Highly Charged! (8 page)

“Brilliant comment about the security company,” Nikki remarked, grinning as she sidled up next to him. “Now they'll think twice before trespassing. And if I know the Ralston clan, word will spread quickly among them that the place will be wired with alarms.”

Brad planned to follow through on that lie as soon as possible; he made a mental note to call a security company for her.

“That's assuming any of them are guilty.” Brad kept an eye on Harold's car as it slowly backed out of the driveway. “But word will spread. I'll put up a few signs from one of the security companies tomorrow even if they can't make it out here that fast. For now, however, I have another proposition.”

A flush of color washed over her cheeks, making him wonder what kind of proposition she was visualizing. He'd bet it was a whole lot more interesting than what he actually had in mind.

“Proposition?” Her voice pitched unnaturally high.

“It's not what you're thinking.” He plucked the stick from her hand and laid it on the shelf next to the gas grill. “I told you I'd take things slow. I just thought I'd see if you wanted to ditch this place for a couple of hours for a party my friends are having on the beach.”

He hadn't planned on going, but the vulnerable look
in her eyes when she'd been touched by a store-bought baked ziti had gotten to him. She deserved to surround herself with good people.

Her expression now was difficult to read as she tilted her head to one side, studying him.

“Do you think it's wise to leave the place unattended when the vandals might come back?” She peered over her shoulder at the white clapboard farmhouse as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

“We can move the animals' cages over to my house just until we come back. It's better for us to be at a party than to be sitting inside this place if any more rocks are thrown through the window anyway.” The thought ticked him off anew. He'd find out who was messing with her before he returned to Iraq.

She stared at him for a long moment. What kind of reservations could she have?

“Besides,” he continued, “I don't know about you, but I didn't get much sleep last night. Maybe a party would—”

“A party is a great idea,” she agreed quickly, apparently spurred by the reminder that they'd been too close for comfort the night before. Well, too close for her comfort, maybe.

He'd be very glad for a whole lot more of that tonight.

“I'll just run upstairs and change—” She pulled her cell phone from her jeans pocket and he realized it was buzzing. “Just a sec.”

She pressed a button and reviewed the screen—a text message as opposed to a call. He thought about going
back to his place to grab clean clothes, also, but her gasp halted him.

She stood rigid, staring down at the phone.

“What?” Instantly alert, he moved closer, his hands hovering close to her waist without really touching. “Everything okay?”

Face pale, she flipped the view screen toward him so he could see what caught her attention.

Your security won't prevent me from getting what I want.

The number it came from was blocked.

“Those ballsy SOBs.” He took out his own phone. “I'm calling the cops. That message should be easy to trace and it was probably one of the brain trust that just pulled out of the yard.”

“Okay.” She nodded, her brow furrowed with worry. Or was it betrayal? No doubt it felt that way given the warm reception she'd just given two members of the Ralston family. And who else could have spread the word about the upcoming security measures?

He gripped her hand, hating that someone was trying to scare her. And doing a damn good job.

“I'll stay here while you go upstairs and get changed.”

“Changed?”

“For the beach party.” The grim determination in his voice probably didn't inspire visions of limboing on the sand. “Why should we change a good plan just because of some disgruntled half-wit who didn't get his share of the silverware? You deserve some fun. You've worked really hard the last two days.”

She hesitated a moment longer, but as the color came back into her face, she nodded.

“You're right.” She squeezed his hand in return, a surprising—and welcome—touch. “It'll be fun to get away for a few hours.”

Brad watched her walk away, hoping he wasn't making a mistake to leaving the property tonight. He didn't think Angelica or Harold were guilty as it would be ridiculously dumb to text message a threat two minutes after pulling out of Nikki's driveway. But his bogus claim about installing security must have traveled at the speed of sound around Virginia Beach. Or at least to one very guilty individual…

He couldn't help a quick glance over his shoulder, but there was no one around. He'd hand the matter over to the police and treat Nikki to a night out. A chance to meet genuine people. He didn't care to think too deeply about why he was introducing her to the people he thought of as his family. Mostly, he just wanted to show her a good time and feel normal for a few hours.

It didn't have a damn thing to do with wanting a replay of the night before. But if she ended up in his arms again, he had every intention of keeping her there until the sun rose.

N
IKKI COULDN'T REMEMBER
the last time she'd taken a day for herself at the shore.

Wind whipped through her hair as Brad's mud-splattered Jeep bypassed the resort area of Virginia Beach for the quieter sand dunes farther south. The scent of the nearby ocean helped her to put aside the problems that awaited her back home with the threats and harassment. Tonight would be
fun
. She couldn't help but think Chloe would approve of her taking time off. For all that Nikki wanted to celebrate her friend's life and share the eccentric writer's work with the world, she knew she lost sight of Chloe's “seize the day” mentality all too often.

Ocean spray cooled the breeze as the houses became more secluded. Brad pointed out a place just a few moments before a volleyball net and a bonfire came into view. His friend had access to the house for the weekend and had invited his whole unit, apparently. About twenty cars with tailgates pulled down filled an empty field next to picnic blankets and lawn chairs. Southern rock music from another era blasted over one truck's speakers. A
few grills congregated to the side of a party already well underway.

Brad had barely jerked to a gravel-spitting halt before a preschool-age boy lurched out of a young woman's arms to run toward the vehicle. Nikki worked on unloading her beach bag while Brad motioned that he would keep an eye on the boy. The young woman nodded and went to sit with a few young mothers in the shade on a blanket with some snoozing infants.

“Lieutenant Brad!” The little boy who'd targeted Brad came barreling closer.

Brad dropped the cooler and swung the child high enough to make him squeal then effortlessly held him at eye level.

“You're almost too big for this. Must've grown a foot since the last time,” Brad teased as he pretended to stagger. He swung the boy around once more for good measure. Seagulls took flight, shrilling in agitation at the commotion before Brad set the boy down.

A few guys jogged up from the beach to grab chairs and a tabletop grill off the back of the Jeep. Raucous laughter and shrieks of “In your face,” “Score!” and “Take that, loser!” floated up from the shoreline and the volleyball game in progress. Nikki's stomach rumbled at the savory smell of roasting hot dogs and hamburgers as she took in the sudden barrage of people and sound.

“Who's this, your
girlfriend?
” The blond-haired boy pointed at Nikki as he ambled beside them, rolling his eyes and nudging Brad meaningfully.

Good question, thought Nikki, guessing the child was about five or six years old. She got busy digging in her beach bag to avoid overt eavesdropping. Good
thing she'd packed the sunscreen. The late-afternoon sun sizzled along her bare shoulders, and reflected off the beach's pristine white sand. The humid, salt-filled air began curling her long hair.

So much for pricey salon products.

“Nikki, meet Nate—although she'll probably wish later she hadn't.” Brad hauled Nate up to her. A sand-encrusted hand thrust forward to meet hers.

Good thing she'd remembered hand wipes, too. She grasped Nate's sticky grip. “Nice to meet you.”

He shook quickly and then reached for her new beach bag. “May I help you, ma'am?”

Nate looked to Brad who nodded approvingly.

“Just bring it down to the rest of the unit,” Brad ordered. “We'll be there in a sec.” He turned back to the Jeep, lifting the hem of his olive green tank to mop his brow. His powerful back muscles rippled tantalizingly into view, leaving Nikki in a heated state that had little to do with the 90 degree day.

“Roger that,” shouted Nate as he leapt over a split-rail fence and raced away, beach bag contents spewing in his wake.

“He's a character,” said Brad as he tugged a cooler on wheels and gestured to the woman who'd been watching Nate that the child was headed her way again.

Walking down to the beach, Nikki picked up sunscreen, hair clips and a cheap pair of shades from where they'd fallen into the tall sea grass. Her flip-flops sank into the powdery sand, the warm, soft grains caressing her ankles. The sparkling navy and white-capped ocean lay just yards ahead. Oblivious to the surrounding beauty, the fierce volleyball competition raged. The
thudding ball, cheers, jeers and groans drowned out the sound of the music and brown-blue swells steadily rolling ashore.

“How do you know him?” It dawned on Nikki that she'd never asked Brad if he'd been married. Could the boy have been his son? He'd clearly behaved like a father.

Uncertainty gripped her. Was coming here an invitation to further their ambiguous relationship? What did they really know about each other?

Brad's relaxed expression tightened. “His father and I served in the same unit. Lieutenant Frank Peterson. Best IED defuser we had. His wife was eight months pregnant with Nate when an advance team of mine sweepers and metal detectors missed a more unconventional weapon before Frank's team—our team—went in. Frank was right there, warning everyone it wasn't safe—”

When he broke off, Nikki impulsively stroked the back of his rigid neck.

“How awful.” She couldn't imagine how hard that had been for Frank's wife, not to mention Brad's team. And poor Nate, missing out on the chance to know his dad. “I'm sorry.”

The words were a lame offering, not coming close to easing the grief in the air.

“Yeah. Me, too,” Brad bit out. He shook off her hand like a pestering fly.

Hurt, Nikki wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want her comfort. She was already in over her head and their afternoon together had barely gotten underway. Pausing by the break in the split-rail fence that acted as the last
barrier between them and the party, she needed to clear the air before they went any farther.

“Look, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.” Her sunglasses protested her tight grip with a small cracking sound. She eased her clenched fist, unsure of her role here.

Maybe Brad was better at giving help than he was at accepting what someone else had to offer.

He whirled to face her, kicking up sand he stopped so quick.

“It's a great idea.” Even he must have heard how ludicrous that sounded when spoken through gritted teeth because he seemed to take a deep breath. “I'm just not good at talking about that stuff with people who—”

She lifted an eyebrow, curious how he'd finish that sentence.

“With anyone,” he finished. “It's been a while since I've been with someone so I haven't had any reason to share things like that.”

“It's been a while for me, too.” Her last boyfriend had gotten fed up with how much time she spent on her dissertation and that had been—too many years ago.

Most guys were at least mildly intrigued at the idea of a woman writing her doctoral project on erotica. Jake had mostly been bugged she couldn't make it to more Washington Nationals games with him on his weekends off. But that was the last thing she wanted to discuss.

“Umm, aren't we a little late for this shindig of yours?”

Brad exhaled with a grin. “I like my hot dogs burnt.”

Nikki started forward. “Funny. I feel the same way about marshmallows.”

“One burnt marshmallow coming up. But first—” he scooped up the cooler and sprinted toward a dozen men and women dressed in khaki or athletic gear “—volleyball.”

Nikki gave him time to collect assorted high fives and shoulder punches, following more slowly. When she arrived, she tried to keep up as Brad's military family introduced themselves. Like him, they served in an explosive ordnance disposal mobile unit. Some were on leave, while others had returned home after completing tours of duty. They insisted she join their game, their athletic builds promising certain humiliation for her limited skills. Was a sudden urge to read
Wuthering Heights
a plausible excuse?

“Come on, Nikki, it'll be fun,” grunted a six-feet-seven-inch behemoth with a pulsing forehead. How exactly was she getting out of dodging speeding missiles for the next hour or two?

“None of us are pros,” a majorly toned woman assured her as she spiked a perfect serve to the opposite corner. “We just play for fun.”

The other players' anxious glances at Nikki's delicate frame belied this white lie. They were warriors who would fight like their lives depended on every point. Nikki would just get caught in the cross fire.

Her rescue came from an unexpected source as the blond-haired child appeared at her leg, his sitter a few steps behind.

“Wanna build sand castles?”

Nikki would have kissed Nate if she wasn't sure she'd
stick to him. Digging in wet, gritty sand never sounded so good. She assured his sitter she would take good care of him before she strolled down to the rolling surf. A few younger couples had laid out beach blankets here and one dad with a whistle around his neck and a lawn chair in the surf seemed to have appointed himself the unofficial lifeguard for the handful of kids in attendance. Rather than get her sundress dirty, she pulled it overhead, revealing a white bikini she should have replaced after inadvertently shrinking it. Under the bright, dipping sun and pink-veined sky, she felt far more exposed than when she'd tried it on in her shadowed bedroom. Fortunately, her companion was mostly interested in her ability to fashion model turrets.

She knelt down and began scooping sand. The cool sea surged beneath her, complementing the balmy air. Nate's chatter was as steady as the cawing seagulls.

“Lieutenant Brad and me go to the county fair every year. Do you like chickens? One time, we saw one with two heads, but Lieutenant Brad said it was made of rubber and not worth our nickel, even though it cost fifty cents to see it. I didn't say nothing, seeing as he's got medals and all, but he doesn't know his numbers. I can count to a hundred, and backward, too. Want to hear? one hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninetyseven…”

The soft, salty air, the child's babble and the mindless task of pushing sand lulled her into a relaxed state she hadn't experienced in weeks. This was just what she'd needed after the vandalism at Chloe's place. She smiled skyward with the sheer pleasure of being here, in
this peaceful moment. She glanced over at the maniacal battle raging on the court.

Twenty yards away a shirtless Brad stretched up at the net, spiking the ball. Every glistening, sweat-coated muscle sparkled in sharp relief. His sculpted biceps, lats and pecs would have made Michelangelo weep. Nikki's breath caught in her throat. So much for a peaceful moment. Brad turned to receive his teammates' high fives for the game-winning point. But his hand froze in midair when he caught Nikki's stare. She dropped her gaze and began plopping more sand on their blob of a castle. Could she have been any more obvious? Her mouth had probably watered like a damn spigot.

“Don't feel bad,” a soft voice beside her drawled. “All the ladies react that way to Brad.” Nikki looked up to see a lovely blonde wearing a blue Staples polo shirt and beige khaki pants.

“Mama!” screamed Nate, flinging himself heart, soul and sand-encrusted body into her arms. “You're done work?”

“For today,” she said wearily. She began plucking Nate's tentaclelike limbs from her. She gave up and smiled at Nikki, extending a hand.

“Ashley.”

Nikki uselessly swiped her gritty hands on her equally filthy thighs then gave up and shook hands. “Nikki.”

“And you're here with Brad, I'm assuming.” Her fullthroated chuckle was infectious, making it impossible for Nikki to feel embarrassed. “You could have swallowed him whole with those eyes.”

“That obvious?” Nikki laughed.

“Definitely. I was lucky enough to find it twice in my
life.” She looked back up toward the volleyball court as the game disbanded and crowds started circling the grills.

Brad detached himself from the rest along with a tall, dark-haired man in red Hawaiian surfer shorts who looked like he hadn't shaved in two weeks. The guy wore aviator shades that he flipped up onto his head as he spied Ashley and Nate. He smiled and jogged down toward them, wrapping an arm around Ashley.

“This is Joe Staley, my fiancé.” Ashley took care of the introductions as Brad joined them.

He winked at Nikki before planting a hard kiss on her mouth to leave her breathless. Then, never missing a beat, he half-tackled Nate, spinning the boy into an airplane position so they could race up and down the beach, Nate's arms extended wide. Dog tags swung wildly from his small neck, the reflective metal flashing in the setting sun.

Still trying to gather her bearings after a kiss that made her heart beat faster, Nikki watched Brad crashland them both into the surf before diving him into another rushing wave. She could believe that for the right man, risking your heart would absolutely be worth it. But seeing so many couples off and young families playing at the beach would make anyone feel a little sentimental toward romance.

“Congratulations to you both,” Nikki offered before Joe joined Brad and Nate in the water. A lot of the volleyball players had jogged down to the water for a quick dip before dinner.

“Thank you.” Ashley gathered up a few shovels and pails that Nate had used, putting everything in a grocery
sack. “I feel really fortunate to have found Joe. It was a hard few years after I lost Frank. I went home for a couple of years because it hurt to be around all this.” She gestured toward the heart of the party, apparently referring to the tight-knit group around them. “But I brought Nate last year to see where his dad had worked and Joe and I—well. I was lucky.”

“Nate seems really at home here,” Nikki observed, understanding the appeal of an extended family, even if you weren't related by blood. She would have appreciated having this kind of network when she was a kid.

“He loves Virginia. And he took to all of the guys in the unit right away, especially Brad.” Ashley stepped back as a Frisbee headed their way, followed by a squealing girl in a local college T-shirt. “I really hope it works out for the two of you.”