My parents are in New York for the weekend, and I’ve sent all the staff home to make sure I have the Malibu house all to myself. Instead of picking Quinn up, I asked her to meet me here for dinner. Tonight is all about starting over, right where we began.

Digging a hole in the sand and placing the logs inside, I catch sight of a woman running down by the water’s edge. She’s in a sports bra and short shorts that would make a stripper jealous. The woman’s gotten my attention many times since we were young and I can’t help but dread how much of a full-circle moment this is about to become.

She waves her hand and starts up my way. Lifting my wrist, I check my watch. Plenty of time.

“Hey,” she says, running up and standing way too close for comfort.

“Hi.” I tuck my hands in the pockets of my shorts.

“I haven’t seen you at the clubs in a while.” Her platinum-blonde ponytail sits high on her head, beads of sweat dripping down the crease of her breasts.

Of course, I notice. I’m male, aren’t I? That doesn’t mean I have any interest.

There’s no arguing the fact that Penelope Broadway could’ve been a model if she hadn’t gotten pregnant at nineteen. Gossip circles say the father is some French photographer, but she’s never really said. Like my own childhood, her own daughter is with nannies more than her mother. Case in point—she still clubs.

“How is Violet?” I say, asking after her daughter.

There’s a lot that’s bothered me about Penny through the years. One is that when you ask about her daughter, there’s no smile, she never brags about all the amazing things she’s doing. Instead a look of disdain blankets her features as though vomit just raced up her throat.

I swear, if I’m ever a father I’m going to be one hundred percent present in my kid’s life. I love Marisol like a mother, but fuck having some stranger raise your kid for you.

“She’s in Europe,” Penny says.

“With your parents?”

“No, camp. It’s like a boarding school thing.” She shrugs. She steps forward and runs her finger across my shoulders. “Tell me, where have you been hiding out?”

“Just busy. Work.” I shrug.

Her gaze shifts to the bonfire. “Having a party?”

Penny’s parents live two miles up the beach and the last thing I want is her thinking she’s welcome here. We aren’t friends.

“Just a friend.”

Her eyes widen. “A friend? Or a friend?” She draws out the second ‘friend’ like I wouldn’t catch her meaning.

Fuck it.

“Remember Quinn Ryan?”

Her shoulders sag a bit. “Quinn?” she asks, like she doesn’t remember her. She remembers her.

“Phil’s daughter who used to live next door.”

She nods. “Oh, the girl you tricked?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s she been?” she asks, stepping a few inches closer.

“She’s back in L.A. now.”

A fake tight smile crosses her mouth. “How great that the two of you get to catch up.”

“Yeah. Well, I better get going. Have a lot to do to prepare. Have a good night, Penny.” I walk off before she can stop me, raising my hand in a wave.

She doesn’t say anything, or if she does it gets lost in the sound of the waves. Hopefully, I scared her enough to stay far, far away. If Quinn sees her, we might as well go back ten steps.

* * *

“Your parents’ house has always seemed like a museum to me.” Quinn sits poised on a chair in the kitchen, her jeans-clad legs crossed, her wine glass spinning in her hands.

“They want it to appear like they’re exotic. Go on trips and bring shit back. They’ll pay thousands just so they can brag about how rare something is at a dinner party. It’s all bullshit.” I place the crab appetizer down on the counter and catch sight of her hot pink toenails. My dick twitches with the thought of those toes curling in my childhood bed like they once did.

Her lipstick stains her wineglass as she pulls it away from her lips, setting it back down. “You cook?” she asks.

“I thought we’ve been over this?” I lean over the counter, putting the crab dip on a cracker.

She places her weight on her forearms and I try with the strength of the Hulk not to allow my gaze to fall to where her breasts are pressed together. Obviously, I’m no Hulk.

“Next time hide the takeout.” She shifts her head to peer around me.

I smile, nodding, pressing my lips to hers, needing to taste her.

She doesn’t fight or push me away. Instead she stays in that position, letting me kiss her as long as I like. I’m tentatively taking this as a good sign.

Breaking the kiss, I lift the cracker to her lips. “Sorry, I did want to cook, but I was too busy at the office today.”

Her perfectly white teeth bite down on my offering, pulling it into her mouth. I pop the other half into my own mouth and watch for her reaction.

I wanted to prove to her I was making an effort by doing the cooking myself, but getting the pieces in place for the new division is sucking my time dry. Add on my high-maintenance clients and there aren’t as many hours in the day as I’d like. Especially when I’m trying to win over this woman. She’s completely worth it though.

“It’s good.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. Not in the delicate way my mom and her friends do, by tapping the corners. It’s then that I realize I’m fixated on her lips. The way they part, the pink tint they always hold, her heart-shaped upper lip that makes me want to pull on it with my teeth.

“Jag.” She waves her hand in front of my face. My eyes flick up to hers. They’re so genuine and trustworthy. Even after I screwed her over, I can still see that trust she had at seventeen there. “I lost you there for a while.” Her head tilts, the long strands of her chestnut hair falling over her bare shoulder.

I slide it back and watch her eyes hood as I touch her skin.

“Keep that up and we won’t see dinner,” she says in a breathy voice.

I’ll see dinner—right between her thighs.

I sit up, pushing the thought to the back of my head. I can’t seduce her pussy. I need to seduce her heart and her mind. I’ll save the pussy seduction for later.

“And here I thought you’d be beating me off with a stick.” I open the oven door, not wanting to see her expression. We’ve been good, only kissed up to this point. Although I feel like I’m going ten miles per hour in my Spyder, we both need to take this slow.

“Ah…you’re growing on me.”

With my head in the oven, taking out the steaks and baked potatoes, I hear her slide off the stool. The wine bottle slides along the granite countertop.

“I’ll take this outside,” she says.

By the time the steaks are on the counter, all I see is her stepping out onto the deck. She’s even more gorgeous illuminated by candlelight.

I plate the steaks, potatoes and vegetables, grab the napkins and silverware and follow her.

“You didn’t have these Mac Daddy skills when we were younger.” She smiles at me and I don’t take what she’s saying to heart.

I should really buy some stocks in Google—they know their shit when it comes to romance.

“I’ve never seen so many candles.” She circles around with her wine glass hanging from her two fingers. “I feel like we’re in the movies.”

“I could make that happen.” I place the plates down on my parents’ elaborate table. “Get you in a movie, I mean.”

She stops with a small shake of her head, stepping toward the edge of the deck. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” She swivels around, her arms leaning the railing of the deck. “Just to get them in bed.”

I slide my own wine glass into my hand, but my gaze stays on hers as I close the distance between us. Leaning into her without giving her the satisfaction of our bodies touching, I say, “I thought we were done talking about the past.” I sip my wine.

Her eyes follow my movements and I lick my lips nice and slow when I pull the glass away.

“We are.”

“Of course, you never did tell me about you. Any divorces the private investigator I hired will find?”

She swats at my stomach, but I suck in before she accomplishes her goal. “You didn’t.”

I raise my eyebrows, sipping my wine again. “You’ll never know.”

I didn’t, but only because Victoria told me it was a dick move. I should’ve never asked her to do it in the first place. Should’ve taken care of it myself.

“We don’t want dinner to get cold,” she says and moves to go around me.

“Actually, I don’t much care for dinner. If you’d rather go straight to dessert…”

The pink tinge I love hits her cheeks and my dick hits the zipper of my pants, announcing its arrival to the party.

“Now, now, you still have one more date. Did you think I was easy?” She giggles, sliding away from me and sitting at the table.

“Easy? Never. It took me half a summer the first time.” I join her at the table, place my napkin in my lap and then refill our wine glasses.

“I was a virgin.”

I lean back, letting her taste her meal first. “You were? I’d forgotten.” My smile reveals that I’m joking. She’s the only virgin I’ve ever been with and it made what we shared that much more special.

“Sure, you did. I think you secretly loved it.” She positions the fork and knife, cutting her steak.

Sitting up straight, I cut into my own steak. “Maybe.”

Her giggle floats out like a bubble flying up into the dark sky. “Yeah, be evasive.”

I scoff. “I’m a man. What man doesn’t want to be someone’s first to compare all their future partners to?”

“Is that what you think? That after you, I compared every other guy to you?” She places a piece of steak into her mouth. I’ve never wanted to be a piece of meat before.

“Honestly?”

“When are you not?”

“True.” I shrug. “Yes, I believe one or two guys didn’t get a fair shot because they couldn’t reach that bar I placed.”

The silverware drops to her plate and she grabs the napkin, laughing hysterically, while trying to chew the steak. “Your ego never fails to amaze me.” The napkin drops in her lap after she’s calmed down from her fit.

“You know what else I think?”

“Oh, please enlighten me.” Her knife pauses mid-cut, so she doesn’t almost choke like she just did.

“I think you like how self-confident I am.”

“Self-confident? Yes. Cocky?” She shrugs, forking the cut piece of meat and placing it in her mouth.

“Bullshit. You like knowing that when you’re with me, I’ll take care of you. That when we walk into a room, women are jealous that you’re on my arm. Men respect me and woman want to fuck me.”

The fork pauses before the piece of meat moves into her mouth. “You’re serious?” she asks, blinking once.

“As a heart attack. So you’re aware, I like the fact that every man who sees you wants to fuck you, but it’ll be my name you’re screaming out at night.” I wink, chewing a piece of steak.

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” The fork enters her mouth and that pink tinge turns red. She’s thinking about what I just said. Putting a visual to my words.

“I know I can be arrogant and sometimes I’m an asshole.”

Her eyes widen. “Maybe a bit.”

“You’re telling me you don’t like it at all?” I cock my head, leaning back in the chair with my glass of wine.

“I think…” She places her silverware down, sliding back like me and bringing her wine glass to her lips. “I’m pleading the Fifth.”

“We’ll pretend we don’t both know the answer then.”

A smile plays on her lips and we each go back to eating our meal.

A half an hour later, I place the s’mores stuff in the bag with the blankets and meet Quinn down on the beach. I drop the bag and admire her from afar.

Her arms are around her body, the light sweater she brought probably not warming her enough. She stares out to the dark ocean with the light of the moon mirrored on the surface from high in the sky. It’s quiet around us, no one on the beach, and no one on their decks.

“What are you thinking about?” I come up behind her, hoping she doesn’t pull away.

She places her hands over my entwined ones resting on her stomach.

“Why did you bring me here?” She turns in my arms. “And not your place?”

I circle around to stand beside her, facing the spot where her father lived years ago. It’s now been torn down after some internet mogul built a bigger, newer version.

“This is where it all happened.” I gently nudge her into my chest, my lips falling to the top of her head. Her coconut shampoo acts like an aphrodisiac for me. “Where we fell in love.”

Her head falls to my chest, her cheek directly over my pec, and my hand slides down to her waist, encompassing her completely in my arms. In turn, she looks up at me and locks her arms around my neck, the moon glimmering in her eyes.

“You remember, right?” I ask softly and she nods.

“I do.”

“How it just felt right.”

She nods, her forehead falling to my chest once again.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, maneuvering my body back to see her eyes.

Her head rises and her lips part into a grin. “I kind of want to make out.”

I smile wide. “You always know the right thing to say.”