She’d lost her ever lovin’ mind.
Somewhere back around mile marker three of the Pacific Coast Highway, caution and common sense flew right out the open top of Ash’s ridiculously masculine idea of a car. Oh, the Jeep was fun, she had to admit. The salty ocean air softening her skin. The humid breeze lifting her hair, blowing it around her bare shoulders like a well-placed fan. Probably adding so much frizz she could audition for The Supremes. The stereo blasted classic rock, and she memorized the playlist like a crushing teenage girl, Pat Benatar belting out “Shadows of the Night” as if it were Ash and Olivia’s anthem.
It was freeing, really. Flying up the deserted highway hugging the Pacific Ocean, barely visible if not for the bright cast of the moon as midnight approached, the strong forearm of her hot-as-hell chauffeur shifting gears like he was spreading butter.
Staring at him through fluttering eyelashes—because God help her, she couldn’t stop the fucking fluttering—she catalogued the magnificent sight of him, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other reaching for hers like a lifeline. His grip was gentle, almost tender. A man who knew his own strength and how to bank it. His big body was deceptively casual as he navigated the curves of the road, and Olivia had to admit, he was her dream man come to life, physically speaking.
Tall. So tall she had to lift her chin to look him in the eye. And tall by her standards was up there, considering she stood close to five nine in ballet flats. Optimal height to neck-nuzzle him on a cold night.
Muscled. Not bulky, expect serious roid rage and shrunken balls, muscled. More ripped, watch him do single-arm pull-ups all day without breathing heavy since he has zero percent body fat.
Gorgeous. Not pretty, elbow her away from the bathroom mirror so he could primp, gorgeous. Just utter male beauty enhanced by a few gritty scars, body hair where it should be, and the inherent rough edges that came with high testosterone.
Throw in striking blue eyes, swagger by the truckload, and an easy smile, and it equaled Asher Coleson. It equaled trouble.
Lifting her face to the stars, she closed her eyes and inhaled damp sea air. The wind whipped her hair like kite streamers and she vowed to let the night take over. This was more than two strangers having a drink before going their separate ways. More than the employee of a family-owned business getting to know the heir to the throne, a hardcore soldier likely to take over as president and become her boss one day. More than her rule of playing it safe, putting her career ahead of everything else, including a social life. A husband. A child.
This night was about taking chances.
Ash tightened his grip, flashing her a reassuring smile, as if he’d heard the entire conversation in her head. Lifting their clutched hands to his mouth, he kissed her, his warm breath lingering on her flesh.
It was their first kiss, this simple brush of his lips across her knuckles, and Olivia felt a responding throb low in her belly, a pulsing that couldn’t have been more powerful if he’d put his mouth directly on her core. If he ever did—and the gleam in his eyes promised he would—she might combust.
The man was that potent.
Releasing her hand with one last squeeze, he downshifted and pulled into a graveled area right off the highway, a few miles north of Del Mar. So small you’d miss it if you blinked, there was parking for only a handful of cars. The Jeep’s headlights illuminated a narrow path to the beach below, accessible if you were willing to traverse a rocky slope descending ten feet down to cool sand. In flip-flops and a bikini, she’d be game. In heels and a party dress currently puddled around her waist, she wasn’t.
“Wow,” she whispered, after he killed the engine. “How’d you find this place?”
Directly in front of them, wave after thundering wave crashed onto shore, the hypnotic rhythm of the ocean at her wildest. The frothy white caps were lit by the glow of the moon, the endless water beyond mirroring a starry sky.
He grabbed two beers from the six-pack, twisting the cap off one and handing it to her.
“Rosa used to bring me here as a kid. She liked the seclusion. Nobody around to look twice at a heavily accented Hispanic woman towing around a white child who called her mama.”
Relaxing back into the seat, he pointed his unopened bottle toward the buoy bobbing miles away from shore, its light blinking white amidst black water.
“The summer I turned six, I swam all the way out to that point, stopping to tread water and terrorize her. She nervously scanned the ocean, cussing up a Spanish storm once she spotted me, demanding I get my ass back to the beach using elaborate arm gestures. She did the sign of the cross until my feet hit land, then swore we were never coming back. An idle threat.”
“You swam all the way out there? At six?” Olivia tried to measure the distance. The best she came up with was freaking far.
“I could’ve done it when I was five, but she was still making me wear orange floaties then. Forced my hand with the promise of a cherry snow cone. I’d pop them when she wasn’t looking, but she’d just blow up a spare set. I’d still get the snow cone, though.” His smile wasn’t as sheepish as it should be. “She was a terrific lady, and I was a terrible kid with something to prove.”
“According to Rosa, you walk on water, so that’s probably why she let you slide. And she’s still a terrific lady. Dotes all over Hope. And you, too.”
He gave a pleased nod and stared at the panoramic view out the windshield, better than any drive-in movie. “I come back here from time to time, when I’m in town and need to think.”
“If you called your nanny mom, what did you call your real mother?”
“Claudia.” And with that simple response, he twisted the cap off his beer and tossed it in the cup holder.
Olivia hadn’t heard the swim story before, but she knew all about his boyhood antics. Rosa often regaled whoever would listen with similar memories, lovingly calling him both her mijo and a diablo con ojos azules, despite his current age.
Ash was no longer a little boy, but he was a blue-eyed devil for sure.
Thanks to her constant chatter, she also knew he’d joined the Army when he was seventeen, the same week his mother died, and when he wasn’t out saving the world, he spent time in a condo in Mission Bay, Rosa and her homemade tamales visiting him on those rare occasions. Hope often joined her. Marshall never did.
Taking a short pull from the sweating bottle, he tilted it toward her and nodded. “Yep. Still better than wine.”
She smirked, her own beer untouched. “What do you think about when you come out here?” When he didn’t answer, she added, “Maybe why you grew up calling Rosa mom and your mom Claudia?”
“More like, what’s the meaning of life and are eyebrows considered facial hair?” He pulled her hand into his, flattening his palm over hers. Callused and capable against soft but strong. “Not many people this far west have such a pretty accent. How’d you end up so far from home, Liv?”
She leaned back against the seat with a groan, rolling her head toward him. “I don’t really like to talk about myself.”
“After I just shared a precious childhood memory? No fair, darlin’. Cough something up.”
His ladykiller charm was back, locking down heavy conversation. She’d known him literal hours, but when he called her darlin’, serious was out and superficial was in.
Lifting the beer to her lips, she swallowed the bitter liquid and recoiled. “My God, that’s awful.” Holding up the bottle suspiciously, she winced. “Exactly how I imagined river water and bear piss would taste.”
He barked out a laugh. “That pretentious winery is rubbing off on you.”
“It’s not pretentious. It’s vibrant and interesting. And it pays the bills,” she emphasized.
“Why wine? Why California instead of—” He paused, trying to pin down her accent. “—I’m guessing South Carolina?”
“Close. Georgia.” She remembered the day she and Macy packed their cars with as many possessions as possible, driving caravan style across the country, garbage bags of clothes and second-hand kitchen supplies riding shotgun.
Macy had written Go Big or Go Home on the back windows, citing subliminal motivation each time they looked behind them. Neither needed the reminder written in hot pink washable paint. They had no home to go back to.
She slipped off her shoes and stretched her legs, resting bare feet on the dashboard. Ash didn’t seem to care. His gaze was on her exposed skin.
“I was born and raised in Savannah. It’s a beautiful old town with cobblestone streets, parks on every corner, and horse-drawn carriages blocking the flow of traffic. I’d never been more than a mile outside of town, but it didn’t matter. No other place could ever be as good. I grew up thinking I’d stay forever, even though my cousin Macy forced me to be Miss California every time we played beauty pageant.” She flashed him a wide grin. “Not that I fought her. Everybody knows in real life, Miss California always wins.”
“Don’t stop on a cliffhanger,” he said, when she went quiet, lost in thought. “What state was Macy?”
“Texas. Big hair, big mouth, big attitude. She fit the profile.” She’d also stuff her Snoopy training bra with cotton balls to get the big boobs, too, but Olivia left that out. “My dad owned a hardware store, and we lived in the apartment above it. If he was working and I needed him, I’d run down the stairs and ring the silver bell on the front counter. It was just the two of us until I started fourth grade. Macy came to stay with us while her parents went on vacation. She was in third. They never came back.”
“Jesus.” Ash scowled. “Where the fuck were they?”
She pointed at him. “That’s exactly what my dad asked them, word for word. They just decided they were done being parents, I guess. Wanted to travel the country in a used Winnebago and smoke pot every day. Be one with nature. My dad made up for it, though. He treated Macy like his own. Never said an ill word about his piece of shit brother and sister-in-law.”
“What about your mom? Did she get tired of being a parent, too?”
“No. I think she got tired of being poor. She met a man on a riverboat casino, won a twenty-five-hundred-dollar jackpot, divorced my dad, and moved to Tampa. I was five. Haven’t seen her since.”
He made a disgusted sound. “It sucks to learn so young that people disappoint, doesn’t it?” He was speaking from experience.
“It turned out for the best.” She brushed off his concern. “My dad was the bomb. Macy and I never wanted for a thing. And my mom still keeps in touch. Calls to tell me happy birthday every year, exactly seven days after my real birth date. Because who can expect a woman to remember the actual day she gave birth to her only child?”
Ash was onto something with the whole disappointment thing.
“The upside is,” she continued, her voice optimistic, “I use it as an excuse to binge eat birthday cake twice in one week. She’s still married to the riverboat gambler. They breed Schnauzers and own a chain of car washes in Orlando now.”
“I’ve heard that can keep you busy.” They shared the smile of a child with a shitty parent. “So how did the reigning Miss California actually end up here?”
This was the part she hated. “Dad died. Stage four lung cancer a year after I graduated high school. I dropped out of community college where I was seeking a degree in, get this, Bakery Science and Management.” She looked at him sideways. “Yes, you heard that right.”
“Sounds about as legit as Auctioneering. I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Me, too. And as it turns out, my skill level when it comes to baking maxes out at dumping a box of brownie mix into a pan. Macy finished her senior year early, we sold the hardware store for a pittance, got evicted from the apartment above it, and flipped a coin. Heads, Texas. Tails, California. Macy’s big hair has never forgiven me.”
Grinning, he swept a finger across her palm, tracing the lines. “Where does wine come into this?”
His touch was distracting. “We were broke a month after we rolled into town. Nobody told us that everything cost twice as much money here, and we had squat to begin with. I needed a decent paying job like a sick person needs medicine. Marshall was my medicine man.”
He was silent awhile, staring out at the black sea. She had no idea what he was thinking, until he looked at her with eyes so much like Marshall’s it took her aback.
“Marshall’s not your savior. Sounds like you’re your own hero. He wants—” He stopped abruptly, changing his words. “He’s been the undoing of many a woman. Watch your back.”
“Not this woman. He’s the best boss I’ve ever had. And why would you warn me about him? He’s your father.”
“Can’t deny that. But it stops there.” He eyed her bare legs. “Bet you won the swimsuit competition hands down.”
“No, Macy always took that. The neighborhood boys liked perky brunettes better than flat-chested blondes.” Cotton balls for the win, because even a pre-teen boy knew whether he was a tit man or not. “I secured the crown with my enthusiastic rendition of ‘Help Me, Rhonda’ in the talent portion. My dad loved the Beach Boys and Macy couldn’t sing for sugar.”
“Flat-chested?” He took in the ample cleavage her strapless dress and poor posture displayed. “Were they blind?”
“No, just assholes,” she replied, looking down at herself. “I didn’t get boobs until I was a sophomore, but when they finally showed up, they showed up for real. It was the happiest time of my life.”
Adjusting both the gaping taffeta and her bountiful boobs to no avail, she gave up and glanced at Ash, his face unreadable as he stared at her breasts.
“I just felt myself up,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Aren’t you gonna kiss me now?”
“Yeah,” he said roughly. “I’m gonna kiss the hell out of you.”
Smoothing back windblown strands of hair with a feather-light touch, he threaded his fingers through the tangled blonde mess. Warm breath fanned her cheek, and she closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss. Waiting and dying for it, gasping in surprise when his hot mouth landed on the sensitive patch of skin just below her earlobe instead.
Tilting her head to give him better access, she whimpered at the shock of pleasure.
Gentle suction followed the hot kiss, his mouth blazing a lazy, wet trail along the nape of her neck, the lash of his tongue shooting sparks through her body. Feeling the cool dampness left behind as he nibbled a path, she clutched a fistful of his T-shirt, feeling taut muscles underneath.
Finally giving her what she’d asked for, he slanted his mouth over hers, sealing their lips in a kiss that brought another level of arousal, her body flooding.
Proving he was worth the wait.
The silky slide of his tongue was gentle, almost chaste one moment, commanding and bold the next, exploring her. Teasing her. He took, overwhelming her senses, then retreated, fueling her need. Moaning against his mouth, she was instantly hooked on his taste, a drugging mix of potent sexuality and powerful masculinity—a high she’d chase for the rest of her life.
Stopping with only a breath between their parted lips, his eyes pierced hers.
“Livvy.” Whispering the play on her name, he sipped at her lips, kissing her over and over, finally tearing himself away. “Christ, you make me fucking crazy.”
He said it like a man said babe or honey. Like an endearment. A prayer. Livvy.
There were a few relationships in her past. All buttoned-up types she’d met at happy hour or wine festivals, her interest fizzling as fast as her sangria spritzer. She’d given them a fair shot, ending up with dull conversation and even duller sex. Not once did she experience a kiss so blatantly erotic, so sexually charged.
Drenched, she could go off at the slightest contact, and he hadn’t touched her below the collarbone. Sweet baby Jesus, the man gave great neck.
Letting out a celebratory cheer, she pumped her fist, savoring the moment.
“What? What’s happening?” Confused, Ash looked her over, from her blushing cheeks to her curled toes. “Did… did you…?”
Laughing, she shook her head. “No, but all it would take is a few circles of your finger. And you’ll know when it does. I’m not quiet.”
He growled low in his throat. “That sexy image is gonna get me through some long, lonely nights. Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” she corrected. “I knew you’d be good at that. The second I saw you, I said to myself, that man is a good kisser. I think it’s your whole, I’ll take what I want, when I want it, and I don’t give a sugar what you say about it, attitude. Good work, soldier.”
“I’m good at a few other things, too. Want me to show you?”
“Mmm, you know what I really want you to do?” She bit her lip, flirting with danger. “I want you to tell me about yourself.”
His head shot back. “Well, that’s a boner killer, darlin’.”
“Sorry.” Not sorry at all, she peeked at his lap. Shadows hid what her intuition told her was some serious fire power. Damn her moral code. “It’s mandatory I know at least a little bit about a man when he’s had his tongue in my mouth. And while it pains me to admit, that beer tastes pretty good when it’s mixed with you.”
Ticking a short list off on his fingers, he spoke as if ordering dinner. “I’m in the Army. Have been for years, probably will be for life. Stationed out of Ft. Bragg, but I’m always deployed, so I can’t say I really live there. I have a condo in Mission Bay when I’m not on active duty, but I’m always deployed, so I can’t say I really live there. I recently acquired a soft spot for a southern girl with legs for miles, and my favorite food is brownies from a box.” He shrugged, giving her a crooked grin. “That about sums it up.”
Oh, there was a boatload more than that. A warrior was behind those blue eyes. He was a soldier, but not just any. Special Forces. The cream of the crop.
Olivia couldn’t deny the excitement she felt knowing he was interested in her. A girl from Savannah whose most exciting moment to date was getting in her car and driving west until she hit water, too naive to know the danger she might face.
And danger with a capitol D was sitting next to her.
He knew he had her. He had to know he had her.
“How much more personal information is it gonna take, Liv?”
“That’ll do for now.”
His hot lips branded hers again, locking them together. The slip and slide of his tongue sent liquid fire shooting straight to her core, and she dueled with him over control, giving as good as she got.
Groaning, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling just hard enough to send his own message as he took the lead. Whimpering at his show of dominance, Olivia nearly dissolved into a puddle of her own wetness.
Needing to touch him, she reached between their bodies and fumbled for the hem of his T-shirt, pushing it out of her way. Her fingertips grazed warm, tight skin, and she followed the soft line of hair swirling down into the front of his jeans. The denim was pulled too tight for her to slip inside, so she traced his steely length over the worn fabric, learning his secrets.
He was a big man. Big all over.
Measuring him, she stroked his erection until he shifted his hips, pulling away.
“Jesus. Stop or I’ll embarrass myself.” He growled the words against her mouth, plucking kisses as he spoke. “I’ve been on a hair trigger since we left the vineyard. How far is it to your place? I’m a good twenty minutes away.”
Out of breath and on fire, she ran her hand across his rigid abs before sitting up straight in the seat, patting her dress back into place. The vineyard was her cold shower.
“I’m not gonna sleep with you tonight, Ash.”
He let out an agonized laugh, more amused than irritated. “Why not?”
Following her lead, he sat back in the driver’s seat, grimacing as he adjusted his fly.
“Because I want to. Badly.” Looking out at the water, she sighed in sexual frustration, then rolled her head toward him. “Because if I give myself permission, I’ll let loose with you and look like a total slut instead of a career-driven woman with her act together. I’ll probably break your penis.”
Horror crossed his face. Then interest. “You’re not gonna break my penis.”
“Yeah, because I’m not gonna sleep with you.”
“Liv, I’m saying this because I trust you completely and because I outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds.” His boyish smile, unexpected on a man of his magnitude, softened something inside her. “I dare you to try and break my penis.”
Her laugh was loud in the hush of darkness, chasing away seagulls pecking the sand for a late-night snack.
“Okay, soldier. Let me give it to you straight.” Shifting sideways, she tucked a bare leg under her and faced him. “Because I just met you a few hours ago. Because I work for your father. Because I love my job. Because I need my job.”
“None of that matters. The moment we locked eyes, none of it mattered.”
That was an indisputable fact. And since they were being so truthful, she went for broke.
“You want brutal honesty then?” She rolled her lips, knowing this would scare the big, bad soldier away. “Because if I do, I’ll fall madly in love with you. I’ll beg you not to leave, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll beg you to come back, broken penis and all. It’ll be an ugly scene that’ll embarrass the both of us.”
His eyes sparked, seeing beyond the humor of her statement. And he didn’t look the least bit spooked.
“Good. Brutal honesty?” He quirked a brow, but didn’t wait for a reply. “Then you’ll say yes when I ask you to marry me.”
Her shocked laugh was garbled when he kissed away the automatic denial. Once his lips lifted, she regained the use of speech.
“You’re a lunatic.”
“Nope. Sane as the day is long. The government tests me on a regular basis.” And the question of whether he was joking or not was answered when he dropped his forehead to hers and whispered, “Say yes.”
Her heart stopped for a full second before kicking into gear, beating double time. The rush of adrenaline and crazy desire to agree had to be a result of his neck kiss, not his silly proposal.
Lord almighty, she didn’t know for sure.
“I’m not saying yes.” She ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing the soft strands, touching him as if he was hers. “And the government needs to modify their tests because you’re out of your mind. They have a certifiably insane soldier running around proposing to strange women.”
“Not women. You. Are you saying no?”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. For the life of her, she couldn’t form the word.
Satisfied with her mute response, he popped a quick kiss on her lips. “You’re not saying yes, but you’re not saying no. Gotta admit, I like my chances.”
Grinning, he started the Jeep and she immediately regretted her decision to abstain. Her inner slut berated her outer good girl as Ash pulled onto the highway, eventually heading east toward the vineyard.
Back to her car. Back to reality.
As she mourned the knowledge that she’d never feel his weight above her, never feel him deep within her, never see him at his most vulnerable, he whipped the Jeep onto the narrow shoulder, coming to an abrupt stop in a spray of gravel.
She waited as he stared ahead, looking at something she couldn’t see.
It was at least ten seconds before he spoke, and she swore he was going to say, “Ass, gas, or grass, lady. Nobody rides for free.”
Instead, he surprised her. Again. “What’s your middle name?”
It was so random, she answered without thought. “Christine.”
“What’s your favorite song?”
“Shadows of the Night.”
“What’s your greatest fear in life?”
She considered lying. Or saying something trite. Ultimately, she opted for the truth. “Brutal honesty? Never having a baby.”
Still staring ahead, he nodded slowly, as if committing her answers to memory. The silence was verging on awkward when he finally looked at her.
“I have two weeks leave coming up in a few months. Spend it with me. We can go anywhere you want. My place, your place, Bermuda, Siberia, I don’t care. And sex isn’t mandatory. I mean, I want to, but we don’t have to. I just wanna be with you. Spend it with me, Liv. Please.”
His expression was steady, willing her to agree, and while his request was only for a two-week time commitment, they both knew more was riding on her answer.
Possibly a lifetime.
Searching her soul took seconds.
This night was about taking chances. Even the kind that could break a heart.
“I changed my mind about tonight.” Reaching out, she cupped his stubbled cheek. “Take me to bed. In addition to those two weeks, you still owe me seventy-two hours.”
He grinned and gunned the Jeep, executing a U-turn that rattled her teeth. Just as fast as Olivia agreed, Ash hightailed it down the highway, in the opposite direction of Coleson Creek Winery.
Sealing the deal on destiny.