Sean dragged his fingers along the naked woman beside him, trailing up her spine, frowning as he felt each ridge of her spinal cord. She’d dropped some weight since he’d seen her last and there were large circles beneath her eyes.
Right now, he didn’t care about that. She was with him again and even if he only had her for a few more moments, right now, she was his. Body sated in ways he’d forgotten about, he continued with fleeting touches, caresses as he rebuilt up his tactile memory of her to call upon later.
If you keep her with you, this isn’t going to be necessary.
Okay, so his brain had a point. Why not try to make it work between them? They still worked well together. At least in bed.
Rica shifted, her leg sliding along the outside of his.
The simple act sent more blood south, pushing his shaft against her as it stiffened. He took a deep breath and continued with the abstract patterns on her back. The moon had risen and was shimmering on the water outside the window, but there weren’t any lights on inside the room. Part of him wanted to turn one on, so he could see her and add to the visual memories.
“Do you miss it?” Her voice was pitched low and husky from her earlier screaming of his name as he thrust deep inside her wetness.
“Being a PJ?” He paused for half a second. “Yes.” Sean understood she was working through it in her mind and he didn’t want her to have a chance to regroup and realize she should leave. Sure, they’d been intimate but he needed to talk. Needed her to hear him.
“I’m sorry. You know, for your injury.”
“What about you? How’s the Border Patrol for you?”
“I’m out as well.” She rolled so her head rested on his shoulder, her fingers trailed down his chest to his abdomen where she traced along his muscles. “I’m not in the right mind to be out there right now. Or rather, I wasn’t. I shouldn’t say I’m out, I’m taking a hiatus.”
“Still up in New York?”
“Northern Minnesota now.”
He rubbed his hand up and down her back as she burrowed closer. “For how long?”
“Since the divorce was finalized.”
Sean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Was this where the mood of the evening changed? “Why there?”
“Because it was new and I figured the cold wouldn’t bother me as my heart had died.” She sat up. “I need to know one thing.”
Suddenly, his heart sank. “What?” He wanted so much to pull her back down to lay beside him. But didn’t.
“Tell me you’re not married right now, or in a relationship.”
Taking her hand in his, he brushed his lips along the back. “Feeling possessive?”
“No. I’m hoping you’re not so much of an ass to sleep around if you’re in a relationship but I didn’t want to be party to that.”
“I would never do that.”
“Most men wouldn’t say even if they would.”
Sean rolled her beneath him, positioning himself between her legs. She rubbed her core against him, sexy whimpers streaming from her mouth as he captured her lips beneath his.
“I’ve never been that kind of man, Rica.”
She pushed into him, curling her arms around him, yanking him even closer to her. Widening her legs, she wriggled until he got the hint and pushed into her with a singular smooth stroke that had her gasping into his mouth.
As he moved inside her, he knew they still had to talk but right now, his body ruled all his decisions.
Making a mental note to not let her leave until they talked about what he had to discuss with her, he allowed her touch and the chance to be with her in this way once more to take over everything else.
Next time he woke, there wasn’t anyone with him in bed but the wrinkled sheets beside him were still warm. Early morning light filtered in through the window and he cast a gaze around. His clothing was spread throughout the room, but only his. Not a shred of hers.
Climbing out, he pulled on a pair of jeans from his suitcase and zipped them as he made his way through the place Doyle called home. The place was empty. Not a single sign that she’d been there.
“Where are you, Rica?”
If she’d called a taxi, he would have heard. So knowing her, she ran down the beach back to her hotel. And he still didn’t know her room number. Turning on his heels, he froze at the sight of the person standing in the living room.
“Holy crap, Flynn. I never heard you come in. When did you get here?”
His Marine brother, the youngest of the O’Malley siblings, rolled his broad shoulders before raking a hand over his shorn black hair. “Before Rica left. When did you two hook up again?”
He crossed his arms. “Great to see you as well, brother. I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
“I can see that. I asked about Rica.”
“Did she say anything when she left?”
“She didn’t know I was here. So, no, not to me. If she muttered to herself, I couldn’t tell you. Answer my question.”
“Which of us is the older brother and which is the baby?”
“Can the crap. Is Rica back in your life?”
It was his turn to shove a hand through his hair. “I ran into her yesterday on the beach.”
“And after six years of being apart, naturally that turned into sharing a bed.”
“Stay out of it, Flynn.” Warning lined his voice.
His brother wasn’t the least bit concerned. “Doyle asked me to come, where is he?”
“Had to leave, something to do with his agent.”
Flynn nodded and shrugged. “Feed me.”
“Fix your own damn food. I’m going to shower.” He turned and walked away. “After that, I’m going after Rica again.”
When he came out from his shower, Flynn wasn’t even there and Sean swore long and low. There was only one place his brother would have gone and that was to Rica. The man hadn’t learned to leave well enough alone.
αβ
Rica jolted up at the sound of a knock. Part of her longed to hide from the man on the other side of the door.
I’m not running from him. What we shared last night was nothing more than being with someone familiar. It didn’t mean any more than that.
With a deep breath, she moved to the door and opened it. She’d been wrong, it wasn’t who she’d thought it would be.
Right family.
Right sex.
Wrong man.
She cocked her eyebrow and pasted a slight smile on her face. “Flynn. Why am I not surprised to see you here?”
He didn’t give her a hug or a kiss. Out of the three brothers, this one liked her the least. At least Doyle pretended to enjoy being around her. Flynn couldn’t seem to get away from her fast enough, unless it was to grill her with questions. “Are you here to screw up his life again?” He brushed by her and entered the room without waiting for permission or even a simple request to enter.
Pivoting around, she kicked the door shut with her foot. “Am I here to screw up his life again? Please explain yourself. I didn’t even know he was here until I arrived. I came for a vacation and for something else which isn’t any of your damn business. Just like I didn’t know Doyle lived here, because trust me, had I known, I wouldn’t have arrived thinking about taking a job here!”
If her outburst had bothered Flynn, he didn’t show it. The man rarely showed any emotion at all, not that she saw anyway. Or had seen. It’d been over seven years since she saw him. The last time was at the funeral for her boys. He’d been deployed somewhere but had made it home to be one of the pall bearers for Riordan’s casket. Doyle had been on Rourke’s.
“I don’t care if you get a job next to him. He’s going through enough without having to put up with the coldness from you.”
“Coldness from me? Coldness from me?” Her voice rose with each word. “Your perfect brother is the one who served me with papers. Tell me why I should be warm to the man that once our children had been buried, served me with papers to get me out of the house and his life? Why am I supposed to suddenly be nice to him because now, he’s having a difficult time?”
As usual, Flynn didn’t respond to her outburst other than to pop a fresh grape into his mouth from the bowl of fruit on the table and walk to the window. “So you still love him then.”
“Why am I even talking to you about this? You didn’t ever like me.” She checked her watch and shook her head, needing to lower her blood pressure before she headed to meet Luke McBain for an interview. Thank God, it wasn’t for another two hours, maybe, just maybe she could calm herself by then.
Resort security wasn’t exactly high on her list of jobs she’d pictured herself partaking in, but she wasn’t sure she cared to be doing what she was for much longer. A friend of hers had worked with Malcom Harris in the CIA who now was down here and had suggested she come down and talk to McBain if she was looking for a career directional change.
So she had.
Flynn tilted his head to the side. “Of course, I liked you. You were my sister until you weren’t.”
Anger snapped steel into her spine. She stomped over to her ex-brother-in-law and jabbed a finger into his chest. “He made the decision to remove me from his life. Not the other way around.”
Flynn blinked those disgustingly long thick lashes over his blue eyes. “He was hurting.”
Crack!
She didn’t think about it, or the wisdom of striking a Force Recon but she couldn’t hear that. Not from him. “Because he was so different from me, right? I had no attachments to my boys.” She didn’t bother telling him to leave, just up and headed out of the room, managing to swipe a credit card, room key, and her sunglasses which she slapped over her bloodshot eyes.
While the day was beautiful, she didn’t notice it. She made her way through the town, avoiding the smiling happy tourists. Eventually, she found her way to Ms. Icey’s, an ice cream parlor. Slowing as she approached, she took in the frosted windows and the red and white awning. Even though autumn was coming, this was still Florida which meant warm sunny days, perfect for ice cream indulgences.
Getting a small bowl, no cone for her of chocolate, she added some chocolate syrup and went outside to sit in the sun. Her hand still trembled and the tears still dangled from the tips of her eyelashes.
Her stomach was a mess and she longed to just chuck the ice cream and run until she passed out from lack of oxygen or exhaustion. Whichever happened to come first.
“Mommy’s going to be mad at me.”
The young voice yanked Rica from her own personal hell as she swallowed down her own pain and focused on the young girl in front of her. Her skin was the smooth nut brown of a pecan shell. Her glossy, jet black hair was gathered up in different sizes and lengths of braids. She was absolutely adorable with her dark purple princess dress.
Setting the spoon back in the cup, she focused on the child. “Where is your mommy?”
“Went to tinkle but see…” She moved her hand away from her stomach. “…I spilled my ice creams.”
“Yes, you did.” Balling up some napkins, she dipped it in her ice water and angled so the child was right before her. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get it out.”
The girl smiled at her and Rica’s heart clenched. When she patted Rica’s face, it left behind even more sticky residue but she didn’t mind. This child was about seven or eight if she was any good still at aging children.
“I’m Alora Mason and I want to be a princess.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Alora Mason. I’m Rica.” She used the clean corner of the napkins to clean off the ice cream on her face. “You are all clean.”
“Alora? Oh, sweetie, what did you do?” The woman hurrying up in her plain white tee and faded jeans had a head full of natural curls that bounced with each step she made.
“I made a mess.” Her brilliant smile coaxed another from Rica. “But Ms. Rica helped clean me up.”
“Thank you for helping.”
“My pleasure. Patricia Sanford.” She held out her hand.
“Tamara Borde.”
Alora climbed up onto Rica’s lap and began playing with Rica’s hair.
“Alora. Get off her lap.”
The princess snuggled closer. “I like her, Mommy. She smells nice.”
So did Alora. Her hair smelled like magnolia and was soft as it brushed along her skin. Meeting Tamara’s warm gingerbread gaze, Rica’s eyes pricked with tears as she mouthed, “It’s okay.”
With a sigh, Tamara sank down across from Rica. “Thank you. Are you new in town or visiting?”
“Down visiting.”
“It’s a great place, lots to do. Petting zoo, hot air balloon rides, an archeological site, we have the Bucks if you like baseball.”
She slowly finished her ice cream while she conversed with the Borde women. With an invite from Alora to dinner, she parted ways with them and began the long trek back down the white sands.