No Tan Lines (25 page)

“I’ll do it all when I retire,” said Mac.

Retire
hung in the air between them, Dune noted. He caught Mac looking at his wrist. His partner was concerned about Dune’s scaphoid fracture. There was no guarantee Dune would fully recover. A weak wrist would kill his game.

The future was not Dune’s problem—not at the moment, anyway. He again focused on Sophie. “More practice?” he asked.

She was willing. Mac ducked under the net, and Dune stepped to her left. He was done wrapping his body around her. She felt too damn good for his liking. It was time to simulate an actual set. He nodded to Mac to toss the ball over the net, which he then passed to Sophie.

He was surprised by her concentration and effort. She managed to set fifteen of his fifty passes. She was so ecstatic, he was afraid she’d hyperventilate.

“Dude, it’s getting dark,” Mac finally said.

Dusk was upon them. Dune glanced at Sophie. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted, her breathing rapid. It was time to call it quits. “We’re done,” he said.

Sophie wasn’t certain they should stop. “Are you sure? Practice makes perfect.”

“Perfection’s overrated,” said Mac. “I’m off. I’ve got a hot date and a cold beer waiting for me at the Sassy Parrot.”

Parrot
turned Dune’s thoughts to Olive, then to Shaye. He’d wanted to keep his sister in his sights, but he had failed in his task. All his concentration centered on Sophie. He needed to locate Shaye now.

He tossed the volleyball into the air several times, while Sophie collected her energy drink from the base of the metal pole. She’d been so into their practice, she hadn’t yet popped the top.

“I’ll save it for tomorrow,” she said, and she stuck the can in the side pocket of her khaki shorts. She looked up at him. “Any last-minute advice?”

“You might consider wearing a swimsuit,” he suggested. Her clothes were baggy and hampered her movements. “There’s freedom in minimal clothing.”

“I don’t own a suit.”

That surprised him. “But you live near the beach.”

She dipped her head. “I’ve got a fear of the ocean.”

“People wade in to their waists, splash, and still have a good time. Some float on air mattresses.”

“I prefer staying dry.”

Sophie feared crowds and the ocean, whereas Dune had barged through life headstrong and unafraid. “You still need a suit,” he insisted. “The shops are open along the boardwalk until midnight. Let me locate Shaye, and she’ll go with you.”

“She might not be available.”

“I’ll make her available.” If his sister was anywhere near Trace Saunders, Dune would separate them quickly.

Sophie Saunders soon found herself in Shaye Cates’s capable hands. Dune had tracked down his sister in the souvenir tent. Shaye was busy taking money, and, two tables over, Trace replenished stock. Tournament flip-flops, baseball caps, visors, and key chains sold as fast as he could lay them on the tables.

Shaye looked up and smiled. “We’ve sold all your ‘Beach Heat’ T-shirts,” she told Dune. “I placed an overnight order for another five hundred. I’ll meet the truck at Three Shirts at dawn.”

“The event drew a bigger crowd than even I expected,” Dune said, amazed by the outcome.

Shaye rubbed the back of her neck, then rolled her shoulders. “It’s all thanks to you, the other players, and the fans. Everyone donated a weekend in support of Barefoot William.”

She glanced at Sophie. “Are you having fun?”

Sophie scrunched her nose. “I need to buy a swimsuit.”

“I volunteered you to help her,” Dune said. “We’re not going to move up in the brackets with Sophie getting lost in her clothes.”

Shaye agreed. “You’ll be more flexible wearing less.”

The thought of fewer clothes made Sophie sigh. Even playing naked wouldn’t help her game. But it seemed a swimsuit was inevitable.

“What are your plans for tonight?” Shaye asked Dune.

“Mostly catching up with old friends,” he said. “I’ve been invited to a couple of parties.”

“What about you, Sophie?” Shaye included her, too.

Dune looked at her, his gaze curious. “Date night?” His question sounded stiff to Sophie’s ears.

Sophie shook her head. “I’ll shop for a suit, then head home to a good book.”

Dune appeared relieved, or maybe she read more into his expression than was actually there. The man was a sports celebrity and a Cates. She was a bookworm and a Saunders. They had the volleyball tournament between them. That was their only link.

Trace joined them. He hugged Sophie, glared at Dune, and ran his gaze over Shaye. Sophie noticed Shaye’s soft blush and the slight curve of her brother’s smile.

Dune also caught their exchange. His jaw set, granite-hard. “See you in the morning,” he said to Sophie; then he eyed his sister. “Tomorrow’s another big day. I hope you get some sleep.” He hit Trace with one final shot, which Sophie didn’t understand. “See you, Big Guns.”

Trace went very still.

Shaye stood like a statue.

Sophie was confused. She’d never heard her brother called Big Guns. It sounded Western.

Dune and his sneer left the tent.

Shaye came around slowly. Releasing a soft breath, she said, “Let’s go, Sophie. I need to stop by Goody Gumdrops first to check stock. Waves is a few doors down; the shop has great swimsuits.”

“How about a trivia question for a bag of candy corn?” asked Trace.

Shaye obliged. “Chewing gum has what unique ingredient?” she asked.

Trace narrowed his gaze in thought. “Rubber,” he said.

“Correct,” Shaye said. “Your prize: a bag of patriotic candy corn, in celebration of the Fourth.”

Shaye was kind, giving, and good for her brother, Sophie noted. Trace could be a little uptight at times, and Shaye brought him down to earth.

They had sweets trivia between them, a small but common bond. They also exchanged white-hot looks. Anyone in their path would be singed. Sophie was feeling quite warm at the moment herself. She was certain they also shared a bed.

Sophie caught them brushing hands as Shaye cleared the tent. They smiled over the contact.

The two women climbed onto the Saunders Shores boardwalk and blended with the fans. There were people everywhere. The party atmosphere closed around Sophie, and she was carried along by the crowd. People bumped her, and she tripped over her own feet. She felt trapped and couldn’t catch her breath. Her stomach turned.

Shaye noticed her discomfort. She took Sophie by the arm and turned her toward the window of a designer shoe boutique. Shaye pressed them close to the glass. The glass felt cool even after a hot day. The reflection captured only Sophie and Shaye; those passing by were no more than a blur.

“Do you need a paper bag?” Shaye asked, concerned.

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t get out much,” she admitted. “One day into the weekend, and I’m already overwhelmed.”

“Deep breath,” said Shaye. “Another block, and I’ll hail a pedicab.”

“I’ve never ridden in one.”

Shaye squeezed her shoulder. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“Does that first include you and my brother?” Sophie dared.

Shaye shifted uneasily, and her reflection wavered in the glass. “There’s really nothing more than the tournament between us,” she said.

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Sophie. “I like seeing Trace relaxed and having fun. You may be a Cates, but you’re good for him. He smiles a lot more now, especially when he looks at you.”

“Perhaps life is treating him well.”

“There are happy smiles and happily ever after smiles,” Sophie said. “Trace has the latter.”

Shaye blushed and blew out a breath. “You’re very observant, aren’t you.”

“I don’t mix well with others, so I’ve learned to observe.” Sophie felt bad she’d brought up the subject. It wasn’t like her to butt in where she didn’t belong. “It’s none of my business,” she apologized.

Shaye met Sophie’s gaze in the glass and came clean. “Trace and I are finding our way. We have no idea where our relationship will take us, and we’re trying to be discreet.” Her voice was soft, worried, and very nervous. “Your brother and I have crossed a line. We’ve disregarded boundaries set up more than a hundred years ago. Our families will be furious.”

Sophie had never talked to anyone’s reflection before and found it rather fascinating. She held Shaye’s gaze in the glass. “I felt your sparks, and I think Dune did, too.”

“Dune.” Shaye rolled her eyes. “He’s a good man, but he hates Trace. Dune’s here for the weekend, but he’ll be gone by midweek. He never stays long.”

Dune, gone.
Sophie felt a catch in her chest that had nothing to do with the crowd. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she said.

“Center Street may divide us,” Shaye said, “but should you ever need a confidante, find me.”

Sophie had never shared a secret. She liked the idea.

They stepped back into the revelry. Sophie was jostled along the boardwalk, which seemed to vibrate like an airport’s moving walkway. Once they crossed into Barefoot William, Shaye located a bike taxi.

A quick stop at Goody Gumdrops, and they moved on to Waves, a small store with a large selection of swimsuits and henna tattoos. The shop was busy but not overcrowded.

Sophie flipped through the tiny bikinis and knew they weren’t for her. She concentrated on the one-pieces but wondered if they had enough stretch. Shaye soon came to her rescue. She selected a cobalt blue tankini and handed it to Sophie.

Sophie went to try it on. She liked the halter top and bikini bottom. Her arms and legs were bare, and she showed only two inches of tummy.

Shaye knocked on her dressing room door, peeked in, and proclaimed the tankini perfect. Sophie changed back into her street clothes then drew Shaye to the display of henna tattoos. She felt daring and decided on an I Love Volleyball tat, depicted with a heart and picture of a volleyball. Shaye smiled, approved. Sophie planned to place the tattoo just above her left breast.

Shaye went on to purchase the suit and henna tattoo for Sophie. Sophie was both shocked and elated. Only a handful of people outside family had ever given her a gift. Shaye was generous as well as kind.

They soon returned the way they’d come. It was early yet, but Sophie found herself yawning. She accepted Shaye’s hug at the corner of Center Street and Sawgrass Pass, then headed home. Tomorrow would be a day of volleyball and Dune. She had to make the most of the short time she had with the man.

Dune Cates stood outside the players’ tent he shared with Mac James and scanned the crowd, looking for Sophie. Their set would start in fifty minutes, and she needed to warm up. He wanted her loose so she didn’t pull a muscle.

He finally spotted her. She was the shortest person crossing the sand and was overshadowed by the fans. She wore a floppy straw hat, a green tunic, and cropped pants. She looked uncomfortably warm and out of place on the beach.

Shaye had sent him a text the previous evening:
Mission accomplished.
He’d assumed Sophie would show up in a swimsuit. She was more covered now than she’d been the previous day. Her clothes would seriously limit her play.

Her smile when she greeted him was soft and shy.

Dune knew in that moment he couldn’t hold her attire against her. She looked too damn vulnerable.

“I’m here,” Sophie told him.

Dune felt inordinately relieved. He held open the flap on the bright yellow tent, and Sophie slipped in. He didn’t take her for a quitter, but the game had not been kind to her. She’d been hit in the face and still carried Lynn Crandall’s tattoo.

They found Mac and his amateur partner sitting on folding chairs inside the tent, sipping coffee. “Ready to kick some losers’-bracket ass?” Mac asked Sophie.

“I can only hope,” she said on a sigh. She looked around the tent, then asked, “Where can I change?”

Dune noticed her small wrist wallet, but that’s all she’d brought with her. There was no backpack or duffle bag. “Where’s your swimsuit?”

“Under my clothes.”

“Don’t be modest,” Mac said. “Strip down, Sophie baby.”

She turned all shades of red.

Dune glared at Mac. Sophie was reserved, and taking off her street clothes before two men seemed to embarrass her. This was a first for him. Most women walked into his tent with suits so skimpy, they bared both tits and ass.

Not so with Sophie Saunders. “Out,” Dune said to Mac and his partner. “You play in fifteen minutes—go find your court.”

Mac stood, saying, “You’re pretty bossy for a loser.” He winked at Sophie. “I was all set for your show.”

The two exited the tent, leaving Dune and Sophie alone.

“Would you mind turning around?” she asked him.

He met her gaze and shook his head. “We’re partners. You’re not showing me anything I haven’t seen. The women I know live in their swimsuits.”

Sophie was not like any female he’d ever met. She was slow in removing her straw hat, slower still in slipping the tunic over her head. Dune stared more intently with every curve she revealed.

Her stomach was flat, and her breasts were full. He noted her newly acquired henna tattoo and smiled to himself. She supported his sport. He liked that.