Sand and Sin (20 page)

A Lyrical Original on sale now

Learn more about Dani at
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31671

The dated Shaker-shingle beach house brought Jo Mercer to tears. She’d doubted ever seeing it again. After parking, she wiped her eyes and patted the dash of her dad’s classic Bronco her brother, Bobby, had left at the airport for her.

As she stepped out of the truck, a warm Outer Banks sea breeze kissed her cheeks. Dune grasses waved in welcome. Home. The only sweeter thing would have been a husky
Dahlin’
from Bobby’s best friend, Ray. Unfortunately, her stealth homecoming prevented opportunity. Ray was the last one she wanted to know her big California surfing dream had ended like a movie of the week crime drama.

By the dunes sat a black H1 Hummer, chrome surf rack glittering in the afternoon sun. It displayed a firefighter license plate. Probably one of Bobby’s friends. She climbed the steps to the house, unlocked the side door, and stepped inside.

The fragrant cedar aroma drew her into a familiar bare bones décor consisting of a big screen TV, over-sized recliner, and sofa with a couple of end tables. She skimmed her fingers along the worn flagstone fireplace mantle before reaching her father’s flag. So hard to believe he was gone.

Outside, the shower door slammed. Jo secured her sunglasses and headed down the deck stairs. Broad back muscles stretched the Nags Head fire department logo on the man’s shirt as he racked his surfboard. Behind a pair of wraparound shades, he eyed her. “Bobby’s gone for the weekend.”

Her dad had been a captain for Nags Head. “Yeah, I know. How were the waves?”

His smile seemed familiar. He whipped off his shades and closed the distance. “Jo!”

“Ray?” She nearly toppled from her platform flip-flops as huge biceps wrapped her in a bear hug that left her toes dangling. His touch shot through her veins like straight whiskey.

“Bobby didn’t mention you were coming home, Dahlin’.” His pale blue eyes held her captive and his southern twang brought her home faster than a jet from LAX.

The sexy sound of her pet name made her stutter. “Ahh, it was last minute.”

Well over six foot, her high school surfing buddy had grown into a man with a body rivaling most NFL tight ends. He squinted and cocked his head.

With her lifelong fantasy standing so close, coherent sentences failed her. She poked the firefighter seal over his rock hard pectoral. “So what’s this?”

“I thought Bobby told you?” He smiled lazily, running a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Couldn’t play lifeguard forever.”

She might be if her luck didn’t change. Nobody had told her Ray became a firefighter. Guess he didn’t want to worry her after he made it back from Iraq. The same reason she didn’t tell him about her trouble in California. “Awesome, Cappy would have been so proud.”

At her father’s nickname, hurt flashed over his handsome face. He flipped her sunglasses to the top of her head. “I was beginning to think I’d never see you again.”

“Me too.” She avoided his gaze as tears welled.

He tamed a wavy strand of her hair with gentle fingers. “Figured you would have cut it by now.”

The sensual gesture set off a resurgence of feelings she didn’t want to revisit. Hope welled in her chest, but she crushed it with memories of past heartache. He’d never see her as a woman. “Nope, still Bobby’s tomboy sister.”

“I never saw you that way, Jo.” His gaze softened with his tone.

He’d always had the ability to strip her of pretense with barely a word. She fought for control. “ Okay, your surf buddy then.”

“Always.” He smiled then checked his diver’s watch. “Damn, I’d love to stay and catch up, but I’m picking up a partial shift. You’re here for a few days, aren’t you?”

Guilt heated her cheeks. She hadn’t wanted him to know of her arrival and now he wanted to spend time with her. “How about some cools ones after some waves?”

A little boy grin lit his tanned face accentuating his stubble. He winked a sexy blue and pecked her cheek with a kiss. “Sweet.”

As his beastly SUV disappeared from the driveway, her heart finally slowed to a normal rhythm. He never knew how much she’d loved him during high school nor would he ever. Besides, how would he feel when he learned the truth as to why she’d been kicked off the surfing team? She slipped her cell from her pocket and dialed a California number.

“Santa Cruz probation office,” a receptionist answered.

* * * *

His all-terrain tires hummed against the pavement as Ray navigated the beach road on autopilot, his brain playing catch-up. The mad tattoo in his chest subsided as he replayed the last few minutes. She was home.

Lost in eyes the shade of his favorite scotch, he’d used all his strength to turn and leave. Her loose ringlets of light chestnut felt like silk. He’d fallen in love with her years ago. She never had a clue, but with her talent for surfing, she was bound for bigger things than him.

He wound the Hummer into Station Twenty-One’s lot at the south end of the beach, a newer facility than his home station. He’d worked a few swing shifts with each of their rotating crews. Beyond the high-adrenaline nature of the job, the brotherhood and camaraderie filled a void in his life. Ray swung through the kitchen door where the crew had gathered for lunch.

“That’s quite a grin you’re sporting,” the captain said. “You rarely see a happy expression on anyone coming in on his day off.”

“Must’ve got laid,” another firefighter teased. “Looks like he just showered.”

He let the banter slide and eased onto an empty chair. He tossed some bills on the table for the grocery fund. They’d be feeding him dinner too.

“So?” The captain raised a bushy brow.

“Surfing. The sets were perfect.” He smiled. A sub sandwich slid in front of him.

Seeing Jo after five years was better than sex. Unless the sex happened to be with her. But that would be making love. Something he’d only imagined―a million times.

* * * *

Eager to be a regular citizen again, Jo ended the call.

She tossed her bags from the truck and hauled them upstairs. Her bedroom remained untouched right down to the bulletin board strewn with mementos. A snapshot of her father surfcasting, taken days before his untimely death, squeezed her heart.

Days away from leaving for college in California, she’d had to push her grief aside. Now, the empty house echoed the brutal truth.

After stowing her gear, she changed into a bikini and surf shirt. She grabbed a brew from the fridge and stepped out onto deck.

A cloudless sky kissed a blue-green sea as waves rolled onto shore in a hypnotizing rhythm. Below, the Atlantic called her to its warm embrace. Tears stung her eyes. She’d missed home more than she’d ever allowed herself to admit. She sat down her beer and headed down stairs.

After grabbing her surfboard, she charged up tall dunes through wild sea oats and time slowed. She dashed through the breakwater, paddled out and straddled her board. After doing her best to honor her father’s memory by earning a degree and ranking in the surfing world—she trusted an asshole.

Would her dad still be proud of her? Would Ray?

By trying to please everyone, she’d lost sight of what she wanted. The sight of Ray left her with a hollow ache for a man she’d never know beyond friendship. He’d never seen her as anything but a friend and Bobby’s sister. She didn’t expect that to change. Plus, after being burned in California, she didn’t trust anyone with her heart.

Chapter 2

Monday morning, after dropping her truck off for a tune up, Jo rode shotgun in Bobby’s police cruiser. For a white shirted sergeant he looked young and in shape. No doughnut runs for him. Like Ray, he’d matured during her absence.

“I’m sorry you had to spend the weekend alone, sis.” Handling the wheel of the Crown Vic like the boss cop he was, he turned into the town’s municipal complex.

Octagon buildings stained in muddy brown looked outdated. Most establishments had changed to pastel colors. Such a stupid detail to notice when serious issues waited behind those doors. She bit her bottom lip then caught her nervous tic. “It’s okay. I had time to chill.”

He parked and cut the engine. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

Her bother had never left the sandbar known as OBX. With their father’s connections, he’d taken the fast track up through the county police department.

“No need to embarrass you more than I have already.”

He passed her a loyal gaze with big, brown eyes. “I’ll always be here for you, Jo.”

Inside a small office, she waited. The probationary officer on the phone sounded like Big Dawg. His harsh language might have been for her, but he couldn’t know how scared straight she’d become. She’d never thought one’s life could tank into the abyss as fast as hers―less time than drowning of which she’d come close.

“First offense and they busted you with a felony. Enough to distribute?” He glanced at his computer screen.

Constant inquisitions over the last months left her patience as clipped as her short fingernails. “Yep.”

Big Dawg eyed her a moment and kicked back in his chair. “Let me guess. Small town girl heads to Cali for big surfing. Meets Hollywood boyfriend while competing. He stuffs your bags with drugs or whatever and leaves you to take his rap?”

Jo nodded. So, this guy had been around the block. Mr. Hollywood had been Vic, a teammate turned lover. A rich boy from a powerful family in Florida not California. “It was Ecstasy.”

“He made you a blind mule.” He frowned.

Dumb ass. Blind mule. Not a hell of a lot of difference. “After DEA figured out I didn’t know anything, they wanted Hollywood’s suppliers. They thought he’d flip if they incarcerated me, but he didn’t give a shit about me. Obviously. Only he didn’t know I had a list of his cell contacts.”

Surfer gossip pimped him as womanizer, not a drug dealer. Her slip in judgment cost her a night behind bars, her scholarship, and her place on the surf team. Not one of her teammates clued her in to Vic’s dealing, yet they all had stories to share when her lawyer probed. Friends like those she didn’t need.

“Well, this should do it.” He handed her a clipboard full of papers. “Sign on the highlighted lines and you’ll be on the road to being a regular citizen again.”

The probation had been a formality to keep track of her. With Vic behind bars, her felony would be expunged. She exited the office a free woman and hopped in Bobby’s cruiser. “Thanks for pulling your professional strings.”

He pulled onto the beach road, bound for Ocean Rescue. “Damn, Jo, the captain knows you. You worked as a lifeguard for him every summer until you left for college. All the fire and police brass figured you were set-up.”

“I know, but I don’t want Dad’s name or yours being dragged through the mud because of my stupidity.”

“It’ll be okay, sis.” He pulled into the parking lot and kissed her cheek. “I’ll hit the DMV later today and transfer the Broncosaurus into your name.”

She smiled at the nickname he’d given the truck as a kid. Now, the vehicle held so many memories of their dad, they couldn’t bear to part with it.

“How about a vanity plate?” A smart-ass cop grin followed. “CA SURFR.”

She glowered over her shades and slammed the car door.

“Happy four wheeling, and watch for the tourons. They don’t respect Big Blue or the tow.” He winked.

She waved, laughing at his lingo for moronic tourists and the ocean’s undertow.

Teamed with a college student, she settled into her lifeguard role with ease. The smell of sunscreen and sea salt hovered on an offshore breeze. While the ocean lapped the shore in a waveless repose, they reunited lost children with their parents and treated jellyfish stings.

Before long, her second cousin arrived in a yellow rescue department pick-up doing his supervisor rounds. Crows’ feet lined Mike’s face, his lean form tanned from endless days in the sun. “Welcome back, cuz.”

She hopped from her lifeguard chair, half expecting a smart remark. “Thanks.”

“Heard the west coast circuit didn’t take kindly to your southern charms.” He gave her a hug.

“Difference of opinion.”

“Well, we got a history of hostile Indians and surly pirates on this sandbar. Nothing wrong with one of our surfers putting us on the map, too.” He offered a high-five.

She slapped his palm.

So much for hiding out and laying low, the biggest gossip in Dare County knew she was back.

* * * *

Jo grabbed her phone from her backpack, set it on the truck console and drove from Ocean Rescue. She needed to quit being a chicken shit and call Ray.

She couldn’t keep him out of her head and it pissed her off. He’d been her fantasy in high school. She loved his easygoing nature and they always had fun when hanging out. Even after being away for nearly five years, she still wanted him as much as the day she’d left.

The next stoplight along the beach road flashed red. She smacked her forehead against the steering wheel, steeled her resolve and grabbed her phone. After punching his speed dial, she waited. Several rings later, the call went to voicemail.

“Hey, sorry, it was late when I got your message.” She followed a small car through the intersection as the light turned green. “Hmmm, I’m off tomorrow, if you want to catch some waves and—”

A teen on a bicycle rolled right in front of the car ahead of her.

“Shit!” She slammed her brakes. Her phone flew into the dash.

A white T-shirt billowed around a boy careening over the hood of the blue Honda. His bike bounced on the road before her all-terrain Goodyears trampled it with grinding scrape.

Her legs liquefied to warm Jell-O as she fumbled for her phone. With numb fingers, she dialed nine-one-one. Hard rain drummed against the roof of the truck as a fire hydrant geysered an endless supply of water.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” a flat-toned dispatcher asked.

“Bicyclist and motor vehicle collision at…at…” She searched for a street sign. “Uh…Route 12. The beach road. North of the light that cuts through to the outlet mall.” Acrid smoke from the rubber she’d left on the asphalt gagged her.