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She tilted her head. “Another Guy Rule?”

“Yep.”

The dog lurched from under the table. Matt stood back to let Allison go ahead. She threaded her way through the tables, aware of him warm and close behind her.

“Matt!”

A man—tall, with unruly dark hair and a killer smile—made his way toward them from the direction of the bar. “Cynthie told me you came in. Good to see you.”

“Sam.” Matt’s voice warmed with pleasure. “Heard you were back.”

The two men moved together into a one-armed, two-pat guy hug before stepping apart.

“How’s your dad?” Matt asked.

“Still making life hell for his nurses.”

“His heart?”

“Black as ever. But at least it’s beating.” The man stooped to scratch the dog behind its ears; straightened and aimed the smile at Allison. “Sam Grady.”

“Allison Carter.” Politely, she offered her hand.

He held it an instant too long, his grip smooth and strong. The part of her that had been raised to notice such things observed that his teeth were white, his watch a TAG Heuer, his black polo shirt from Brooks Brothers. Money there somewhere.

“I haven’t seen you before,” he said.

“She’s with me,” Matt said.

Sam winked. “At least for now.”

Were they serious? Should she be offended? Or flattered?

She was a little of both, she decided, and cleared her throat. “I just moved here. At the beginning of the school year.”

Sam snapped his fingers. “Carter. You’re the new school-teacher. On Pelican Way, right?”

She was a little taken aback that he knew where she lived. But she had come to Dare Island to be friendly, she reminded herself. To be part of the community. Maybe she should feel encouraged that the parents were talking about her. “That’s right. Do you have a child at the school?”

“Nope.” He flashed another smile. “I’m single and unattached.”

“Then how did you know…”

“I’m your landlord,” Sam said. “Grady Realty and Construction.”

“Small world,” Matt said.

Small town, Allison thought.

“Then I should thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate the special discount.”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “Special discount?”

“For teachers,” she explained. “I was a little taken aback when I started looking for a place to live. I should have realized that the demand for vacation rentals would drive up rents on the island. But then the realty office told me there had been a mistake. They have a special rate for teachers.”

“All teachers?” Matt drawled. “Or just the pretty ones?”

“All of them,” Sam said. “But especially the pretty ones.”

“First I’ve heard of it.”

“New policy,” Sam said. “Local businesses have a responsibility to give back to the community.”

“Your old man know about this?”

“He will when he gets out of the hospital.”

A long look passed between the two men.

“I’d give something to hear that conversation,” Matt said.

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it. If I’m still around afterward.” Another sharp smile. “Buy you a drink? On the house.”

Allison’s gaze darted from Sam to Matt. There were undercurrents here she did not understand. Was he asking her? Or both of them?

“Thanks, but we were just leaving,” Matt said.

Sam nodded. “Another time, then. Anytime.”

“Great to see you, Sam.”

“Nice meeting you,” Allison said.

Matt steered her toward the stairs, his hand warm at the small of her back. A tingle radiated up her spine.

She glanced over her shoulder at Sam Grady standing at the rail of the deck, his dark hair ruffled by the ocean breeze, classic nose, square jaw, master of all he surveyed.

She cleared her throat. “He seems friendly.”

Not merely friendly.
Single and unattached
, he’d told her.
Eligible
, her mother would have said with that when-I-was-your-age-I-was-already-married-to-your-father gleam in her eye. No strings, no complications, no sixteen-year-old son in Allison’s class.

Allison sighed. Too bad she didn’t feel any zings and tingles when she looked at him.

“Sam’s a good guy,” Matt said.

She waited for him to fill in details the way a woman would. When he didn’t, she prompted, “Have you known each other long?”

Matt opened her door. “Since ninth grade. We used to raise hell together in high school.”

The dog jumped into the back. She heard its nails on the truck bed and then Matt slid in beside her.

She arched her eyebrows. “Used to?”

In the close confines of the cab, she could smell the ocean on him, sweat and salt and man. His shoulder was hard and warm, capped with muscle. She wanted to turn her head and bite him like an apple.

Allison jerked her gaze up, shocked at the direction of her own thoughts. He was watching her, that little quirk at the corner of his mouth, his eyes so blue…

“He left the island eight years ago,” Matt said.

They were talking about Sam, she reminded herself. His friend, Sam Grady.

“I thought he owned the realty company.”

Matt turned the key in the ignition. “His family does. His old man was always pushing Sam to come into the business. But they never saw eye to eye. When the old man turned the fish house into a restaurant, that was the last straw for Sam.”

She forced herself to focus. “Why would Sam’s father do that?”

“Old Grady makes more money feeding tourists than he could processing fish.” The truck lurched as Matt pulled out of the parking lot. “So the fishermen lost out, and Sam took off to start up his own construction company.”

“Then that remark about local businesses giving back to the community…”

“Was a line.” He glanced at her sideways. “Sam’s good at lines.”

“I thought you were friends.”

“We are.” Matt smiled. She felt the pull of attraction deep in her stomach. “That doesn’t mean I’d let him date my sister.”

The man had strings, she reminded herself. Connections, complications, a warm, involved family who lived and worked together on the island.

Which sounded lovely, except Allison had come to the island to escape her family.

“Wouldn’t that be up to your sister? Unless you don’t trust her judgment.”

“I trust her fine. Meg’s the smart one in the family. It’s Sam I don’t trust.”

She raised her brows. “How old is your sister?”

Matt grinned, acknowledging her point. “Thirty-four.”

“Where does she live?”

“New York City. She’s vice president of marketing for Franklin Insurance.”

Allison blinked. Okay, so the Fletcher family didn’t all live on the island. Maybe Matt was right. Maybe she really
did need to get to know the situation before rushing to judgment.

“But you know how it is,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “You have a brother. Miles, right?”

He remembered her brother’s name. He actually listened. That was something different for her.

She twisted her fingers together, slightly uncomfortable at being the focus of his attention. “My brother isn’t…” She had to clear her throat. “It’s not like that for us.”

“He didn’t look out for you?”

“Never.” That sounded harsh. Unfair. All through her childhood, Miles had been the one who encouraged her to go her own way, to take risks, to experience life. To collect moments, instead of things the way their parents did. “I can take care of myself.”

“He didn’t beat up your boyfriends? Protect you on the playground?”

The thought made her smile. “No. Well…” She stopped, caught by a memory. “Sometimes at night…I had nightmares as a kid. Our parents said I had to get over them. But Miles…Sometimes he’d let me climb into bed with him.”

“There you go,” Matt said. They pulled into her driveway, under the shadow of the porch. “Doesn’t matter how old or far apart you are. He’ll always be your big brother.”

“He left,” she said, the words jerked out of her. “When I was twelve. I haven’t seen him in thirteen years.”

“I’m sorry,” Matt said quietly.

To her horror, she felt tears sting her eyes. She stared at her knees, willing the tears not to fall. “It’s all right. It’s not like he died or anything. He just…”

Packed a bag and ran away.

Broke my heart.

Abandoned me.

“Left,” she repeated. Leaving her as the only target of their father’s anger and their mother’s dissatisfaction.

“Sometimes that’s worse,” Matt said.

“How would you know?” she asked and remembered, too late, that he was divorced with a sixteen-year-old son.

“Because most of the time leaving is a choice.” He turned off the engine. “Death isn’t.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” she said into the silence. “I don’t usually overshare like this.”

She didn’t usually talk about herself at all.

He was a very good listener.

He shifted slightly, facing her. His cheeks creased in a smile. “Not ever? Or not on a first date?”

She picked at the hem of her skirt. “We’re not dating.”

“I picked you up, I bought you a drink, I brought you home.” The creases deepened. “What am I missing?”

Those lazy blue eyes missed very little, she thought. Despite his easy manner, he must see, he must know, that she was attracted to him.

“We didn’t eat,” she said.

“Next time,” he promised. “When I show you my island.”

“We didn’t…” Her gaze fell to his mouth. Her pulse clamored.
Shut up, shut up, shut up, Allison.

His eyes darkened. “I can take care of that now.”

He stretched his arm across the back of her seat, giving her time to stop him, giving her space to move away. She did neither. Her pulse went wild with anticipation as his fingers caught a strand of her hair, stroking it behind her ear.

He leaned in, warm and close. She inhaled and closed her eyes, need pooling in the pit of her stomach and lower, between her thighs. He kissed her hot cheek, making her shiver, pressed his lips to her forehead and made her sigh. Cupping her face with his free hand, he laid his mouth on hers.

His lips were warm, firm, parted. Like his touch, his kiss teased and tempted, a promise of heat, a whisper of excitement along her nerves, surging in her blood. Without
thinking—
Don’t think
—she opened her mouth, inviting him in.

He deepened the kiss immediately, nudging inside her, licking inside her while his hand tightened on the back of her neck. Heat flared, blanketing her brain. She fisted her hand to pull him closer, wanting more. More heat, more contact, more tongue. He gave it to her, swamping her with sensations, the softness of his shirt, the roughness of his stubble, the taste and textures of his mouth.

His hand stroked from jaw to shoulder, brushing the outside curve of her breast, sliding from hip to thigh, rousing and soothing at the same time. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch. She made a sound in her throat and strained forward, her knee bumping the gearshift.

“Let’s take this inside,” he said against her mouth. Another kiss, deep and drugging. “I want to come inside with you. Let me come.”

Oh, yes. Inside me. Come.

Oh, no.

Allison broke the kiss, banging her head on the back of the seat.

“Easy.” He gathered her closer, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of her neck.

His eyes were dark and dilated, his lips wet and close. She almost lunged for them again.
No, no, no.

“I don’t do this,” she said.
Not anymore.

His body tensed. Stilled. “Okay.”

“I can’t do this.” She struggled to remember the reasons why. “Your son is in my class.”

The inside of the cab was sweltering. Her breathing rasped in the quiet.

Matt eased back, his gaze on her face. “My son doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Maybe not.

She swallowed, feeling hot and dorky and embarrassed.
It wasn’t like she was a virgin or anything. In college, she’d had her share of drunken fumblings and awkward couplings. But she was trying so desperately now to be an adult, to only say yes when she meant yes. When it meant something. She didn’t need a commitment, but…

“I don’t know you. I don’t jump into…” Bed, she thought. “Things with someone I don’t know.”

“I understand,” he said.

She stared. “You do?”

“Sure. You don’t do one-night stands.” He took a deep breath; released it slowly. “You got a way to get to school tomorrow?”

“What?”

“Without your bike.”

“Oh. I…Yes.” Her blood was still warm, her face hot. “I do have a car. In the garage.”

He nodded. “Okay.” His eyes met hers. “Call me if you get a flat.”

Five

T
HAT NIGHT
, M
ATT
spent the hour after dinner fixing a leaky valve on the Harley. Classic bikes were best, everything simple, stripped down, easy to service. He didn’t have the time or inclination to go poking around with some complicated new fancy equipment. Low maintenance, that’s what he wanted.

But even as he repaired the worn valve guide and installed new plugs, his mind kept sliding to Allison, remembering the flush on her face, the warm interest in her eyes.

The way her hand had fisted in his shirt.

He stepped out of the work shed, rolling his neck to ease the muscles there. His body felt restless. Needy.

Cicadas whirred and chirred their mating cries, a rising, falling call that worked its way under his skin and into his blood. Hell, even the bugs were getting more action than he was. There had been the usual influx of tourists this summer, but no woman who really caught his eye. Maybe he’d been too busy. Maybe he was getting too particular.

Matt made a face. Or too old.

Whatever the reason, he hadn’t been with a woman in a really long time. Four months, he realized.

Jesus.
After four months, a man was bound to get a little edgy and off his game.

Which didn’t excuse him moving on his son’s new teacher like she was a woman he’d picked up in a bar.

His brain replayed the scene in the truck in 3-D with sound effects, all that warmth, all that heat, that sound she’d made deep in her throat.