No Tan Lines (26 page)

He watched as she folded her top and set it on a chair. She then went on to remove her cropped pants. The pop of the snap sounded loud in the silence, as did the slide of her zipper. She eased the pants over her hips and down her legs. She straightened then, and her body left Dune speechless.

Her baggy clothes had deceived him. Never would he have thought her so shapely. She was soft, compact, and perfectly proportioned. The deep blue of her suit contrasted sharply with her pale skin.

Damn, she was hot.

Every male on the beach would soon agree with him.

She bit down on her bottom lip, more than a little fearful. He was quick to reassure her. “Nice suit.”

“Shaye picked it out.”

His sister had good taste in swimsuits but not in men. He’d noticed her in the stands earlier, catching a few sets. Trace sat one row above Shaye. His sister leaned back just enough so her shoulders touched his knees. Their position was not unusual or obvious, but in Dune’s mind, it was far too intimate. He planned to have a long talk with Shaye before he returned to California.

He went on to instruct Sophie in a few warm-up exercises. He wanted her muscles loose and her blood pumping. She was cooperative, although clumsy. They were just finishing up when Mac and his partner reentered the tent.

“Whoa, Soph, you are net worthy, babe,” Mac said, openly admiring her. “Quick set,” he told Dune. “We put it away in twenty.”

Dune saw the way Mac eyed Sophie; it went beyond casual interest. Dune watched along with Mac as she straightened her halter top. Her arms were raised, and she flashed a lot of belly.

“You’ll need sunscreen,” Mac said, crossing to his duffle bag. He selected a bottle, then eased behind Sophie. “I’ll do your back.”

Dune locked his jaw against telling Mac to take his hands off her. His partner stood too damn close. Mac seemed to apply the lotion in slow motion. He leaned in and playfully blew into Sophie’s ear. She shifted uncomfortably, then swatted him when he placed a kiss on her neck.

“I’ll do the rest,” she said, and she took the sunscreen from him. She was twice as pale as usual with the white lotion on her skin.

Mac appeared let down, Dune noted. Women loved the wild man of volleyball. Female fans stroked his ego—and anywhere else he needed stroking. It wasn’t often Mac got the brush-off. Dune couldn’t help smiling. Sophie wanted nothing to do with him. That pleased Dune a great deal.

She stretched a final time, wanting to be fully limber. Dune hated the fact that Mac’s gaze never left her ass. Fortunately, her bikini bottom didn’t floss.

“My money’s on you, Soph,” Mac called as they left the tent. “Kill it, babe.”

Sophie’s steps were slow as they crossed the sand to their court. “I feel naked,” she whispered to Dune.

Her suit covered more skin than most bikinis.

Where other females flaunted their body, Sophie was self-conscious. She drew a lot of attention. She looked fresh, cute, vulnerable, Dune thought. Men felt an immediate need to protect her. Hell, he was feeling so now.

He curved his arm over her shoulders and hugged her to his side. She was the perfect height for a leaning post. She felt warm and slippery from the sunscreen. The top of her head reached his heart. The scent of her baby shampoo blended with the tropical scent of the sunscreen.

The sun did them a tremendous favor and snuck behind a cloud. Dune hoped the sun would stay hidden for the next half hour. It obliged.

They got into position, and Dune won the coin toss.

He served first. He stood at the baseline and watched as Sophie dug in her feet and wiggled her butt near the net. Such a sweet ass. Male fans whistled their appreciation. Sophie didn’t understand their applause before the set even started. Dune, however, did. Sophie was a show-stopper.

They played against Ted Nathan and his partner. Ted was an aggressive rookie on the tour and out to prove himself. The female fan playing beside him depended on Ted to put the ball away.

Dune’s serve racked up five quick points. He made Ted scramble. He found that protecting Sophie was his first priority. She surprised him. She played with heart and agility and was able to set up several solid hits for him.

She looked so stunned with each successful assist, he couldn’t help laughing. “You’re in the zone, Sophie,” he praised.

She blushed through her white sunscreen.

By the grace of the volleyball gods, they eliminated Ted and his partner and went on to win the next two sets as well. They’d made the finals in the losers’ bracket. They had one set yet to play.

Had this been a sanctioned double-elimination, the winners of the losers’ bracket would have the opportunity to play the finalists in the championship bracket, but not so here. Shaye preferred to award trophies to both brackets. Her town, her rules. Dune was fine with her decision.

He looked at Sophie and noticed she was fading fast. She was a woman born to air-conditioning, not to the beach. The afternoon sun had come out of hiding, and it was wicked hot. He didn’t want her collapsing on the court.

It was now three o’clock, and they’d been given an hour break. Sophie sat in a chair in their tent, her eyes closed and her lips parted. He wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

He was pumped and started pacing. Word had swept the tents that Mac and his partner had eliminated Lynn Crandall and Bill Wesley in the championship set. Mac had shown no mercy. Lynn and Bill had dropped into the losers’ bracket.

Dune ran one hand down his face. He didn’t want to face Lynn again in the double-elimination. Lynn would once again go after Sophie with a vengeance. Dune couldn’t allow it.

Over the course of the hour, he’d decided winning wasn’t everything where Sophie was concerned. She was wiped out, and he didn’t want to push her further. The urge to forfeit the set was a first for him. He’d never walked away from anything in his life.

Sophie came awake with a start, as if her internal alarm clock had gone off. She pressed her palms to her eyes, then patted her cheeks. “I fell asleep,” she said with a shy smile.

“It’s been a long day,” he said.

“I’d better power up with Surge.”

Dune wasn’t certain the energy drink would give her the boost needed to battle Lynn Crandall. “Mac won his bracket,” he told her.

It took several seconds for the ramifications to soak in. She frowned slightly. Mac’s win affected them greatly. “We again face Lynn.” She swallowed hard and asked, “What can we do?”

“We could forfeit, Sophie.”

“I’m not a quitter.”

“Neither are you an athlete.” She was soft, vulnerable, and, at times, fearful. “Remember yesterday?” he asked.

She nodded. “I got creamed.”

“Today could be worse.” He was frank.

She took a few minutes to weigh the odds. “How’s your wrist?” she asked him.

His injury had started to throb during their last set. His little finger was now numb, yet he refused to show any weakness. He would rest and get extra therapy once the weekend ended.

“It’s a little sore,” he admitted. “But I still have some play in me.”

“So do I,” she said slowly. “Let’s do this.”

Dune went with her decision.

He grabbed his sunglasses, then offered Sophie his hand. She took it. Her palm was small and soft and got lost in his. He tightened his fingers around hers, hoping to reassure her that, whatever happened, they were still a team. She squeezed back, and he felt the pulse in her wrist against his own. Her heart beat like a hummingbird.

The single set proved the longest thirty minutes of his life. The stands were filled, and there was standing room only. Women climbed onto men’s shoulders to get a better view. A local camera crew filmed the game.

Lynn won the coin toss. She served three aces in a row, all directed at Sophie. There was something different about Sophie today, Dune noticed. Her gaze was fixed on Lynn, and she seldom blinked. Do or die, Sophie was attempting the impossible. She pushed hard, and her setups were high enough for him to put the ball away.

The score rose, and Lynn became her own worst enemy. She turned on her partner when he made a mistake. Dune saw this as a very good sign.

The rallies were short, and the kills were vicious. Dune made Bill Wesley dance. His overhead serve came down at the man’s feet.

Fate took a liking to Sophie. She and Dune were ahead by one point, needing a second to win the set. However, it was her serve, and she’d yet to have the volleyball clear the net.

Dune called for a time-out and crossed to her. Sophie was flushed and sweaty and nervous. He bent down and whispered to her, “I have a trick for getting the ball over the net. Pretend someone’s face is on it, someone you don’t like.”

“I like everybody.”

She’d missed the point. Dune raised an eyebrow toward Lynn. “Wouldn’t you like to get back at her for the tattoo on your cheek?”

“The mark is fading.”

Where was her competitive spirit? “You’re too damn nice, Sophie,” he said. “I thought you wanted the trophy.”

Trophy
did the trick. “I’ve never won anything,” she said.

“Get your serve over the net, and I’ll land us the final point,” he promised.

An angel’s breath blew Sophie’s serve over the net—Dune was sure of it. He wasn’t an exceptionally religious man, but he knew divine help when he saw it. He’d take whatever he was given. He wanted this win for Sophie.

Across from them now, Bill stood too close to the net. His setup for Lynn was slightly off center. Lynn jumped, twisted, and smacked the ball with a damning force.

Dune sucked so much air that he swore he’d created a vortex. By all that was holy, the volleyball flew straight into the net. And time stood still.

The silence held and held, finally broken by Lynn’s screech. The lady was mad. She stormed off the court and cut through the crowd, elbowing fans out of her way.

Sophie seemed stuck in the sand. She continued to stare at the volleyball that had rolled under the net and was inches from her feet. She’d yet to comprehend that they had won the set.

“It’s over, Sophie.” Dune came to stand beside her.

Still, her gaze held on the volleyball.

“Sophie?” He shook her shoulder.

Her breath caught, and he felt her shudder. She looked up at him and softly admitted, “I was scared. I saw the look on Lynn’s face when she hit the ball. She wanted to ram it down my throat.”

Lynn’s expression had shown her true colors. “She was out for your front teeth,” he agreed.

Sophie gave him a small, watery smile. “We won,” she said.

He curved his hand about her neck and turned her toward the baseline. “Shaye’s giving out the awards. It’s time for us to collect.”

He kept Sophie close. She was still dazed, and he understood the aftereffects. Nothing seemed real for several hours after such a triumph. Not until the next day did a player fully appreciate his win.

Mac and his partner got their fair share of applause for taking the championship bracket, but Dune and Sophie got the lion’s share. The fans went nuts, not only because Dune had done right by his hometown, but for the simple reason that Sophie was shy and humble and got teary-eyed when awarded her trophy. Everyone loved her.

She became a local media darling. Cameras flashed until they both saw spots. Reporters crowded them. Dune stepped back and allowed Sophie her moment in the sun. She’d been the underdog, and such stories sold newspapers and touched hearts.

Questions were fired at her, and she couldn’t answer them fast enough. Dune moved closer and picked up the slack. The interviews went on for an hour.

The reporters then dispersed to post their stories. The talk soon centered on bar-hopping and impromptu parties all along the boardwalk. A bonfire and fireworks would brighten the night sky. Mac would lead the charge for black-light volleyball and skinny-dipping. Bikinis and board shorts would be stolen by the tide.

Dune allowed the remainder of the day to wash over him. Women surrounded him, and he enjoyed their attention. He caught the swing of Sophie’s ponytail as she drifted farther away from him. They’d partnered for the tournament, but she no longer had a place in his life.

He watched her walk away. She tripped over her feet on the way to their tent yet clutched her trophy tightly.

Dune detached himself, and the women bemoaned his departure. He took off after Sophie, needing to ... what? Ask her if she’d gotten her money’s worth? Offer up a remedy for sunburn?
Good-bye
seemed so final. He had no other alternative.

There was no future in their being friends.

She was a Saunders, and he was a Cates.

He let her go.

Ten

W
here the hell was Dune? Kai Cates wondered. His cousin had appointed family members to stick close to Shaye throughout the evening because he didn’t want Trace Saunders within a mile of her. Kai felt that his cousin could be overbearing at times. Look at the way he’d coerced others into his scheme.

Kai had looked after Shaye for two hours now. Much of that time had been spent in Goody Gumdrops. He’d eaten Junior Mints, blue-raspberry gummy bears, and Lemonheads. He couldn’t face another piece of candy. He was in need of a break.

He ran a hand down his face. He wasn’t convinced that Trace and Shaye had hooked up, even though Olive had allegedly moaned the day away. The parrot had squawked

“Big Guns,”
a brand of condoms. The words might be new to her, but where she’d heard them was yet to be determined.

Dune’s motives were straightforward. He thought to protect his sister not only from Trace, but from her own family as well. Grandfather Frank stood deep in tradition, and he had eyes and ears everywhere. He’d yet to question or comment on the situation, though. He was waiting for the final proof.

Any day, at any time, he could call Shaye onto the carpet for sleeping with the enemy and question her loyalty to her own family. If she was seeing a Saunders, there would be consequences.

Kai exhaled sharply. He knew if Trace wanted Shaye that he’d come for her. No Cates could keep him away. Kai felt the same about Nicole Archer. Tonight was their night, and nothing would stand in his way. Only his word to Dune held him up now. He was about to renege on a promise.