He's No Prince Charming (7 page)

She inhaled a sharp breath, drawing Trace’s attention just as the jets ceased. Her gaze locked with his. Sexual tension crackled between them, making Dakota want to slip through the water, slide onto his lap and straddle him. She imagined her hands on his chest and her mouth on his neck, licking droplets of water.

And then his deep voice interrupted her wayward thoughts with “I have some work to catch up on. You should go, Princess.”

“Yes, I should. Sorry, I was just in a zone.” She waved her fingers in the air, explaining what that meant for her. “I do that sometimes. I think I’m just really tired. It’s been a long day.” Knowing that she was talking way too much and that her face must be glowing as red as the end of a matchstick, Dakota decided to make a quick exit. She quickly stood up and sloshed water to the deck, knocking over several empty beer bottles. They clanked and thumped, making Dakota worry about shards of glass.

“Oh, no!” Dakota slipped back into the water and kneeled on the seat as she peered over the edge. “The bottles don’t seem to be broken,” she assured him over her shoulder, and then realized that her butt was perched and positioned just a few feet from his face.

Dear God.

Embarrassed, Dakota tried to turn around, but slipped on the slick surface of the molded seat and fell back in the water with a hands-flailing splash. She broke the surface, coughing and sputtering, and then flopped forward, falling facedown in his lap. Her knees throbbed but her injured pride smarted even worse, and she pushed up hard against his thighs in a frantic effort to back away, unwittingly thrusting her breasts mere inches from Trace’s face.

Dakota caught the widening of Trace’s eyes as she managed to push to her feet and back away to the opposite seat. Water swished and churned as if a sudden storm had risen from the steamy hot tub, but Dakota sat very still, afraid to cause yet another face-flaming moment.

“What was that all about?” Trace asked in a deadpan tone, making Dakota wonder whether he was amused or annoyed or truly wondered what the hell she just did.

“Water aerobics,” she answered, and then flipped a lock of wet hair over her shoulder. Trying to remain flippant but dangerously close to tears, she inhaled a cleansing breath and said as calmly as she could, which wasn’t calm at all, “I do believe I’ll go home now.” She managed a smile that trembled only slightly, stood up slowly, and oh so carefully stepped from the tub. With all the dignity she could muster, she wrapped the towel around her shoulders, gave Trace a brief nod, and then walked away with her head high and her back ramrod straight.

Dakota walked across the deck and down the driveway in the dark, refusing to think about beady little eyes staring at her from the surrounding woods. Then she shook her head while thinking she had been living in the city way too long.

“The spiders are gone and the mice are sleeping,” she whispered as she flicked the closest switch. She turned the lock and leaned against the door, swallowed hard, and closed her eyes. Clenching her hands into tight balls at her sides, she gritted her teeth and fought tears of frustration, fear, and fatigue. But even though the urge to slither to the floor and melt into a puddle was strong, she refrained.

“Get hold of your sorry self,” Dakota muttered darkly, and then using the last bit of energy and determination left in her body, she pushed from the door and walked to the bathroom. After turning on the light, she looked at the shower curtain crumpled in the bathtub and put a hand to her mouth. The crazy events of the past two days tumbled through her head, and she once again wondered if she should laugh or burst into noisy tears.

She decided to laugh.

Laughing made her feel measurably better, but as she peeled her swimsuit straps down, she paused, leaned against the sink, and peered at her reflection. Frowning, she put her fingertips to the cool mirror and said, “Just who are you, Dakota Dunn?” She had been telling the truth to Sierra when she said she had been a fish out of water living in Los Angeles. In that moment she realized that for a long time she had been living her life externally.

It was about time she started writing the songs she wanted to sing, wearing the clothes she wanted to wear, and discovering herself as a grown woman. She narrowed her eyes and gave herself a silent challenge to figure out what she really wanted out of life and then to go for it, no holds barred.

Trace Coleman.
His name popped into her head and she smiled. “Now, there’s a challenge,” she said with an arched eyebrow. “Are you up to it, girlie?”

Dakota was still thinking about Trace after she changed into dry clothes. “He’s as tough and hard-nosed as they come,” she warned herself, but those light blue eyes of his told a different story, drawing her to him in ways she couldn’t even begin to explain. But she had promised to keep out of his way and to basically remain invisible around the marina, and that’s what she intended to do. She would keep her word.

In the meantime, she decided to locate her guitar. It was about time to jump-start her career and her life.

“Good mornin’.”

“Same to ya.” Shirtless, Grady leaned one shoulder against the kitchen doorframe and grinned, causing Sierra to clutch her Styrofoam cup so tightly that the lid popped off.

Grady chuckled. “That was a cool trick.”

“Been practicing it all mornin’,” she said, trying to sound unaffected by his half-dressed appearance. Although she had seen him bare chested in the hot tub, in the light of day it somehow felt intimate. Trying not to blush, she discreetly allowed her gaze to travel over dark blond hair lightly covering his chest in a wedge that narrowed to an enticing line heading south. Worn Wranglers rode low on his hips and molded to muscular thighs, and for some reason Sierra found his feet to be sexy as hell. “One of those for me?” He nodded to another cup sitting on the counter.

“Oh yes, here.” Sierra handed it to him and watched him tip it back and take a sip. It wasn’t fair that he appeared so amazing while sleep rumpled and unshaven, and she felt as if she needed a shower. She self-consciously reached up and tried to smooth her tangled hair. Loose from her customary ponytail, she knew it was a mass of untamed curls spilling over her shoulders.

“Mmmm, thanks.” He held up his coffee cup in a salute. “So, we have doughnuts too? What did I do to deserve to wake up to this?” He gave her a lingering look, making Sierra wonder whether he was flirting or just joking around. Knowing how mussed she looked, Sierra decided the latter.

“I guess it’s your lucky day,” Sierra replied, trying not to be ticked at how delicious he had the nerve to appear this early in the morning. It just wasn’t fair.

“Sure wasn’t my lucky night,” Grady replied as he walked over and snagged a cruller.

Sierra’s heart thudded in her chest. “What do you mean?” came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“Doggone raccoons kept me awake half the night.” He took a bite of his cruller and licked the flaky sugar off his thumb. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby.” Of course, that was a big, fat lie. She had tossed and turned for hours, thinking of him sleeping on the other side of the hallway. She was beginning to get annoyed that she had lost a good night’s rest over someone who obviously was totally unaffected by her in the way she was drawn to him.

“You go get breakfast dressed like that?” He nodded his head in her direction.

“Like what?”

“In my shirt?”

Sierra’s eyes widened and she looked down at the University of Kentucky T-shirt that he had discarded last night. “I didn’t have any dry clothing, and you tossed this on the bathroom floor.” She shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“No, I don’t, but hand it over now,” he requested, and reached in her direction.

Sierra’s mouth moved, but at first nothing came out. “Are you serious? I don’t have anything on underneath this!” Sierra sputtered, and then immediately wished she had kept her big mouth shut. “My swimsuit is wet.”

“Sierra, I’m kiddin’,” Grady replied calmly, but then had the nerve to grin. “Wow, you sure aren’t a morning person, are you, twinkle toes?” Still grinning, he shook his head. “Why is it that I’m always in trouble around you?”

“Well,” Sierra started to answer, but became distracted when he licked icing off his bottom lip. “You,” she tried again, but when he leaned one hip against the counter and scratched his chest, her train of thought took a totally different path.

“See, you can’t think of one little ole reason you need to give me a hard time.” He polished off his cruller and dusted his hands. “Can you?” He took a swallow of coffee and said, “By the way, thanks for going after breakfast.”

“I didn’t,” Sierra admitted, glad to have a change in the subject. “Trace must have brought the coffee and doughnuts.”

“You think so?” Grady arched his eyebrows and seemed surprised.

Sierra nodded. “Yeah, he’d grumble if you thanked him, though. He acts like such a badass, but underneath it all he’s a great guy. He just doesn’t want anyone to know it,” she added, but when a slow smile spread across Grady’s face, she narrowed her eyes and said, “Okay, I’ll bite. Just why are you grinnin’?”

“Nothin’.” Grady rubbed his hand over his chin and then angled his head at her. “Just sounds like someone else I know.” He gave her a pointed look.

“Oh, go on with ya,” she scoffed, but then made the mistake of giving Grady what was meant to be a playful shove. When her palm made contact with his bare chest, a hot shot of pure longing traveled from her fingertips to her toes. And when she tried to pull her palm away, Grady surprised her by capturing her hand in his and bringing her fingers so close to his mouth that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. “What are you doin’?”

“Checking your burn,” he explained. “A little pink, but no blisters. Good. The ice did the trick.” He examined Sierra’s fingertips and then nodded with satisfaction. But when he looked at her face, he suddenly swallowed hard and seemed to forget to release his grip. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down,” he murmured, seemingly more to himself than to her.

“At least not literally,” Sierra tried to joke, but her voice came out breathless. She pointed to her mass of curls. “And now you know why. My hair takes on a life of its own while I sleep. Especially when I toss and turn.”

His eyes met hers. “Thought you said you slept like a baby.”

Sierra felt the warmth of a blush steal into her cheeks and looked away while desperately hoping for a snappy comeback. She might have come up with one, but Grady put his thumb and forefinger on her chin and gently forced her to look at him. “I guess I lied.”

Grady seemed to search her face for a moment. “Me too,” he said softly.

Sierra’s heart pounded so hard she thought Grady must surely hear it. “So you got a good night’s sleep after all?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, but it wasn’t the raccoons that kept me up, Sierra.”

“What, then?” Dear God, his eyes were focused on her mouth as he oh, so slowly lowered his head. With a sigh, he threaded his fingers through her hair, lifting the heavy mass of curls from her neck and cradling her head in the palm of his hand before capturing her mouth in a soft, sweet kiss.

“That’s what kept me awake,” he whispered in her ear, making her all but melt. “Wondering what you would taste like.”

“Oh.” Sierra was well aware of the fact that Grady Green had the reputation for being a big flirt. She knew she should guard her heart, but his warm skin beneath her palms felt too good. Still, she would have stepped away, but when Grady kissed the tender part of her neck beneath her ear, she was powerless to move. Then when he pushed her hair to the side and nibbled on her earlobe, a hot tingle shot down her spine, making her cling to his shoulders. To her horror, a little whimpering noise bubbled up in her throat and came tumbling out of her mouth.

With a little growl of his own, Grady pulled her against the length of his body. Sierra slid her hands up his back, loving the ripple of muscle beneath smooth, supple skin. Grady groaned, dipped his head and captured her mouth in a searing kiss that took her breath away. His palms slid to her ass, kneading and pushing her closer with only thin cotton between him and her skin.

As if reading her mind, Grady slipped his hands beneath the hem of the shirt and cupped her bare bottom. Sierra gasped, arched her back, pressing her breasts to his chest. She reached up and wrapped her hands around his neck, coming to her tiptoes to compensate for her lack of height while giving him better access to her bare body. “Mmmm.” Her fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck, thick and silky soft.

“God, Sierra,” he said, and then lifted her to the counter. She gasped when her hot skin hit the cool surface. “Wrap your legs around me,” he pleaded in her ear. “God, you’re driving me crazy. Such a little sex kitten in the mornin’. And damn that hair. I want to see it spread across white sheets. Bury my face in it,” he said, and then scooped his hands beneath her ass cheeks and lifted her off the counter. “By the way, you look damned good in my shirt.”

“I feel good in your shirt.” Sierra, who wasn’t much of a giggler, suddenly laughed with abandon when he whisked her toward the bedroom.

“Gil,” Grady ordered, “git your sorry ass out of my bed.”

Gil moaned, did a big, wheezing doggy yawn, and shot Grady a bleary-eyed you’ve-gotta-be-kidding look, but then obediently hopped to the floor and trotted out of the room.

“I’m beginning to like that dog better,” Sierra commented, and squealed when Grady tossed her to the bed where he had slept the night before. The rumpled covers looked sexy and inviting. His male scent—musky, spicy—filled her head as she gazed up at him, breathless and heart pounding and unable to look away.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains and glinted off of Grady’s blond hair. His chest was tanned to a deep bronze, and although tall and lanky, he appeared whipcord strong, born out of years of outdoor labor. He had an easy smile and warm eyes that looked down at her with such longing that Sierra suddenly felt unaccustomed moisture behind her eyelids. She had waited for a man to look at her this way for so damned long. Knowing it would be a mood killer, she blinked back the tears and gave him a trembling smile.

And then she reached out for him. “Come here.”

Grady looked down at Sierra and wondered how in the world he hadn’t realized how beautiful she was until this very moment. While she wasn’t the Barbie doll type he typically went after, he realized that her beauty radiated from within. She was a hard worker and gave him a rough time because he was good at dishing it out. Come to think of it, Sierra was the only woman who really
got
his humor and tossed it right back at him. She was a tough little cookie, but looking down at her right now, with her green eyes wide and luminous and her full lips curved in a trembling smile, Grady realized with what felt like a shot straight to the heart that she might appear rough-and-tumble on the outside, but like Trace, she had a soft side that she carefully kept hidden.

And he had the power to hurt her.

All at once, Grady realized how much he had come to care about Sierra over the past couple of years, and she deserved more than a roll in the sack.

He couldn’t do this.

“Sierra,” Grady jammed his hands in his pockets and then frowned down at her.

Her eyes widened. She swallowed and let her arms fall to the bed. “Ohmigod,” she mumbled, and pushed up to her elbows, ready to scramble off of the bed.

“No, listen.”

“I’m all ears.” She looked at him with wary, questioning eyes.

“Um,” Grady searched his brain for something to say, but this was foreign territory. “I . . .”

“Oh, just go.” She pointed a shaky finger toward the bedroom door.

“Wait—”

“Get the hell outta here!” she said through clenched teeth, and tried to glare but blinked rapidly as if holding back tears.

“Sierra,” Grady attempted again, feeling like a complete jackass. He took a step back when she came up to her knees on the mattress. She had fire in her eyes and color high in her cheeks. The thought went through his head that she was magnificent when angry, especially with her hair a riot of curls tumbling over her shoulders. He was beginning to regret his decision. “Let me—”

“Get out! And take your mangy-ass dog with you!”

“Sierra, I didn’t mean to—” he began, but had to duck when a pillow came flying his way. It hit the wall.

“Get out!” She was breathing hard, and when she leaned over to grab another pillow, her shirt hiked up, giving Grady a tantalizing peek at her cute little ass. With a squeal, she hefted the plump pillow over her head and swung it with all her might, this time hitting him in the head.

“Ouch!” he protested, playing on her sympathy even though it didn’t really hurt. His ploy apparently didn’t work, since she fiercely flung another pillow his way. Anticipating her move, he caught the pillow and decided to lighten the mood and toss it back at her.

Not a good idea.

The pillow plowed her in the shoulder, knocking her sideways and onto the bed harder than Grady intended. She bounced and came up cussing and swinging.

“Sorry, Sierra!” he said, not realizing he was a big guy and although she was a spitfire, in reality she was a little bitty thing.

“Why, you! You!” she sputtered but didn’t finish, as if she couldn’t come up with anything vile enough to call him. Grady took a step closer, intending to talk some sense into her, but had to duck when she took another fisted swing. When she came up with nothing but air, she spun around in a complete circle and came precariously close to the edge of the bed. “Whoa!” She teetered but caught her balance, and then looked around for more ammunition.

“Sierra! No!” His eyes widened when she hefted another pillow above her head and sent it sailing in his direction. Grady knew that the force of her throw would propel her forward, and so he lunged toward the bed, hoping to catch her before she tumbled to the floor. The mattress was perched pretty high off of the ground, presenting real danger.

Between Grady lunging forward and Sierra tumbling toward him, the impact of their bodies colliding packed quite a wallop. Grady grunted as he caught her in midair, and landed on the bed with a bounce. She straddled his waist, but her arms flopped outward onto the mattress and her breasts squished against his upper chest. The shirt scooted up her back, and Grady’s hands somehow landed on her bare butt. The smooth skin and firm, rounded muscle compelled Grady to squeeze, bringing a screech of protest from Sierra. She pushed up with her palms, causing her hair to trail across Grady’s cheek and down his chest.