meg’s thighs, up close and personal.

M eg looked at the back of Tyler’s head, too stunned to react. Too mortified to move.

Behind Tyler, Jim pranced backward on the beach as though he were very pleased with what he’d just done.

Tyler smiled against her tender flesh. At least, it felt like he smiled.

She jerked. Was that his tongue?

He caressed her thighs, relaxing her muscles, hands moving higher until he coaxed her to spread her legs.

His warm, velvety tongue stroked her labia, pausing at the front to swirl around her distended nub.

He placed a tender kiss where all her nerve endings centered, screaming for more.

Their gazes locked.

“Tell me your name.” His hot breath bathed her weeping flesh.

Resisting an insane urge to clamp her legs together, she managed a shaky, whispered, “No.”

He reached for the wine bottle. The aroma registered at the same time the cool liquid trickled between her legs. His eager tongue lapped every last drop, and then he sucked the nub until she arched off the blanket, leaving her weak and needy. And so close to the verge of what could very well be her first genuine climax her teeth ached.

“More,” she finally said in a choked voice.

He stood and shucked his shorts while she watched in rapt fascination.

His skin was almost blinding white from midthigh to waist. Although she tried to avoid staring, her gaze kept coming back to his impressive…assets. Said assets were in fine form, jutting from a nest of sandy curls.

“That’s it,” he said, obviously following her line of vision. “Dispenser.” He held out his hand. When she just looked at the tip of his fingers, he wiggled them and said, “Condom! Give me a damn condom!”

In her mind she’d pictured a grand seduction, with her rolling on the condom on in a slow, torturous path.

Reality was quite different.

With a strangled sound, he yanked a condom out of her bra, the weather-proof edge of the wrapper scraping her sensitive skin. He ripped it open with his teeth and, in the blink of an eye, was sheathed and ready for action.

It was all very impressive, and she would have told him so, but before she could draw a breath, he hooked his hands on her shoulders, spreading her legs wider with his knees.

In one powerful thrust, he entered her. Immediately, he began plunging. Deeper. Harder.

Her breath hitched. Before she realized it, her orgasm rushed up to meet her, nearly drowning her in a tidal wave of release.

In the moonlight she caught a glimpse of Tyler’s smile and rallied her strength.

He wasn’t going to get away that easy. Gone were the days of sexual submission. I am woman, hear me roar. She was going to be in charge of her own destiny—and it started with controlling her climax.

Hooking her heels behind his back, she neatly flipped him over and sat astride him. Unhooking the front clasp of her bra, she dropped her pile of condoms onto his chest. “Dispense your own condoms, cowboy.” She did an experimental wiggle that elicited a groan from both of them.

She dropped the bra to the blanket and leaned forward for him to take her nipple into his hot mouth.

His suckling caused wetness to gush around their joined bodies. Of their own accord, her hips began moving, picking up the cadence of Tyler’s, adding little circles when the thought struck her.

 

Tyler licked his lips and watched moonlight glisten on the wet nipples of the woman who rode him with such enthusiasm. He’d never considered himself a breast man, but the delicious, wicked taste of her had him wanting to howl at the moon.

He reached to nip lightly at the tips, his ab muscles vibrating with the prolonged effort, and was rewarded with the hitch in her breath and faster thrusts of her hips.

The woman was a goddess. Bathed in moonlight, head thrown back in hedonistic enjoyment, she took his breath away.

Mentally going through every statistic he could think of to prolong the agony of his ecstasy, he was almost out of control when he felt her inner contractions.

Her back arched, nipples jutting toward the inky sky, throat corded. Her breath hitched, her knees clenching his hips.

He followed her lead, coming with a force flat-out alien to him until that moment.

Weak. He was too weak to move, much less speak. But as soon as he rallied, he would tell her how special it was—how special she was. Surely that would cause her to at least tell him her name. What transpired between them could not have been one-sided.

Cool. Cool air bathed him. Why was she getting up? He smiled to himself. Bet she’s getting another condom, the little hottie.

Rustling on the other side of the blanket drew his attention, but his eyelids were still too heavy.

His hat plopped over his cock.

Startled, he opened his eyes to find her dressed, smiling down at him, her face in shadow.

“Thanks for the ride, cowboy.” She bent to pick up her belongings. “I needed that. Bring the blanket tomorrow night for a repeat performance.” With that, she turned to walk away and then glanced back. “Good job. You actually stayed in the saddle for more than eight seconds!”

T yler lay there with his hat protecting what little modesty he had left while he struggled to gather enough strength to respond and go after her. Or open both eyes or move his arms.

Good thing he’d retired. He was getting old; the thought goaded him. Then he thought of her unbridled response and breathless enthusiasm and grinned. He may not be as good as he once was, but he was as good once as he ever was.

His smile faltered.

She still hadn’t told him her name. Damn! It had happened again! Anonymous sex. And here he’d thought he’d succeeded in turning over a new leaf. He’d thought she was different.

Hard on that thought, another more disturbing one occurred.

Was this what his love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude felt like to his many faceless women? Worse, would he be just another hitch on her bedpost, a faceless victim?

Maybe she didn’t want him to know her name because she never planned to have anything more than meaningless sex with him.

With slow movements, he managed to drag his carcass off the blanket and get dressed. He picked up the remaining condoms and stuffed them in the pocket of his shorts then sat to pull on his boots.

Damn. Being a sex object was hell. He felt cheap. And used. He didn’t like it.

He reached for Jim’s reins, avoiding eye contact.

Jim snuffled and sidestepped when Tyler placed his foot in the stirrup, dragging Tyler by one foot in a circle.

“Cut it out!” He swung into the saddle. The horse shook its head. “Just shut up,” he told Jim, “and take me home.”

 

Meg stood beneath the pulsing shower and attempted to wash away the humiliation. She’d always despised the slam, bam, thank you, ma’am type of sex, yet she’d been guilty of it tonight.

Wrenching off the water, she grabbed her towel and stepped from the tiny shower stall. The terrycloth of her towel irritated her abraded flesh, still tender from Tyler’s five-o’clock shadow. The very thought of him brought back instant recall, causing her to squirm with need.

What possessed her to get up and leave when what she really wanted to do was ride him and have her wicked way with him until the sun came up? And stay in his arms while she slept?

Her lotion did little to cool her heated skin. Even her lightest nightgown weighed heavily on her.

Restless, she wandered around the tiny cottage she’d called home for the last two years.

Originally a beach house for summer and holiday use, the owners had moved away a decade before, deeding it back to the original owners, who chose to lease it instead of sell it outright. Meg always dreamed of persuading them to sell it to her. Now that wouldn’t happen.

Mrs. Edwards owned the entire cove. Now that she’d gone into partnership with Attila, any hope Meg had of persuading her otherwise was squashed flatter than the seagull under the tractor she’d seen yesterday.

She trailed a finger along the intricately carved molding of the chair rail in the miniscule kitchen. Opened a Cup-o-Soup and drank it cold. It was time to get used to not having conveniences like microwaves and electricity.

If Roger found out the identity of the grim reaper, she would need to find a good, sturdy cardboard box and a dry underpass.

At her desk the next morning, Meg looked up to see Tyler strolling through the door. Just the sight of him caused moisture to surge in places that had no business surging. Not here, anyway. And certainly not now.

Slumping behind her monitor, she fought the desire to peek at his gorgeous backside while he spoke to tacky Terra.

A moment later he stepped through Attila’s door and shut it with a final click.

“He’s gay, you know,” Terra said when Meg sat back up.

Memories of their own brand of “sex on the beach” had Meg biting back a smile. “Really? What makes you think so?”

Terra smirked and leaned back in her chair, thrusting forward her augmented chest provocatively. “No straight man fails to notice these babies.”

Well, you paid good money for them, isn’t that what you wanted? “Uh, maybe he just isn’t interested.”

The other woman snorted.

“Maybe he has a girlfriend.” Her thoughts that morning were definitely focused on a committed relationship.

“That wouldn’t stop him,” Terra said with a confidence that really began to grate on Meg.

It certainly hadn’t stopped Roger, that was for sure. Would Tyler be any different? Miserable at the thought, she grabbed her bag and said, “I’m going to take an early lunch,” and left.

 

Tyler walked out of Roger’s office, determined to introduce himself to the dark-haired receptionist and ask her to lunch. So what if she reminded him of his mystery lover? Maybe he’d just developed a thing for brunettes. Besides, he needed to get on with his plan for turning over a new leaf.

Last night had been a mistake. Hell, his whole relationship—if that’s what you could call it—with the mystery woman had been a mistake, as far as he could tell.

He needed some damage control.

Her desk was empty.

“Where is she?” he asked the blonde.

“Gone to lunch.” She leaned over so far her overinflated boobs threatened to escape the dangerously low neck of her sweater.

A mental image of them floating toward the ceiling like helium balloons had him biting back a smile.

The blonde batted her equally fake eyelashes, obviously misunderstanding his facial expression. “Anything I can do for you, sugar?”

Been there, done that. “No, thanks.” He donned his Stetson and stepped into the sunshine.

The brunette had to be close by. He would just find her and strike up a conversation.

 

Meg saw Tyler squinting through the plate glass of the sandwich shop and choked on the last bite of her turkey sandwich. Jumping up, she ran for the ladies’ room. When she ventured back out a few minutes later, he was gone.

Refilled Coke in her hand, she paid her bill and peered up and down Main Street before venturing back to the office.

Facing Tyler by light of day and introducing herself was inevitable.

Just not today.

 

Tyler shifted in his saddle, the creaking leather failing to relax muscles strung tight with apprehension.

Weak. When it came to his beach babe, it was a condition to fit every situation.

Thoughts of her made him weak, throwing right out the window any resolve he’d made to avoid another anonymous sexual encounter. Kissing her made him weak. Hell, sex with her not only made him weak, it damn near put him in a coma.

And he craved that weakness again. And again. And again.

He may not believe in love at first sight, but he knew damn straight about lust at first sight. And he had the near-constant hard-on to prove it.

The waves washed to the shore, bathed in the glow of the moonlight.

He shifted in the saddle, disgusted for even thinking the sound of waves made him horny. It was his overactive imagination that did it. He could just picture the two of them frolicking, naked, in the surf. Taste the salt of the waves on her tits. He would lift her, her legs going around his waist, her hot, wet center teasing his cock…

“Shit! Where the hell is she?” He flexed his thigh and leaned to turn Jim for one more ride down the beach.

Jim had other ideas.

With a snort the horse trotted backward a few steps, shaking his head.

Tyler clicked his tongue.

Jim looked back over his shoulder as if to say, “Are you kidding me?”

“I know, boy, I’m tired, too. Just once more down the beach. Then we’ll call it a night.”

That’s when he looked up and saw her.

Partially hidden in the shadow of a swaying palm tree, she stood, bare feet braced apart on the sand, the Gulf breeze ruffling the thin, pale fabric of her sundress.

He and Jim sauntered closer.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

Her lips tilted in a faint smile. At least, he thought it was a smile; could have been a shadow.

“Tyler,” she said in a low, suggestive voice that started his blood to boiling, “you know where you’re concerned, I always come.”

His cock jumped to attention at the double entendre.

He slid from the horse and into her waiting arms. Home. It felt like home to be held close to her again.

A flex of his hips bumped his erection against her. Arms firmly around her, he brushed kisses across her cheeks and the tip of her nose before he settled into a properly efficient welcome kiss.

Dragging his lips down the side of her neck, he said, “Let’s go for a ride on the beach.”

She sighed. “I was thinking about a different kind of ride,” she said, dragging her hand down his side to cup the bulging fly of his jeans.

“We can do that, too.” He went for the land speed record in shucking his jeans. It took some work to get them off over his boots, but finally he stood before her in nothing but his hat and boots.

Hands on hips, she gave him a thorough once-over that practically had him falling to his knees begging for more.

“You do realize how ridiculous you look, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah?” He took a step closer, grabbing the hem of her dress before she could get away. In one movement it was up and over her head. He tossed it to land like a giant white parachute skidding across the sand.

Now it was his turn to stare. His heart squeezed. If this wasn’t love, it was the damnedest case of lust he’d ever encountered. But he didn’t want to scare her, so he simply said, “Nice panties. Lose them.”

“B—but then I’ll be naked.” Her hands fluttered as though she were thinking about shielding her breasts from his hungry eyes. “And the saddle…”

Granted, not everyone was as comfortable in the saddle as he was, so he dragged the blanket from their other encounter from the saddlebag and folded it to cover his big Western saddle. “How’s that?” Before she could answer, he had relieved her of her panties and grasped her beneath the arms, hefting her onto the saddle. Excited to be sharing a moonlit ride on the beach, he swung up behind her.

It was important to share interests. She needed to learn to ride so they could enjoy their retirement.

He clicked his tongue and Jim set off at a sedate walk. Tyler took advantage of their leisurely pace to run his hands appreciatively over the woman nestled against his rock-hard erection.

But when he cupped her breasts, flicking the pebbled nipples with the tips of his thumbs, she stiffened and swatted his hands away.

“Don’t you think you should keep your hands on the wheel…or whatever it is you hang on to on a horse?”

Chuckling, he leaned down to nuzzle her neck. “I’m a professional.” His words were muffled against the sweet, soft skin. “So is Jim. I don’t have to hold on to anything I’m not inclined to hold.”

“Oh.”

“Relax.” His left hand squeezed and massaged her breast while he snaked his other arm around to slide his fingers along her seam and fondle the hidden nub. After a few more steps, her stiffness subsided.

His didn’t.

“Uh, Tyler?”

“Hmmm?” Damn, he loved the little shimmy she did in response to him dragging his tongue along the side of her neck.

“Maybe we should stop and, um, put the blanket to, ah, better use?”

He released her breast to cup her cheek, turning her head for his kiss. “Trust me,” he whispered against her lips.

Once again cupping her breast, he leaned her forward, his eager cock straining for the warm wetness of her pussy.

He knew he should be wearing a rubber. It didn’t matter.

He knew they were taking a chance. It didn’t matter.

He knew there was a very real possibility of making a baby with a woman who wouldn’t even tell him her name. It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was pushing into the silky wetness he craved.

One flex of his hips had him buried to the hilt. Already her greedy opening was sucking his cock deeper, her inner contractions making it difficult not to allow his dick to do a little, happy dance.

He must’ve squeezed his thighs with his next thrust, because Jim began to trot.

His lover gave a surprised shriek, grasping the pommel in a white-knuckled death grip.

Just as he was about to rein Jim in, they got into the rhythm of the trot with each thrust. It felt interesting. The trot picked up speed. It felt stimulating. Jim trotted faster. Excitement built. The woman wiggled her ass against him, initiating deeper penetration. Tyler couldn’t help it. He flexed his thighs with his final thrust as they shouted their climax.

Jim broke into a canter, disconnecting their bodies, and then lurched into a full gallop.

S he screamed and shot up out of the saddle like she was thinking about jumping off. At this speed, she would do some real damage.

He clamped his arm around her midsection and hugged her back against him while he groped for the reins. “Lean down and hold on!”

“No, sir!” Her voice carried back to him on the wind rushing past them. “That’s what got us into this mess in the first place!”

He squeezed Jim’s sides with his knees and leaned, guiding the runaway horse into the shallow water.

The cooler water of the Gulf must’ve brought Jim to his senses, because he came to an abrupt halt, tossing them headfirst into the deeper water.

They broke the surface at the same time, gasping for air.

She shoved her sopping hair from her face, coughing.

“Are you all right?” Tyler tried not to kick her with his boots while he treaded water.

She nodded. “Now what?” she finally said.

His boot touched sand and he stood, drawing her to him, pulling her close between his spread legs. “The water doesn’t seem as cold as it did at first. Why don’t we just relax for a minute?”

Beneath the water, his cock was making a rapid recovery.

“Ever made love in the ocean?” He trailed nibbling kisses along her neck.

“N—no.” The waves bumped her gently against his aroused torso. She looked up, her eyes wide in the moonlight. “Again?”

He shrugged and nodded.

She shrieked and jumped up, her legs wrapped around his waist. “Something’s in the water!”

He laughed, knowing deep inside he would protect her with his life if she was right. “Probably lots of ‘somethings,’ darlin’.”

He felt her relax, her body gliding with his in the rhythm of the surf. Soon she returned his kisses with building enthusiasm, squirming against his sex, practically climbing on top of him.

It was only natural that he grab her waist to lift her and then bring her down on his cock. Just as it was only natural for her to cling tighter and sigh as he slid in and out of her with the lazy cadence of the waves.

Their orgasm took them both by surprise. One minute they were smoothly copulating, letting the water do its magic. The next, a tidal wave of release washed over them, threatening to drown them in sensation and possibly even saltwater.

Weak, they staggered toward the shore, where Jim now waited.

She looked around. “I should go home. It’s late.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. You don’t have to work or anything, do you?” Suddenly her leaving was the last thing in the world he wanted. “Let’s dry off and look for the blanket.” Despite his best intentions, he ran his hands from her shoulders to knees and back up, sluicing water from her smooth skin.

“It’ll turn up, sooner or later.”

“What about your dress and panties?” While the idea of her walking down the beach in her birthday suit held infinite appeal for him, he knew he would want to gouge out the eyes of anyone who witnessed her trek.

She came closer, the tips of her breasts poking his chest, and brushed her lips over his. “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“You know, we really should shower all the saltwater off. You could wash my back.”

She grinned and lightly punched his shoulder. “What a guy.” She leaned in to kiss him again and whispered, “I’d much rather wash your front.” Her hand sought—and found—him ready for her again.

At her surprised look, he assured her, “We don’t have to make love again. We could talk.” Yeah, right. He wasn’t sure he could “just talk” to her even if someone threatened to cut off his left nut.

“Tyler,” she said in a singsong voice, “You lie.” She laughed. “And we don’t make love. We have sex. Just sex.”

Okay, he would let that one slide. For now. “Tell me your name.”

Trailing one finger along his flagpole erection in an idle caress, she said, “What difference does it make? Why can’t we just enjoy what we have for as long as we have it?”

How many times had he said those very words? Now he wondered if he’d sounded as condescending. Damn, he hated being a sex object.

But if that’s all she wanted…that was what she would get.

He hauled her close to his excited sex. “Want to relive your misspent youth?”

“Excuse me?”

He tweaked her nipple, causing her to squirm in his arms. She may be new territory to explore, but he had the road map hardwired into his DNA.

Sweeping her into his arms, he strode to a beach shower and pulled the chain, dousing them both in tepid water.

Yanking it again, he rubbed against her wet torso, his erection bumping against her.

Satisfied that the sand and saltwater were reasonably washed away, he swung her up into his arms again and whistled for Jim to follow their progress up the beach to his grandmother’s house.

By the time they’d gotten their clothes and reached the stables and had put Jim up for the night, the muscles in his legs and arms were beginning to vibrate. No doubt about it, he was getting old. There was a time he would have done what they did all night and gone back for more. Now he would like a nap.

Of course, he couldn’t tell the sexy little number by the door how much she sapped his energy. He had promised her a walk down memory lane. He snatched a can of cocoa butter and a can of spray cheese from the shelf and led her toward his truck.

One red-hot memory coming up.

 

Meg let Tyler pull her out of the warmth of the stable, allegedly to relive a teenage memory. By the look in his eye, she would say his memories were a lot more interesting than hers.

While he’d curried Jim, she’d eyed the hay and conjured up a few fantasies of her own. Since she and Tyler were temporary, she wanted to create as many memories as she could.

Heck, if Tyler thought she’d been a wild bad girl as a teenager, who was she to argue?

At the truck, he threw open the passenger’s side front and back doors and patted the backseat, his grin white in the moonlight. “Hop in, sweet thing.”

She hesitated. How did one go about climbing into a leather backseat while naked? Not for the first time, she wished she weren’t vertically challenged.

Hard hands bracketed her waist, hoisting her to sit on the warm leather. It felt kind of…interesting.

Tyler grabbed a towel from the front seat and brushed the dirt and leaves from the bottoms of her feet. Sitting next to her, he took off his soaked boots and dried his feet, letting the boots drop to the ground. “Don’t want to get my truck muddy.”

She scooted back to allow him more room. He would have none of that.

Grasping her ankles, he said, “Okay, darlin’, let’s see if we can burn up a few of those old memories.” He turned her and placed one foot on the backseat back and one on the front-seat back, exposing her in the most intimate way possible. “Relax,” he said, patting her between her spread legs. “I won’t do anything you haven’t done before.”

Wanna bet? Embarrassment at her position and her renewed wetness warred with curiosity as to what he would do. Curiosity won.

He tsked and shook his head. “Such dry skin. Probably from too much saltwater. Lucky for you I have just the thing to help.” He held up a tan jar and dipped in his fingers. He plopped a large glob of whatever it was on her abdomen and began to thoroughly massage it into her stomach and breasts, paying particular attention to her nipples.

When she tried to squirm, he grabbed her foot and slabbed on another dollop of the thick cream. “Such rough heels. Good thing I found this cocoa butter.” After working in the butter on both feet and up her inner thighs, he thoroughly massaged the remaining ointment into her folds. As wet as she was, it was a miracle the butter didn’t slide right off.

She whimpered when he stopped, but she shouldn’t have worried.

He produced a can and wiggled his eyebrows. “I don’t have any whipped cream. Guess spray cheese will have to do.” He designed little rosettes on each nipple and then licked and suckled off the warm cheese.

Blowing on each recently cleaned nipple, he paused. “Hot damn, you’re gorgeous, woman.” His smile looked almost tender. “Thank you for letting me keep the door open so the dome light could stay on.”

Strangling on her arousal, she could only nod and wait to see what he would do next.

It wasn’t a long wait.

Warm cheese filled each fold, then Tyler made a big production of licking off every eager cell of skin weeping for his attention.

So close to an earth-shattering orgasm, she bucked her hips against his mouth, silently begging for release. But he wasn’t finished yet.

Against the ever-present background of the surf, the squirting cheese was loud. Tyler circled his erection with a halo of yellow processed-cheese spread and then proceeded to totally encase his penis.

By the time he’d finished his masterpiece, her mouth was watering. She’d always felt oral sex with other partners less than appealing. But since meeting Tyler, she’d had a definite change of heart.

When he knelt by her head, one finger leisurely stroking her breast and commanded in a hoarse whisper, “Eat me.” She found she was more than ready, willing, and oh-so-able.

T yler gritted his teeth and focused on moving air in and out of his deprived lungs while his beach babe threatened to suck his cock dry. He would have been fine had she not decided to play with his balls while she sucked and licked and…well, you get the idea.

In an effort to prevent embarrassing himself—damn, it felt good!—he reached between her still spread legs and drew patterns in the swollen wet folds, occasionally foraying to her engorged nub or dipping into her wetness just to hear her moan.

Wait. That was him moaning.

He got between her legs and nudged her feet back up onto the seats for greater access, positioned himself, and, with one powerful thrust, was home.

Afterward he lay there, sprawled on top of her, too weak to move. What was it about this woman? He should move. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. But his body wasn’t obeying his mental signals.

Propped on shaking elbows, body still joined with hers, he brushed away a strand of hair that clung to her damp forehead. Unable to resist, he kissed her, then rested his own damp forehead against hers. “Bring back any high school memories?” Stupid, it was the first thing he thought to say, and as soon as it was out of his mouth, he regretted it. He didn’t want to be compared and found lacking to any of her past lovers.

She wiggled, and he promptly reversed their positions so he could take their weight.

Damn, I could stay right here forever, he thought, loving the way her fingertip drew little circles over his heart, the warmth of her breath caressing his skin.

“I don’t think I had the same experiences in high school that you had,” she finally said and then sighed. “I was actually pretty shy.”

He snickered, and she pulled one of his few chest hairs.

“Ouch!” He rubbed his chest, capturing her hand before it could do any more damage. Their gazes met. “What’s your name?”

Instead of answering him, she scooted out of the truck and started walking away.

“Wait!” He scrambled off the seat and looked around for his boots. “Wait! I’ll take you home.”

“That’s okay,” she called back over her shoulder as she bent to retrieve her dress. “It’s not far.”

“How ’bout I walk you home?” He hopped to get his foot in his waterlogged boot.

“No, thanks!” she called from farther down the beach.

Standing there at dawn, buck naked, with one boot on, it hit him.

He loved her.

M eg watched Tyler ride up and down the beach the next night from the safety of her cottage. Yes, she was a chicken. Yes, she would love nothing better than to go meet him and replay their beach-blanket boinking. And any and every subsequent boinking. But it wasn’t going to happen.

She had to protect her heart.

It would be too easy to fall in love with Tyler Last. Too easy to crawl into bed with him and forget the future of the beach without her support. And that wouldn’t be fair to anyone who loved the beach as she did.

A tear trickled down her cheek when Tyler finally turned Jim and headed back down the beach.

Alone in her bed, sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned, flipped and flopped. The covers were heavy, her nightgown oppressive, her body empty.

She threw back the covers and hopped out of bed. Before she could talk herself out of it or remember all the reasons why it was a bad idea, she found herself standing in Miss Hannah’s kitchen, the spare key the older woman had given her for emergencies clutched in her fist.

Around her, the big old house was quiet. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the entryway made a soft counterpoint to the beating of her heart. The wood risers of the stairs cooled the bottoms of her bare feet. The air clicked on, making her glad she’d left her nightgown in the kitchen, as she felt the cool air swirling over her heated skin, pebbling her nipples.

She knew instinctively which room was Tyler’s, even without the leather bag with the Stetson on top next to the door.

Wrong. It was a bathroom. A big bathroom. Almost as large as her bedroom at the cottage.

A sound at the door had her gasping and spinning to face the intruder.

Tyler leaned against the doorway, one arm braced above his head, his white boxers riding low on his lean hips. “Lord, if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.” He took a step into the room. “Where were you tonight?” He stretched his arm to flip on the light.

“Don’t!” Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Her seduction plan would be so much easier to carry out in the darkness. “I, um, couldn’t make it tonight.” Her gaze drank in the sight of his gorgeous body, her womb aching for his touch. “But I had to see you.” She walked until her bare breasts touched his firm pectorals. “Touch you.” She ran her fingertip up the side of his ribs to swirl around his flat nipple. On tiptoe, she brushed her lips across his. “Kiss you,” she whispered against his mouth.

His arms locked around her, lifting her from her feet, aligning her with his aroused body. His mouth clamped onto hers, demanding entrance, withholding nothing.

His hands were everywhere.

Cool wall tile touched her back. He tore his lips from hers and drew her breast into his hot mouth, suckling so hard she felt it all the way to the soles of her feet.

She whimpered with need when he released her breast, cool air on her wet nipple amplifying the loss as he placed her legs around his waist.

His mouth took hers in another bone-melting kiss, spinning her senses out of control.

His iron-hard erection shoved its way into her eager body. Immediately he began to move, each thrust pounding into her, bumping her hips against the cold hardness of the tile in a delicious counterpoint to his passion.

Climbing his body, she went wild with need. Her womb clamped like it was attempting to suck him into her very core.

Wave after wave of pure pleasure washed over her. So powerful it brought tears to her eyes.

A millisecond later, Tyler’s hard body became impossibly harder as every muscle clenched with the power of his release. With a roar he slammed into her one last time and then shuddered.

Weak in the aftermath, Meg hung there, impaled against the wall, grateful for the support.

Before she could recover, Tyler leaned, still deeply embedded, and turned on the shower.

Still joined, he kicked away his boxers and stepped with her into the rapidly filling, plugged tub. Water sluiced over her, wetting her hair, blurring her vision, while he resumed his feast on her mouth.

His hard hands clamped beneath her arms and lifted her until her nipples were level with his mouth.

Meg’s senses began to reassert themselves, frustration building due to her position.

Before she could speak, he reclaimed her lips and turned off the shower.

Kissing, they lowered into the water, where he began a very thorough bathing.

“I could definitely get used to this,” Meg murmured, head lolled against the back of the old-fashioned tub, eyes closed while Tyler soaped her breasts with talented hands.

He rinsed the soap and licked her nipples. “How about this?” he asked, his breath hot against her skin.

“Mmm-hmmm,” She tried not to squirm with her newfound lust.

Something hard and slippery entered her, causing her to sit straighter.

“Relax,” he crooned.

She opened her eyes. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but she could’ve sworn his eyes blazed into hers.

His hand held a long, slippery object. It appeared to be an elongated bar of soap. He slid it around her folds, paying special attention to her now aching nub. Her hips bucked a couple of times.

He petted her, quieted her movements. “Easy, baby, easy.” He guided her hand to his jutting penis. “Here. Hold on to this while we get you rinsed off, okay?”

In reply she gave a little squeeze that had him groaning.

He splashed water over her nether regions, judiciously sliding one finger, then two, then three into her in his effort to rid her of every trace of soap.

She would have kept what dignity she had left intact, had he not chosen that moment to wiggle his deeply embedded fingers. She screamed—actually screamed—as her climax washed over, threatening to drag her under the water with its ferocity.

Before she caught her breath, he flipped the tub stopper and arranged her limp legs on either side of the lip of the tub. The action brought her hips up to the exact level of his mouth.

What a happy coincidence.

Her fingers dug into the lip of the tub while Tyler’s mouth and tongue took her up and over the threshold two more times.

Spent, and so sexually sated she could purr, it was an effort to open her eyes when he lifted her out of the tub. Tyler’s version of drying was more caressing by terry cloth, but her muscles were now so weak she was just grateful to be still standing.

He sat on the closed lid of the commode, his monster erection still obvious, and reality hit her, along with a tiny niggle of excitement.

Payback time.

She dropped to her knees on the plush contour rug and reached for the part of his anatomy literally leaping to attention.

His hands clamped down on her shoulders, halting her short of her intended target. “Stop.”

Stop? Didn’t her want her to pleasure him? “Why?”

“Because I’m about near to shooting my load.” He grinned and tugged her to her feet. “I don’t want to waste it.”

She gestured to her nudity. “I didn’t bring anything, did you?” Though their passion had precluded protection before. She didn’t want to risk it again.

His shoulders slumped. It would’ve been comical, had she not felt so needy.

“The only thing I have is a hard-on.” He smirked. “The condoms are in my room.”

She made a move for the door, but he stopped her by grabbing her hand.

“I kind of like it here,” he said, pulling her toward him.

“I do, too, but if we don’t have a condom, we can’t have sex.” She hadn’t lived to be twenty-six without learning anything.

“How about if we improvise?” He reached beneath the counter and rummaged around, finally bringing out a roll of plastic wrap.

“Why does your grandmother have plastic wrap in the bathroom?”

“She wraps it around her hair when she conditions it, as I recall.” He ripped off a generous portion. “Let’s give it a try.”

Her Powers of Seduction book advised being adventurous. Why not?

Meg took the length of wrap from him and stood straddling his legs. Which, coincidently, gave him easy access to play with her while she sheathed him. He grinned and licked his lips. A definite win-win situation.

He noted that her hands shook a bit as she carefully wrapped his throbbing cock in the plastic. The heat multiplied tenfold. Beneath his questing fingers, she was slick, wet, and obviously ready.

He growled, low in his throat, when she slid her hands up and down his length.

Their gazes met.

“I’m just making sure it’s sealed,” she assured him, although he thought her lips twitched.

He grabbed her hips and aligned her opening.

“Ride me,” he demanded with a fierceness that surprised him.

S he lowered herself, inch by agonizing inch, until she’d taken all of him.

With a frustrated growl he flattened her breasts against his chest and did his damnedest to remove her tonsils the hard way. Lordy, he couldn’t get deep enough.

He grasped her tiny waist and raised her until she almost left his cock and then slammed her down again. The combined friction of her and the wrap made him feel as if he might burst into flames. He increased the pace of their combined thrusts. Faster. Harder. Again and again.

His need was a living, breathing thing. He wanted to bury himself so she didn’t know where he ended and she began.

Frantic to touch and taste every inch of her, he was aware on some level of a difference. No matter what she claimed, this was not just sex. It was more.

So much more.

He had to make her understand.

And admit it.

Her thighs clamped his, her slender back arched. Her scream when she came echoed from the tiles of the bathroom walls.

The sound, the feel, the smell, the taste all conspired to wrench his climax from him.

Weak. God, he was so weak. What did sex with this woman do to him? He couldn’t remember ever being so wrung out.

On his lap, she stirred and began to rise. He wanted to tell her to stop. Wanted to tell her how special she was to him. Wanted to tell her to wait for him to catch his breath, that he was just out of shape.

Instead cool air bathed his sweating skin.

“Tyler?” Her voice didn’t sound as winded as he felt. “Tyler!” Damn. She sounded odd.

He cracked open one eye. “Huh?”

“Where’s the plastic wrap?”

B oth gazes flew to his penis, which looked sort of bare and vulnerable, just hanging there, exposed.

Shit. His first thought fell out of his mouth. “You had it last.”

“Are you kidding?” She motioned toward something, but he was too distracted by the bobbing of her breasts. “Do something!”

Do something. Right.

“Now, don’t get all riled up.” He stood and walked toward her. “Let me help you.” He dropped to the floor, the tile grinding into his kneecaps. He petted her thighs apart. “That’s it, baby, relax. Don’t move.”

He inserted a finger, ignoring the hot, slick moisture, and tentatively moved his fingertip.

She gasped but did not move.

“I think I feel the edge. Move your foot a little that way.” He nudged her leg, and she obeyed. Inserting the index finger of his other hand, he was able to grasp the edge.

By the time he dragged the mess from her delectable body, his hand was drenched, and they were both experiencing altered breathing.

He loved her. It didn’t matter if he didn’t know her name. It didn’t matter if she loved him back. It didn’t matter if they didn’t make love again. He loved her.

And nothing would ever be the same.

He watched her breasts rise and fall with her shallow panted breathing, the hard, puckered tips of her nipples. The unmistakable flush of sexual arousal colored her pale skin.

He flipped on the light.

Yep, her eyes were unfocused. She licked her lips, a pained expression on her face.

She was hurting, needy. He could help her. He twisted the faucets.

Lifting her into the refilled tub, he gently bathed her heated skin, smoothing body wash until she was restless and panting, shifting against the slick surface of the tub.

Beneath the water he petted her, calmed her, then, ever so slowly, inserted his finger, worrying the pad of his thumb over her distended nub.

She arched, her nipples protruding from the water. “Please,” she said in a scratchy voice. Her hand came up to cup her breast, offering it to him.

He leaned closer to swipe his tongue over her nipple. They both groaned. He nipped the tip with his teeth, eliciting a gasp from her, although her eyes stayed closed.

Watching her face while he pleasured her, he knew if he lived to be one hundred, he would always remember her like this.

Gulping in air, she arched again, sloshing water from the tub, and then quieted.

He reached for a bath sheet and lifted her from the tub, leaning her against his side while he dried her.

After laying her on the sheets of his bed, he went to get the bottle of pear body lotion. Determined to deny his own gratification, he thoroughly massaged the lotion into her skin.

She barely roused when he climbed in beside her and pulled the sheet over them.

With a sigh she snuggled close to his heart.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard her whisper, “Meg. My name is Meg.”

S unshine streaming through the open window woke him after the best night of his life. He couldn’t stop smiling. Meg. The future mother of his children was named Meg. He stretched and reached for Meg, only to encounter cold sheets. Other than a faint indention on the other pillow and a lingering scent of pear, it was like she had never been there.

He tugged on his boxer briefs and slippers and headed toward the kitchen. As he suspected, it, too, was empty.

A key sounded in the lock, and Meg let herself into the kitchen, a grocery bag in her hand.

For a moment they stood, smiling at each other.

Tyler rallied first and reached for the bag. Her continued stare caused a telltale lump in his boxers. Then he followed her gaze and wiggled his toes.

She met his eyes and grinned. “Now, what do you call those things?”

“They’re my house boots.” He stuck out his foot. “Like ’em? Gram had them made for me for Christmas a few years ago.”

“Well, they’re unique.” She studied the brown felt. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen slippers that looked like cowboy boots.”

“Yeah, cool, huh?” He peeked into the bag. “What did you get for breakfast? What’s this?” He pulled out a big green bottle. “Champagne? For breakfast?”

She yanked the bottle out of his hand and placed it in the refrigerator. “I already made breakfast. It’s in the warming oven. I thought it might be nice to have mimosas.” She chewed her lower lips. “But if you don’t want any, I can always—”

“No, darlin’ Meg, don’t be getting all bristly on me.” He nuzzled her neck, arousal slamming through him when she tilted her head for better access. “What’ve you got planned for today?”

She went still.

He stopped nuzzling and looked at the distress on her face. “What? You got a date or something? ’Cause if you do, break it. You’re officially out of circulation.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I’m putting my brand on you.” There. He’d officially declared his intentions. Only problem, she didn’t seem too taken with the idea. Not like he’d thought she would be, anyway.

“Your—your brand! Have you totally lost your mind, cowboy? I’m not livestock!” She started to stalk past him, but he was faster. She shot him a withering look.

Used to be a time when fast was a good thing.

Damage control was needed. He stepped back and raked a hand through his hair then flashed a smile he knew had an effect on women.

Evidently, not this woman.

He huffed out a breath. “Could we start over?” He bent his knees to stare into her stormy blue eyes. “Please?”

She visibly wilted. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“True.” He smiled down at her. “Guess we need to get you over your fear of branding irons.”

“Let’s just have breakfast and discuss instruments of torture later.”

 

“Ahhh, I love the beach. No doubt about it, I could definitely get used to this.” Tyler tilted down his hat to shade his eyes and rested his mimosa on his tan belly.

Meg glanced over at him and chewed the inside of her cheek. Should she mention the potential problems with his grandmother’s project?

Tyler had been so sweet and helpful during breakfast. Floating in the pontoon lounge chairs while tethered to his grandmother’s dock was also his idea. And mimosas had never tasted so sweet.

Despite self-preservation warnings, she was more than halfway in love with Tyler. She had to share her passion about the beach just as surely as she’d shown her passion for the man floating next to her.

“I love it, too.” It was easier to talk with her eyes closed, face up to the sun. “That’s why I was so saddened by your grandmother’s decision to hook up with Roger Ferris.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” Despite his lazy tone, he had an alertness to his voice that gave her courage to continue.

“I grew up in Paradise Beach. My parents still live here. Every summer we rented a cottage here on the cove. My sister and I practically lived on the beach right up through college.” She took a sip of her drink. “It’s always been a safe haven. A family beach. But now…”

“Now?” he encouraged.

“Well, now, once the new gated community is built, the beach won’t be a family beach anymore. Access will be closed off.”

He was silent for so long she thought he may have fallen asleep. Her eyes were definitely getting heavy from the combination of the relaxing rocking of the waves, her drink, and the sun. Not to mention her sexual escapades from last night.

“Have you talked to anyone about this?”

“I tried to talk to your grandmother when she first decided to go into business with Ferris Properties. I didn’t get far.”

“Any idea who the grim reaper is?”

Jerking at the mention of her alter ego, she lost her drink to the Gulf, and only some fast strategic moves prevented her from capsizing.

“Grim reaper?” she asked when she regained her balance, trying to sound casual.

He nodded, hat still pulled low over his eyes. “Yeah, surely you’ve seen her. Or heard her god-awful squawking through her bullhorn. She’s out here almost every morning and afternoon, protesting the building.” He snorted. “For all the good it’s done her.”

“Do you agree with her?” She held her breath.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Who am I to judge anything or anybody? I’m sure she thinks she’s right. But so does Roger Ferris.”

“Roger Ferris is a slimeball!” She grasped the pontoon chair until she regained her balance again. “I mean, I’ve heard he isn’t the most reputable builder.”

“Oh?” Tyler tipped his hat and looked over at her, causing her stomach to somersault again. “Why’s that?”

She couldn’t tell him she worked for Roger and knew firsthand of his shady dealings. And she certainly couldn’t tell him she was the grim reaper. At least, not right now.

So instead she strove for nonchalance and shrugged. “I think anyone who blocks public access to Paradise Cove is a jerk, plain and simple. The beach needs it. The people need it.”

“I went and talked to Roger,” he said, once more sliding his hat low on his face. “He claims there is access—by water. Guess, legally, that’s all he has to have.”

If she told him about the fences she had seen the purchase order for last week, he would want to know how she knew. Darn.

“Not everyone has a way to get there by water,” she pointed out instead.

“True.”

They floated in silence for a while.

“Meg?”

“Hmmm?” Despite the sun charbroiling her, she was loathe to move, lethargic from the soothing tide, the champagne, and the contentment of being with the man next to her.

“I’m feeling like I could stay on for more than eight seconds now.”

She opened one eye and regarded his smiling face. If by some miracle they ended up together, she knew she would never live down that flippant remark. Her gaze swept him. She could live with that.

“What did you have in mind, cowboy?”

“I’m thinking maybe you could lose that little string you call a bathing suit and climb on over here and help me relieve some of my frustration.”

His smooth drawl stroked her senses as surely as his calloused hands had stroked her skin all through the night.

“I think we would capsize and both drown.” But what a way to go.

“Then let’s try something else,” he said right next to her ear. She jerked and would have fallen had he not gripped her chair. For a big guy, he sure moved fast. And quietly. She hadn’t even heard him slip into the water.

He slid the tips of his index fingers under the edges of her bikini top and skimmed the edges of her nipples. Her breath lodged. Her nipples immediately puckered, begging for more.

“You have the fastest hands of anyone I’ve ever known,” she said in a breathless voice, watching her top float out to sea.

“I hope so, darlin’, I surely hope so.” He closed his hands around each breast and lightly squeezed before taking one into his mouth and sucking deeply. “Damn, I love your tits,” he said, his breath hot against her nipple.

Experiencing altered breathing, she forgot to be offended by his word choice.

His talented hands slid down her sides and untied the strings holding her bikini bottom together.

She meant to protest—after all, they were in public. But instead she lifted her hips, allowing him to remove the offending fabric and toss it aside.

The warmth of the sun, combined with the warmth of the water resting at the juncture of her thighs, made her want to spread her legs for increased stimulation.

Tyler’s hand did it for her.

“Tyler—” She gripped the armrests and stiffened.

“Shhh, darlin’, you’re fine. I got you. Relax.”

And indeed he did have her. She was anchored firmly to the chair by his mouth on her right breast and his fingers buried deeply within her.

The sun, the water, the man and his talented mouth and hands…all conspired to bring her to a lightning-fast climax that left her weak and panting.

Through heavy eyelids she noticed a blob of fabric floating toward her suit that looked suspiciously like Tyler’s trunks.

The next instant, the chaise rocked crazily, then righted itself, with Tyler stretched out on top of her, his erection prodding her. His big hands on either side of her face steadied her for his bone-melting kiss.

“Hi,” he said when they broke for air, the tip of his nose touching hers.

Up close she realized his eyes were really more turquoise than blue, with little flecks of gold in them.

“Hi, yourself.” She carefully spread her legs as wide as possible to accommodate him without unseating them both. Every inch of skin pressed to Tyler’s skin burned with the contact. She wanted him. She needed him.

She loved him?

The very thought struck terror in her heart. What good was it to read the Powers of Seduction book if you fell in love with your first victim? Dang, she couldn’t do anything right.

But she couldn’t let Tyler know. She’d been the one to insist they keep it casual. There was only one thing to do. Cringing at what she was about to say, she looked him in the eye and said, “Shut up and fuck me, cowboy.”

S omething flared in Tyler’s eyes but was quickly gone. Gaze locked with hers, he replied, “Yes, ma’am,” and plunged into her with enough force to set the chair rocking in the waves.

With a squeak she grabbed his warm shoulders and held on. Within seconds the rhythm caught her up. Desperate for him and the pleasure he gave her, she gave in to her passion.

Against its tether, the chair groaned and bucked with their movements. The rope grew slack and then taut, snapping with each thrust.

Rushing to meet their climax, it hit them just as the rope gave its last hurrah, along with the chair. The resulting action plunged them deep into the boat channel beside the dock.

Saltwater burned a path down her throat through her nose. Her vision was nothing but dark green water. Popping to the surface, coughing, she saw Tyler treading water a few feet away.

He grinned, teeth white against his tanned face. “Woo-wee! Hot damn, what a ride!”

Although she agreed, it was like a slap in the face to hear him say it. But what did she expect? It was what she’d wanted. Casual, no-strings-attached sex.

Sometimes you had to be careful what you wished for.

Back onshore she wrapped a towel around her nudity, avoiding Tyler’s lascivious glances. “I really should be going.” She slipped her feet into the flip-flops she’d left by the dock. “Tomorrow is a workday, and I have a ton of laundry to do for the week.”

He looked at her so long she had to force herself to stand still and not squirm beneath his rapt gaze. Finally he nodded.

“Yeah, I have some stuff to do today, too. See you tonight?” he called as she turned to walk away.

She pretended not to hear.

 

Tyler sat on the porch watching the sunset and took a draw from his beer. Beside him the coals of the grill had turned to white dust. The steaks he’d planned for dinner were now inedible.

Where was Meg? Why the hell hadn’t he thought to get her phone number?

Maybe a miscommunication. Yeah, that had to be it. She was probably waiting for him on the beach, all that smooth, perfumed skin hot and ready for him.

Practically tripping in his rush to get to her, he went to the stable and saddled a reluctant Jim in record time.

The wind off the Gulf, the solid sound of hooves meeting packed sand, and the waves rushing to shore didn’t work their usual magic on him tonight.

Tonight, he would not, could not be soothed by anything less than holding Meg in his arms again.

He tipped his head to allow the breeze to caress his face and breathed in the sea air.

He’d done it. And it was easier than he’d thought it would be.

Not only had he made some calls and pulled strings to hopefully stop Roger Ferris from destroying the public beach, he’d sold his grandmother on the idea when she called.

But his biggest and best accomplishment, in his opinion, was that he’d succeeded in turning over a new leaf. Not only that, he’d fallen in love. And with Meg at his side, he could do anything.

After three or four passes up and down the cove, Jim’s steps slowed. By the tenth turn he headed back to the stables, and no amount of cussing or discussing could change his mind.

The night was long and lonely, but Tyler used it to plan his strategy.

First on the agenda was convincing the grim reaper to talk to him. He already had what he needed to force Roger to include a beach access road, but after talking to Meg about it, he would rather halt the project altogether. According to Tyler’s attorney, his grandmother would lose nothing, and the property would revert to her if the project folded at its current phase of completion. Maybe the grim reaper had some information he didn’t.

Next, depending on what he found out, he would head for Ferris’s office. If he could stop the development, he would. If not, he could at least get Ferris to do the access road.

Which left him free to pursue Meg and convince her to marry him. His grandmother had already given her enthusiastic blessing. He tried not to worry about the fact that he’d had a hell of a time convincing Meg to even tell him her name. She was warming up to him. He could tell.

The morning sunshine hit his sleep-deprived brain square between the eyes. Pulling his hat low to allow his eyes to adjust, he stepped out onto the beach.

Yep, there she was, pacing back and forth in front of the oblivious construction crew, yelling into her bullhorn.

He walked a circuitous path and came up behind her.

“Stop the rape of the beach!” she yelled.

He grasped her shoulder and spun her around, ripping her mask off in one fluid movement.

“Son of a fucking bitch! Meg! What the hell are you doing in that garb?” Reality hit him. “You’re the grim reaper.”

“Quick, aren’t you, cowboy?” She gave a tight smile and ducked her head.

In the blink of an eye he stood holding nothing but the insubstantial black garb. “Wait! Meg!” He took off at a run, but the sand sucked down his boots with each step.

By the time he reached the parking lot, she was gone.

Muttering every cuss word he had ever heard, he stomped back to the house.

A quick shower cooled him off somewhat. He needed to keep his head when he dealt with Ferris. Long-ago mental training from his rodeo days served a new purpose. It allowed him to put Meg at the back of his mind and focus on what had to be done. For now.

The street parking was light, so he was able to pull in his truck practically in front of Ferris Properties.

The front office was empty, but the door to Ferris’s office was ajar, and it looked like a light was on.

Tyler strode straight toward the door, sort of relieved no one else was in yet. Gripping the cool knob and pushing open the door, he had his other hand raised for a courtesy knock when he saw them.

The blonde was stretched out, nude, with her eyes tightly shut, on the top of Ferris’s desk, her grapefruit-with-nipples breasts jiggling with her movements. Between her fake-tan, spread legs, Ferris enthusiastically licked her bleached-blond pussy.

Embarrassed on Ferris’s behalf, Tyler knocked and discreetly cleared his throat.

Ferris shot out of his chair, his pants falling to his shoes, his pitiful pecker just hanging out for people to laugh at and point.

Of course, Tyler was too much of a gentleman to do that—well, these days, anyway—so he turned to look at the blonde while Ferris adjusted his clothing.

Not long ago he would have enjoyed the view of her slow movements. She sat up and actually had the balls to shoot him a sex-kitten look, skimming her hand over her more than ample boobs to pinch her own nipples. Next she dragged her hand down to pet her pussy, legs still spread wide, before she got up.

There was a time when his jeans would’ve immediately shrunk at the sight. Today, though, he could only think how abused that part of her anatomy looked. And disgusting.

Whatever Ferris had at home, it had to be better than what was spread on his desk.

Finally—finally!—the blonde stood and picked up her clothes. With slow steps she walked past him, brushing her dampness against the back of his hand as she passed.

It took great effort not to recoil and wipe his hand.

Ferris walked to shut the door and motioned Tyler to a chair. “I had a call from your attorney this morning, Last,” he said when he was once more behind the big mahogany desk. He leaned forward, his hands on the smooth surface. “You have me by the short hairs.” He glanced at the closed door. “Especially now. Tell me what you want.”

“Well, you know, right up until today I would have said a public access road.” Tyler stretched out the moment by adjusting the brim of his hat. “But now I think I want it all.” Their eyes met. “Stop the construction and sign my grandmother’s property back to her.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Sure you can.” He stood, adjusted his hat, and turned toward the door. “I think Mrs. Ferris would probably agree.” He opened the door and said over his shoulder, “You have twenty-four hours.”

The front-office phones were ringing. The blonde, now dressed and pouting, answered it as the dark-haired girl hurried through the front door.

“Meg?” Tyler willed his heart to stop beating. He didn’t want to know what she was doing here and what part she played in the whole mess.

She just stood there, looking at him with that deer-in-the-headlights look.

Had she said something, anything, he would have forgiven her. But she said not word one in her defense.

He lost it.

“I guess we really don’t know each other at all.” Anger simmered just below the surface. If he didn’t get out of there soon, he didn’t want to think about what might happen.

Despite his best intentions, he advanced on her. It sent a surge of satisfaction to see her take a step back.

“No wonder you didn’t want to tell me your name.” Another step. “Here I thought you couldn’t help yourself; you were so taken with my charm you just had to fuck my brains out.”

Behind him he heard a gasp.

“And I was so pathetic! I was actually touched—touched!—when you finally told me your name. Hey, I just noticed something. You never did tell me your last name. It isn’t Ferris, is it? ’cause I would think it would be a conflict of interest to have your lying mouth on my cock. And who knows where else it’s been!”

Tears glazed Meg’s eyes, but he was on a roll.

“Then to top it all off, I find out you’re the damned grim reaper who’s been causing all that noise pollution at the beach construction site. When I think how hard I got whenever I thought of you, and now I know all I had to do was walk out on the beach and flip up your skirt—”

“Grim reaper?” Ferris’s voice boomed from the cinder-block walls of the office. “Meg, is that true?”

She nodded, a tear trickling down her flushed cheek. Had he not been so outraged, Tyler would’ve felt sorry for her. Maybe.

“You’re fired,” Ferris said. “Get your things and get out. I’ll mail your last check.” He stalked to the door of his private office. “And don’t be surprised if you hear from my attorney.” Slam.

When Tyler turned back, Meg was running out the door. Damn, that woman was fast!

But he was faster.

He caught her arm just as she reached a tiny red car in the parking lot. She tried to jerk away, but he held tight.

“Why?” he demanded, doing his damnedest not to be affected by the sparkle of tears in her deep blue eyes.

She raised her chin. “Why not? I saw an opportunity and took it. Isn’t that what you want to hear?”

“No! I want to hear that you were in this thing we had every bit as much as I was! I want to hear you say you had nothing to do with Ferris or his shady dealings. I want to hear you say you need me—need my help, I mean.”

“Sorry. The job for knight in shining armor is antiquated. Probably been outsourced. Besides, I don’t need your help. Your help is what got me fired.” She got into the car, started the pitiful-sounding engine, and took off.

She was wrong. She did need his help. He would prove it.

But, most of all, she needed his love.

And he sure as hell couldn’t live without hers.

M eg sat on the beach drinking a flat wine cooler and wishing she could turn back time.

Tonight she sat alone. Sure, she’d done it thousands of times. But that was B.T.—before Tyler. She missed him with an ache that bordered on unbearable.

She swiped at the lone tear trickling down her cheek and tried to rouse her indignation by recalling his harsh words. But, deep down, she understood and couldn’t blame him. The facts were damning.

Roger had withdrawn his beach project, and for the last week any construction sounds were from tearing down. For some reason she suspected Tyler was to thank for that. And she would thank him.

Assuming she ever saw him again.

For over a week Miss Hannah’s house had been dark. There were no midnight rides on the beach. Both Tyler’s truck and horse trailer were gone.

Dang. She wiped at her eyes again. Why did she have to do something stupid like fall in love with the jerk?

Vibration on the sand drew her attention. As the white speck drew closer, she held her breath, afraid to trust her eyes. Besides, they kept leaking.

Horse and rider pranced up, jingling all the way. Good thing the sun had set, she thought, or all the white, silver, and sequins would blind her.

Jim’s mane was braided with jingle bells. Jingle bells surrounded each of his ankles…Well, they would if horses had ankles. Then there was Tyler….

She’d never seen such a beautiful sight. Her heart swelled just looking at him.

He reached up, moonlight sparkling from the sequined fringe on his elbow-length gloves, and held his hat high in the air while Jim stood on his hind legs.

As soon as Jim had all fours on the hard sand, Tyler jumped down and walked toward her with a dazzling smile.

She hoped the smile meant he’d forgiven her.

He stopped at the edge of the blanket and removed his hat. “Hi,” he said, his voice low. He motioned toward the blanket. “Mind if I sit down?”

“It’s never stopped you before.” She took a swig of wine cooler and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Forget I said it.”

He sat next to her but kept his distance. Darn.

“Are you drunk?”

“Nope, not yet.”

“Then I guess we should talk fast.” Removing his gloves, he tossed them into his hat at the edge of the blanket and then reached for her hand.

Through fresh tears she looked at their joined hands and prayed he wasn’t about to dump her again. She couldn’t stand it.

“Meg.” Tyler swallowed and started again. “Meg, I know I said some awful things to you at Ferris’s office. It was shock—and hurt—talking. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“You didn’t?” She sniffed and wished she had a tissue.

He shook his head. “And about that job as white knight? Would one slightly tarnished cowboy who happens to love you with all his heart and soul do?”

“Would you repeat that? Please?”

“I said would one slightly—”

“No! The last part.”

He scooted closer. “You mean the part about loving you with all my heart and soul?”

She nodded.

“I love you,” he said, close to her ear. “I think I have from the first time I laid eyes on you.” The horse snorted. “Jim loves you, too. Will you marry us?” He leaned down. “Are you laughing or crying?”

“Both.” She sniffed again and threw her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

He crushed her to him, his mouth taking hers in a carnal preview of what was to come. “Say it,” he demanded when they came up for air.

“I’ll marry you.”

He growled.

“Oh, you want to know if I love you?” She giggled, sure her happiness would make her float away at any second, had she not been anchored securely within Tyler’s embrace.

Smiling, she put her arms around his neck and played with the hair brushing his sequined collar. “Yes, I love you. I thought you would have been smart enough to figure it out by now.”

“Hey, you give me too much credit. I didn’t figure out the grim reaper. I tell you, woman, I’m pathetic.” He stood and tugged her to her feet. “Let’s go for a ride and then make love in a bed like an old married couple.”

She checked out his costume, head to sparkling toe.

“I like your boots.”

“You do?” He grinned down at her.

She nodded.

He pulled her into his embrace and nuzzled her neck and then whispered in her ear, “They’re my hero boots.”