Jill Shalvis - Flashpoint

“Silly, right?” She smoothed down the fabric but the breeze continued to tease the flimsy material, lifting it, revealing her lovely thighs for one all-too-brief, tantalizing glimpse. “I know. I should have stuck with something more practical-”

“Amazing,” he managed. Even the sound of her voice lifted his spirits. Somehow she made him feel better by just being. “I was going to say you look amazing.”

“Oh.” She flashed another kill-him-slowly smile. “It’s just a dress.”

“I like it. I like the lip gloss, too.” It smelled like peaches, and he wondered, if he leaned in right now, would she let him have another taste of her?

Just one.

Who was he kidding? One taste wouldn’t cover it. Neither would two. Nope, nothing less than an entire night of tasting would be good enough.

Tipping back his head, he stared up at the star-littered sky, taking a moment to draw in the salty air, to listen to the waves.

But that moment didn’t give him the peace he needed. Not when she was still looking at him, her gaze wordlessly telling him that she wanted him, too. “You should head on over to the party.” He gestured with a hitch of his chin to the bonfires already going about a hundred yards down the beach, and the growing crowd.

In spite of what Zach thought of him, the new chief was extremely popular.

“Can we walk first?” Brooke gestured in the opposite direction. “Just us?”

Walking alone with her on a moonlit night along the beach? A fantastically bad idea.

“Please?”

No. Absolutely not.

She held out her hand. “Sure,” his mouth said without permission from his brain, and taking her hand, he led her down the path to the water. There they kicked off their flip-flops and walked with the surf gently hitting the shore on their right, the cliffs on their left and the moonlight touching their faces.

Pretty damn romantic, which didn’t help.

A wave splashed over their bare feet and legs, and the bottom of Brooke’s dress got wet, clinging like plastic wrap.

Perfect. Just what he needed. Brooke all wet.

Letting out a low laugh, she gathered the material in her hands, pulling it up above her knees as she backed farther up on the sand.

He thought she’d turn and head toward the party, but she didn’t. She kept going.

And like a puppy on a leash, he followed.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.

He took in her profile, the small smile on her glossed lips, the few freckles across her upturned nose, her hair flying around her face. “Yes,” he agreed. “Beautiful.”

Her gaze flew to his. “I was talking about the scenery.”

“I know.”

“But you weren’t looking at it.”

“No.”

“I…” She let out what sounded like a helpless sigh. “You were saying that I’m beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“See, that’s the thing.”

“There’s a thing?”

“Well, you make me feel a thing.” She looked away. “A few things, actually.”

Uh-huh. And that made two of them.

The breeze continued to toy with the wet hem of her dress and his mind at the same time. He took in the empty beach, the myriad alcoves and cliffs lining the shore, forming lots of private little spots where they could escape to without being seen.

Where he could slowly glide that dress up her legs and-

“Ouch.” She hopped on one foot, then bent to pick something up. “A shell.”

He traced his finger over it in the palm of her hand. “I used to have jars and jars of these when I was little.”

“You grew up here?”

“Yep. Santa Rey born and bred. My parents were surfers. I think my first words were surf’s up.”

She laughed, but then the sound faded. “You miss them. Your parents.”

Lifting his eyes from the shell, his gaze collided with hers. “It was a long time ago, but yeah. I miss them.”

“I lost my dad before I was even born, and I still miss him.”

“What happened?”

“He died in a car wreck. My mom…she didn’t really recover. She never settled in one place again, or with one man.”

“That must have been rough on you.”

“Not as rough as losing both parents.” She squeezed his hand.

Yeah, it’d been rough. He and his parents had lived in an old apartment building on the beach. It’d been rundown, but it had fed their surf habit. He’d remembered every second of the night their building had caught fire. Every second of hearing his mother scream in horror at being stuck in the kitchen, surrounded by flames. Every second of watching his father battle those flames to try to get to her. The fire department had been volunteer at the time. They’d done the best they could, but their best hadn’t been enough to save his parents. Their rescue effort had been a recovery effort pretty much from the start.

“Your older brother raised you?”

“He did.”

“Does he live here, too?”

“No, Caleb’s a high-powered attorney in L.A. Driven and ambitious…we’re very different.” He smiled. “He’s still after me to do something with my life.”

“Firefighting isn’t doing something?”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s not going to get me fame and fortune, or into a cushy old-age home.”

“You don’t care about any of that.”

“No.”

She nodded, looked down at her fingers, then back into his eyes. “We’re very different, too. You and I.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay with that?”

Zach felt a smile tug at his mouth. “I happen to like the differences between a man and a woman.”

She let out a soft laugh. “I meant that you’re laid-back and easygoing, and I’m…not.”

“I don’t judge my friends.”

“Yeah, about that.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I have a question.”

He hoped like hell it was something like, Can I kiss you again?

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I need to walk some more.”

“Okay.” But he was saying this to her back because she’d already started walking, not along the water this time, but up the sand toward the bluffs, where they could move over rocks the size of houses. She did just that, climbing one, reminding him that she was a capable, strong woman who spent her days lifting heavy gurneys.

He followed behind her, enjoying the way her dress bared her back, her arms, how it kept catching between her legs.

With a huff of frustration, she finally hiked the dress to midthigh so she could move easier, a sight he greatly enjoyed from his lower vantage point.

Her panties matched her dress.

Then she vanished from view. “Brooke?”

“Up here.”

He found her on a ledge the size of his pickup truck, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, her face turned out to the ocean, the waves tipped in silver from the moonlight. “Isn’t it amazing?” she whispered.

Yeah. Yeah, it was, but she was even more so. He sat next to her so that their shoulders touched, and for a long moment neither of them spoke.

“The waves are mesmerizing.” She sighed. “I could watch them all night.”

“You should see them beneath a full moon.”

“I’ve rarely taken the time to just sit and watch waves. Actually, that’s not true. I’ve never taken the time to just sit and watch waves.” She let out a long breath and looked at him.

“You had a question,” he reminded her.

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “I was thinking maybe I’m too rigid. For instance, I shut down this thing between us without giving it full consideration. I said I wanted a relationship, but the truth is, I’m leaving in a matter of weeks. I couldn’t really have a relationship, anyway. Plus, you were right about me not relaxing enough. Letting loose. I need to try some of that.” She paused and looked at him for a reaction.