They talked nonstop through dinner, laughing and sharing stories about their lives, their jobs and the kids.

“So tell me something about grown-up Bobbi that I wouldn’t have known about teenage Roberta,” Ron said after they’d eaten and were enjoying an after-dinner cocktail.

She laughed. “I’m not sure there’s much… You already know I’m not a natural blonde and I’m blind as a bat without my glasses or contacts. I have a kid, a degree in early childhood education and I’m a widow.”

“Something more personal,” he suggested lightly. “Your favorite color in high school was purple and you loved Matchbox 20.”

“You remember my favorite color?” she whispered, shocked.

“You loved everything purple, right down to the folders we used for our lab reports.”

She flushed. “I guess I did. Well, I still love Matchbox 20, although I like harder stuff too. I still like purple, but Wade hated it, so other than a couple of tops, I don’t have anything purple. What about you? Still into Nickelback and Garth Brooks?”

“Sure am. Listen to a lot of punk rock when I’m prepping for ops, though. The chaos of the music takes the chaos out of the mission for me somehow.”

“That kind of makes sense. Do you get scared?”

“Not really. It’s all training, instinct and adrenaline.”

“How long have you been in California?”

“A year.”

“Do you miss your old unit?”

“Sure, but we’re still tight. Those friendships will never end, no matter where we are or what we’re doing.”

“Are you all scattered now?”

“Well, Shay’s dead, Erin’s in the Reserves, Mark’s thinking about getting out and Louie and Eric are both with the NSA now.”

“No interest in going NSA?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

He sighed. “To be honest, I’ve thought about it a lot since getting custody of Sam. I like California, though, and Force Recon is pretty great.”

“I’ll bet.”

“It’s hard with Sam, though. I have Sandy and June, and friends that are willing to take her at the drop of a hat, but as she gets older, that’s not going to be so easy. I’m the only parent she has and watching me disappear for days or weeks at a time is going to be complicated as she gets old enough to start asking questions.”

“This is going to sound like a weird question, but have you thought about settling down with someone?”

“Between moving to California and Britt dying, I honestly haven’t had any interest in dating. Until now.”

“Is there someone you want to date?” she asked, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Isn’t that what this is?”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t know if you wanted to do it…with me.”

“Honey, there are probably a lot of things I’d like to do with you.”

Bobbi suddenly felt ridiculously inept at flirting, dropping her gaze to her lap. “You’ll have to kiss me first,” was all she could think to say.

“I can do that.” He motioned to the waiter for the check.

They left the restaurant and he drove to the beach, parking in a quiet area where he often came to think. Tonight, the only thing he was thinking about was the shy blonde beside him. He hadn’t been out on a date or had sex in more than six months, but between work and Sam, there was no time for anything like that. Bobbi was different, though. They were already friends and getting to know her again was fun. He thought about her more than he should during the day and never wanted the five- or ten-minute talks they had when he picked up Sam to end. Being on a date with her was the most fun he’d had with a woman in years, and they hadn’t really done anything but talk and eat.

They sat for a moment before he turned off the SUV. “Wanna walk?” he asked her.

“Sure.” She reached down and unbuckled the high-heeled sandals she was wearing and he slid off his dress shoes and socks.

Taking her hand, he led her down to the beach towards the shore. They walked quietly for a while, enjoying the intimacy and the waves that curled up on the shore and spilled over their feet. He’d rolled up his khakis a few inches so they didn’t get wet and she’d tied her hair back so it wouldn’t blow in her face as they walked.

“When was the last time you walked on the beach?” he asked.

“Never.”

“Never? How long have you lived here?”

“Four years. I bring Julian to the beach sometimes, of course, but that’s during the day, to swim. I’ve never come to the beach at night and just walked along the shore.”

“Really.” He stopped walking and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close to him. “That means you’ve also never been kissed on the beach at night.”

“No.” Her eyes met his in the moonlit semidarkness.

He leaned down but paused. She was so close he felt her breath on his lips and he wanted to savor the moment. They would never have another first kiss and some deep instinct told him it would be meaningful. She would be meaningful. When her eyelids fluttered closed he tightened his grip but kept the touch of his mouth featherlight, almost teasing, waiting for her to make the first move. She was so shy he wanted her to come to him, and to his surprise, she did. Her mouth opened, the tip of her tongue slipping between the seam of his lips, and he was lost. Instinct took over and he deepened the kiss, curling his tongue around hers, the heat of her mouth an aphrodisiac all its own.

The raw male part of him wanted to push her down on the sand and ravage her, kiss her from head to toe and then bury himself deep in her sweet sheath. The gentleman who’d had a bit of a crush on this girl for about 16 years could have stood right where they were and done nothing but kiss her for the next decade or so. It was that enchanting, especially when a moan of pleasure came from somewhere deep in her chest.

Ron pulled away reluctantly. “Damn, babe, that was sexy as hell.”

Her fingers were still clutching his biceps. “It certainly was.”

“We should probably keep walking.”

“I thought you liked it?”

“What?” Her question caught him off guard and he looked down at her in confusion.

“Kissing me.” A touch of uncertainty crossed her pretty features.

“I did. Too much. That’s why I think we should—”

“I’ve been waiting 15 years for you to kiss me and now you want to stop?”

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Resting his hands just above her hips, he drew her against him, so his erection pressed against her. “Babe, this is what you’re doing to me… If we keep going, I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“Don’t you live nearby?”

“A couple miles,” he confirmed.

She met his gaze without flinching.

“You want to…go back to my place?”

“Fifteen years, Ron.”

“Babe, I don’t—”

“I don’t need promises or vows. I need someone to touch me and bring my soul back. I’ve been nothing but Julian’s mom or Wade’s widow for far too long, and I need to be Bobbi again.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll text Sandy, tell her we’re going to be a little later than we thought.” He gripped her hand and tugged her back toward where they’d left his SUV.