Twelve
Sophie Saunders was going to have sex with Dune Cates, a man she’d been crazy about since she was seven. Her pulse raced as he lifted her out of the water and held her high against his chest. She circled his neck with her arms. Water droplets glistened on his slicked-back hair. Their wet bodies were warm and slippery.
He climbed the pool steps and carried her easily across the deck. He twisted slightly so she could open, then close, the sliding doors.
Awareness came in a look, a touch, a softly spoken word. Dune told her she was beautiful and special and that he was so stiff he could barely walk.
He made it to the front door and found his athletic bag. He scooted it along with his foot. He was over a head taller than Sophie and his shoulders were twice as wide. She rested her cheek against the solid wall of his damp chest and heard the steady beat of his heart. His forearm secured her bottom. She looked up as he glanced down. He stopped in the hallway and kissed her.
His kisses started light as air. Still, she shivered. He kissed her cheek and behind her ear, just barely teasing her. Sophie followed his lead and did what came naturally to her. She kissed his chin and neck, then flicked her tongue to the pulse point at the base of his throat. His scent hinted of chlorine, lime, and man. Clean and masculine. His groan rose from deep in his chest. A guttural, turned-on sound.
His kisses grew deeper. He was patient yet insistent. He drew her beyond what she expected or had ever known. She was naïve, but not shy. She’d grown up afraid of crowds, the Gulf, and her shadow. She’d never feared Dune Cates. And she’d never feared sex.
He was as into her as she was into him. He broadened his stance and braced his back against the wall long before they reached her bedroom. He positioned her so her legs wrapped his waist. He ran his fingers down her rib cage, at first with infinite care, then with male craving.
His hands clutched her hips and his thumbs teased her belly. He touched the sensitive back of her thighs, then stroked the crease behind each knee.
He squeezed her bottom.
Flush against him, she felt every inch of his maleness. He was stiff and substantial; a man in his prime.
She wasn’t tentative. She trusted him. She touched him instinctively. She ran her hands through his hair, then drew her thumbs across his cheekbones. She traced the powerful set of his shoulders. He was all warm skin and seductive muscle. She feathered her fingers over his chest hair, scraped a nail across his abdomen. He inhaled sharply.
She tightened her thighs and melted against him.
He eventually pushed off the wall and continued down the hall. He shoved the athletic bag ahead of them with his foot. He walked slowly and they continued to kiss.
He lifted his head slightly as they neared the end of the hallway. “Your bedroom?” he asked.
“Last room on the right.”
He kissed her all the way to the master suite. They slowly broke apart when they entered the room. Dune went very still as he took in the surroundings. Sophie looked at the large room as she imagined he saw it. History rose from the floor to the ceiling. It was a bit intimidating, even to a confident man.
“Damn, Sophie.” He set her down and took her hand. “You’re a Renaissance woman.” His voice was low and amazed. “That’s one massive bed.”
She understood his astonishment. She was far from frivolous, but she valued a good night’s sleep. She’d invested in a luxurious antique bedroom set, which included a grand four-poster of dark wood and marble overlay. Thick Corinthian columns with fluted tops stood at each end. The headboard was wide and intricately carved. The top of the board arched nearly to the ceiling. She’d chosen sconces over lamps and overhead lighting. Two sconces were attached to the headboard.
She’d made her bed with earth tones: taupe sheets and a brown satin comforter. Decorative and European sham pillows in green and gold were propped against the headboard. A plush, leather-padded bench with scroll arms banked the foot of the bed. Oriental runners covered the chocolate marble floors.
Two polished burl armoires bordered her blue brocade fainting couch along the far wall. A swinging floor mirror in a wide wooden frame was positioned near a window with eastern exposure. Sophie often laid in bed and watched the sun rise. She looked over at Dune. He was someone worth waking up beside in the morning. She hoped he would stay the night.
“Take a minute to look around,” she offered. She needed to catch her breath after all their kissing.
He shook his head and turned back to her. His eyes warmed and his smile spread. “I’d rather look at you.”
He fixed his gaze on her and he never looked away. Action, then reaction. He wanted to see how his touch affected her. Her emotions were easily read. She’d never been able to hide her feelings.
He bent down and lightly kissed her brow, the curve of her chin, then her breastbone. His hand found its way under her tankini top. He stroked upward and palmed her breast. She went soft inside. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her heart beat faster.
His long fingers next stretched to her shoulders. The thin straps on her swimsuit gave way. The top was damp, yet loose and easy to slide. It tipped on one nipple and the point of her hip on its way down, pooling at her feet.
She stood before Dune in her bikini bottom.
She felt overly exposed.
He comforted and supported her. “You’re beautiful, Sophie.” His voice was as deep and strong as an embrace.
He lowered to one knee and ran his forefinger between her breasts. He bent his head, licked a nipple, and the tip puckered. She blushed when he kissed his way down the center of her body. Dampness gathered between her thighs.
“So soft, so sexy,” Dune breathed against her belly.
He gently removed her swimsuit bottom. She stood naked before him. A sparkling water droplet rolled down her breast and caught on her nipple. Another one glided down to her belly. A third glistened like a diamond in her triangle of curls. Dune removed the droplets with the edge of his thumb.
Shyness dipped her head and she tried to cover herself with her hands.
He nipped her inner thigh. “No hiding, Sophie.”
Her hands fell to her sides. “I want to see you, too,” she said.
He pushed to his feet and let her take over.
They communicated through their chemistry. He was hot for her and she felt lit up from the inside out. She’d waited her entire life for him to find her and make love to her.
Touching Dune seemed right somehow. She wasn’t tentative or clumsy. She was straightforward and curious as she explored his big body.
She loved the texture of his skin; the underlying flex of his muscles. She rose on tiptoe to bite his shoulder, then tongue his male nipples. She fanned her hands over his abdomen. Her fingers shook as she removed his board shorts. She stared at him then. She couldn’t help herself. Sculpted and symmetrical, he stood tall and firm; magnificent in her eyes and larger than life.
She caught her breath and gave his erection the attention it deserved. She held him with great care. She stroked and his hips rocked. His penis heated between her palms. His low groan pleased her.
Sophie knew her limitations. She could never be a temptress; never hold sexual power over any man. But she would give her last breath to satisfy Dune. She wanted him that badly. She felt sexy and a little reckless with this man.
She could no longer show restraint or hold back her increasing urges. Neither could he.
Dune tossed his athletic bag toward the bed, then took her in his arms. He walked her across the floor until her calves bumped the wooden sidebar. He guided her down until she lay on her back. He settled beside her.
His mouth sealed with hers, again and again. His teeth teased her lower lip. Her eyelids fluttered closed. His kiss was sensual and molten, stirring her soul and heightening her arousal.
He made her feel special.
His hand slid down the length of her body. His long fingers stretched and searched, his palm pressing hotly into her abdomen. He stroked her wetness, then inserted the tip of one finger. She tensed until his knuckle hit a spot that made her moan. She lifted her hips instinctively, a wave of intense pleasure reaching deep down inside her.
Aroused and anxious, she clutched his bare shoulders, needing stability. The hair on her nape and on her arms tingled as if she were about to be struck by lightening.
“Let me know if I’m hurting you.” His voice was strained. Hesitation creased his brow. The corners of his eyes and mouth were drawn with concern.
“You won’t,” she breathed against his mouth
Her words relaxed him. He managed to exhale.
He left her for only a moment, rolling over and scoring a condom from his sports bag. Once sheathed, he covered her with his body. He entwined their fingers and drew her arms over her head. Her entire body seemed stretched. Her breasts rose firm and high and her stomach flattened. Her hips came slightly off the mattress.
He appreciated her nudity. His gaze seared her.
He parted her with his knee and eased into her with one slow stroke. A heartbeat of pain made her stiffen; then it was over. Her body accepted him.
He pulsed inside her.
Her stomach quivered.
Dune went perfectly still. She sensed he wouldn’t continue without a sign from her. A sigh of longing broke on her lips. She was completely his.
His eyes dilated and his nostrils flared. “It only gets better,” he breathed near her ear.
The best came with a shift of his hips. He rocked gently, thrust slowly. He soon found a rhythm she could accept.
She inched toward an elusive sensation; an emotion that would fulfill her. Her heart warmed and her soul soared. She now understood what it meant to crave a man with her entire being.
Any loneliness she’d felt in her life disappeared. As if it never existed. She belonged to him.
She was close to coming and so was he.
Sharp pants of pleasure escaped her lips.
Dune’s own breathing was ragged and rose from his gut.
She surrendered.
And his control broke.
Color flushed in her cheeks and she cried out, a sound that came from her core.
The very air around them seemed to explode.
A hard, racking shudder convulsed her.
One last stroke and Dune gave himself up to his climax. He followed her to the end.
Spent, he collapsed on his side and held himself up on one elbow. He drew her to face him. Their heartbeats slowed. She felt in sync with him.
He stared down on her, gently brushing strands of damp hair off her face and neck. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Never been better,” she said, honestly.
Her words seemed to please him. One corner of his mouth curved. “We have great chemistry together.”
“Isn’t sex the same for you every time?” she had to ask. Dune was experienced. He’d been with other women. She needed a basis for comparison.
He cupped her chin, stroked her cheek. “I’ll quote Mac,” he said. “ ‘Sometimes it’s good, other times it’s bad. A few nights you wish you’d just stayed home.’ ”
“I’m satisfied.” She kissed his palm.
“You wore me out, woman.” He rose, then walked into the master bath and disposed of his condom. “Shower, Sophie?” he asked from the doorway.
She nodded. The warm water would soothe her soreness. She’d had an active day between the pedicab tours, her swim, and sex with Dune. Of the three, making love had strained her muscles the most and left her tender.
Bold in her nakedness, Sophie crossed to him. He drew her into the shower and tucked her close. He set the spray on hot and pulsing. He poured her Sweet Pea shower gel onto his palm and told her to relax.
Sophie leaned back against the tiles and smiled to herself. There was something to be said for a man with soapy hands who knew his way around a soft-bristle, long-handled bath brush.
Spectacular and orgasmic came to mind.
She was appreciative.
Seven-thirty a.m. and Sophie Saunders contemplated sex etiquette. The morning after seemed a bit awkward. Did she make Dune coffee? Fix him breakfast? Offer him privacy? This was all new to her.
She lay naked, sprawled across him, her breasts bared, her bottom covered only by a sheet. A slight turn of her head and she noticed how the satin caressed her ass. She blushed, remembering how Dune had cupped her bottom when she’d knelt astride his hips, cowgirl-style. She liked feeling in control. She’d held the power twice last night.
She wondered if she was able to walk. Sex with Dune was both thrilling and strenuous. Her lower body ached as if she’d exercised for a solid month.
She’d gotten up several times during the night, needing to stretch and move around. She’d returned the hamsters to their cage, then later risen to comb her hair and brush her teeth. Afterward, she’d walked around her bedroom in hopes of relieving her soreness. She felt bow-legged.
She wasn’t used to having a man in her bed, especially someone as big as Dune. While they fit together perfectly during lovemaking, they’d compromised in sleep. She smiled over their differences.
She liked fluffy pillows stacked behind her head, while he preferred only one, and a flat one at that.
He slept best with the room temperature below seventy; she liked it above.
She preferred the comforter pulled up to her chin. He wanted nothing on him, not even a sheet.
Classical music put her to sleep. She’d put Arthur Rubinstein’s Chopin Nocturnes into her DVD and closed her eyes. Dune turned it off the moment he thought she was asleep. Sneaky man.
She could live without her music.
She couldn’t live without the man.
His arms now wrapped her waist, securing her to him. His body radiated heat. He was far warmer than a blanket. She shifted slightly and encountered his erection. Morning sex would be amazing, she thought, just not at that moment. She hurt too much. If she had sex again, she would need a walker or a cane to get around today.
She cautiously wiggled her toes and tried to straighten her legs. Her first pedicab tour was at ten. She planned to stop by the mayor’s office later that afternoon. She was very interested in the curator position.
She didn’t know Dune’s schedule. He continued to sleep, which gave her the opportunity to study him. She held her breath, then lifted herself up on one elbow, afraid she would waken him. Her heart squeezed in appreciation of his male beauty. She understood why women mobbed him. The tag Beach Heat served him well. He was one hot volleyball player.
His blond hair was now mussed, his brow smooth. His eyelashes were light brown. He had a small scar at the corner of his left eye. She lightly traced it with the tip of one finger, then went on to cup his jaw. His morning scruff appealed to her. She didn’t care if he ever shaved again.
She found a second scar just under his chin. She softly kissed it. She then admired his suntanned shoulders and the strength of his chest. His upper arms were ripped. His abdomen was defined. She wanted to look lower, to peek beneath the sheet, but she knew her movement would disturb him.
He surprised her by clearing his throat and saying, “The scar by my eye happened when my brother Zane hit me with a rock. Scar under my chin was caused by Shaye. She took karate and kicked me.”
Sophie tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself. “Your family is dangerous.”
“We took each other down as kids, but as adults we’re united. Barefoot William means everything to us.”
“Your town means a lot to me, too,” she said.
“We’re glad you’re a part of it.”
That was good to hear. She never wanted to impose on anyone, but she felt comfortable with the Cateses.
“Today will be a busy day on the beach,” she said. “A number of activities are scheduled for the tourists: stand-up paddleboard racing, sandcastle building, and kite flying.”
“It’s fun to watch the action from the boardwalk if you’re not participating,” he told her. “The unicyclists will be performing as well as the stilt walkers.”
She sighed. “I wanted to ride with the uni-troupe.”
“Backward?” he teased.
“I could’ve turned myself around.”
“Trust me, you’re better off at the museum. It’s safer. I want you protected.”
His concern pleased her. “I’m looking forward to speaking with the mayor.”
“You want me to join you for moral support?” he asked. “I could meet you on the boardwalk and drive you to the courthouse.”
“That works for me,” she agreed.
“Mac and I have volleyball practice at eleven. I should be done by three. I’ll meet you near the rickshaw hut.”
Dune shifted on the bed then. He pushed back against the headboard and sat up. He eased her across his groin.
She winced and he worried.
“You’re sore,” he said, reading her expression. “I’m sorry, Sophie.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
He held up his hands, wide palms and long fingers. “I give a good massage,” he said with a smile.
She lay on her stomach and let him work his magic. His hands were therapeutic. There was nothing sexual in his strokes, only healing. He kneaded the kinks from her neck to her toes. Her body went liquid under his touch.
He gave her a forty-minute rubdown. “Better?” he asked.
“Between you and an aspirin, I’ll recover.”
He stroked a finger down her spine, his gaze hot on her bare skin. “More sex means less soreness. You’ll get used to me.”
She rose on her knees. “You’ll prove your theory to me later?”
He trailed a finger down her cheek and his gaze roamed over her appreciatively. “I’ll give you lots of proof.”
She hesitated, uncertain. “What’s the best way to start our day?”
“You cook a gourmet breakfast and serve me in bed.”
She went wide eyed until one corner of his mouth twitched. She poked him in the chest. “It’s toast and coffee.”
She slid off the bed and went in search of her bathrobe. She found it on a hanger behind her bathroom door. She secured the tie, then backed into Dune as he came in. He wore black boxer briefs and carried a shaving kit. He walked a little stiffly himself; the bulge in his briefs was evident. She couldn’t help but do a double take at the sight of his muscular chest. She loved his strength and size.
He looked down on her and blocked her from leaving. He was suddenly serious. “My stubble scraped your chin. I’ll shave more often when we’re together.”
She didn’t mind. The raspberry marks would fade with her face cream. “I’m going to feed the hamsters first, then I’ll fix your toast,” she told him.
“Glinda and Scarlett come before me?”
“Priorities.” She grinned. “They’re little and helpless and you’re self-sufficient.”
He swatted her on the bottom before she left.
Seeds and thin slices of apple went to the Dwarfs. The hamsters scurried around in excitement.
She returned to the kitchen and started the coffee. Breakfast for Dune soon grew into a tall stack of burned toast.
“I’m not that hungry, Sophie,” he said when he entered the kitchen. He’d taken a shower and his hair was finger-combed. He wore a Spike It white T-shirt and khaki shorts. He was barefoot.
“I was going for the perfect piece of toast,” she said over her shoulder.
“You’ve gone through an entire loaf.”
“I’ll get it right yet.”
He came to stand behind her. His arms curved around her waist and he pulled her back against him. He kissed the top of her head. “You’re wasting bread.”
He stepped to the side and tossed the bread wrapper into the trash can. He looked the stack over and selected two slices from the middle. The least burned of the bunch. “Butter?” he asked.
“In the refrigerator,” she said.
Dune swung open the door. He chose peanut butter and jelly, too. He took out a pitcher of orange juice, then set the table for her. He moved around the kitchen without difficulty, as if he’d lived with her forever.
In those moments, Sophie realized how easily he fit into her life. She was shy where he was secure. Somehow his assuredness was rubbing off on her. She was slowly coming into her own. She liked the new, emerging Sophie. Liked her a lot.
They’d just settled at the table when her mother arrived. She knocked on the glass, then shoved back the sliders as though the house belonged to her and not to Sophie.
Maya’s timing couldn’t have been worse. The sight of Dune and her daughter having breakfast together stopped her mother cold. Maya was impeccably attired, as always, in a charcoal gray suit and matching pumps.
Her outfit was the exact color of Scarlett’s fur, Sophie thought.
Maya’s face pinched. “I see you have a visitor.”
“Sophie invited me to breakfast,” Dune said. “I just arrived.”
Sophie was grateful for his white lie.
Maya looked skeptical. After all, Dune had blurted out that he was moving in with Sophie, though Sophie doubted her mother had believed him. This was different.
There was no mistaking Sophie’s tousled hair. Whisker burn marred her chin. The tie on her robe had loosened and the top and bottom satin panels lay open, exposing her cleavage and thighs. She quickly covered herself.
Dead silence was followed by a long-suffering sigh from her mother. “Be sure to make your bed,” she said.
Maya still told her what to do. Sophie felt like she was five years old again.
“What can I do for you, Mother?” she asked.
Maya stood stiffly. “I asked you a month ago what you wanted for your birthday and you never responded,” she said. “Your birthday is on Saturday. What have you decided?”
Dune nudged her, then suggested, “How about a pool party?”
Maya shook her head. “Sophie’s afraid of water. She doesn’t swim.”
“I do now,” Sophie said. “Dune taught me.”
Her mother surprised her. Instead of a caustic remark, her face relaxed. She nodded. “How nice of him. Your grandmother always hoped you’d learn. She tried to teach you, but you cried so hard you vomited in the pool.”
Dune poked her. “You puked?”
The memory had stuck with Sophie. “I was six and I’d just eaten breakfast. Waffles and maple syrup. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”
Dune rubbed her back. “You were a kid. You got scared. No big deal. A nervous stomach can be nasty. I’ve seen professional volleyball players let nerves get the better of them before a tournament. It happens.”
He was kind, Sophie thought, always building her up and never tearing her down. She was grateful. “A small party might be nice,” she said. She had a few friends now. She could invite Shaye and Trace, Mac and Jenna, as well as the women from her volleyball team.
Her mother frowned. “You’re not a good hostess,” she stated flatly. “You’re too shy. People don’t want to attend a party where the birthday girl stands in the corner.”
“I think she’s outgrown the corner,” said Dune. “I’ve recently seen Sophie as the center of attention.”
Maya raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
Sophie blinked. “When was that?” she asked him.
Dune smiled down on her. “When you spoke to the mayor at the Sneaker Ball, and later when you gave the pedicab tours. You had a captive audience.”
He was right. People had flocked around her. They’d listened to what she had to say. She’d been interesting and entertaining.
“We’ll throw a party here poolside late Saturday afternoon,” Sophie decided with confidence. “Works for me.”
Her mother huffed. “That doesn’t give Marisole enough time to plan a menu.”
“I won’t need Mari,” Sophie said. “I can fix hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad—”
“Let’s make it potluck,” Dune offered. “Less work for the birthday girl. Everyone will bring a dish.”
Maya was stunned. “You’re asking guests to bring their own food?”
“That’s how it’s done in Barefoot William,” said Dune.
“But this is Saunders Shores,” her mother argued.
“You’re welcome to join us.” Dune was polite, but firm. “Can I put you down for a container of coleslaw? Or corn on the cob? Better yet, a cake?”
Maya looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. She moved to the sliding glass doors, keeping her back to them. “Your gift, Sophie?” she pressed without turning around.
Sophie’s throat tightened. “Come to my party, Mother.”
Maya didn’t miss a beat. “Your father and I have plans for Saturday,” she said without remorse. “He’s playing in a charity golf tournament at Royal Palm Country Club. I’ll be joining him afterward for dinner, drinks, and the silent auction. It’s an all-day event and will run quite late.”
Disappointing yet typical, Sophie thought. Her parents so seldom came around, especially when she needed them most. This was her birthday. She’d reached a quarter century, a personal milestone with so few memories of doing things as a family. She tried not to let the hurt show on her face. She would celebrate with her friends, thanks to Dune.
Her mother tapped her fingernails on the glass slider. She appeared anxious to leave. “I’ll have a present selected and delivered to you,” she said, then slipped out.
Sophie’s heart sank.
Dune tried to lighten her mood. “At least she’s picking out your gift. That’s something to celebrate.”
“My mother doesn’t run errands.” She knew that for a fact. “Her personal shopper will pick up the phone and call a trendy boutique. A dress will be delivered, probably tea length and in basic black. The dress will hang in my armoire beside the dozen other dresses she’s sent to me over the years.”
Dune took a bite of cold toast, then followed it with a sip of lukewarm coffee. Sophie admired his willingness to work through the breakfast she’d prepared for him.
“We’ll find an occasion to wear this year’s dress,” he said. “I’m good for a fancy dinner.”
“And dancing?”
“Have you improved since the Sneaker Ball?”
She’d stepped all over his feet when they’d slow danced. “We’ll only dance fast.”
“I’ll suffer the bruises,” he said. “Holding you close is better.”
He stretched his arms over his head, then rolled his shoulders. “I’ll talk with Shaye before volleyball practice,” he said. “We’ll put your party together.”
Her heart warmed. It had been years since anyone threw her a party. Her mother had given up on her by her ninth birthday. She was still a kid at heart.
Dune glanced at the stove clock. “It’s after nine,” he said. “Mac and I have volleyball practice and you need to get to work.”
Sophie scooted off her chair. “I’d hate to be late and have Shaye fire me.”
“She’ll never fire you,” he guaranteed. “You’re her top driver.”
“You’re planning a party for Sophie?” Mac James asked Dune. They stood side by side before the volleyball net, practicing drills. “You’ve missed your calling, dude. I could see you as a party planner. This could be a second career for you when you retire.”
Dune cut him a look. “You’re not invited.”
“Bullshit.” Mac set the ball and Dune spiked it. “I’ll be there.” He paused. “You can put me in charge of fun and games.”
“Shaye suggested pool volleyball.”
“Cool. We can have chicken fights, too,” said Mac. “I call Sophie as my partner.”
Dune tossed up the volleyball and made Mac dive for it. “She’s not sitting on your shoulders.”
Mac recovered the ball and set up the next play. Dune slammed it to the far right corner, just inside the line. Mac grinned.
“What are you smiling about?” asked Dune.
“You know why.”
“ ’Cause my game’s so good?”
“ ’Cause Sophie’s so good for you.”
She was good for him, Dune silently agreed. “I’m inviting Jen,” he forewarned Mac. “No bickering.”
“No guarantees.”
“Have you been by her shop?”
Mac shook his head. “Not for two days now.”
“Are you hoping she’ll miss you?”
“I’m keeping her guessing.”
“Don’t keep her guessing too long. I’ve told her she can bring a date.”
Mac powered the ball into Dune’s chest. “What the f*ck?”
Dune had provoked and gotten a reaction. Mac needed to wake up. Being in limbo distracted him and made him crazy. He needed to straighten things out with Jen or move on. “You can bring a date, too, if you like.”
“I don’t like,” Mac said irritably.
A mad Mac made for a strong practice session. His partner took out his frustration on the ball. Mac slammed it so hard, Dune waited for it to deflate.
Four hours passed and they called it a day.
“I’m meeting Sophie shortly,” Dune said. “We’re headed to city hall to see the mayor, then stopping by the shop he’s designated for the museum.”
“Togetherness, how sweet.”
“Get a life,” Dune said as he headed to take a shower.
Dune caught up with Sophie at the northern end of the boardwalk near the rickshaw hut. She leaned against the blue pipe railing, looking out on the beach. She wore her floppy hat and body-covering clothes. She still avoided the sun.
His shadow fell over her, stretching long. She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Hello, Dune.” He liked the way she said his name.
His stance widened as he drew her back against him. Her shoulders pressed against his chest. Her bottom settled against his groin. He bent and kissed her neck. Her blush rose. He kissed her again, enjoying the pink in her cheeks.
“The stand-up paddleboard race is about to start,” she told him.
Dune checked out the beach. A hundred participants stood ready, their boards held over their heads. Single paddles were raised, carried alongside the boards. Everyone wore personal flotation devices. Life preservers ranged in color from hot orange to bright pink. The foam waist straps were basic beige.
Lifeguards patrolled the beach. Two manned speedboats waited nearby, ready to help if needed.
Dune knew many of the competitors. Some were novices; others were veterans. The water was so warm, T-shirts and shorts or swimsuits were worn instead of wet suits.
They listened as the starter’s voice echoed through a megaphone: three, two, one, go! There was a mad dash for the water. The majority of the paddleboarders mounted their boards with ease. Several beginners knelt, tipped, and lost their balance. They scrambled to recover their paddles.
Sophie pointed to a young girl, a preteen, in a one-piece swimsuit and arm floaters. “She’s having trouble getting into position,” she worried. “Someone needs to help her.”
“She’ll be disqualified if anyone assists her,” he said.
The girl fell off her board ten times before she centered her feet between the rails. She managed to keep her knees bent and her back straight. Her strokes were short and alongside the board. She was finally headed in the right direction.
“The course is a figure eight,” Dune said. “There will be rough water at the middle crossover point as participants enter and exit. A competitor is eliminated if he touches another board with his paddle.”
“The girl is last.” Her concern grew. “Do you think she can catch the others?”
“She has a lot of water to make up.” Nearly half a mile, Dune figured.
Sophie crossed her fingers. “Last place is fine, as long as she finishes.”
The lead athlete paddled with a precise, sure stroke. He appeared to skim the Gulf. He was soon headed back to the beach. A crowd had gathered and people cheered him on. It seemed every participant had a friend waiting.
One of the lifeguards passed out trophies for first through tenth place. The beach started to thin out by the time the last of the competitors hopped off their boards. The young girl stalled yards offshore, visibly struggling.
Sophie looked up at Dune. “She deserves a prize for perseverance. We must encourage her.”
We. Again Sophie included him in her life. He found he liked that more and more. “How about giving her paddleboard lessons?” he suggested.
Her smile broke. “Perfect,” she agreed.
He took her hand. “The Chamber of Commerce sells gift cards for all the boardwalk shops and fishing excursions. Visitors can also get certificates for surfing, snorkeling, and paddleboard classes, all taught by the local lifeguards.”
The city building was four doors down. They walked fast. Once inside, he reached for his wallet, only to have Sophie put her hand over his. “I want to do this for her.”
She reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a handful of bills. “More pedicab tips going to a good cause,” she said. She counted out fifty dollars. “Paddleboard lessons,” she told the clerk behind the counter.
“Good for five hours.” The woman quickly processed the certificate and stuck it in a gift envelope.
Sophie thanked her and they took off again. Dune watched her, amazed once more by her generosity. Sophie had a big heart and was about to perform a random act of kindness. He admired her greatly.
She reminded him of his sister Shaye. Shaye owned Goody Gumdrops and was always handing out free bags of penny candy to kids with little money. She felt everyone deserved a treat.
Side by side they took the stairs down to the beach. The finish line was nearly deserted now. The girl was still a good distance from the shore. She appeared tired, Dune thought. Her shoulders were slumped and her board wobbled. He hoped she didn’t fall off before she made it back to the beach. He was certain Sophie would dive in and try to save her.
Dune stood back as Sophie approached the lifeguard who handed out the trophies. Her voice rose softly over the slap of the surf. “Be sure the girl on the paddleboard gets this certificate,” she said. “She doesn’t need to know the gift is from me. Tell her that she may be the last to finish today, but she’ll be the first tomorrow.”
The lifeguard nodded. “Got it. Thanks, will do.”
Sophie returned to Dune. “Can we stay and see her finish?” she asked.
“I’d say she deserves a round of applause.”
They both clapped loudly when the girl came ashore. She dragged her board and paddle and staggered up to the lifeguard. She dipped her head and smiled when he patted her on the back and praised her with, “Way to go!” He presented her with the gift certificate.
“We can go now,” Sophie whispered.
“You don’t want to see her open the envelope?” Dune asked.
Sophie put her hand over her heart. “I feel her excitement. That’s all I need.”
Dune curved his arm over her shoulders. “You’re a good person, Sophie Saunders.” She would be a nurturing, compassionate mother, he realized. She drew his thoughts to family and settling down.
She jarred him a moment later when she said, “I might enter the paddleboard competition next year. I could take lessons, too. What do you think?”
“You’d need to strengthen your arms, practice balance, and become a stronger swimmer,” he said, being honest with her. “Then you’d be fine.”
“Thanks, Dune.”
“For what?”
“For understanding my need for adventure.”
He would always worry about her, but Sophie had been confined for too long. She needed to feel free. He hoped many of her experiences would include him.
They returned to the boardwalk, where the unicycle troupe was gathering to perform. His cousin Rick was already mounted and doing tricks. Rick circled Sophie on his “giraffe,” riding forward then backward, and finally bouncing on one tire.
“You’re amazing,” she called to him.
Rick saluted her, then motioned to the troupe. They rolled on, riding single file down the boardwalk.
Sophie turned to Dune. “Can we walk for a few minutes? I’d like to see the sandcastle building and kite flying contest.”
Dune obliged. He kept her close as they worked their way through the crowd. Everyone was enjoying the hot day. Florida residents recognized a change in seasons. Today truly felt like summer to him. The sun refused to hide behind the clouds and what little breeze there was tickled the back of his neck.
People viewed the sandcastle contest from both the boardwalk and beach. Each entry was roped off. A couple scooted over and Dune and Sophie squeezed in along the railing. Sophie took off her floppy hat and fanned herself.
Dune bent down and blew in her ear.
“You’re not cooling me off.” She swatted him with her hat.
He was feeling the heat himself. She was so close they continued to touch. Each brush of her body forced him to shift his stance and make a discreet adjustment.
“Look at that medieval castle and moat.” She pointed left. “That giant sand crab is true-to-life. The pincers look real.”
“I like the sailboat.” He squinted down the beach. “Someone’s attempting to build the Empire State Building.”
“The mermaid is cool, too,” she added. “But the Most Original Award should go to those two boys closest to the pier. They’ve constructed a person buried in the sand.”
“What would you like to build, Sophie?” he asked, curious.
She pursed her lips. “Moby-Dick.”
“That’s a very big whale. He’d take a lot of sand.”
She nudged him with her elbow. “I’d enlist helpers.”
He’d gladly take part.
She sighed. “It’s a shame the sand creations aren’t permanent. They’d make amazing beach art.”
“Wind, rain, and high tide will take them down,” he said, “along with some human destroyers.”
She looked at the sky and Dune followed her gaze. Several kites flew in the distance. Enthusiasts ran along the shoreline, slowly releasing the tethers. There was no wind, and as many kites came down as stayed up.
Sophie patted her cheeks. She was slightly sunburned. “I’m ready to see the mayor,” she said.
They drove to James Cates’s office. Dune’s uncle welcomed Sophie with open arms. Dune liked the fact his family embraced her. She’d slipped into their lives with a shy smile and a big heart.
The mayor offered them coffee or a cold drink. Sophie went with iced coffee and Dune chose bottled water. Once they were comfortably seated, James laid out his vision for the town museum. He then asked Sophie for her thoughts and suggestions.
She didn’t hesitate; she spoke with foresight and enthusiasm. James was impressed. Dune was amazed. Sophie was definitely in her element.
The mayor told Sophie that Kai Cates would be her contractor. Dune liked Kai. His cousin was an amazing carpenter. He’d get the museum in shape in no time.
James then asked if Sophie was familiar with a fiscal budget. She shook her head. He went on to assign her an office assistant to guide her through the process, which she readily accepted.
The curator position was officially hers by the end of their conversation. The mayor gave her a set of keys so she could check out the store. Sophie could barely contain her excitement. Her smile was broad, and her steps were light, fast, and fluid. Dune loved seeing her happy.
Twenty minutes later, he found a parking space near the empty shop. He parallel parked the Tahoe. He felt Sophie’s eyes on him. He turned and raised a brow. “Is something on your mind?”
She rested her hand on the dashboard, pensive yet determined. “I want to learn how to drive,” she said. “I don’t want to depend on other people for my transportation.”
“No one minds driving you places,” he assured her.
She pursed her lips. “I mind. Roger chauffeurs me to the boardwalk and Shaye takes me home after volleyball practice. I no longer want to be an imposition.”
“Roger is employed by your family and Shaye values your time together,” he said. “People like doing things for you. You’re sweet and appreciative.”
“Nevertheless, it’s time,” she stated. “I’ve thought about buying a car. I like the TV commercial for Nash’s New and Used Cars. The man looks honest.”
Dune could debate Hal Nash’s honesty with her, but he kept his comments to himself. He’d steer Sophie to the right car when the time came. “We can check out the dealership once you get your license,” he agreed, “maybe other car lots, too.”
They stepped from the Tahoe and crossed the street. The windows of the shop were dirty, making it difficult to see inside. Sophie put the key in the door and they entered. The scent of leather, paper, and a hint of amber incense hung on the air. Dust bunnies clung to the corners. A few yellowed paperbacks were left on the floor. Clinton Cates was not a tidy man. The two connecting rooms and small office needed a good scrubbing, followed by a coat of fresh paint.
Sophie took it all in. “It’s fabulous,” she said with a sigh.
“The store requires cleaning,” said Dune. “You can hire—”
She stopped him. “No,” she said. “I want to do everything myself.”
“Have you ever scoured walls and scrubbed floors?” he gently asked. “This place needs elbow grease.”
“I’ll manage.” She sounded positive. “The prospect of opening a museum so near the boardwalk will draw people. I’ll have lots of volunteers.”
He hoped so. He tucked her close to him. “I’m leaving town right after your birthday,” he said. He went on to explain the medical procedure he would undergo prior to his participation in the Huntington Beach Classic.
“These injections could cure your tendonitis?” She was hopeful.
“Maybe, maybe not,” he said honestly. “It’s a procedure I have to try.”
“I know it will work.”
He wished he was half as optimistic as Sophie. He tightened his hold on her. “I don’t want you to feel alone while I’m gone.”
She looked up at him. Her gaze was as soft as her smile. “Never alone, never again. I have a lot of friends.”
They stood in the middle of the room and kissed for a very long time, until the front door opened and closed with a loud bang.
Mac James made his presence known. “Get a room,” he grunted.
“Get lost,” Dune growled.
Sophie was kinder. She slipped from Dune’s arms and went over to hug his partner. She swung her arms wide and spun around in a slow circle. “You’ve caught the ‘before. ’ ” She used air quotes. “The ‘after’ will astonish you.”
“I’m sure it will,” said Mac. “You’ve got powers, Sophie Saunders.”
“I use my powers only for good.”
“Damn, you’re cute.” Mac chucked her on the chin. “Run away with me.”
“I’m not a good runner,” she said.
“She’s running nowhere with you,” Dune said. He nodded toward the door. “You were headed where?”
Mac took the hint. “To Crabby Abby’s, Dairy Godmother, and Three Shirts to the Wind.” He held up the small rectangular box he was carrying. “I’m giving Jen the painting of the antique rocking chair.”
“She’ll love it,” said Sophie.
“Go for it, dude,” Dune encouraged.
“There are no guarantees this will work,” Mac said.
“Play it from all angles,” Dune said. “It’s overtime and you’re going for match point.”