Ten
Sophie Saunders was about to be kissed. She sensed the sexual shift in Dune the moment he clutched her bottom and fit her to him. Her arms now wrapped his neck, with her legs around his waist. She breathed in his scent, male and midnight. She felt the solidness of his chest and flatness of his abdomen. His breath hitched when she settled against his groin. His erection was impressive.
Holding her tight, he walked her to the side of the pool and set her near the handrail. He stepped between her thighs. The bottom of the pool was sloped. Their difference in height no longer mattered. They connected in all the right places.
His body excited her as much as his kiss. He caught her hair in his hands and angled her face to his. He claimed her mouth with gentle reserve. Her response was tentative yet instinctive.
He initiated and she imitated, wanting to please him. He groaned deep in his throat when she nipped the corners of his mouth. She flicked her tongue along his upper lip and he sucked on her lower. When she bit his jaw, he bit her back. He grew so taut, his muscles bunched.
He didn’t rush her. He was a man of slow kisses and slower hands. She felt flushed and tingly. Sensation heightened when he slipped his tongue between her lips. His mouth was warm and moist and he tasted of sweet cream. Slow then fast, he built a mating rhythm with his tongue that left her heart pounding at an amazing rate.
Dune pushed and rubbed against her. The intimate introduction of his body left her breasts heavy and swollen and intensified the sexual ache between her thighs. She melted a little.
Years of longing compelled her to stroke his neck and shoulders; to run her hands down his sides and under his T-shirt. The heat of his skin inspired her to break their kiss just long enough to work his shirt up and over his head. Dune tossed it aside.
Sophie flattened her palms on his broad chest patterned with light brown hair. He was both rough and smooth. His heart beat steadily beneath her fingers, giving a significant skip when she brushed her thumb over his male nipple.
He was hard everywhere—the muscles along his shoulders, his biceps, his six-pack, his penis. Even his back was riveting.
Dune let her kiss him until she was dazed and her lips felt numb. He then unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra in two smooth moves. She was now bare to him. A light breeze blew on her breasts and she shivered.
He warmed her with his breath. “So soft,” he said. Desire roughened his voice as he kissed the hollow where her neck and shoulder met. He nipped the sensitive skin above her right breast, then took her nipple into his mouth and tugged lightly. Sensation shot to her belly. Arousal settled between her thighs. She grew restless. Female instinct rocked her hips.
Slowly, slowly, he grazed her ribs and goose bumps rose. He traced the sensitive flesh at her belly and she trembled. He squeezed her thighs and she nearly came out of her skin.
He watched her so closely, so intently, that the skin pulled tightly over his cheekbones. The hollows in his cheeks deepened. His nostrils flared and she heard the depth of his breath.
Impatience played between them.
She clutched his arms so tight that her nails left crescent moons on his skin. Her scalp tingled and her palms itched. Her stomach fluttered. The widespread position of her legs left her vulnerable. She found it difficult to sit still.
He drew out their foreplay, running his hands up and down her back, then over her bottom and down her thighs. When his hands again settled on her hips, he lowered the side zipper on her slacks and folded back the waistband, exposing her bikini panties.
Her body flushed. Not from embarrassment, but from need. She wanted this man. His touch assured her that he wanted her, too. His long fingers splayed low on her stomach. She worried her tummy wasn’t flat, that it was slightly rounded. Now was not the moment to suck it in.
Dune didn’t seem to notice. Her worries faded when he caressed the crease of her sex through the pale blue nylon.
She was wet in seconds.
Passion pushed her against his palm. He delved beneath the elastic. She gasped, then stiffened as he separated her. He stroked and coaxed, creating a physical ache so strong that everything around them blurred. Her breath became short, hot pants. She felt very female, very sexual. She was close, so close to coming . . .
Her neck arched and stars danced behind her eyes. The feeling was indescribable. A final thrust of his finger and raw sensation overtook her. The orgasm shook her. She felt mindless, boneless, and liquid. The aftershocks curled her toes.
She forced air into her lungs and slowly focused. The sight of Dune standing bone hard before her returned her to reality. She blushed, then clutched the front of her blouse together. “I came, you didn’t.” Her voice sounded breathy.
“No condom, Sophie.”
“You bought a box at Crabby Abby’s.” She’d rung up his sale.
His jaw worked. “The box is at my grandfather’s. I wasn’t prepared for tonight.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “Anything I can do?”
He shook his head. “To be continued.”
She sensed his struggle and knew the immense amount of willpower it took for him to step back. He moved into deeper water, where he fell facedown and went into the dead man’s float.
His body drifted in the moonlight. Every so often he lifted his head and drew air. He eventually flipped onto his back. His face was cut in shadow. His bare chest rose and fell; his breathing was now even.
She hooked her bra and buttoned her blouse, then slowly kicked her feet. The surface rippled. The motion caught his attention. He stood up in the middle of the shallow end. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders. Water sluiced down his body. He was still hard, but not nearly the size of moments ago.
She wasn’t certain what to say. “More coffee?” she asked.
His expression was half-amused, half-painful. “Let’s call it a night,” he said.
He didn’t use the steps or support rail. Instead he flattened his hands on the side of the pool and hoisted himself out of the water. Rivulets ran off him and onto her. She sat in a puddle.
He bent down and offered her his hand. She took it. He drew her to him. She dipped her head. They stood toe-to-toe, not touching but embraced by the same space.
“Look at me, Sophie,” he said, his tone gentle. “Never be embarrassed around me.”
She met his gaze. “Are we okay?”
“We’re fine,” he assured her. He scooped up his wet T-shirt and sandals. “Walk me out?”
She gathered two fluffy blue towels from the outside cabana cabinet and passed him one. He made a few quick swipes to his face and across his chest, then tossed it over one shoulder. He picked up his T-shirt and sandals.
They left a watery trail across the pool deck, through the kitchen, and down the marble entrance hall. “This isn’t great timing,” he told her at the door. “I leave tomorrow for Tampa. I sponsor several volleyball camps throughout the summer and I always make at least one appearance. While I’d rather spend time with you, my activities coordinator Will Stacy is expecting me.”
“How long will you be gone?” she asked.
“Two days max.”
She nodded, not wanting him to leave, but knowing he had a commitment.
He gave her a kiss at the front door, one that was light and left her wanting.
“See you soon.” Then he slipped out.
Two days ran into three, and Dune had yet to return. Sophie couldn’t help noticing that Mac James came around. It was hard not to miss him. He hadn’t officially set foot in the T-shirt shop, but he did a lot of pacing on the boardwalk. She’d seen him eating ice cream, chocolate churros, and pizza through the front window. He hung out so often he’d become a fixture.
Jen gave no sign of seeing him. She still held a grudge against him from Twilight Bazaar. No matter how many times Sophie rehashed their conversation, she couldn’t pinpoint what Mac had said that ticked Jen off. Yet something definitely had.
Funny, sarcastic Jenna appeared both serious and sad, which made Sophie feel bad, too. She didn’t know how to fix what Mac had broken. Jen went into hiding. She spent most of her time in the storeroom. She let Sophie handle the customers.
Business was good. She rang up sales for six shirts to a biologist in town for a symposium on beach erosion. Young Randy proved an asset. The older man had three sons and Randy helped him select the perfect souvenir tees. Randy then persuaded him to take a sand globe home to his wife and a Frisbee for the family dog. The boy had retail in his blood.
Randy crossed to Sophie during a break in customers. His arms were filled with rolled posters. “Tomorrow’s payday,” he reminded her.
She smiled at him. “You’ll be paid, maybe even get a bonus.”
“A bonus big enough to buy my sister a T-shirt?”
“I’m sure it will cover the cost.”
He pumped his arm. “Glad it’s you and not Dune who’s paying me,” he said. “The big guy hasn’t been around. I’d hate to get stiffed.”
“No worry, the sunglasses will be yours,” she assured him. “However, my time at Three Shirts ends today. I’m off to my next adventure. That will leave Jenna short-handed. Care to stick around and help out?”
He shrugged. “Do I get a raise?”
“That can be negotiated with Jen.”
“I’ve grown on her.”
“You’ll stay in her good graces as long as you don’t steal.”
“My days of crime are over.” He sounded older than twelve. He set the posters on the front counter, then asked, “Help me set up a display?”
She nodded. She needed to concentrate on the shop and not on Dune. Yet each time the door opened, she looked up, hoping to see him. He never showed.
Maybe she’d read more into their evening together than was actually there. He’d kissed and touched her everywhere; made her palms sweat and her heart race. She’d climaxed and he’d lain facedown in her pool. Not an equal exchange of sexual favors.
He’d been her hero for so many years. Then she’d gone and fallen in love with him. That scared her more than all her fears combined. Her insecurities surfaced.
What if he never loved her back?
What if he broke her heart?
What if—?
Randy nudged her elbow to get her attention. “You’re daydreaming, Sophie.”
He then passed her a poster, which she slowly unrolled. The matted photo was awesome, she thought. Six boardwalk shops were depicted in black-and-white; only Three Shirts was in color. The burnished orange storefront and tangerine door contrasted sharply with the muted shades of gray. The poster would sell like hot cakes.
“What are your future plans?” Randy asked as he carefully tacked a poster to the wall.
She grew thoughtful as she cleared a shelf for the remaining matted photos. Dune wasn’t around to discourage her from jumping on a pogo stick, so that was an option. As was walking on stilts. She could start low and go high. However, a part of her was leaning toward the pedicab tours. She could handle a three-wheeled rickshaw.
Carting tourists from one end of the boardwalk to the other appealed to her. She wouldn’t have to wear a helmet or body padding like she would on stilts or a pogo stick. Plus, there was no chance of falling. No bruising. No broken bones.
She knew the town’s history like the back of her hand.
Giving pedicab tours would be great exercise. She needed to firm up. Dune was solid as a wall.
“The pedicabs,” she decided on the spot.
“Good choice and good luck.”
She’d send her sister-in-law Shaye a text. Shaye would schedule her training. There was a historical pamphlet to memorize. Sophie planned to ad-lib a little, too.
The remainder of the morning crawled by. She dusted, swept, and cleaned the mirrors until the lunch hour rolled around. She wasn’t hungry, so she decided to take a walk. The sun was not her friend. She borrowed a nylon Windbreaker and floppy hat from Jen.
She stepped onto the boardwalk and immediately bumped into Mac James. “Sweet Sophie,” he greeted, giving her a hug. “Good to see you.”
“I’ve been watching you all morning.”
“I’ve been running errands.”
“You’ve done nothing but eat.”
“So you say.”
“So I know.” She brushed powdered sugar from his cheek.
“Doughnuts,” he said, before asking her what was really on his mind. “Anyone else see me?”
“Like who? Randy?”
He blew out a breath. “Don’t make me beg, Soph.”
She took pity on him. “Jenna’s been working in the storeroom.”
His face fell. “Shit, I’ve walked my ass off for nothing.”
“You could’ve come inside.”
“She would’ve swept me out with a broom.”
“A distinct possibility.” Or maybe not. Sophie glanced at the front window of the shop and saw Jen peering out. Fearing she’d been caught, she pulled back before Mac could see her.
He ran his hand through his hair, spiked one side. “Dune called a few minutes ago,” he told her. “There are a couple of glitches at camp. He won’t get back until tomorrow.”
Good to know. She slowly exhaled the breath it felt like she’d been holding the entire time he’d been gone.
“He asked me to keep you company,” Mac informed her. “So, what’s up?”
“I’m going for a walk.”
“I have a few more steps in me.”
“Good. Let’s head to the pier.”
“I thought you were afraid of the Gulf.”
“I like looking at the water,” she confessed. “I’m just not ready to get my feet wet.”
She’d gotten plenty wet the night she’d jumped in her pool to save Dune. Yet the ocean was another matter entirely. It didn’t have cement sides or a handrail.
They took off down the boardwalk. Several female sunbathers stopped Mac for his autograph. He charmed each one, but he didn’t plan to hook up. That spoke volumes to Sophie. Whether he’d admit it or not, he was into Jen.
Dodging fishermen and tourists, they soon reached the pier. Sophie relaxed and enjoyed the sights. The merry-go-round circled to a lively Hop-Scotch Polka. Those on the roller coaster raised their arms high on the downward slant of the track. The bumper cars beeped with each knock. The arcade amusements drew kids of all ages. Scents of cotton candy, candied apples, and fried Oreos sweetened the air.
Mac slowed beside a metal cart selling hot dogs. “Weenie?” he asked her.
Sophie laughed. She couldn’t help herself.
He grinned. “Your mind’s in the gutter.”
“My thoughts are pure.”
“Hang around me,” he warned, “and you’ll step off the curb.” He then ordered three hot dogs. “Dune Cates’s account,” he told the vendor.
They moved beyond the line of hungry customers. He broke off a piece of hot dog and fed her a bite. She wasn’t hungry, but he insisted that she eat something. The bun was steamed and the hot dog juicy.
Food drew her thoughts to Marisole, her family’s gourmet chef. Mari was amazing in the kitchen, but it was time Sophie tried her own hand at cooking. “I’m going to make dinner tonight,” she said, more to herself than to Mac.
“I can cook,” Mac surprised her by saying.
“You mean cook beyond opening a can of soup and heating it?”
He put his hand over his heart. “You wound me, babe. No one makes meat loaf better than I do. And I memorized my grandma’s peanut butter cookie recipe when I was ten.”
“I can’t picture you puttering around the kitchen.”
“I can putter with the best of them.” He looked down at her. “Invite me to dinner.”
“You’re invited.” She paused. “What can I make?”
“Mashed potatoes are easy.”
Sophie nodded. She’d do her best. She glanced around and noticed they’d reached the end of the pier. She crossed to the railing and looked out over the Gulf. The waves were high. Small fishing boats bobbed in the distance. Local surfers claimed the shoreline. The sky had darkened, and only a smattering of sunbathers remained. It would soon rain.
“Shall we head back?” Mac asked once he’d finished the last bite of his bun.
She peeked at her watch. “I took over an hour for lunch.”
“Get a move on.” He hustled her long. “You could get fired.”
“I’m volunteering, silly man.”
They parted ways at Crabby Abby’s General Store. “See you at five,” he called after her.
The man apparently liked to eat early.
The atmosphere in Three Shirts had turned quiet on Sophie’s return. She hung up her windbreaker and floppy hat, then looked in the mirror above the storeroom sink. She’d forgotten to apply sunscreen. Her nose was red.
A new shipment had arrived while she was out. Jenna unpacked, while Sophie stacked the shirts. Randy broke down the corrugated boxes, then tossed them in the Dumpster.
“How was your walk?” Jen asked, finally breaking the silence.
“I had company.”
“So I noticed.”
Sophie raised an eyebrow. So she was right. Jen had seen Mac through the window. “We walked the length of the pier.”
“Lucky for you it was overcast and not too hot.”
Clearing her throat, Sophie said, “Dune’s out of town. He asked Mac to keep me company. We’re cooking dinner together.”
“Mac cooks?” Jen was doubtful. “He looks more like a take-out or deli man to me.”
“His specialty is meat loaf.”
“Hamburger in Corning Ware is easy enough.”
“Want to make it a dinner party?” Sophie offered, hoping Jen would join them.
Jenna gave it some thought. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m quitting Mac. He makes me crazy.”
“He’s definitely an acquired taste.”
“Bittersweet,” Jen said beneath her breath.
Sophie heard her nonetheless. She wished for a way to bring Mac and Jenna together. There was something between them. They only needed to talk it out.
By four o’clock, it had rained and the skies cleared. Steam rose off the boardwalk. All browsers left the shop. “Go home, Sophie,” Jen encouraged. “Get ready for your evening with Mac.”
“It’s not a date,” she stressed.
“It’s meat loaf.” A sigh escaped from Jen. “I’d eat dirt with the right man.”
Sophie’s limo driver picked her up at the corner of Center Street and Blue Crab Way. He respectfully opened her door and made certain she was comfortably seated. In that moment, she wished she was riding home on the back of Dune’s Harley.
On her arrival, she found Mac camped by her front door. He’d dressed simply. White T-shirt and jeans. A rusty pickup truck was parked near the flower beds. She was surprised the guard at the gate had let him pass through, although Mac was the type to charge a barricade.
“I stopped for groceries.” He collected all three bags. “Hope you like wine. I bought a bottle of Naked Grape.”
She’d learned about wine from her parents, but she seldom swirled and sipped. She preferred iced tea or club soda with lime. She was naturally clumsy and didn’t need wine to make her tipsy.
“Cool house,” Mac said when he entered. He took in her medieval weaponry. “Highland Games are calling my name.”
She left him wielding a samurai sword and went straight to the library to check on her Dwarf hamsters. Mac showed up moments later. He peered into their cage. “Tiny little shits,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Not shits, but girls.” She unlatched their cage. “It’s exercise time.” She placed them both inside the clear plastic sphere.
“They have fast feet,” Mac said, sidestepping the ball. He whistled and patted his thigh, expecting them to follow him like a dog down the hall. Surprisingly, they did.
Sophie brought up the rear. “They need names,” she said.
“Itsy and Bitsy,” he suggested.
“I don’t want to minimize their size.”
He set the grocery bags on the gray slate granite counter. “How about Dumbo and Jumbo?”
“They’re not elephants.”
“You’re a hard sell, babe.”
“You’re not really helping me.”
He unpacked the sacks. The ingredients soon stretched from one end of the counter to the other. Mac liked to spread out, Sophie noted. She bet he’d use every pan in her kitchen before the meal was served.
“You’ve got Dwarf hamsters,” he emphasized. “Why not go with Dopey and Doc from Snow White?”
“Those are boy names.”
“Like they’re going to know.”
“I’d know, Mac.”
He narrowed his gaze on the hamsters. “Happy and Crappy?”
“Crappy?” She was offended.
“One of them had an accident.”
She did a quick cleanup, then washed her hands. She crossed to his side. “How can I help?”
“Can you follow a recipe?”
How hard could it be? “Sure.”
He slipped a piece of paper from his jeans pocket. “I jotted down my grandma’s cookie recipe. Keep it secret.”
She had no one to tell.
“I’ll fix the meat loaf while the cookies bake,” he said. “You can make the mashers and a salad.”
He’d given her a lot to do. She located an apron along with the necessary mixing bowl, measuring cups, and spoons. Next, she selected the ingredients from the array on the counter. Her hands shook as she cracked eggs into the bowl, specks of shell included. She sloshed milk. Spilled the sugar. Whitened her hands with flour. She incorrectly measured the peanut butter.
Mac glanced her way and noted, “The batter is really thick.”
She hoped the cookies would thin out when they baked.
“Don’t forget to grease the cookie sheet.” He’d caught her just in time. “I’ll preheat the oven.”
She breathed a sigh of relief once the batter was evenly divided onto the cookie sheet. She baked the cookies for twelve minutes. She noticed they hadn’t flattened when she removed them from the oven. They remained doughy peanut butter balls.
Mac frowned. “Not quite like grandma used to make.” He popped one in his mouth. “Chewy.” He ate two more.
She managed to make a salad, which consisted of chopped lettuce and diced carrots. Her mashed potatoes were undercooked and had lumps. She set the table while the meat loaf cooked. She laid out linen and crystal. She lighted a single candle, then dimmed the lights.
Mac glanced her way. “Planning to make a move on me?”
She stood with her hands on her hips. “What do you think?”
“Love the one you’re with.”
She knew he was joking. He was more like a brother than a lover. “This is a special occasion,” she said. “I helped cook dinner, a first for me.”
He cracked open the oven door. “The meat loaf’s almost done.” The aroma of garlic and onion escaped along with a little smoke. She was glad Marisole kept a small fire extinguisher under the kitchen sink.
Mac opened the wine and poured himself a glass. She went with iced tea. They sat down to eat. He toasted her. “We did good, Soph.”
Good, but not great, she had to admit, although the food was edible. The fact she’d taken part in the preparation delighted her the most. She went so far as to have a second piece of Mac’s meat loaf, though it was burned on the top and pink in the middle. She had to admit it was nicely seasoned.
Mac ate her potatoes without complaint.
He gave her a fist bump across the table. “We’ll have to do this again. Next time Dune goes out of town.”
“Does he travel often?” she asked.
“He sponsors twenty sports camps throughout the country, all geared toward volleyball. The kids love when he makes an appearance. He and hot Willow—damn—” He cut Sophie a guilty look.
“Hot Willow?” Her stomach gave a jolt.
Mac looked uncomfortable. “Will runs the Tampa camp,” he said slowly, measuring his words. “She played on the pro tour for many years. She and Dune are old friends.”
Sophie set down her fork. Emotion settled in her heart. She felt vulnerable and a little jealous. Her relationship with Dune was precarious and new and not exclusive. She was living for the moment, not the future.
He was Beach Heat, handsome and popular. There’d been women long before her. There’d be women long after. The thought depressed her. She dabbed her mouth with a linen napkin.
“I’m sorry, Sophie,” Mac apologized.
“Let’s change topics,” she suggested.
Mac agreed. His attempt to distract her worked. He ran commentary on his favorite music and video games, then told her about his childhood and family. They talked about everything but volleyball.
“I cook, but I don’t clean up,” he said with his second glass of wine.
She stared at their mess. “I’m not doing this alone.”
“I’m too full to move.”
She’d wait him out. Cooking had tired her, too.
“Where are the kids?” he asked.
She craned her neck and located the plastic ball near the refrigerator. Both hamsters were asleep. She pushed to her feet, then settled them in their cage. She rolled her shoulders, suddenly sleepy.
It had been a long day mentally. Her thoughts had lingered on Dune. She was confused and somewhat anxious. He hadn’t tried to call. She was too shy to contact him.
The clank of dishes and running water brought her back to the kitchen. She found Mac at the sink, scrubbing the pots and loading the silverware, bowls, plates, and cookie sheets in the dishwasher. He left two pans to soak.
He drank more wine and she yawned. “Am I boring you?” he asked. “I’m usually the life of the party.”
“We’re a party of two.”
He dried his hands on a dish towel and gave her a hug.
“Time to fly,” he said. “I’ll let myself out.”
Sophie headed to bed.
“Your kitchen is a mess.” Maya Saunders took one step into the room and stopped. She cut her gaze to Sophie. “Did a bag of flour explode in here?”
There was flour on the counter and cupboards near the sink, Sophie noted in the light of day. Mac had cleared away the dishes, but hadn’t wiped down the granite. She’d been too tired to care.
She glanced at her mother, who looked beautiful as always. Maya wore a cream skirt suit with a pale peach blouse and pearls, while Sophie had rolled out of bed in her red cotton nightshirt and baggy boy shorts. She tightened the drawstring.
Her mother was always collected and dauntingly calm, yet this morning she appeared unsettled. She narrowed her gaze and her smooth brow creased. “What’s going on, Sophie?”
“I had a friend over and we cooked dinner.” She explained the puffs of flour while standing over the stove, attempting to make scrambled eggs. A bit of yolk splattered and ran. She grabbed for a dishcloth and blotted it up.
“Where’s Marisole?” Maya sharply asked. “Why isn’t she preparing your breakfast?”
“I prefer to do it myself.”
“You don’t cook.”
She hadn’t, until last night. “A new venture for me,” she said. “I might even take a cooking class.”
Her mother moved toward the stove. She hit a sticky spot on the floor and what looked like peanut butter stuck to the bottom of her pumps. She shook her foot, then frowned.
“I came by to invite you to Garden Club.”
Sophie cringed. Garden Club was an excuse for eating finger sandwiches and petits fours and exchanging the latest gossip. Flowers and plants were never discussed.
She passed. “I start pedicab tours this morning,” she informed her mother. She’d texted Shaye late last night and been given the thumbs-up. She was set to report to the rickshaw hut at ten.
“You don’t even know how to ride a bike,” Maya pointed out. “You lacked balance as a child.”
She was still a klutz. “The pedicabs have three wheels.”
“You’ll exhaust yourself.”
“It’s great exercise.”
Her mother threw up her hands and paced the length of the counter. She was so upset, she didn’t notice the specks of flour that stuck to her sleeve.
“Watch out for the hamsters,” Sophie warned. The girls were in their plastic ball, racing in circles around the table.
“Rodents?” Her mother placed one hand over her heart. “We need to call an exterminator.”
“They’re my pets.”
Her mother paled. “Where did you get them?”
“From Dune Cates.”
“Shaye’s brother.” Maya’s lips pinched. “The beach bum.”
Sophie stiffened. “He’s a professional volleyball player. I like him.” A lot.
She so seldom stood up to her mother, Maya looked both confused and annoyed. The eggs sizzled in the skillet and Sophie turned off the burner. They looked crispy.
“How serious are you, Sophie?”
“I plan to marry him,” she said perversely, speaking the first words she could think of to shock her mother.
Her mother looked faint. “Surely you wouldn’t make the same mistake as Trace. Marrying a Cates is beneath you.”
“A walk down the aisle?” Sophie heard a male voice say from behind her, deep and amused. Dune. “Will ours be a church wedding or a ceremony on the beach?”