Going Deep (Coastal Heat #1) (13 page)

With their legs entwined and soft breaths stirring her hair, she floated along on a cloud of happy alertness. The gentle splash of water against the hull should have soothed her to sleep, but she couldn’t shut off her mind. No matter how she tried to distract herself, every thought she had seemed to circle back to Brian’s simple statement about their relationship.

His best friend.

The urge to kick him in the shin seized her. Of course, her feet were bare and such a kick would hurt. Though he was no longer the bony boy he’d once been, her toes were sure to come out the losers. Their odd friendship had been cloaked in academic competition, but she never thought he’d resort to dirty tricks in his quest to finally beat her. His refusal to share his chemistry notes still stung. It also explained why their graduation day kiss left a bitter taste in her mouth. They had been friends in a way, and now she knew he’d deliberately hurt her because she’d inadvertently hurt him.

A sharp pang twisted in her gut. She surrendered to the pull of the shadowy cabin and slid down onto the pillow beside him. Brian turned into her, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Her breathing matched the easy, rhythmic cadence of his. She ran the arch of her foot over the curve of his calf. No, she wouldn’t kick him. How could she, when Brian’s big hand sought hers in his sleep?

She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. Between the two of them, they had enough ego to float his fancy boat. But more, they shared a crazy connection she couldn’t explain with something as simple as mutual understanding or common background. It ran deep. Like a riptide. Each time he kissed her, she felt an inexplicable and irresistible pull. An undertow threatening to carry her away. Now, when she looked into his fathomless brown eyes, she realized she’d had the key to that precious chemistry test all along. She simply didn’t know it.

The second the corny thought wafted through her brain, she blew it away with a huff. The dying daylight painted the low ceiling with red-gold waves. A few diehard gulls screeched outside. She had to go now or she never would.

“Brian?”

“Hm?”

“I need to go.”

Dark lashes fluttered then his eyes popped open wide. “No.”

Brooke’s smile was as reflexive as his answer but genuine nonetheless. “No? Oh, okay. If you say no….”

One glimpse at his granite jaw told her the teasing was wasted. His arm tightened and he hauled her closer, using the rest of his body to stake out the territory his arm and leg hadn’t already immobilized. “I want you to stay.”

Her phone beeped and Brooke sighed. She didn’t need to see the alert to know it was another text from her editor. She didn’t want to talk to Nels. No need to hash out the interview. Brooke wasn’t about to write the sensational piece he envisioned and she no longer needed the safety net
The Courier
provided. Not with Brian by her side. She was full of him. Consumed. Satiated. Infatuated. And selfish. She had no desire to share him with anyone else ever again. If Nels tried to make one change to her article, she’d fight him tooth and nail. And she felt too damn good to fight right now. Settling back against Brian, she slowed her breathing to match his again.

A part of her was half-afraid the world would be able to read between the lines. Would they know she’d conducted the interview naked and beard-burned? Would her audience suspect the subject was licking and kissing her, nipping at her nape, and tracing the curve of her back while she asked what tree he aspired to be?

He draped a heavy arm across her torso and threw a tree trunk leg over hers, snuffling in her ear as he settled in again.

An oak.

Brian would choose to be an oak tree. And not any old oak. A
live
oak, he’d added with his typical need to be as specific as humanly possible. And he was dead-on. Strong, stubborn, and enduring, live oaks were known to withstand the fiercest storms. Like the man beside her, southern live oaks had notoriously deep roots and sturdy branches. If she didn’t know his mother, she might have thought Brian had sprouted from an acorn.

Stroking the silky hair of his forearm, she smiled. Yesterday, he’d talked with barely any prompting, his story spilling from those sensuous, incomprehensibly soft lips like crude from a busted rig. Today, there’s been very little talking. From the moment she came aboard, he’d proved to be a man of action.

Turning her head, she squinted until his face came into focus. He looked so sweet and peaceful it hurt her heart. Until he’d drifted off to sleep, she hadn’t realized the outdoorsy handsomeness she’d attributed to sun and sea was actually etched by tension. He wore his fierce determination like a second skin. One he shed only when sleeping. Or climaxing, she thought with a smug smile.

A boat horn bleated. The circling gulls answered with a fresh round of squawks. Their cozy little love nest rocked and rolled with the pitch of a passing vessel’s wake. The cabin grew darker and darker with each blink.

“I have a perfectly good bed at home.”

He cracked an eyelid and she raised both eyebrows.

In truth, she didn’t want the interlude to end, either. “You do still owe me dinner, though.”

“I do?”

“You lured me down here with the promise of food. What do you say? Buy a girl a basket of shrimp?”

He hesitated long enough to make her wonder if he were actually weighing the cost of a fried shrimp dinner against his TV star savings account.

“I promise not to order extra hush puppies.”

Her negotiation tactic broke through. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he gave her a hard, fierce squeeze. When he pulled back, those serious brown eyes danced with mischief. “Let me cook dinner for you.”

She blinked. “Tonight?”

“We’ll pick up some supplies, and I can cook while you tell me more about the series you’re working on.” He rolled fully atop her. Soft kisses feathered her cheek and chin and flirted with the corners of her mouth. “Sound good?”

“Really?” She searched his eyes for any hint of subterfuge. “You’ll help me?”

Dark lashes lowered as he ducked his head. Hectic color stained his cheeks. His lips lingered at the hinge of her jaw. Rough hands closed over hers, pushing them high over her head, stretching her taut beneath him. He threaded his fingers through hers and held firm, but he didn’t lift his head to look at her. “Haven’t you figured it out by now?” Ragged rushes of warm, moist breath tickled her ear. The hard length of his erection pressed against her belly. “I’ll do anything for you.”

He shifted and the boat rocked. She couldn’t help but smile when he took advantage of the motion. His chest hair grazed her nipples and their bodies fit together like they were crafted for one another. The pulsing fullness made her sigh. At last he pulled back to stare deep into her eyes. Then she recognized the glimmer shining in those bottomless eyes. Trust and understanding.

“Anything?”

He started to move, thrusting slow and sure, driving her up with a brand of methodical determination so breathtakingly Brian she chanted his name over and over. She lay panting, her heart tripping a jackhammer against her breastbone and his face buried in the curve of her neck. And, in a strangely still moment filled with gentle caresses and heaving chests, she felt rather than heard him whisper the promise of, “Anything,” into her damp skin.

The seafood case was cool against Brooke’s back, but Brian’s hard hot body pressed all down the front of her. The sharp edges of his teeth scraped the pulse throbbing below her jaw. She moaned when he swirled his tongue over the afflicted spot. Her eyelids fluttered, too heavy to hold open one moment longer. Her knees wobbled. He pressed his thigh between hers and her muscles turned to jelly.

“We may have to eat fast.”

“Or eat later,” she whispered, tilting her head to allow him better access.

“If we keep this up, we might kill each other.”

Brooke slipped a hand between their overheated bodies and trailed her fingernails along his fly. “I have to admit I’m impressed with how you’ve kept it up so far.”

He growled, a low throaty roil of approbation that sizzled through her blood. He pressed forward, thrusting suggestively into her palm. “You do remember we’re out in public, right?”

“You’re the one trying to melt all the ice in the case.”

Brian groaned and pulled away. She ducked her head to hide her smile when she saw him glance at the mounds of shaved ice trapped under glass, just to see if they had posed a threat. He closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. A thrill raced through her as she watched him master the raw, unapologetic yearning etched into his features.

Someone cleared their throat loudly. Brooke’s eyes popped open and she whirled to find a chubby man swathed in a stained apron beaming at them. The red stain in his cheeks made it clear he’d been standing there long enough. He winked at Brian then turned the full force of his smile on her. “Can I help y’all?”

“Shrimp.” Brian blurted the word with a little more force than was absolutely necessary, and Brooke darted a quick glance at him. Hand braced on the glass case, he stared down at the shorter man with what could best be described as a glower. But until he forced a tight smile, it was unclear if he was making a request or calling the man names.

Biting her cheek to keep from grinning, she gave his arm a conciliatory pat. “You get the shrimp. I’ll go grab a package of pasta.”

The giddy, girly urge to giggle with glee bubbled inside of her. Brooke hustled away from the seafood display hoping to put some distance between them before it erupted. She spotted the sign marking the aisle she needed and hooked a quick left. A laugh burst free the second the shelving blocked Brian from view. She clamped a greedy hand to her mouth. She didn’t want to let it all out yet. She wanted to keep this loopy, happy giddiness to herself a little longer. Skidding to a stop in front of the packaged pasta, she scanned the selection for the angel hair Brian mentioned.

“Well, fancy meeting you here.”

She froze, the tiny hairs on her arms rippling as recognition sank in. “Jack.” The acknowledgment could barely be construed as a greeting, but it would have to do. “What are you doing here?”

His eyebrows rose and he hefted the shopping basket clutched in his hand. “Picking up a few essentials.”

He treated her to the kind of insolent once-over another woman might have read as a compliment, but given their history and the fact that she’d rejected him repeatedly since he’d moved back to town, she found it simply creepy.

“Oh, well, don’t let me keep you.” She feinted to the right, knowing he was arrogant enough to try to block her. He did, and she ducked to the left, cutting a wide swath as she passed him. Unfortunately, the aisle wasn’t wide enough for truly evasive maneuvers.

He caught her arm, preventing her from making a clean getaway. His mouth quirked into a derisive smirk when he spotted the package of dried noodles in her hand. “You know, I’d love to take you to dinner, Brooke. If you’re craving spaghetti, we could go to Mariano’s.”

“I’m afraid she already has dinner plans.”

Surprise and a sharp surge of feminine indignation stiffened her spine, but before she could tell them both to piss off, Brian took the package from her hand, scanned the label, then pressed a quick, possessive kiss to her lips. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Stunned into momentary submission, she blinked up at him as he gently dislodged her arm from Jack’s grasp. “You’re welcome.”

Brian flashed a television-worthy smile at the other man then stepped around him. “Good to see you again, Jack.”

They’d made it three steps when Jack called out to her, “Brooke, sugar, is your mama still fond of apple tarts from Weston’s Bakery?”

Her steps faltered and she slowed to glance back at him. She didn’t need to look at Brian to see his frown. Tension was rolling off him in waves. Still, she couldn’t resist batting the thread Jack dangled. “Yes. Why?”

He shrugged and wafted a smile so innocent it made alarm bells ring in her ears. “Oh, I was thinkin’ I’d order one to bring with me when I come for supper.”

She blinked and the smug grin on his face managed to wipe her brain blank. “Supper?”

His gaze flickered to Brian then back to her. “Your mama did say I was welcome anytime.”

She stiffened, knowing he was telling the truth. Emmaline loved Jack, and she made no bones about it. But her mother didn’t know about Brian. Nobody knew about Brian. Yet. And, damn it, she liked it that way. She wouldn’t be railroaded into sharing him before she was ready.

Rolling her shoulders back, she wafted a sweet smile in Jack’s direction. “Well, you can’t go wrong with an apple tart. If I don’t get a chance to talk to them first, give Mama and Daddy my love and tell them I’ll see them in a week or two.”

“But I—” Jack gawped like a large mouthed bass. “Your mama said you’d be there.”

“Oh, Mama,” she said with an airy wave. “She thinks she’s the only one with plans.”

Jack scowled. “Oh. Well, maybe another time.”

“Doubt it.” Beaming beatifically, she waggled her fingers at Jack then tucked her hand into the crook of Brian’s arm. She saw amusement and a tinge of wariness in Brian’s dark eyes, and she squeezed his arm. “I’m starving. You ready to head home?”

Warmth flared in his eyes, chasing away the shadows. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

****

Brian smiled as he swirled the contents of a pan with a practiced turn of his wrist, but he said nothing. He liked listening to her. Loved following the facile twists and turns of her thought process. Fell harder and harder for her every second she spent debating with herself and winning each and every round.

“I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

“No, keep going. I did all the talking yesterday.”

The wine he’d poured was cool and crisp, but the man standing in front of her barely-used stove was smoking hot. She watched in rapt fascination as he added the garlic he’d minced to the mixture. “You babbled. They should have named
you
Brooke. You’re a good interview subject.”

He turned to face her full-on. “For you.”