Balen couldn’t believe it. She said yes, and now he was worried because that was way too easy. Truthfully, he was a little disappointed she didn’t make him work harder for it. Autumn didn’t seem like the type of woman to cave so quickly. It amused him that she thought he was sexting her. How sheltered was she? There were so many dirty words rolling through his head, things he’d love to say to that woman if he were sexting her.

Since that suitcase had come crashing down on his head and he’d looked up to find Autumn standing behind that frazzled blonde, Balen hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Something about that woman made him feel like he was racing head-on into a tidal wave, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d get caught in her riptide and she would pull him under.

“Bay, you made it home?” Connor called from the living room then stopped in Balen’s doorway. “Oh hey, man. About time you got back. How about you, me, and the Doublemint twins tonight? What’d ya say?”

Balen’s brother strolled into his bedroom, dripping sea water all over the place. He didn’t care that the guy had his twenty-thousand-dollar Makaha under his arm, but he did mind that he was wearing Balen’s board shorts. Bro or not, there was just some shit you shouldn’t have to share. “Stay out of my fucking drawers, man.” Balen grabbed a towel off his bed and chucked it at Connor. “You’re getting water all over the place.” He’d been gone a week and the guy acted like he owned the place.

“Fine. Jeez.” Connor propped Balen’s surfboard against the closet door and started toweling off. “You don’t have to be such a little bitch about it,” he grumbled, giving Balen shit because that’s what Connor did. He dished it out and Balen gave it right back. That was the way they rolled.

“I told you before I don’t want your junk in my trunks. Mi casa es su casa, but buy your own fucking board shorts, man.”

Connor dropped-drawers right where he stood, letting all his shit hang out. Dude had no shame whatsoever. He hooked the shorts with his toe and lobbed them toward Balen. They hit the tile floor with a splat, about four feet from their intended target. Balen swore to God if that little shit wasn’t buck-ass naked and his best friend, he’d have beaten the ever-loving hell out of him.

“So…you, me, and the twins?”

“Can’t.” Balen slipped into a shirt and started on the buttons, going with the slightly dressy but still casual look. Normally, he’d be in a wife-beater and shorts, but Ambrosia was a pretty classy restaurant, and he didn’t want to attract any more attention than he already did. “Brad’s up my ass about some goddamn sex tape. I gotta stay on the DL.”

“Yeah, he already called me. I’m taking care of it. FYI, you might want to make sure the curtains are closed when you’re staying on the ground floor.”

Balen chuckled, though in all seriousness, it really wasn’t a laughing matter. That shit had a way of coming back to haunt you. “Thanks, man.”

Connor secured the towel around his waist and shrugged. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

“To keep my dick off social media?”

“Pretty much. So, are we doing this, or what?”

“Sorry. I have a date.” He walked into the bathroom to tame his hair. It was a bit longer than he liked it, but the sponsors preferred it that way. They thought it fit the whole surfer image, so…whatever.

“Seriously?” Connor called from the bedroom.

Balen could hear him walking around in there. Dude better be putting some fucking clothes on.

“You’re not going out with me?”

Balen wasn’t sure why he cared. His brother was a good-looking guy and he did not need him to get laid. If anything, Balen hurt his game, because, well, yeah…

But there was no sibling rivalry with them. Connor was happy for Balen’s success, and Balen didn’t mind sharing the fruits of his labor. Besides, his brother was a damn good publicist—best in the business. He had to be in order to deal with Balen’s publicity nightmares. But in all seriousness, he loved having his brother living with him. The place was too quiet, too empty without him. Connor kept Balen grounded—kept him humble—because there was no way he could think he was the shit when his little brother was tossing his wet drawers at him.

Balen finished brushing his teeth—spit, rinsed, and said, “Sorry, brah. Not tonight. And just so you know, I think the Doublemint Twins are switching things up on us.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“I’m pretty sure Carlie doesn’t have a cute heart-shaped freckle on her ass.”

“Huh…” Connor sounded thoughtful, as if the idea had never occurred to him before now. “I wondered where that went.”

* * *

Autumn had hoped the walk along the beach to Ambrosia would help calm her jangling nerves. It didn’t. Her shoes dangled from her hand as she let her toes sink into the sand. She didn’t want to think about how many times she’d changed outfits before settling on a halter-style navy blue sundress Summer had picked out for her when they’d gone shopping for their trip. It hung just above her knees. The scarf-like material was light and airy, making her feel like she barely wore anything at all. The dress had a built-in shelf, allowing her to forgo the bra. The freedom was scandalous and exhilarating because her 36Ds were not used to being this unconfined.

She wore a light brushing of make-up to blend her sun freckles. Unaccustomed to the heat, she’d pulled her hair up into a twist. The last thing she needed was to break a sweat during dinner. The anxiety humming through her veins had already spiked her temperature enough. A few rogue tendrils escaped the up-do but she conceded defeat and let them hang.

Before entering Ambrosia, Autumn dusted the sand off her feet and slipped into her strappy sandals. She checked the clock on her cell and exhaled a sigh of relief. Perfect, she was early. Just enough time to have a drink—or two—before her “date” arrived. Butterflies were rampant in her stomach, causing a small wave of nausea to roll through her. She told herself it was because she knew how this night was going to end. The fluttery feeling was definitely not the anticipation of seeing Balen again. The hostess escorted Autumn to a table for two and asked if she could get her anything from the bar while she waited.

“Could I please have a Captain Coke?” She supposed she could have ordered something a little more fitting for a tropical island, like a Pina colada or something. But if she was going to go through with Operation: One and Done, she was going to need something a bit stronger than that.

With each passing minute, her nerves strung tighter, and her heart beat faster until her palms started to sweat. She tried to imagine sex with Balen, going through with her decision to reclaim her sexuality. Images of them together filled her mind with frightening ease. He struck her as a man who knew his way around a woman’s body. Not that she had a lot of personal experience to judge by, but she had a pretty creative mind, and the things she pictured him doing to her… Autumn’s cheeks heated with the tell-tale burn of embarrassment. Great, she’d made herself blush.

Holy hell, it was hot in here. She grabbed the wine list and began fanning herself as thoughts of sand, the surf, and Balen’s gorgeous face buried between her legs made her shift in her seat. Autumn had chosen a lacy thong to wear, and was now questioning the brilliance of that decision. All this squirming in her chair was making her panties rub some sensitive places.

Thankfully, the waitress returned with her drink and it was going down before she could walk away. Autumn hailed her for one more before she could get too far. Twenty minutes and two Captain Cokes later, Autumn felt much more relaxed. She’d almost convinced herself she had this—piece of cake. Easy as riding a bicycle…only problem was, she still had the training wheels on and one of her tires was flat.

Crap, what was she thinking? A wave of panic gripped her and another hot flash ensued. Autumn resumed fanning herself, and was giving considerable merit to sneaking out of here and bailing on the whole idea, when in walked her date. His eyes searched the restaurant and quickly lit on her. The moment they made contact, she forgot to breathe and her wine-list fan froze in the air. Her heart was ready to gallop out of her chest. The man was more gorgeous than she remembered. Autumn had always been attracted to tall, muscular men. There was just something arousing and undeniably feminine about being with a man that towered over her.

Balen gave her a smile from across the room that would melt the panties off a nun and made his way over. She downed the last of her liquid courage, setting the empty glass beside the other one.

“Am I late?” He nodded to her Captain Coke line-up.

“No. I got here early.”

Balen took the seat across from her. His expression was inscrutable, leaving her to wonder what he was thinking, but she was fully aware of every place his eyes landed. His gaze was like a caress and she could feel her nipples puckering under his bold, studious stare. Autumn hoped the ruching of her top was thick enough to hide her attraction to the man. The tingling awareness sent a direct current into her core and she couldn’t resist shifting in her seat. She bit her bottom lip to hold back her groan as her thong rubbed against her sensitive folds.

She was buzzed just enough to dial down the filter between her mouth and her brain. “So, I believe you have something I want?” Autumn baited, letting the innuendo hang in the air.

The corner of his mouth ticked up. It was a sexy grin she was sure he’d perfected for occasions such as this. She could almost see that hint of a dimple make an appearance.

“I do. You want me to give it to you right now?”

“That’s why I’m here. You’re not going to make me beg, are you?” He had no idea she was here for so much more than that, but Autumn wasn’t ready to tip her hand just yet. She was going to need a few more drinks before that happened.

Something flashed in his eyes. She was no expert, but it looked a lot like lust. “Only if you want to, Autumn.”

At the sound of her name on his lips, her eyes locked on his and she could feel a niggling of sobriety struggling to break through her buzz. Suddenly this felt too intimate, too real…

Maybe he felt it too because Balen shifted in the chair and reached under the table. She imagined him readjusting himself. Was he as aroused as she was? The air between them felt electric, her nerve endings tingled with awareness… But then he produced a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. “You’re going to need this when you leave the country next week.”

He hadn’t been readjusting anything, she realized with disappointment. The man had been reaching into his pocket. Perhaps her imagination was getting away from her, embellished by the aid of the good Captain Morgan. “You could have just given this back to me at the airport, you know.”

He shrugged. “I had to take a call. By the time I was finished, you were gone. Besides, I wanted the excuse to see you again.”

Was it honesty or arrogance that had him confessing this to her? But she was just intoxicated enough that it didn’t matter. Summer’s words echoed in her mind. “Get back on that horse.” And Autumn had no doubt that a prized stallion was sitting across from her. She lifted her empty glass to order another.

Autumn was still functioning in the rational side of her brain. She knew this because there were enough thoughts running through her head trying to convince her that this might not be such a great idea. She was a novice rider, considering getting on a green-broke Mustang.

One divorce and two years of abstinence had done zero to build her confidence or up her game. Just the thought of a man—this man—touching her was both terrifying and exhilarating. No lie, Balen was off the charts hot. She had no doubt that he was fully capable of rocking her world, and if she was going to pop her divorcée cherry, she was having a three-way with this guy and Captain Morgan.

The waitress came back over with Autumn’s drink in hand. She could tell by Balen’s arched brow that he was surprised by her amount of consumption and not wholly in favor of it. Huh… judgy much? But Autumn played it off by toasting the air. “Trust me, you’ll be thanking me later.”

Balen ordered a beer. After the waitress turned to leave, he leaned across the table. And that was when she noticed his eyes. Really noticed them. They were like two tiger-eye stones staring at her—dark brown with intricately designed flecks of amber that, in the right lighting, might even turn to gold. She was caught in his stare, mesmerized actually, so much that it startled her when he spoke. “Are you trying to get drunk? Because if that isn’t your goal here, you should probably slow down.” The deep rumble of his voice was a husky caress that rolled right through her.

For the first time, the thought occurred to her, what if I misjudged this guy and he refuses to take me up on my indecent proposal? Would the state of her sobriety, or lack thereof, be a deal breaker for him? He didn’t strike her as a particularly highly-moraled individual. Was she making stereotype judgments based on his looks, that cocky attitude, and one incredibly hot body? She sure was. They were stereotypes for a reason.

A different waitress returned with Balen’s beer a few minutes later. Setting it down, the woman gave him a big flirty smile and Autumn got the feeling she was about to witness case-in-point.

“Hi, Bay.”

Bay?

“Hey, Rushma.”

He knew her name…and it wasn’t because she was wearing a name tag. The smile he gave the woman was familiar—too familiar. Autumn watched their exchange, annoyed by the subtle churning in her gut she recognized as jealousy. Not because she was crushing on this guy or anything, because she wasn’t. She didn’t even know him, and she wasn’t interested in getting to know him, either. Her whole relationship ban was completely on. It was just common courtesy that your waitress not hit on the guy you were on a date with, that’s all.

It didn’t help that Rushma was drop-dead gorgeous, rocking an exotic middle-eastern vibe with the black eye-liner and raven-colored hair spilling down her back. She was small and slender. Some guys liked the waify look. Did Balen? Autumn was tall and curvy—more like a 1940’s pinup model to this woman’s Kate Moss. She couldn’t be anymore her opposite if she tried.

As she sat there watching the waitress eye-fuck her date, Autumn couldn’t help but wonder if Balen was so used to women coming onto him that he was oblivious, or perhaps impervious to it. If she had to guess, Autumn might have to give the guy credit and go with the latter, because he didn’t strike her as an idiot and this woman couldn’t have been any more obvious if she’d crawled into his lap.

From an entertainment standpoint, this was pretty damn good stuff. It was like watching a game of volleyball—she’d serve up a pass, and Balen would deflect it. He was smooth, no doubt about it. So smooth, Autumn wondered if the woman even realized he was rejecting her. Grabbing her Captain Coke, she leaned back in her chair to enjoy the show, shooting him a smirk. What she didn’t expect was to get pulled into the second act.

“Rushma, I don’t think you’ve met my girlfriend, Autumn Harris.”

What? Oh, shit. She swallowed her mouthful of rum and Coke, nearly choking on it as she inhaled. Balen volleyed a challenging grin right back at her, proving he was capable of playing more than one game at a time.

As if realizing for the first time that Balen wasn’t alone, Rushma turned to her, but the warm brown sugar in that woman’s eyes quickly turned to peanut brittle. Before Autumn could say anything at all, Balen stood and stepped behind her, sliding his hand over the back of her neck, squeezing just hard enough to take a causal touch and turn it intimate. Tingles shot through her and she flinched in surprise. Her response only made his smile grow wider, until that damn dimple winked at her.

“Why don’t you tell Rushma what you’d like to eat while I use the men’s room?”

He was leaving her here? Autumn’s jaw dropped, just enough for her lips to part on a protest that didn’t make it past her mouth. A challenging glint of mischief flashed in those gorgeous eyes a moment before he dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers. The contact was brief—fleeting even—but so electrifying she felt it arching all the way to her toes. And then he was gone.

Oh, that son of a—

“What would you like to order?” The woman didn’t even try to sweeten her tone as she pulled out her pen and pad.

Pasting on a smile, Autumn grabbed the menu and quickly searched out the most expensive thing on it. If Balen wanted to play games, she’d play. “We’ll both take the lobster.”

Their waitress walked away without saying another word. It was several more minutes before Balen returned, and by then, Autumn was halfway through her third drink and feeling the buzz. “That one’s going to cost you,” she told him as he sat down across from her.

He flashed her a guilty grin. “The bail or the kiss?”

“Both. Hope you like lobster.”

He chuckled and lifted his beer. “Totally worth it,” he said, raising the bottle and giving her a toast before tipping it back.

“An old girlfriend of yours?”

“Jealous?”

“Not even a little.” Well, maybe a little, but she’d eat sand before she admitted as much.

“Rushma’s the sister of a friend of mine.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Autumn gestured him closer by crooking her finger. He shot her a conspiratorial grin and came forward. She caught another whiff of his clean masculine scent, her pulse quickening in response to his nearness as she whispered near his ear, “I think she wants to be more than friends.”

His laughter rolled through her like a caress, deep and throaty. She liked the sound of it.

“She’s always wanted to be more than friends. If you want to tell me a secret, you’re going to have to come up with a better one than that.”

So he wasn’t oblivious at all. His ignorance had been an act. Good to know. “Sorry. That’s all I’ve got. You already know more about me than I allow a guy on the first date to know.”

Because he’d found her declaration form, he had her phone number, knew her full name, and address in Montana. Which meant he also knew where she was staying on the island, and if she was being honest, Autumn wasn’t entirely comfortable with that. If this guy was going to be her One and Done, she didn’t want him knowing anything about her. The last thing she needed was him showing up on her doorstep for round two.

“Fair enough. Let’s even the score.” He settled back in his chair and stretched into a lazy sprawl. “What do you want to know about me?”

She already knew his mouth tasted like heaven. Did she need to know anything else, considering the reason they were here? After tonight, she had no intention of seeing him again. But they had time to kill before the food came and she’d rather not talk about herself so… “How long have you lived on the island?”

“A few years.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Baja.”

“California, huh?”

“Yep. Have you always lived in Montana?” he asked, proving he had indeed read the entirety of her paperwork.

It surprised her that he turned the conversation back on her. In Autumn’s experience, most guys, especially ones who looked like him, were conceited enough to be content just talking about themselves. Autumn nodded. “My parents own a horse ranch near Big Sky.”

“Big Sky… Beautiful place. I’ve done some skiing there. Great mountains.”

“Is that why you were—”

“Kroft!”

Balen’s gaze shot past her, a smile broadening his mouth. Autumn craned her neck to see a man approaching their table.

“Balen Kroft! How the hell are ya?” The guy grasped Balen’s hand, pumping it up and down. “Rushma said you were here. Haven’t seen you around for a while. You been busy catching waves?”

Balen’s gaze briefly flickered to her and, for some reason, she got the sense he was suddenly uncomfortable. Like maybe he didn’t appreciate the interruption, but didn’t want to be rude. Perhaps she imagined it, because a second later his attention was back on the man excitedly shaking his hand. He smiled one of those grins that showcased his delicious dimples.

“Always. How about you?”

“Nah, we all can’t be beach bums. Some of us gotta work for a living, right?”

Balen chuckled, but Autumn could sense the tension edging into him at the guy’s remark. His gaze cut to her, as if he was gaging her reaction to the waiter pointing out Balen’s lack of employment. Oh, shit. Maybe she shouldn’t have ordered the lobster. Was it too late to change their dinner to something less expensive? She glanced toward the kitchen, looking for their snarky waitress so she could ask, but didn’t see the woman. Autumn couldn’t say she was surprised at the news of Balen’s unemployment. Now that the guy mentioned it, he kinda did look like a beach bum with that golden-tan skin, the carefree grin, and overgrown sun-bleached hair.

She was a little annoyed that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind earlier. She didn’t want to stick the guy with a tab he couldn’t afford. Beyond that, she didn’t care. Employment wasn’t a prerequisite for what she wanted him for and, after tonight, she’d never be seeing him again, so it was all irrelevant. But she could tell Balen was uncomfortable. He probably didn’t appreciate this guy calling him out.

“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your date. I just wanted to say ‘hey’. Catch ya later, Kroft.” He gave Balen a friendly pat on the back and moved on.

“Sorry about that.” Balen cleared his throat, seeming to shake off the remnant of his discomfort, and then beamed her with another sexy grin that heated places inside her that had been dormant for far too long. He lifted his beer to her and said, “By the way, Happy Birthday.”

Great…something else he knew about her. They wanted too much information on those damn forms. “Thanks,” Autumn mumbled, clinking her glass to his, and then started sucking down her drink.

“Turning the big three-o, huh?”

She choked on his comment and began coughing to clear her throat. Amusement danced in his eyes. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get lost in them. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to talk about a woman’s age?”

He shrugged. “I do a lot of things I probably shouldn’t.”

Oh she didn’t doubt that. “Like what?”

Those dimples made another disarming appearance. “Now you’re trying to change the subject.”

“Of my age? Most definitely. How old are you?” she countered.

“Twenty-five.”

Oh, shit. Am I seriously thinking about Mrs. Robinsoning this guy? He’s twenty-freaking-five? Five years might not sound like that much, but to someone in their twenties it was like a lifetime. She’d crossed a threshold. Thirty was considered old. At least it had to her when she’d been twenty-five.

“For what it’s worth, you don’t look thirty. Besides, age is just a number, right? You’re only as old as you feel.”

If that was true, then she had one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.