Going Deep (Coastal Heat #1) (12 page)

Brian pulled the flattened filter from her hand and used it to wrap the rest of their snack. Setting the bundle aside, he gave in to the compulsion he’d been suppressing since about the ninth grade. He ran his fingers through her hair. Not to hold her or stroke her, but for no other reason than it gave him pleasure to touch those tempting strands of spun gold at will. With one tangled wave trapped between his thumb and forefinger, he tested the texture and tensile strength of the lock before twirling it around his finger as she used to do when lost in thought.

“In a weird way,” he said, “you were my best friend.”

The widening of her eyes told him the confession struck home. He hadn’t realized all they were to each other back then, but all the pieces fell into place the moment he saw her. Brooke’s half-hearted defense of him in high school wasn’t simple Christian kindness or the condescension of the girl crowned queen of all things. It was the result of a higher consciousness.

“Yeah, I thought we were friends,” she said softly.

She blushed and he saw what she must have known all those years ago. They were a matched set. So alike. Too alike. Both smart, confident, and ambitious in their own ways. But Brooke had a set of social smarts he’d never developed. She’d reigned at the top of the social strata from the day she was born, and he was a marker of how far she might fall if she stepped off the pedestal. He understood why she’d hesitated then. What he didn’t get what why she was so open to him now.

He recaptured the curl. “What happened to you after high school?”

“What?”

“I mean, you’re different than you were then.”

“So are you,” she retorted. “You’re the biology geek. Wouldn’t that be a natural part of our evolution or something?”

The tart response made him smile. “You only talk like that to me.”

“Like what?”

“All sassy and smart-assed.”

“Not true. I’m a smartass most of the time.”

His smile grew. “Yeah, but you never let it out. At least, you didn’t back in high school. Except with me, sometimes.”

An eyebrow arched and she pursed her lips. “Well, we were best friends and all,” she drawled.

Her breath caught when he brushed his thumb across her lips. His heart kicked up when her eyelids lowered. “Best of friends, worst of enemies?”

“Are we frenemies, Brian?”

“We’re lovers.” Rolling up to meet her nose to nose, he backed his correction with a gentle caress and a firm kiss. “Scary to think what might happen if we really did join forces.”

“Like the Super Friends?”

He fixed her with a fierce scowl. “Another one of your nerd jokes?”

“Aquaman and Wonder Woman?” She wagged her head, a smile tugging at her mouth. “I always thought there was some unresolved sexual tension.” She pushed her fingers through his hair, jerking his head back enough to give her the upper hand. “He was always cranky and anti-social. She was never afraid to take him down a notch.” She brushed a feathery kiss across his lips. “I think he secretly liked it.”

“I’m willing to bet money on it.” He kissed her again, this time drawing her bottom lip between his and sucking ever so gently before releasing it. “Aquaman was married, you know. It could never happen.”

“Shh. You’re blowing my fantasy.”

“I’m sorry.” He slid his hands down to cradle her ass and flashed an insincere smile as he drew her astride him. “Funny thing about fantasies, it looks like all mine are about to come true again.”

Her nails bit into his shoulder as she found her balance. He sucked a sharp breath between his teeth then relaxed into the pain.

“Aren’t you the lucky guy?”

Dragging his attention away from the soft press of her breasts against his chest, he looked straight into her eyes. “I win.”

Brooke framed his face with both hands and lowered her mouth. “I let you.”

“I figure it’s time we…consolidate our powers, Wonder Woman.”

Amused by the analogy, she shook her head. “I’m not sure your porpoise friends will like riding in my invisible plane.”

“We can sort out the logistics later.” Warm, moist breath teased his lips, but she held back on the kiss he desperately craved. “Don’t try to play it cool. Not with me. Not anymore. You want this as much as I do.”

“You can’t prove it, doctor.”

He brushed her hair back from her face. “Why do I get the sneaking suspicion you want me to tie you up with your lasso of truth?”

“Because you are a very, very smart man.”

It had been a good day. As hard as it was to pry herself from Brian’s grasp the night before, Brooke mustered the strength. She had a story to write. And a decision to make. Plus, she wanted to maintain a little mystery. As much as she curled her lip at those who ascribed to dating ‘rules,’ she had to admit to some truth in the cliché about absence making the heart fonder.

Whether she wanted to admit it to him or to herself, she wanted Brian to grow fonder. No one was more familiar with the thrill of the chase than she. She’d dogged stories for months and months, pulling threads until she unraveled secrets and exposed fatal flaws. Then, once the story was put to bed, she promptly forgot all the details. A part of her was scared it would be the same with Brian. Or for him.

Alone with her thoughts and the memory of his hands on her, she spent the evening transcribing the recording of their oft-interrupted interview. Then, she sat down and wrote, the words flowing swift and sure as the Mobile River into the bay. Not the typical features section spread. She wouldn’t insult the trust Brian placed in her with anything as trite as a tabloid exposé or teen magazine Q and A. With the sound of his voice playing in her ears, she spun a story of a local boy transformed into a successful man. She kept his love of science and the Gulf Coast the focal point, and stayed far away from the swoon-worthy smile and primetime good looks. She said nothing of his struggles with the network or the overblown accusations that made him chum for the late-night television sharks.

Somewhere in the midst of writing Brian’s story her fate was sealed. It wasn’t a deliberate decision, but more of a kind of calm. This was it—the last time she would jump through the hoops Nels set for her. Now, she was glad she was the one who got to do the profile on Brian.

The truth was she’d uncovered unexpected depths. About Brian, and about herself. Every answer he gave seemed to fill in the backstory on the quirks and foibles she’d seen all her life. Every anecdote made her want to know him better. He’d shared a story about the first time he helped to mend a bird’s broken wing, and the real reason he ended up on the track team. It was just like Brian to letter in a sport because he enjoyed monitoring and testing his body’s ability to build endurance and respond to stress.

Like the boy she knew long ago, he boasted about his achievements and blushed about his shortcomings. But this older, wiser version wasn’t afraid to bare his deepest, darkest secrets. At least, not to her. He hated sweet tea. An offense apt to get him disowned, according to Brian. Despite the sparse supplies he kept in his galley, he allegedly liked to cook and sprinkled his conversation with culinary tidbits that made her mouth water. But a quick discussion on the merits of satellite radio revealed his musical tastes never evolved past the tenth grade.

On and on, they talked until their voices grew ragged and his hands grew restless. Hunger, raw and unchecked, drove them higher, faster, harder. They gripped and groped, teeth grazing sensitive skin, nails staking their claim on tracts of damp, slick flesh. The boat pitched and surged with each powerful thrust.

Brooke slipped away soon after. Citing her impending deadline, she hit the dock at a shuffling run and hustled to the safety of her car as fast as those too-tall heels would allow. But he’d called before she made it out of the lot. By the time she’d reached her apartment, he’d extracted a promise to meet him as soon as the article was turned in. A promise she was all too happy to keep. She just needed a little time to think.

The whole time she’d been interviewing him, he’d been quizzing her, too. Her hopes, dreams, ambitions. Favorite foods. A lengthy discussion about her distinctly un-Southern love of socks. She usually hated this part. The getting-to-know-you dates when information is mined and milled. But instead of making her feel uncomfortable or picked over, his quiet, thoughtful questions made her want to know herself better. And one thing she knew for certain, it was time to move on. She wanted to write the stories that spoke to her. She wanted to write for an audience who cared about something more than circulation numbers.

Friday morning, she uploaded the final draft of the profile and a quasi-faithful transcript to the server. The answers he gave were all intact. It was nobody’s damn business if Brian answered the question about his childhood pet while lying atop her panting. She spent another forty minutes glued to her desk, working up the nerve to print the letter she’d written and tap on Nels’ door. Now was as good a time as any.

The Perry White wannabe actually plucked the Sharpie he chomped like a cigar from his teeth and waved her away. He said he hadn’t opened her e-mail yet. He lied. She’d requested delivery receipts on the e-mail. Not that Nels would know what those were. The man was a troglodyte. But after her conversation with Brian the night before, she had to admit she was feeling a bit like one, too.

She hadn’t made the leap from print journalism to digital media despite the numerous offers she’d had. Only Brian could make her admit it wasn’t the perceived prestige of an established newspaper keeping her under Nels’ thumb. It was fear, plain and simple. Though she’d teased Brian about walking away from his career, a part of her admired his bravery. It was probably the same part that could never quite hate him for humiliating her on graduation day. She’d wanted him to turn around, come back, and kiss her again.

Armed with her new take-no-prisoners attitude, she carefully placed the envelope containing her resignation at the center of Nels’ blotter. The bulldog sneer on his face made it easier to say the words she’d long dreamed of saying. “I quit.”

She agreed to the customary two weeks’ notice before hotfooting it down to Dauphin Island. The deed was done. She was now officially a short-timer. So far, the freedom felt damn good. Brooke had surprisingly few regrets about her decision. For a woman who’d spent most of her life following a plan, she was learning to master the art of impulse. And she liked it.

She must have broken at least ten traffic laws in her rush to get to the marina. But now, rocking gently with the lapping wake, she was in no hurry to be anywhere else. At least, not for a little while.

Propped on one elbow, Brooke watched Brian’s face as he slept the sleep of the satiated. A short time before, he’d held her pinned under him, immobile and completely at his mercy. She liked that, too. A lot. The man was like algae. Hold still too long and he grew on a girl. Bio-chemical reaction was the rational explanation she had for how she might possibly fall for someone so hard so fast. But she wasn’t feeling particularly rational.

Just over twenty-four hours had passed since she first stepped foot on his boat—a week since she laid eyes on him for the first time in over a decade—and now she’d laid eyes, lips, hands and…everything else all over him. Repeatedly. She hoped to have the chance to claim every inch of territory again once he awakened. But as it was now, she was content to enjoy the view.

She smiled into the gloaming as the impetus for all this change snuffled and mumbled in his sleep. Brian Dalton, the greatest frenemy she ever had, was now her lover. If that wasn’t a sign of cataclysmic change, Brooke had no idea what was.

Laney would be shocked, of course. Not only by her relationship with Brian, but by her resignation. Though she liked to whine about her job as much as the next girl, she’d never told her friend she was considering taking a leap. Her father might be a bit taken aback, too, but Brooke suspected he knew she was restless. She was sure to hear some choice words from her mother, but she knew Emmaline’s nagging was borne of her own special brand of motherly concern. Soon she’d be canceling her subscription, bad-mouthing the paper to all her friends, and buying her daughter a giant tube of overpriced wrinkle cream to see her through the transition.

The air cooled considerably as the sun sank. Marina lighting filtered a faux-amber glow through the tiny windows. The deep, steady rise and fall of Brian’s chest made Brooke’s fingers itch to touch. His handsome face relaxed and immobile, he looked like the boy who borrowed her pencil once upon a time. Mile-long lashes shadowed his cheekbones. The tip of his nose was peeling. But this Brian was all grown up. He was bigger, bolder, but maybe a little bit broken.

“Bri.” She breathed the single syllable, knowing she should wake him and go, but loath to put the plan fully in motion.

He drew a deep, steady breath then let it go on a hum. “Sleep.”

She smiled at the drowsy response. The waning light highlighted the faint streaks of white marks fanning from the corners of his eyes. Those little fissures, like the teeny-tiny cracks she found in his cocky exterior, made him more desirable. She’d gone into the assignment thinking she’d knock off a quick profile of a guy she thought she knew, use his expertise for the series of articles she’d already worked up, and exploit his celebrity as a means of leveraging the power of the press for good and not evil. It seemed like a sound plan at the time.

Brooke never expected to be as drawn to him as she was. The vulnerability she’d uncovered tugged at her. She knew better than most what a fickle commodity confidence could be. She was a writer, subject to the whims of public opinion and constantly on the verge of rejection. And being a former beauty queen’s only daughter was no picnic, either.

The soft peacefulness of Brian’s expression tugged at her. She’d be willing to bet she’d had more ego-deflating experience than the delectable Dr. Dalton would ever know. He was still reeling from the attacks on his professionalism. Despite an adolescence spent on the outside looking in, Brian had never doubted himself or his abilities. Until now. And she was just the girl to help him over that particular hurdle. She’d leaped it a few times already. Granted, her moment of mortification played out on a high school stage, while his on a national one. But in the end it all came down to how one felt inside. And right now, she couldn’t imagine feeling any better.