No Tan Lines (32 page)

Ten days later, the barefoot bride and groom stood on the beach at twilight. The sky was a swirl of purple and gold. A faint breeze cooled the air.

The groom stood on the sand in a light brown suit.

The bride wore a white sundress and an ivory satin hair band sprinkled with diamond dust, a wedding gift from her maid of honor.

Something old
was their past.

Something new
lay in their future.

Something borrowed
was Trace’s ancestral photograph of Evan Saunders on the shore at twilight. Shaye clutched both his and her framed photos, feeling the heartbeat of a hundred years against her breast.

Something blue
rose at high tide, when the turquoise Gulf washed over their feet.

A judge from the Saunders courthouse married them.

Nicole stood to her right.

Kai was on Trace’s left.

No one else would attend their wedding.

It was a strangely solitary moment.

Pain shot beneath Shaye’s breastbone as she slowly turned her back on the empty stretch of sand and boardwalk and looked out over the ocean. She released a slow breath.

She’d made the right decision.

She loved Trace Saunders.

He held her hand through the ceremony. He brought her warmth, strength, and security. When he looked down at her, she knew he loved her, too.

They exchanged rings, plain gold bands. Shaye had gone with simplicity; their lives were complicated enough.

Their wedding ended with the traditional kiss, a promise of tomorrow. Trace would see her through the good times and the bad. And she, him. They’d survived a century-old feud and lived to tell about it. They would have countless stories to share with their grandchildren.

Where they would go and what they would do was yet to be decided. Whatever happened, they’d face it together. As Trace’s strong arms held her, Shaye felt a surge of unreasonable joy. She was home.

“We have company,” Nicole whispered to Shaye.

Full of wonder, Shaye turned. There on the beach, a small crowd had silently assembled to witness the ceremony. Through teary eyes she spotted numerous family members and friends gathered behind them on the sand. Not everyone, but a significant number had defied tradition to share in her happiness, and the warm smiles on their faces meant more to her than she ever could have imagined.

Those who touched her most were the young sandlot players. The boys wore their team T-shirts and jeans. Jeff leaned on his crutches between his best friend, Brick, and his hospital roommate, Landon Davis.

Madame Aleta was the first to come forward, soon followed by Molly, Jenna, and Violet. Sophie Saunders hesitated until Shaye waved her over. Sophie hugged her the hardest.

As they offered their congratulations, Shaye was so choked up, she could barely breathe. Nicole passed her a dainty lace hanky to blot her tears.

Trace pointed to the boardwalk. Standing fifty feet apart, but still in attendance, stood his parents and her grandfather. There was stiffness in their shoulders and an uncompromising look to their features.

They’d refused to give their blessings, yet at the end of the day, they’d overseen the union of a Cates and a Saunders without hysterics or disruption.

It was the start of a new era for both sides.

“It’s going to be okay, isn’t it?” Shaye sought her husband’s reassurance.

“Better than okay,” he promised. “If our ancestors could fish and share a beach at twilight, then our families can find common ground, too.”

Her smile curved. “They won’t want to miss out on our children.”

“Babies are good,” he agreed.

“I like big families.”

“We can start our own sandlot team.”

“It’s time to get Olive a friend, too.”

Trace rolled his eyes. “Two moaning parrots in the house?”

“That’s right, Big Guns.”

Did you miss the last in the series, SWEET SPOT?

Score

James “Law” Lawless is the star second baseman for the Richmond Rogues, the wildest group of free swingers ever to barnstorm their way through the big leagues. So when he hooks up with a seductive stranger at a costume party, it feels like he just hit the winning run of the World Series.

Extra Innings

Catherine “Cat” May was the hot number in that skimpy Wonder Woman costume. But she’s not about to let Law know it—especially after he hires her to help him expand his off-the-field business empire. But how’s she going to keep her identity secret when his every touch urges her to make him her very own ...

Home Run Hero

Hallow Days of May
Club Haunt
Midnight

O
range strobe lights. Pumpkin-scented incense.

Glow-in-the-dark spider webs.

Evil-faced jack-o’-lanterns.

Ouija board and tarot cards.

Inhibitions were left at the door, along with the cover charge. The adult Halloween costumes guaranteed anonymity. Everyone wore a mask.

Pheromones heated the crowded club and sweat trickled down chests and between thighs. Anticipated sex throbbed to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.”

Captain America stood against the wall and took it all in. On the dance floor, Darth Vader fondled Scarlett O’Hara. At the corner of the bat-shaped bar, a sexy skeleton stroked Jesse James’s revolver. The outlaw was cocked.

A well-oiled Tin Man felt up Dorothy beneath an exit sign. Her red heels clicked as he kissed her back to Kansas.

In a darkened corner, Zorro twisted more than the fringe on the flapper’s costume. Behind the buffet, a zombie unwrapped an Egyptian mummy down to her thong.

It was a night to get laid.

Captain America shifted, adjusted his patriotic body suit, a replica of the original American flag motif. His blue mask had an “A” centered on his forehead, and gold polyfoam wings clipped his shoulders. His red boots reached his knees. His red gloves cleared his elbows. He was armed with an indestructible shield that could be thrown as a weapon.

“This is one hell of a party.” The Incredible Hulk handed the Captain a Samuel Adams. “I’m glad you wanted to check out the club. Haunt has investment potential.”

Captain America nodded his agreement. The renovated warehouse sat on a prime piece of real estate in downtown Richmond. Its notorious adult Halloween parties drew celebrities, athletes, models, and executives. The waiting line wrapped an entire city block every single night. Customers sold their souls to the Devil at the door to enter. “I meet with Driscoll Financial tomorrow,” the Captain reminded Hulk. “My offer will have been presented to Dan Hatton and I hope to close on Haunt.”

Hatton was the present owner of the club. He’d recently suffered a stroke. The man had worked hard all his life, and on his eightieth birthday, his heart had warned him to slow down. As a result, he’d begun selling off his holdings, starting with Club Haunt.

The hot property was a diversified venture for Captain America. If all went well, he would soon own the trendy night club of secret identities. His adrenaline rushed at the prospect.

Midnight, and the music built. The sounds became darker, kinkier, more suggestive. Haunt pulsed, and bodies ground against one another. The air vibrated, and the sexual tension pumped to orgasm.

Hulk took a long pull on his beer, then caught the eye of a Victorian vampire. She flashed her fangs at him. “Lady wants to bite.” Hulk grinned.

The Captain watched as the mean, green fighting machine in the torn purple pants sauntered toward the gothic-looking woman in a tight black leather bustier and flowing skirt. Her auburn hair fell to her waist and her blood red fingernails were as long and sharp as her fangs. Her white face powder gave her an eerie glow.

Captain America’s testicles tightened. The vamp wouldn’t have been his first choice for a hookup. She looked damn scary. The Hulk, however, liked the dark side.

An enormous T-Rex lumbered past, and the sweep of his thick, spiky tail tripped a dozen people in his wake. Only Wonder Woman avoided the collision. Agile and sleek, her red satin cape swung wide as she hopped over the tail and landed lightly on the balls of her feet.

The Captain stared at the woman in the red leotard with a blue bottom patterned with white stars. He noted their costumes were quite similar, even though he was an Avenger and she fought for the Justice League.

He admired her endless legs, a hint of pale hip bone, and the slight dip of her belly. The heels of her knee-high red and white vinyl boots added five inches to her height. She proved a true Amazon princess, and one fine DC comic book heroine.

Wonder Woman had curves. High, full breasts and one hell of a nice ass. A wide gold belt cinched her waist and two silver cuff bracelets banded each wrist.

A sparkly golden headband contained her dark curls and a red-winged mask hid half her face. She tapped her Lasso of Truth against her thigh in time to the music.

The Captain liked what he saw. He handed his empty bottle of beer to a cocktail waitress, then elbowed through the crowd. There was no direct path to Wonder Woman. He was stopped twice, once by a flirty, cotton-headed female q-tip and a second time by a Barbie doll in a cellophane box. While both women drew his smile, it was Wonder Woman who held his interest. He pushed forward, filled with purpose and intrigue.

Wonder Woman was partied out. It was time to call it a night. She had a big day at work tomorrow. Her boss had suggested she attend the club in costume to evaluate its market value. The warehouse was worth its asking price. Haunt had an unidentifiable sexual mystique no amount of publicity could buy. It was the hot spot of the city. From what she’d witnessed, the club was a gold mine. Her boss had a client ready to invest. According to her audit team, Haunt turned a solid profit. Her recommendation was to buy quickly. The club showed no signs of slowing down.

The nightly Halloween celebrations masked reality. People gravitated and gyrated to the unknown. Wonder Woman had lost two boyfriends to Haunt. They’d both entered the club monogamous and left for a ménage.

Anonymity turned partiers into players. She wasn’t a fan of the place.

The club’s cardinal rule forbade sex on the premises, but what happened in the parking lot stayed in the parking lot. While this wasn’t her personal playground of choice, those around her were having a hell of a good time.

Wonder Woman stifled a yawn. She wanted to get out of her costume. The brown wig had begun to itch and the curls had lost their bounce. The bra cups on her leotard squeezed her breasts like a bustier, doubling her cup size. The blue bottom was as skimpy as a pair of bikini panties. She was totally out of her element.

The crush of the crowd made her claustrophobic and the noise level was deafening. Her eyes burned from the candle smoke and her lungs demanded fresh air. She was exhausted from turning down the advances of amorous costumed characters. Bozo the Clown’s big floppy feet had stepped all over her boots when requesting a dance. Gumby had twisted his body around her like a pretzel.

Rising on tip-toe, she scanned the room. The warehouse was enormous, and there was no immediate sign of a black-and-red Lady Bug. She and her friend Carla had agreed that should they get separated, each would find her own way home. The Lady Bug had hoped to get lucky, and she’d had her eye on Daffy Duck.

Wonder Woman turned to leave, only to run smack into Captain America.
Could the man stand any closer?
His proximity smothered her.

All sound in the club receded, and it was only the two of them in a sea of costumes. Stillness, stark and indefinable, embraced them both until someone jostled her elbow and all the noise crashed back. Instinctively, she raised her indestructible bracelets to ward him off.

Behind his mask, daredevil dark eyes gleamed at her and his lips curved in a slow, sexy smile. “No need to defend yourself against me, babe, we’re both superheroes on the side of justice,” his voice was deep yet distorted against the background noise.

Wonder Woman swallowed hard. She was certain she’d need protection against this man, he was one fine Avenger. She couldn’t fully see his face, yet she instinctively knew he’d be handsome. No doubt too handsome for his own good.

There was no padding to his costume, his body suit fit like a second skin. He was six feet of broad shoulders and ripped muscle. Tight spandex cupped his groin, leaving little to her imagination. Captain America leaned in, his power raw and tangible. His cologne elicited desire and passion, an orgasm in a bottle. “Are you here alone or in the company of Superman and Batman?” he asked.

Alone made her available. While the pulse of the club had gotten under her skin, she wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. Not even with a Marvel comic book hero who’d mastered the martial arts and was known for his intelligence, strength, and super reaction times.

“The members of the Justice League are always close by,” she raised her voice above the music, letting him assume the trinity was in attendance. “Are you here with the Avengers?”

“Only the Incredible Hulk,” he stated. “He hooked up with a blood sucker.”

The Victorian vampire. Wonder Woman had noticed the vamp circling the crowd, looking for her next victim. The Hulk would get fanged.

The Captain’s gaze narrowed and his jaw shifted. “Are you a regular?” he wanted to know.

He wondered if she was a serial dater; if she slept around. “This is my virgin haunt,” she strained her voice to be heard. “How about you?” She roped his arm tightly with her Lasso of Truth, so he could not lie.

“First time for me too,” he said.

“You’re not into nightly costumes?”

His gaze glittered behind his mask. “Only if my woman wanted to dress up privately for me in the bedroom.”

Her lasso went slack. She could imagine a very naughty nurse stripping for this man, as well as the hot, sweaty sex that would follow. He’d have satin sheets and skilled hands. He was satisfaction guaranteed.