Ahead in the Heat (14 page)

S
ean was even more fucked-up than Annie had assumed he was. She’d realized that he’d been hiding secrets, but she’d kind of figured they were the everyday bullshit kind of secrets that most people dealt with. Maybe his mom and dad divorced when he was six. Maybe he’d fucked around in high school or experimented with pot. Maybe . . .

Well, maybe he’d been squeezed out of his bedroom by the physical manifestation of his mother’s emotional disorder. There ya go.

And he seemed to think it was the end of the story there. For the next three hours, she half expected him to bring it up again . . . but he didn’t. They watched the last two episodes of
Dexter
together, and he proved himself an excellent rewatching companion. Even though he’d seen the episodes before, he didn’t prewince or ooh or tease that she was going to like some scene that was coming up. Annie considered that the height of manners in television viewing. Afterward, they argued about whether the ending was feasible or even justifiable, considering the entire eight-season show was about a serial killer.

Eventually Annie fell asleep with her head on Sean’s shoulder and his arm around her. The unbearably fluffy blanket she’d been provided by the
aircrew was tucked around her knees, but she’d let the pillow fall to the floor. There was nothing better than the firm resilience of Sean’s muscles.

She slept like a rock.

So hard, in fact, that they were landing before she knew it.

Sean woke her, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. “Hey. You still in there?”

“What?” Her eyes were bleary and her nose was both itchy and stuffy. Completely ugh.

“You sleep like the dead. I held a mirror up over your nose and mouth at one point to see if you were actually breathing.”

“You did not.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d brushed her teeth before settling in, but that whole lasts-twelve-hours claim of her toothpaste was a pack of lies. “Christ, I must smell awful. Back away. Ten feet at a minimum until I can get some hygiene going.”

“All I can give you is two feet.” He tugged on her seat belt. “We’re in the remain-seated part of the flight.”

“We should have flown a private jet or something,” she muttered, keeping her head down. “What’s the point of being rich if you can’t fly privately?”

“They still make you buckle up on approach.” Sean was in an annoyingly good mood. His smile flashed at her. “You’re pissy as hell in the morning, aren’t you?”

“I want coffee,” she grumbled. Her mouth pursed into something that felt surprisingly like a pout. “I don’t work right without coffee.”

“You slept through morning service. Missed a nice baked soufflé, though it could have done with more bacon.”

“Ah, jeez, I missed bacon?” She flopped back in her seat, resting her head against the plastic window. Out there were miles and miles of blue. Above in the sky and below in the water. A tiny streak of island made of sand and green approached fast. But it was fun teasing Sean. “Worst morning ever.”

“Next time I’ll wake you for coffee and bacon at any cost. Noted.” He took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “But if you keep complaining about the details of a free trip to Fiji, I might have to throw you out the hatch.”

“Commercial airplanes don’t have hatches.” She yawned, turning her face away from him and covering her mouth with the back of her free hand. No way was she making him smell what she could taste. “They have doors. Or something. Another reason to fly private: easy body disposal. Besides, we’ll be landing soon, right?”

“Already on the descent.” He leaned in behind her, his chest pressing against her back as they looked out the window. “That’s Fiji there. One of my favorite places on earth.”

“How old were you when you first went?”

“Nineteen. I flew economy,” he said, and without looking, she knew he wore a smirk. “It was my first year on the tour.”

“And how did you place in the event?” She wasn’t sure why she asked. Half impulse, half curiosity, because there was no way someone could remember those sorts of details.

Except he did. He reeled off numbers like a computer program. “I came in fifteenth overall. Scored a sixteen point three in my first heat. Fifteen point six in round two, but only a fourteen point two in third round.”

“You’re a freak of nature. You remember all those numbers from nine years ago?”

“It’s my career. Of course I do.”

“Most nineteen-year-olds are barely making it through English 202.”

He grinned against her neck, this time adding in a soft kiss. “Sucks to be them. And we need to get coffee and bacon in you as soon as we land. This grumpy routine is unlike you.”

“It’s perfectly like me,” she huffed, but half for play. “‘Feed me, Seymour.’ And this whole thing is off if you don’t get that reference.”

“
Little Shop of Horrors
. We’re good.”

Except they weren’t.

Landing was fine. The plane touched down smoothly if they didn’t count the bounce at initial touchdown. It was stepping up to the chest-high customs desk that didn’t go as smoothly as they’d have expected.

Sean went first, presenting his much-stamped passport. He had a small wheeled suitcase, the type of high-end leather thing that made Annie feel like her backpack marked her out as a twelve-year-old. She flipped over the customs sheet, reviewing her
answers. She hoped she’d filled out the little boxes properly. Even though she knew how to handle herself for the most part, she always got nervous with stupid little forms. She’d only gotten her passport for her trip to Cabo in college, and she hadn’t even needed to have it for a trip to Mexico at the time. She’d figured she’d be less likely to be abducted for ransom if she had the official document. Or something like that.

But now she had a Fiji stamp on her passport. That certainly dressed the thing up.

As soon as they stepped through the gate toward baggage claim, Annie knew something was wrong. Sean’s hand clenched on her waist. He pulled them to the side of the short corridor, muttering curses.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to peer around his wide shoulders.

“Ackerman’s out there.” Sean lifted his fingers to his temple and rubbed as if he’d caught an instantaneous headache. “He’s got a camera with him.”

Annie’s stomach took a sickly lurch. “Can he do that? Just ambush you?”

Sean lifted a single eyebrow. “Really? What country do you live in? Because I live in the one where Angelina Jolie can’t go to the grocery store without three tabloids reporting on what type of bread she buys.”

“Good point,” she agreed, rolling her eyes at herself. Surprise had made stupid shit fall out of her mouth. “But I doubt Angelina Jolie buys bread anyway.”

“Then it’d be six tabloids. And the cover shot too.”

Annie chuckled, then bit her bottom lip. It didn’t feel right to laugh when Sean was obviously completely wound up. At least he’d been the one to make the quip. That meant it was fine, right?

Except one glance in his crisply blue eyes said maybe no. Humor could be a defense mechanism, and it seemed like Sean was deep in defense territory. Worry lurked in his gaze.

She cupped the side of his face, fingers tracing over his short-cropped hair. “Hey. It can’t be that bad, right?”

He was slightly pale despite his tan. “I don’t know.”

“Are you worried they’ll know?” She swallowed against the thick lump in her throat. Nerves. Pure nerves. He’d only trusted her enough to tell her about his upbringing a matter of hours ago, and now it might become something that blew up in his face. “About your mom?”

He gave a tight nod. “There was something Ackerman said . . . and he’s known for getting the dirt. You shoulda seen the feature he did on Michael Adama.”

Annie winced. “I did.” It hadn’t been a good thing. Not in the long run. Michael Adama had been a surfer . . . and then he wasn’t. The picture about him was so unflattering, that even though it didn’t analyze his surfing technique, he couldn’t get any more endorsements.

Frankly, Annie didn’t need any extra attention either. She’d severed her professional relationship with Sean before they’d begun their relationship in earnest, but there would still be people who frowned
on it. The best she could do was keep things on the quiet side.

Her throat clenched again as she tried to swallow away her worries. They weren’t going anywhere. She had to put effort into lifting her chin. “I’ll be by your side.”

Sean’s smile was wistful. “It’s nice of you to offer, but I’m not dragging you into the middle of this.”

Annie wavered. There was no other word for it. Her heart was pounding too quickly, and she had those hot shots of fear running down the back of her thighs as her palms turned sweaty. “I shouldn’t abandon you.”

Sean winced. It wasn’t a no.

So he comforted her. He held her face between both of his hands and kissed her hard. She held on to his wrists in return, letting her eyes close and the moment fade away to only their mouths. Only the way they were together.

If she tried hard enough, maybe that would be enough.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Sean took two more short, swift kisses. “I’m going to walk out there and do my not-quite-famous duty. You slip out when it looks like Ackerman is focused on me. I’ll meet you at our
bure
. There’s a driver waiting to take you to our main resort. Then they’ll get you out there.”

“Are you sure?” She rubbed her thumb over the inside of his wrist.

“Completely.”

She’d expected him to kiss her again. He did, but not on her mouth. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to
her forehead. It felt like happiness. It felt like belonging.

And as he walked away, she wrapped her arms around her stomach.

He looked so put together. So stylish and polished. He slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses, then slung his carry-on bag under his good arm.

“Westin!” Ackerman pounced like a cat on a mouse. “You haven’t been returning my calls.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Sean drawled. But as he strode toward the baggage carousel, distance swallowed his words.

Just like Ackerman was trying to swallow him up completely. The other man enunciated clearly and loudly enough for his camera crew to catch every word. “Westin, don’t you want to talk about how far you’ve come? Considering your mom?”

Sean’s steps faltered. For a moment, Annie thought that maybe he’d punch the shorter man, and then it would all be on film. It was probably what Ackerman was hoping for. If he couldn’t get any confirmation from Sean, then a nonverbal, violent response would be just as good.

“My mom’s none of your business,” Sean bit out.

“That’s fine.” Ackerman held up both hands. “But growing up in a hoarder’s house, how did you cope?”

“No fucking comment.”

S
ean wasn’t sure what to expect when he drove up to the porch of the isolated
bure
he’d rented for their stay in Fiji. The open air, native-styled cottage was managed and arranged for by the resort on the far end of the property, but it was one of their top-of-the-line, deluxe options. As a result, it was off the beaten path, and the approach required a four-wheel drive vehicle.

That was the case to get to the front door, at least. The back door fronted a private beach, with a regular left break.

He threw the rented SUV into park, then jumped out. The porch was empty, as was the front room. He stood in the middle of the polished bamboo floor and put both fists in the center of his spine, right above his ass. He leaned back and sighed with satisfaction when a series of pops released through his system, joined by something just short of endorphins.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to get rid of Ackerman.” Annie stood in the open doorway to the right.

“I had to shake him. I didn’t want him following me back here.” He held out a hand, but when she came right to him, he couldn’t have been any more
surprised. “The resort will do its best to keep him out, but this place is kind of isolated. He could find a way in.”

She laced her fingers through his. “I got here two hours ago.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. He folded her in his arms and rested his chin on her head. She twisted the sides of his shirt in her fists, on either side of his waist. “The driver told me. He also told me that you wouldn’t leave the airport until they’d already brought a second staff member to wait for me. That is
not
what I told you to do.”

She kept her face pressed into his chest. “I didn’t want to take your ride, and then have you come out and have to wait. You had to string that ass along just so he wouldn’t see me!”

“This is a fucking mess.” He spread one hand across the back of her head. Her hair was silk.

Back at the airport, he’d watched her walk past from behind the shelter of his sunglasses. He’d answered a couple of Ackerman’s more innocuous questions about Sean’s shoulder and what his recovery was like. The whole time, Sean had been able to hear Ackerman’s first two questions echoing over and over in his mind. In his ears.

In his fears.

Everything he’d worried about. Maybe he’d picked the wrong fucking career for maintaining his privacy, but the ocean was the only thing that had ever called to him. The only thing that gave him an escape.

He didn’t know what to make of his muddled internal twists. He’d expected Annie to be pissed too.
She wouldn’t have been totally off track to blame him for the hassle.

“I heard what he asked. About your mom.”

He sighed heavily enough that his shoulders bounced. “Yeah. Jesus, you should have heard him asking the same things over and over again. I think I’d have rather bent over and let customs officers stick a finger up my ass than listen to him anymore.”

She gave a startled, awkward laugh. “Oh God, you would
not
. Don’t lie.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t. A million questions are way better than inappropriate touching.”

“Glad we’ve cleared that up.” She snorted, shaking her head against his chest. Her grip let go of his shirt and she stroked over his waist, up his back. “I thought you were going to be in trouble.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he said, and it had to be growled, because fear had him locking his hands down on her shoulders hard enough that she winced. No one had any idea of the rest of it. He still had his secrets.

“I meant for snapping his neck. What’s wrong with you?”

“Worst nightmares are a bitch.” It said everything and nothing at the same time. This was his worst nightmare, but it was still developing.

Ackerman said point-blank that he’d started with a source. Sean had no idea who it could have been and, despite a bit of verbal fencing, Ackerman had been cagey enough to keep it to himself. Sean kept running through the possibilities, but no one should have known. No one should have been able to tell. Even his fellow high school students hadn’t known.
There was only his uncle, and Theo felt so guilty over the situation that he wouldn’t have breathed a word.

She pressed her face to his neck, dropping kisses over his skin. Her mouth was soft and delicate enough that it was a whisper of sensation rather than the roughness that buffeted him from the inside. He didn’t know if he could match her.

“Annie,” he said to warn her. “I’ve been so pissed for the last two hours. . . . I’m still pissed, actually.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” She wriggled her shoulders, pressing against his grip on her. “You’re holding me quite nicely.”

“I don’t know how long I can keep up nice.” He kissed her mouth, dragging out the warning further. He’d ramp them up hard, and fast, and he’d like it. It would remain to be seen whether she would as well.

“Here’s the thing about sex.” She kissed him again, almost as hard as he’d kissed her. They were a new thing together. More dangerous than a great white. “It doesn’t have to be nice. Sometimes mean is exactly what the doctor ordered.”

“I didn’t bring you to Fiji so you could act as my personal stress relief,” he snarled.

She didn’t know what she was suggesting, not really. His hands ached with the intentions of being good. He wasn’t a nice guy, not when it came down to it. She deserved something better than him. Someone cleaner.

“Good. Because I came along on this trip so I can jump your bones at every opportunity.” Her nails scraped over the back of his neck, then down his
front. She systematically began opening the buttons of his shirt. “Me. My wants. I could have just as easily stayed home if this was about you. But I want you.”

“Why?” He didn’t intend to ask such a bullshit, wimpy question. It was all but inviting trouble. Even with what he’d told her on the plane last night, she didn’t know the half of it. She didn’t know how the story had ended. The fire.

She spread his shirt wide. “Isn’t that obvious? I’m using you for the prime digs, of course. Have you seen this place? It’s fucking gorgeous.”

He laughed abruptly, and the sound came out raw, because he hadn’t seen that one coming. “It’s not bad.”

“‘Not bad,’ he says,” she muttered. Her gaze latched onto his chest, and she was tracing patterns between his abs with the tip of one index finger. “You’re fucking spoiled, Sean Westin. This place is amazing. And we have it all to ourselves.”

“Yeah? Then I need a tour.” He felt like a damn caveman. A smash-and-grab kind of guy. So he might as well fit action to the rough and exploding way he felt. Dipping his knees a few inches, he wrapped one arm low around Annie’s pert ass and hitched her. Up. All the way, until her hip was even with his face and she was off the ground.

“Holy shit!” she squealed. Her hands went to his shoulders, trying to hold herself straight upright,
but he wasn’t having any of that. He put one hand flat on her ass and pushed.

She folded over his shoulder. Her hands slipped down his back to his ass, where she grabbed on tight. He grunted. “That’s better.”

“You’re a Neanderthal.”

“Meh,” he said, with intentional dryness. “I want a tour, and I want to take you with me. Seemed like the best of both worlds.”

“How am I supposed to give you a tour from down here?” she said. Her face was pressed against his midback.

“Not my problem.”

She pinched him. “Put me down.”

“Just a minute. You said I need to see this place.” He strolled toward the open archway she’d been standing in. “Nice bedroom.”

It was pretty nice too, though it was hard to notice details when he had a squirming bundle of womanhood hitched over one shoulder. The huge bed was spread with pure white sheets and a coverlet that looked like the bare-minimum thickness. As well it should be. The air was warm and sultry, scented with palm fronds and the thick scent of the jungle that peeked through plantation shutters. They’d be grateful for the wide-bladed fan slowly spinning above the bed once he’d fucked her silly and they were both sticky and exhausted.

“I liked the back porch better,” she offered.

“Yeah?” He veered left, through the open archway, toward sand and ocean. “It does have a nice view.”

“I’m totally sticking my tongue out at you,” she said. “You just can’t see it.”

“I don’t believe you. From the angle you’re at, you’d get a mouthful of my shirt if you stuck your tongue out.”

“You suck.”

“I know.” He hitched her back over his shoulder, though, locking his arms around her and letting her do a slow slide down his front. Her hips, her waist, her breasts. “It’s nice out here.”

Her lips parted on a quiet gasp. “I know.”

The whole place was a matter of understated elegance. Occasional touches of tribal design accented pale wood, but mostly it was simple. Underdecorated. A long, wide bench upholstered in pale cream fabric marked the far edge of the porch. Beyond that, a couple tiki torches sketched the line between porch and sand.

He put her down on the bench, so that she was standing on it. Her ribs were parallel with his mouth, and he pushed her shirt up in order to open his mouth across that flesh. She was made of strength and delicacy all at once. He palmed her hips.

Her hands rested across the back of his head. When he looked up at her, her face was turned toward the sky. She didn’t know what she did to him.

It had been a sock to the stomach to see her waiting at the
bure
. She fit in his life. He squeezed her tight. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that bullshit.”

She shrugged, her nails tracing patterns that made him want to do dirty things. But even that was half of what he liked so much about her. That it was no big deal to her, and she didn’t expect any giant
parade of accolades. This was just what she did for people in her life. Steadiness and snarky humor when they needed to come down from tension. “You’ll owe me later. I think there should be champagne involved when you get rid of Ackerman.”

“I’ll buy you a hundred bottles.” He’d buy her anything, anytime. No amount was too good for her. He’d asked her along on this trip on impulse, but he was rapidly coming to think it was one of the best things he’d ever done. He slipped his fingers under the band of her shorts. The flesh where she curved was delicious. He wanted to bite. “Thanks for coming.”

She grinned, a smile that kept getting wider and wider as she looked at him and tipped her head. “Did you . . . ? That was an accidental pun, right?”

He choked on a sudden burst of laughter. “Okay, yeah. Completely accidental. But . . .”

He drew the cord of her shorts free. The loose linen fell to her hips and stopped at the swell of her ass. She had on a tiny thong made of lace and prayers. He kissed the soft skin beneath her navel.

Her hands spread across the back of his head, dipping into the shallow at the base of his skull. She twitched as she gave a quiet gasp. His tongue darted out, tracing the top band of her panties. “By all means,” she breathed. “If this is the way you give thank-yous, I think I can cope with that.”

“You’re talking too much,” he said against her belly. He pushed her shorts all the way down. She vibrated under his touch, and he fucking loved it. He loved knowing what he could do to her. Anticipation was the best drug in the world.

It was a big portion of why he put so much
work
into surfing. He knew guys who threw a board out, and flopped on it and got what they got and were happy for it. Not Sean. He liked tasting the anticipation and knowing before he even went out on the water that he was going to kill it. He liked the planning.

He was beginning to plan how to keep Annie around in his life. If he kept Ackerman’s investigation buried, Sean could keep Annie from figuring out what a bad bargain he was. For a long, long time.