No Tan Lines (21 page)

“What’s your name?”
asked Olive. She was good with names and faces. Trace was new to her.

“Trace,” he said easily.

“Olive,”
she introduced herself.

“You’re smart,” said Trace.

“Smarter than you.”

Shaye swallowed her smile. Olive called it as she saw it. The parrot affectionately rubbed her feathered head against Shaye’s cheek.
“Is he packing pepperoni?”
next passed through the parrot’s beak.

Shaye felt her cheeks heat. She never knew what the Quaker would repeat. She couldn’t believe Olive had taken that particular moment to air a conversation she’d recently had with her twenty-year-old cousin Abby. They’d ordered pizza, and when it arrived, Abby had commented on the delivery boy’s “package.” A comment Olive now shared.

Trace found the parrot’s remark amusing. He grinned.

Shaye, however, wasn’t laughing. She lifted her chin and said, “You’ve invaded my houseboat. I don’t like men sneaking up on me.”

“There was no sneaking,” he said. “I came to visit. Your alarm announced my arrival.”

“You silenced it by pulling out a wire.”

“One wire, easy fix.” He raised his hand. “I cleaned out the picnic basket and thought to return it.”

How thoughtful.
“You need to go,” she said firmly.

“Good-bye,”
said Olive.

Trace had no intention of leaving. He set down the basket and stepped even closer. Only two feet separated them now. His gaze took her in, and she felt vulnerable and exposed. It was a warm evening, and she wore only a loose crop top and boy shorts.

Olive pecked at her hair, drawing Trace’s attention.

Shaye suddenly wished she was anywhere but there. Earlier that evening she’d made the mistake of trying on the midnight-blue velvet hair band plaited with sterling silver. The band was beautiful, and she’d hoped it would lift her spirits. It had, a little. She had yet to remove it, and Trace eyed it now.

His smile was pure male ego. “Nice hair band,” he said.

“I wanted to try it on once before I returned it.”

His smile slipped. “There’s a no-return policy at The Jewelry Box.”

“Nicole will side with me, not you.”

He pushed off the wall, his jaw set. “I came to apologize.”

“Your actions spoke louder than words.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “I crossed the line and interfered in your business. Barefoot William was having a slow summer, and—”

“It’s
our
slow summer, not yours.”

“The tournament will give every shop a financial boost.” He paused, then added, “I wanted it to be successful.”

Frustration hit her hard. Olive sensed her tension and dug her nails into Shaye’s shoulder. “I could have pulled it off,” she swore, “but you never gave me a chance. You butted in and hired Marlene Mason, someone with a track record.”

“Marlene’s expertise guaranteed you a profit,” he quietly pointed out. “That was my goal, for you to make money.”

She caught him watching her mouth and bit down on her bottom lip. Hurt settled in her chest. “You didn’t trust me.”

“Marlene’s gone tomorrow,” he told her. “The tournament’s yours again.”

“It should’ve been mine all along, but you took it from me.”

“I was looking out for you, Shaye.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Shame, shame,”
the parrot chimed in.
“He’s handsome but an ass.”
And the Quaker flew off.

Oh, shit,
Shaye thought. All the air left her lungs. Olive’s attention span had sharpened, and her mind was clearly working overtime. The parrot’s sentences were getting longer and more precise. Olive had just repeated what Shaye had muttered about Trace no more than an hour ago.

“I made a mistake, and I’m sorry,” he said, his voice deep, husky, sincere.

“Too little, too late.”

He flattened one hand against the wall, just above her left shoulder. She watched his face; his gaze was fixed and questioning. “Is there anything I can say to make this better?”

“Nothing at all. You’re an ass.”

“I’m a handsome ass, according to Olive.” He shifted and was suddenly as close as the clothes on her back.

“Kiss the girl,”
Olive squawked from her cage.

The corner of his mouth curved. “Who am I to argue with Olive? She’s smarter than me.”

There was nothing smart about what came next.

Shaye knew she’d regret this kiss, but she’d wait and kick herself
after
she’d tasted him. They weren’t strangers; they’d known each other all their lives, but as enemies, not friends.

It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Trace, on the other hand, was evidently a man of many women. But she wouldn’t make love with him if he was involved with someone else.

“Are you sure you’re not still with Nicole?” she asked, holding her breath.

He traced her collarbone with one finger, then pressed his thumb to her full bottom lip. “Long over.”

She felt a heartbeat of relief and released her breath. She would share this bit of news with Kai when she next saw him. If he didn’t already know it himself. One further question lingered. “What about Marlene?”

His eyebrows pulled together, and his brow creased. “We were close in college, and when she opened her business, I hired her for several company-related events. There’s nothing else between us now.”

“She ... wanted you.”

“Maybe she assumed we’d pick up where we’d left off a long time ago. I wasn’t interested. Besides, if she did want me, the lady’s pretty fickle,” he said. “She left my office for a night with Dune.”

Their gazes held as he ran the back of his hand down the front of her crop top all the way to her bare belly. He stroked her navel with his thumb and fanned his fingers over her abdomen, squeezing gently.

“I want you in only your hair band.” His voice was deep, rough, turned on.

He stared at her, a man of single-minded purpose. His look was so sexually charged, she nearly climaxed on the spot. The thought of having sex with him took over. She wanted to be naked with Trace Saunders.

His next move came slowly. A shift of his shoulders, and he grasped her hips. Their thighs brushed, and his sex pressed against her belly.

He took great pleasure in foreplay. The moment was seamless, timeless, as he flicked his tongue over her collarbone, then kissed the pulse point at the base of her throat. His lips slipped over her jaw, then up to her mouth.

Their first kiss was tentative, light, and far too brief. His second kiss came with intent. He parted her lips and penetrated her with his tongue. He mated with her mouth, a man of practice and experience. Her knees trembled, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She held on tight.

He outlined her nipples through the cotton of her crop top. The tips beaded and pressed against the center of his palm. His fingers were long, the tips rough, as he edged up her shirt and snuck under. He stroked the underside of one breast, then gave equal attention to the other.

Her top came off with a slide of material. He placed a kiss over her heart before he swept a wide circle around her nipple with his tongue. His mouth closed around it, and he sucked.

Her desire deepened, erotic and enticing.

They shared an innate connection, but were they enemies or lovers?

Shaye had no idea where things would stand after tonight.

He seduced with subtlety and finesse. The combination did a number on her. Her fascination for him grew with each kiss, touch, and intake of breath.

Off came her boy shorts, and she stood naked before him. He ran his hands all over her body, taking his sweet time to learn and discover. She breathed in, breathed deeply, as he traced the sensitive crease at the top of one thigh. His fingers came near but never delved into her sex.

She was at a disadvantage, being nude while he remained fully dressed. She remedied that situation quickly.

She pulled his shirt up and over his head, and he was soon bare-chested. His sweatpants rode low. She ran her hands from his shoulders to his wrists, then stroked across his stomach. She was a sucker for muscular arms and a defined abdomen. It was evident Trace worked out. He was as cut as chiseled stone.

His body felt warm and wired for sex.

She experienced her own hot flashes.

He toed off his athletic shoes, and she went to work on the drawstring at his waistband. Only a man secured his pants with a knot; a woman tied a bow. She fumbled, fidgeted, and he took over the task. The cord loosened, and he slipped a silver packet from the side-seam pocket.

“Big Guns?” she asked as she read the name on the condom. “You came prepared?”

“I came hopeful.”

His sweatpants soon dropped, and his erection rose.

He was one big man. And tanned from head to toe.

He stepped out of his sweats, and she took him in her hand. She stroked his sex until his breathing became heavy and rapid. She then sheathed him with the condom.

He lifted her easily, and she wrapped her legs about his hips.
Sex against a wall?
It proved intense, uninhibited, and a little insane. Her cheek pressed his chin, and her lips kissed his throat. Her short fingernails dug into his broad back.

His hand slid between them, his fingers seeking. He parted her folds and slipped one finger inside. She was exposed and vulnerable, damp and needy. Stimulated and electrified.

She rolled her hips, restless and ready for him. He slipped his fingers out, then entered her slowly.

She was tight.

He took his time with her.

Penetration. Pleasure. One followed the other.

He thrust, and she throbbed.

He let her adjust to his size.

Her arousal spiked, and every nerve ending in her body hummed. She moaned, unraveled, as his rhythm increased, faster, deeper, and powerfully male.

Her small breasts rose and fell. She panted softly. His heart thundered in his chest and his breath came in short pulls as he coaxed her body to climax.

Her orgasm took her out of mind and beyond time, a total surrender. Her climax lasted a long while, easing off, then returning in a rush when, seconds later, he came deep inside her.

He held her until their breathing eased. She then slid down his body, feeling every inch of him. He dropped a light kiss on her forehead, straightened her hair band. He held her loosely.

She sighed, content, until she heard herself moan.

Yet she hadn’t made a sound.

The sexual moaning rose louder from the direction of the living room.
“M-Mmm, o-oh, so good.”
Olive mimicked Shaye’s orgasm.

Trace chuckled, and she cringed.

The parrot couldn’t keep a secret.

She would soon “moan” to anyone who’d listen.

Eight

“M
-mmmm.
” The low, seductive sound rolled from

Olive’s beak. “
O-oh
.”

Dune Cates stared at the parrot on her perch in the living room of his sister’s houseboat. “Olive sounds horny,” he said.

He caught Shaye’s blush before she busied herself in the galley. “Parrots don’t get horny; they lay eggs,” she reminded him. “She must have heard”—she hesitated—“some lovemaking on a television show.”

“It sounded pretty realistic.”

“Reality TV.”

Shaye stretched the truth on occasion, but she’d never lied to him. Dune swore he saw her nose grow. Olive, on the other hand, was a faithful recorder of the truth. One time he’d belched after eating a big meal, and Olive had burped for a week straight.

The sex sounds had him puzzled, though. Shaye wasn’t seeing anyone that he knew of.

Dune crossed to the kitchen and leaned on the counter. He studied his sister closely. He’d offered to escort her to the welcoming cocktail party at The Sandcastle, and she’d accepted. Until the day before, he hadn’t seen her for six months and had arrived early so they could catch up a bit.

But so far they’d talked very little. Every conversation he’d started, she soon ended. Shaye wasn’t herself tonight. He’d never seen her so anxious.

He scratched his jaw. Olive must have picked up the moaning from Shaye, he realized, and recently, too. He hadn’t thought his sister seriously involved. She was particular in her relationships. She avoided one-night stands as well as long-term commitments. Her life belonged to Barefoot William. He wondered who had caught her attention.

Trace Saunders came to mind, and the thought disturbed Dune greatly. Shaye had been furious with Trace following the boardroom meeting, with no forgiveness in sight. Trace, however, had been determined to see her and apologize.

Dune had warned the man off Shaye. But, knowing Saunders, Trace hadn’t listened. The man was stubborn. He owned Saunders Shores and did as he damn well pleased.

Dune hoped he hadn’t done Shaye.

Love-hate relationships made strange bedfellows. Arguments often led to great make-up sex, but what future could there be for two such long-standing enemies?

Dune knew his sister would never admit to being with Trace. She was closemouthed.

The Cateses had been ready to kick Trace Saunders to the curb, following his blunder of hiring Marlene Mason. He’d hurt one of their own. They’d been prepared to minimize the event and move the tents and nets off Saunders sand. Shaye only had to give them the word. She had not.

Dune and Kai had talked them down. The tournament would continue as planned. Afterward, the line between families would again be drawn.

Dune wondered if Shaye straddled that line right now. A few questions might get him closer to the truth. So he pushed a little. “Ready for tonight?” he asked.

“I’ve been ready since the moment you agreed to the tournament,” she said. She continued to tidy up the galley, which was immaculate. She’d scrubbed and rinsed the sink three times. “This is a big weekend for Barefoot William.”

“And for Saunders Shores,” he added.

She dipped her head. “Trace doesn’t need the money like we do. This event will keep our heads above water the rest of the summer.”