“I’m not sure what your plan is,” she said. “But I think I’ll wait right here.”

“And miss out on all the fun?”

“I didn’t know you were into fun,” she said.

“I have my moments.”

She watched him start down the stairs to the beach, jogging easily on the balls of his feet, not looking back to see if she followed.

“You’re not giving in to that unspoken dare,” she told the evening.

The evening didn’t have a comment.

He was halfway down the stairs now. She looked out at the water. The surf was a good three feet, and something about it lulled and drew her in. She didn’t have a lot of happy childhood memories, but being in the ocean was one of them.

“Dammit,” she said, and headed down the stairs. They were steep, the bluffs on either side wet from all the rains they’d had. It’d been a wet year, and it looked good on California. By the time her shoes hit the sand, the sun had set into the water, leaving the landscape cast in long black and blue shadows.

Mark still hadn’t looked back. Near the water’s edge, he kicked off his shoes and tossed the boards aside. His shirt came off next and as his hands went to his belt, she sucked in a breath.

At the sound, he looked over his shoulder, brows up in question.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Swimming.”

“But . . .” She sputtered because he unzipped and kicked off his pants.

His pants!

He’d left his weapons and utility belt locked in his truck. Now the only thing the man wore was a pair of black knit boxers slung low enough on his hips to give her a heart-stopping view of his sleek, smooth back, marred with two scars, one of which looked like a bullet wound. Along the waistband of the boxers was a strip of paler skin, then a set of dimples and what she already knew was the best male ass she’d ever seen.

She felt rooted to the spot, torn between wanting him to pull his pants back on and hoping he stripped out of the undies too.

He did neither, instead bending for one of the boards.

“You’re not in a bathing suit,” she managed.

He flashed her a badass grin that she felt from her hair to her toes and in every single good spot in between. “Since you didn’t grab one, I didn’t either. Didn’t want you to feel lonely.” And then he walked straight into the water, dove into a wave, and vanished.

She gasped and found her feet taking her to the water’s edge, watching as he reemerged only to swim out even farther and then, when she could barely see him, he caught a wave. She could see flashes of him as he rode the boogie board like he’d been born to it, losing sight of him in between the swells.

Her heart was pounding in tune to the surf, which felt like it was flowing through her veins as she continued to watch him take his pleasure in the water. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d kicked off her shoes. She was in a stretchy knit tee and a lightweight gauzy skirt—her work clothes—trying to remember what undies she’d put on that morning. God, please don’t let them be laundry-day undies. She took a peek down her own top. White sports bra. Okay, she could work with that as long as she didn’t get cold. In other words, good luck. Her panties were cheeky cut and DayGlo bright pink. Welp, she wasn’t going to get lost, that was for sure. And hey, she’d be more covered than she would have been in her bikini, right? Right.

Taking a deep breath, she stripped out of her top and skirt. When she looked up, she found Mark suddenly at the water’s edge, the water lapping at his calves. His eyes were dark, very dark, and she pointed at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Is there a wrong way to take it when a beautiful woman strips out of her clothes?” he asked without a smile, although it was in his voice. “I’m taking it that you’re planning a swim.”

“Actually, I’m planning on kicking your ass at boogie boarding,” she said. “And that is all.”

His mouth quirked. “Duly noted.”

“Your pants are ringing,” she murmured as his phone went off.

He came all the way out of the waves, water sluicing off his extremely fit body. A few drops clung stubbornly to all those lean muscles and she had to admit, she’d have done the same thing if she were one of those drops of water.

He bent to his pants to fish out his phone. “Yes,” he said into it. “I can hear you.”

Even in only the moonlight, his eyes seemed to gleam as he stared at Lanie in a way that suddenly made her want to forget boogie boarding in lieu of something else entirely.

Not going to fall for him, she reminded herself sternly, no matter how grounded and real and charismatic he seemed. It would only bring heartache.

“I haven’t forgotten the family meeting,” he said into the phone. He listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone for a few long minutes and then, eyes still on Lanie as she bent to pick up the second board, he said, “Start without me, I’m going to be late.” He paused as Lanie strode past him into the water and added “Very late” before tossing his phone back onto his pants. “Winner picks dessert,” he said.

Sounded fair. Especially since she was going to win.

SHE BARELY BEAT him, a fact Mark attributed to several things. One, he was beyond exhausted from all the extra shifts he’d been taking on in the name of saving for the house he wanted to build for himself and the girls. And two, the bright moonlight cast the air around them a pale blue, not black, which meant he could see everything, and what he could see at every turn was Lanie.

Wet.

Laughing.

And swimming like she’d been born in the water. She took his breath away, and that was when the water was up to her chin. When she jumped high and dove with a wild abandon into oncoming waves he caught glimpses of that long, curvy, glorious body that had nearly done him in when she’d been standing on the shore.

Good Christ, he was a dead man.

“That’s five to five,” she informed him loftily, gliding up beside him, lifting her hands to push her hair from her face. They were counting strikes by whoever fell first. “Tiebreaker?” she asked.

“Hell yeah,” he said and they both turned to face the waves.

She flashed him a mischievous grin and dove into the water. Her undies had ridden up, and her bra had gone completely sheer. She looked like some sort of ocean goddess and he found himself just staring after her before remembering that this was the tiebreaker. He made a quick, sloppy attempt to catch her, his gaze held and locked by the smooth way she held on to her board, her body moving in sync with the water and . . .

He took a wave right in the face, which pummeled him, sending him somersaulting across the water.

When he righted himself and shook his head to clear it, she was standing there, water lapping at her feet, grinning.

“Claiming my spoils,” she said. “I pick cookies.”

Chapter 8

The struggle between wanting to be invited but not wanting to actually go . . .

Mark drove Lanie to the grocery store because by the time they dried off and got into the truck, it was nearly midnight and the bakery was long closed. He’d wanted to get her home and in a hot shower to warm up first, but she’d accused him of reneging on a bet, so here they were, cookie shopping.