Five
Sophie had purchased the perfect dress. Shaye insisted the black satin strapless was made for her. The fan-pleated Empire bodice and tulle skirt were both feminine and formal. She’d purchased the two-strand crystal necklace from Nicole Archer. Her chest sparkled.
Her dress boosted her confidence, even if she was falling apart.
Dune Cates would arrive in six minutes.
Her back zipper was stuck.
She stood before the full-length mirror in her bedroom and fought with the tab. She worked the zipper to the middle of her back, then twisted her body like a pretzel to pull it higher. It wouldn’t budge.
She crossed to the pale blue brocade fainting couch and sat down with a heavy sigh. She had so few friends. There was no one she could call. Her mother and father were out of town. Marisole was at the Sandcastle overseeing the buffet. Shaye was on her houseboat clear across town. The rest of her volleyball teammates were getting ready for the Sneaker Ball.
She sighed. Life challenged her on a daily basis, but to have a zipper take her down was the lowest of the low. She glanced for the fifteenth time at her bedside clock. She was running late.
She’d wanted to wow Dune, but there was no wowing him now, not with her dress unzipped and one shoelace on her black satin high-heeled sneakers tied in a knot. Her manicure suffered one broken nail.
The doorbell rang; a jarring sound. The night wasn’t starting out well. She’d wanted to make a grand entrance, yet that wasn’t to be. She knew Dune would help her, but she hated asking him. She wasn’t as incompetent as she appeared.
Walking in four-inch heels was a trial by fire for her when she was used to wearing flats. Balance was not her friend. She grabbed her black beaded evening bag and somehow made it down the hallway without mishap. The front of her fan-pleated dress gaped slightly. She placed a hand over her heart to hold it in place. She didn’t want to flash him.
She opened the door and he stole her breath. Dune was one hot body on the beach, but put him in a suit and the man was heart-stopping. He’d gotten a haircut and was clean shaven. He smiled and his eyes warmed. He appeared glad to see her.
“I was late in renting a tux and had to settle for a dark suit,” he said ruefully.
There’d been no settling—the man was amazing. “You look nice,” she managed. Phenomenal fit him better. His black suit looked as tailored as any tux. His burgundy tie set off his starched white shirt. His Nikes were black and gray. He appeared sharp, handsome, and stood out. A tall, athletic man among men.
“New dress?” he asked.
She blushed. “New and unzipped.” She gave him her back. “Would you mind?”
The callused tip of his finger brushed her shoulder blade as he worked the zipper. Goose bumps rose on her arms. She breathed easier when he turned her to face him. “Easy fix,” he said.
He eyed her thoroughly and intently from the top of her hair, brushed two hundred strokes, to her bare shoulders, then down her dress. “You look pretty,” he complimented her.
She would’ve preferred gorgeous, hot, or sexy, but she could live with pretty. At least he hadn’t ruffled her hair.
He narrowed his gaze on her sneakers. “No offense, Sophie, but can you walk in those? They’re like stilts.”
She gave him a small smile. “My latest adventure. I’m hoping so.” She crossed her fingers behind her back.
He offered his arm. “I’ve got you.”
She figured if she made it across the crushed seashell driveway, she could walk the pier. Every piece of shell seemed determined to twist her ankle. Dune was her anchor.
“No Harley tonight. You don’t want to arrive wind-blown,” he said as he walked her to a dark blue SUV. “Mac took off with my grandfather’s pickup truck, so I borrowed my parents’ Tahoe. My mom has allergies and is feeling under the weather. They won’t be attending the event.”
He held the door open for her and she slid comfortably onto the leather seat. She fastened her seat belt, then sat quietly. Dune had said she looked pretty. She held his compliment close to her heart. It warmed her from the inside out.
Marisole may have twisted his arm to take her to the Sneaker Ball, but she’d make sure he didn’t regret his decision. Dune was far more exciting than a night spent curled up on her couch reading; her date, a bowl of popcorn.
He settled in beside her and buckled up. “Ready?” he asked.
She nodded. She was as ready as she’d ever be.
Thirty minutes later, Dune parked the Tahoe on a side street near Molly Malone’s diner. They walked a short distance and took their place in line at the entrance to the pier. Six men formed a barrier, each taking tickets as Shaye, Jenna, and Trace welcomed the couples.
It was a magical night, Sophie thought. Her decorating efforts the previous evening added to the enchantment. She’d worked alongside Shaye and numerous volunteers to breathe life into the Sneaker Ball.
The pier pulsed with excitement and anticipation as if the night had a secret up its sleeve. Sophie’s heart quickened and she found herself smiling for no reason.
All around her the rides and amusements stood dark. The tiny white lights strung between poles twinkled against the fading twilight. She loved late spring when the days stretched toward summer and the sun stayed up late.
She glanced toward the Gulf and her stomach fluttered. She faced her fears tonight. She didn’t do well around water. High tide cast waves against the wooden pilings. Frothy foam spread along the sand. The beach was empty. It was a night to be on the pier, to party, dance, and support a community cause.
Florists had supplied fragrant plants and flowers. The summer perfume of Heaven Scent gardenias, Angel Trumpets, and Night-blooming Jasmine wafted on the salt air. A slight breeze kept the humidity at bay.
Trace and his crew had rolled out a red carpet. Sophie looked down its length at the hundreds of people gathered. Smiling, happy people out to have a good time. The men’s sneakers were either solid or two-tone colors while the women’s were flirty and feminine. Their sneakers ranged from tiger stripes and pastel plaids to all that glittered.
Violet from the diner wore gold tennies sprinkled with fairy dust. Nicole Archer from the jewelry store had slipped into a pair of pink satin ballerina-style sneakers. The ballet ties wrapped her calves.
Sophie’s steps were tentative and her knees started to buckle. She clutched Dune’s arm a little tighter. You can do this was her mantra for the night.
He let her take the lead, allowing her to focus on the fun and not her fears. He produced the couple’s ticket and they entered easily. Her brother Trace came forward and smiled encouragingly. Shaye and Jenna embraced her.
“The bar’s set up at the far end of the pier and the buffet is across from the bumper cars,” Shaye told them. “Dance wherever there’s space.”
Dancing, another hurdle to clear.
“Ready?” Dune asked, looking concerned.
She didn’t want him worrying about her. “Very ready,” she assured him.
Mac James was the first person she recognized. He leaned against the pier railing, looking restless. He caught her eye and winked. She winked back. “Sophie, babe,” he said on their approach. “You look hot, sweetheart.”
“So I’ve told her,” said Dune.
Sophie felt his arm tense beneath her fingers.
Surely he wasn’t upset by Mac’s compliment. The two men exchanged a look. Mac grinned and Dune’s jaw tightened.
“You made it.” Dune seemed surprised.
“Jen finally caved and accepted my second invitation,” Mac told them. “The woman can debate an issue to death.”
“She made you work for it,” said Dune.
“Jen agreed to our date two hours before the event,” said Mac. “She’s last minute.”
“So are you,” Dune added.
“I thought I was doing her a favor until she set down rules.” Mac didn’t appear happy. “I had to park at the curb and honk. She didn’t want me near her house. I was banned from the pier entrance. She refused to let me greet the guests. I’m a people person. I can shake hands and smile. I’m not out to embarrass her.”
“Maybe your clothes put her off,” said Dune.
Mac pulled a face. “I was forced to raid Frank’s closet. We’re talking 1940s. Grandpa needs to update,” he said to Dune.
Sophie couldn’t help but grin. She liked his look. “Your navy suit is very swing scene,” she said. “Your hand-painted tie with the pin-up girl is classic.”
The corner of Mac’s eye twitched. “I thought my suit was dark brown.” He snapped his black suspenders. “These pants have a permanent postwar crease.” He scratched his thigh. “The fabric is itchy. They’re so high cut at the waist, they restrict my blood flow.” He adjusted himself.
“Hands out of your pockets,” said Dune.
“Frank tossed me a fedora on my way out, which I left in his pickup,” Mac added.
“Nice sneakers,” said Sophie.
“Converse is my brand.”
Mac pushed off the railing and glanced toward the buffet being set up just beyond the carousel. “Damn, I’m hungry. Maybe I could sneak a plate.”
“You should wait until Jen wraps up her hostess duties,” Dune said. “The buffet doesn’t open for an hour.”
Mac didn’t heed Dune’s advice. He eased around Sophie and headed toward the food. “No one will miss a chicken wing.”
“Marisole will cut off his hands if he steals one bite,” Sophie said. “Trace put her in charge. Our chef will guard the buffet with her life.”
“I’ve seen her wield a kitchen knife,” said Dune. “The snap of serving tongs can be just as dangerous.”
The heat index rose as more guests arrived. Dune ran his fingers beneath his collar and loosened his tie. “A man’s got to breathe,” he said.
“How about a beer?” she asked. She knew her brother Trace appreciated a cold one on a hot day. Dune looked warm.
“A good idea,” he agreed. “Do you want to wait here or come with me?”
“Go with you.” She didn’t want to be left alone.
He took her by the hand and led her along the railing toward the makeshift bar. It took an hour for them to reach their destination.
Dune was home. He knew everyone and they slowed his progress. His popularity rolled on to Sophie. People were polite, but their full attention was on her date. She stood beside him, yet she felt a pier length behind him. She was glad he held her hand; otherwise she might’ve been pushed aside or possibly shoved over the railing. The Gulf looked dark and scary.
Dune sensed her unease. “Excuse us,” he finally said.
The bamboo bar curved like a horseshoe. Six bartenders poured drinks. The line moved fast. “Wine, water, something iced and fruity?” Dune asked when it came time for them to order.
Sparkling water didn’t sound like a party drink. She knew so little about alcohol. He came to her rescue, “Coors and a virgin piña colada,” he ordered for her.
Drinks in hand, they strolled back down the pier. It was less crowded toward the entrance. That was where they chose to enjoy their drinks. Sophie ate the fruit from the cocktail spear, then twirled the tiny pink umbrella between her thumb and forefinger. The pink spun white to red beneath the twinkling lights.
She wasn’t a big conversationalist, but Dune didn’t seem to mind. He leaned back against the railing and sipped his beer. “My life has been crazy lately,” he said. “It feels good to unwind. It’s you and me tonight as far as I’m concerned. No one else matters.”
No one else mattered. She liked the fact he could relax with her. He was so handsome that she’d never breathe easy around him. He gave her butterflies.
Raised voices and a sudden commotion turned their attention toward the six men taking tickets. People shifted, allowing Sophie a look at the gatecrasher.
She blinked over his size. He looked tough as nails with his square jaw and military haircut. He was built like a wrestler. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans, and athletic shoes. She bet he had tattoos and outstanding warrants.
The man pushed by the ticket takers. He didn’t give Trace the time of day. Instead he faced off with Shaye. His scowl was dark, his fists clenched. “I want in.” His voice was deep and angry.
Shaye didn’t give an inch. Her stance was aggressive for a woman in a pale lavender slip dress and orange Adidas. “Sorry, pal, you can’t enter without a ticket.” She held her ground.
“Tickets sold out yesterday.” The man’s voice carried on the air. People openly stared. A few narrowed their eyes. One man appeared to swallow a smile, which shocked Sophie. There was no humor in this standoff. The new arrival was mad. She was afraid someone might get hurt.
“You had plenty of time to buy one,” Shaye stated. “They’ve been on sale for months.”
“I only arrived today.”
Shaye squared her shoulders. “No forethought. It’s not my fault you didn’t plan ahead.”
“I live day to day,” he said harshly.
The argument made Sophie shiver. She leaned closer to Dune. She didn’t do well with confrontation. Her stomach squeezed and she felt nauseous.
“You need to leave.” Trace backed up his wife.
“Hell, no,” said the man.
Dune stiffened beside her. “I’ll move him along,” he said to Sophie. “Wait here.” He walked toward the entrance.
Sophie shook off her fear and followed at a safe distance. She watched as Dune edged between Jenna and Shaye. Dune was several inches taller than the man, yet the man was thicker in the chest. Their expressions were confrontational; their stances intimidating. The air rippled with testosterone.
“Leave now or I’ll be forced to remove you,” Dune told the man. He passed Shaye his empty bottle of Coors, then slipped off his suit jacket. Jen took it from him.
“Dial nine-one-one now,” said the man. “Jackass is going to need an ambulance.”
Sophie panicked. She couldn’t bear for them to fight. The man wanted a ticket and she had an extra one in her evening bag. Dune had used his ticket to enter the dance. She had brought hers just in case he forgot his.
She drew a deep breath and pushed through the thickening crowd. The tension between the men was palpable. A mere foot separated them now. Both were close to throwing a punch.
Her knees were shaking so badly she was afraid she’d sprain an ankle. Yet she managed to make it to Dune’s side. She gripped his arm. “Stop, both of you.” Her voice was so soft she wasn’t sure anyone heard her.
Dune did. He took a step back. He glanced down on her fingers and his brow creased. He looked as uncertain as she felt. “Trust me, Sophie, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Her courage was motivated by her fear of Dune getting hurt. “There’s no need to fight. I have an extra ticket.” She unsnapped the clasp on her bag and produced it. She passed it to the angry man. “Please, take it.”
The man stared at her. His dark brown eyes were nearly black. His mouth twisted menacingly.
Her words ran together when she added, “You don’t have a date and you’re dressed inappropriately, but at least you’re wearing sneakers. Shaye may make an exception for you.”
Silence settled so heavily, Sophie couldn’t breathe. Everyone stared at her. All appeared stunned. Most were speechless. No one could believe her actions. Dune seemed the most shocked.
“Damn, she’s civilized,” the man finally said.
“She’s got more manners than you,” said Jenna.
“She’s also pale,” the man noted.
“You frightened her,” Shaye said, her tone disapproving. “She’s shaking.”
Fear had drained her. Sophie’s heart still raced. She placed her hand on her chest and took a few deep breaths.
Jenna returned Dune’s suit jacket. He immediately draped it over Sophie’s shoulders. He then tucked her against his side. She found his body solid and comforting.
“You’re safe for now,” the man told Dune. “I won’t mess up your pretty face tonight, but watch your back tomorrow. I’ll catch you without your protector.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Dune said.
“Knock it off, you two,” Shaye scolded before she threw her arms around the big man with the bad attitude. She hugged him tightly. “Welcome home.”
Dune slapped him on the back and the men bumped fists. “It’s good to see you, bro.”
Sophie’s eyes went wide. Home? Bro?
The man grinned at her with a flash of white teeth and a single dimple. He relaxed his stance. “I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he said. “My taunting is a ritual. It’s who I am. I make a scene and blow off steam. I haven’t seen my family in months.”
“Eight months to be exact,” said Shaye. “Zane is the worst of us all. He acts out.”
Dune made the introductions. “Sophie Saunders, my date, meet Insane Zane, my younger brother.”
“A Saunders, huh?” Zane asked.
“Insane?” His nickname left Sophie uneasy.
“She’s Trace’s sister,” Dune responded first to his brother, then to Sophie. “Zane’s a hurricane hunter with the 53rd Weather Reconnaissance Squadron. He’s stationed at Keeslar Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi. He flies into tropical storms and the eye of a hurricane. He’s mental.”
Zane stared at Sophie. “My job’s a little more dangerous than playing volleyball.”
“Not if you have Mac James as a partner,” Dune said and everyone laughed.
Everyone but Sophie. She had yet to fully comprehend the Cates family ritual. One in which even Shaye played a part. They had an unusual way of greeting each other. She shouldn’t have interfered, yet her fear for Dune had been real. She hoped she hadn’t embarrassed him.
“Sophie,” Zane said. “You are brave, babe. How long have you been Dune’s bodyguard?”
She was anything but brave, yet boldness had stirred when she thought Dune was in trouble. “I don’t protect,” she said softly. “I find solutions. I had an extra ticket.”
“Speaking of tickets,” Zane said to Shaye. “You could’ve sent me one or set one aside.”
“You should’ve called,” she said. “I had no idea you were coming home.”
“Pure spur of the moment trip.”
Shaye frowned. “You never make plans.”
“Whenever I do, they usually get canceled.”
“No date?” Dune asked.
“I thought I’d steal yours.”
“I go home with who I bring.” Dune drew Sophie even closer. Her cheek pressed the front pocket on his shirt. She wrapped her arm about his waist. They were a natural fit. His strength and warmth relaxed her.
“She’s cute,” Zane said.
“She’s classic,” said Mac James, coming to join them. “Stand in line, dude, I met her long before you did.”
“What the hell does she see in Dune?” asked Zane.
“I have no idea,” Mac said, tongue-in-cheek. “He’s old and broken.”
“I have a few good years left in me,” Dune said.
“I have more than you,” said Zane. He cocked his head. “The music’s started. Go dance with your woman.”
Sophie waited for Dune to deny she was his woman. He didn’t. Instead he slipped on his sport jacket, then put his palm to her lower back and guided her toward the carousel. The ride was closed, but that didn’t stop him from sneaking in. He raised the chain and they ducked under.
Sophie glanced around. It was as private a place as they’d find anywhere on the pier. She was glad to be alone with him.
The twinkling white lights reflected off the hand-carved purple and white horses with the jeweled amber eyes and gold saddles. Dune led her onto the polished wooden platform. They now stood between the horses, a man and a woman amid the shadows of the orange scalloped top.
The music reached them. The DJ favored slow songs, a mixture of past and present. Lonestar’s “Amazed” followed “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith. The music seduced them before they even started dancing.
Dune gazed down on her. “My protector,” he said with a half smile. “What possessed you to step between me and the wild man?”
“I was afraid for you,” she said softly, honestly.
He kept on staring at her, as if he were trying to figure her out. “You’re five foot two, a total lightweight, yet you defended me. You had no idea Zane was my brother.”
“I thought I could talk him down,” she said. “The extra ticket worked.”
“You were fearless.”
“You didn’t hear my knees knocking?”
“Fortunately, you didn’t have any weaponry with you.”
“My Viking ax would’ve come in handy.”
Dune laughed, rich and deep. “You had my back, and I thank you.” He then held out his hand. “Dance with me?”
She eased into his arms. There was nothing formal or conventional in the way he held her. He bent slightly and wrapped her against him. Her high-heeled sneakers gave her height. She slid her arms about his waist. Her cheek rested over his heart. Her stomach pressed his groin.
Grace eluded her. She’d taken ballet, but she hadn’t gotten beyond the plié. Her rhythm was always off, yet she refused to miss an opportunity to dance with Dune even if she stepped on his feet.
This was the most romantic night of her life. Even so, she needed to keep the evening in perspective. They were just friends. He had his choice of women. Chances were good he would’ve chosen someone else besides her had Marisole not twisted his arm.
Someone prettier, someone sexier, someone taller.
She had a lot to overcome. One day at a time, she thought, sighing. The reflection of a star twinkled in the amber eye of a white wooden horse. Sophie swore the mount winked at her. She took it as a lucky omen.
They slow danced through several songs, even the fast ones. She felt the warmth of his breath on her brow, heard the steadiness of his heart beneath her ear. A hint of his cologne mixed with the starch of his shirt. She felt safe, protected, and unafraid.
Dune Cates rolled his shoulders. His back grew tight from hunching over. Sophie was the shortest woman he’d ever danced with. Looking down on her now, he ignored the ache between his shoulder blades. Instead, he recalled her facing off with Zane.
His brother could be a royal pain in the ass. Zane played people. For those who didn’t know him, he appeared rough, angry, and confrontational. For those who knew him well, he was good-natured, loyal, and a positive role model. He loved kids and sports and was a hell of a mechanic. He’d flown home for this event.
Dune still couldn’t believe Sophie had stood up to his brother. This slip of a woman with her silky hair, fancy dress, and high-heeled sneakers had dared to step between them. Each was a foot taller than she and twice her weight.
Sophie of the soft smile and sweet innocence was surprisingly daring. Her inner warrior woman had surfaced. He liked that side of her.
Pressed against him now, she kept her eyes closed, and her breathing was even. She was genuine and kind. She was an amazing woman and would be even more so when she came into her own.
He’d tucked a lot of life under his arm.
She was on the road of discovery.
He smiled to himself. He might suggest she take dance lessons. She’d stepped on his feet several times and he’d taken a heel to his instep. They swayed more than danced. He liked her scent, vanilla and female. Her body was soft, yet compact. He liked holding her.
He tried to ignore the press of her stomach against his groin and concentrated on the sign above the ticket booth. Carousel. Big word, shorter words. Car, our, sour, are, rouse . . . arouse. His game wasn’t working.
He inched back fractionally only to have her lean forward. Her body sought his and he sucked air. Less space separated them now. He was about to pitch a tent. He needed a diversion.
Such a distraction came in the form of Mac James. “Mind if we share your dance floor?” his partner called from the chain by the ticket booth. Mac didn’t wait for Dune’s response. He lifted the metal links for Jenna to duck under and he followed.
Their peace was broken, Dune thought. It was just as well. Another minute with Sophie and he’d sport a boner. “We’ve got company,” he told her.
Sophie turned in his arms and he sensed her reluctance to release him. He curved his hands over her shoulders, squeezed. She relaxed. Her bottom brushed the top of his thighs, just south of his balls. Heat circled his neck. He exhaled and fought his body for control.
Mac grinned, and Dune narrowed his gaze on him. “What are you smiling about?”
“You know what I’m smiling about.”
“Knock it off.”
“Are you surviving the night?” Jenna asked Sophie. “There are hundreds of people and lots of noise. I know you prefer it quieter.”
Sophie nodded, then said, “It’s very crowded, but Dune and I are off to the side. I’m enjoying myself.”
Dune was having a good time, too, he realized. A better time than he’d expected. Sophie was quiet, yet easy to be around. He’d never imagined she’d be such a turn-on.
“What about you two?” Sophie asked Jen.
Jen pursed her lips. “We’re okay for the moment.”
“We hit the buffet,” said Mac. “The food’s great.”
Dune noticed the stain on Mac’s tie. “Food goes in your mouth, not on your clothes.”
Jen rolled her eyes. “The man used his napkin as a bib and still made a mess. He went back for seconds. Marisole chased him off when he tried for thirds.”
“Killer crab cakes with mango sauce,” Mac defended. “I was hungry. There’s no food at Frank’s house.”
“Because you ate it all,” Dune said. “We’re down to dog kibble.”
Mac pulled a face. “Lamb and rice tastes bland,” he said. “It’s not my favorite flavor.”
“Mac took the last Milk-Bone from Ghost,” said Dune.
“Your dog growled at me.”
“Could you blame him?” asked Dune.
“Dog breath,” muttered Jen.
“I brushed my teeth,” said Mac.
Dune shook his head. Mac was incorrigible. Jen chose the straight and narrow. They made an odd couple.
“We’ve Got Tonight” by Bob Seger began to play. Bodies would press against one another and couples would kiss. Dune stood back as his partner and cousin faced off.
Mac wanted to dance.
Jen did not.
“We agreed to no touching,” said Jen.
“It’s a slow song,” argued Mac.
Jen crossed her arms over her chest. “An arm’s length between us then.”
“This isn’t a cotillion.”
“How do you know a cotillion?” she asked.
”I once rode a dirt bike on a public sidewalk in my hometown of San Diego,” he told her. “The cops pulled me over and gave me a ticket. I faced a juvenile judge who court ordered ballroom dance lessons. His Honor thought to make me a gentleman.”
“The judge was?” Dune already knew the answer.
Mac shot him a dirty look and said, “My dad.”
They all laughed at Mac’s expense.
“Mac was a hell-raiser,” Dune said to Jen. “The stories from his childhood—”
“Wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” she cut him off. “I grew up alongside you and your brothers. Every one of you ran wild on the boardwalk. You were always bloodied, bandaged, and in trouble.”
Jen winked at Sophie. “One time Dune tried to jump his dirt bike from the boardwalk onto the beach. Not a smart move. He flipped the bike midair and dislocated his shoulder on the landing.” She sighed. “Shaye was the only one with common sense.”
“Good times.” Dune said as he and Mac bumped fists.
“How about you, Sophie?” asked Mac. “Ever been on crutches or have a cast?”
She stood quiet, her expression thoughtful. Dune was aware she’d grown up alone without a lot of playmates. Much of her life centered on her home. She read books and collected weaponry. She’d never had close friends until recently. Her volleyball team was drawing her out of her shell. Tonight she stood on the pier surrounded by people. A big step for her, he knew. He doubted she’d ever had an accident. She’d been protected by her family.
She surprised him by saying, “I fell off my bicycle once. I needed a Band-Aid.”
A short pause before Mac said, “Babe, you’re one of us.”
Dune heard her soft sigh of relief. Acceptance was important to her. He blinked against the sudden image of a small girl on the side of the road. The impression faded as fast as it formed. In that moment he felt a strange connection to Sophie, even though he had nothing solid. He let it go for now. He’d figure it out later.
“Food or dance?” he asked her.
“Food,” she said. “I skipped lunch.”
Dune took her hand and they headed toward the buffet. The line was long and once again he was greeted by guests. He was good at small talk. He’d found over the years that once people complimented him, they felt free to chat about themselves and their own accomplishments. They wanted to prove to him that they were worthy of his time.
He saw them all as his equals. He’d been blessed with height and athleticism, yet everyone had skills to hone. It was all about making smart choices, along with fighting off volleyball rookies who wanted to take him down. There was only room for one top seed. He would hold on to his spot as long as he possibly could.
They finally reached the first-course table and each took a plate. Dune chose the short ribs in a raspberry glaze and Sophie went with salmon steak. They both added fresh vegetables to their plates. Dune picked chocolate-caramel mousse for dessert. Sophie debated between key lime pie and strawberry flan. Dune had big hands. He snagged both for her.
“Run before Marisole catches us,” he said to her.
Sophie burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she could barely keep up with him. He liked the fresh, free sound of her laughter. She needed to laugh more. She also needed to take off her high-heeled sneakers. She was wobbly.
They located a wooden bench where they could sit and eat. He picked up the ribs with his fingers, while Sophie ate with formal finesse. Plastic silverware in hand, she precisely cut each bite. He swore she chewed twenty times before swallowing. The ribs were messy and he used his napkin, then reached for hers. She didn’t mind. He smiled when she finished her meal with two desserts.
Conversation circled around him. People stood before him, even while he ate. He didn’t mind much. He was used to crowds. He nodded a lot, while keeping one eye on Sophie. Gone was her stiffness and apprehension. She openly stared at him, fascinated by his popularity and how he handled his fans.
She appeared to be taking mental notes and making her own adjustments amid the gathering. She even managed to speak to the mayor of Barefoot William, complimenting him on his recent Preservation Act to protect the nesting areas of the loggerhead sea turtles.
Mayor James Cates wanted to talk politics. He brought up a controversial topic. “How do you feel about my decision to limit construction to only five-story buildings along our shores?” he asked. He knew Sophie was a Saunders, but sought her opinion anyway. Dune waited to hear what she had to say.
She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “I think William Cates would agree with you,” she said slowly. “I’ve read his journals. Honesty and integrity were important to him. He conducted business with a handshake. He was the barefoot mayor for more than forty years. He was a kind, logical man who believed life wasn’t meant to be hurried. He wanted the area to develop at its own pace.”
She fingered the clasp on her evening bag. “William was involved in every aspect of the town. He was laid-back and”—she smiled, then continued—“religiously took afternoon naps during the heat of the day on a canvas hammock between twin palms. He wrote that on waking, he often fell out of his hammock. He took long walks along the beach with his hound dog Buddy. He loved to fish.”
Her expression was shy, but serious. “William built the original stores on the boardwalk. His fingerprints are on every plank of the pier. High-rise condos would take away from his memory. He was a man of intuition and vision. He was rich beyond what money could buy.
“Check the city records,” she suggested. “The official bylaws allowed for expansion of the boardwalk and pier, but not much else. Go back in the archives and honor your founder’s wishes.”
The mayor eyed Sophie with respect. “You’re quite the historian,” he said. “I agree with you. Stop by the courthouse sometime. My office door is always open. I’d like to carry on our conversation. William was an interesting man.”
Dune caught her surprise. She was an encyclopedia on Barefoot William history. People had stopped to listen as she spoke about their town. A significantly large group circled them now. He could tell that they hoped she’d continue, but she didn’t. She seemed embarrassed to have drawn attention to herself.
A meeting with the mayor would boost her self-esteem. Dune wanted her to feel good about herself. He had yet to read William’s journals. Perhaps it was time to meet his ancestor through the man’s own words.
They mingled further and Sophie survived. He knew everyone from Barefoot William, which was nearly everybody present. He recognized a few people from Saunders Shores, but didn’t know their names. They were Trace’s business associates, who arrived late and left early. He imagined they wrote sizable checks to support parks and recreation.
“Full moon and I’m wanting to howl,” Mac James said as he came up behind them.
“Howl and I’ll muzzle you.” Jenna joined them, too.
Mac took a long pull from his bottle of beer. “I have the urge to skinny-dip.” He waggled his eyebrows at Sophie. “Are you with me?”
Sophie blushed. “I’m scared of the water.”
Her fear didn’t faze Mac. “No need to worry. I’ll hold you tight.”
“No, you won’t,” said Dune. Not tonight, not ever. The thought of Sophie naked with Mac tightened his gut. The fact Mac even suggested it rattled his cage. “Shaye would kill you if you flashed her guests.”
“I’d take him down before he shrugged off his suit jacket,” Jenna warned.
“I’d drag you down with me.” The look on his face was so suggestive, Jen punched him on the arm. He winced. “Lighten up. I’m out for some fun.” He finished off his beer. “I’m ready for another.”
“Three-beer limit, that was our deal,” Jenna reminded him.
“Buzz killer.”
Their exchange had Dune shaking his head. Mac was restless, bored, and about to do something stupid. He’d be a handful for Jen. Dune glanced at his watch, then took charge. “It’s close to two a.m. and the crowd’s thinning. Let’s call it a night.”
“What about sex?” Mac asked Jen.
“You have two perfectly good hands.”
“Guess I’m going home to make balloon animals with my condoms.”
“Blow softly. You don’t want them to pop.” Jen turned and walked down the boardwalk toward the parking lot.
“Worst date ever,” said Mac as he took off after her.
“I heard that,” Jen called over her shoulder.
“Worst, worst, worst,” Mac repeated.
Sophie watched them leave. “Not the worst, but the best,” she said. “Years from now their grandchildren will smile when they hear about their grandparents’ first date.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Dune. “They don’t even like each other. They’re acting like children.”
“I say they like each other a lot. They just don’t know it yet,” she said. “They’ll be engaged by the end of the summer.”
He couldn’t help himself. He laughed out loud. Sweet, romantic Sophie was dreaming. “You don’t know Mac like I know Mac. He’ll drop Jen at her house, then peel out, leaving rubber. He won’t think about her again.”
“She’ll be on his mind all night long.”
His brow creased. “What makes you so sure?”
“Mac likes the chase and Jen won’t be caught.”
That was true. However, Mac never pursued a woman who made him work too hard. He liked his relationships easy. He and Jenna rubbed each other the wrong way.
“Care to wager?” he asked.
She thought it over. “I’ve never gambled, so this might be fun. For every move Mac makes on Jen, I win a prize,” she said. “Something small, fun, nothing elaborate.”
Sophie was competitive. Dune liked that side of her. “For every day he avoids her, you owe me. I’m betting Mac never looks at Jen again.”
“I say he stops by the T-shirt shop on Monday.”
“I say you’re wrong.”
“I’ve decided to volunteer at Three Shirts next week,” Sophie told him. “I’ll be at the store when Mac shows up.”
“It’s going to be a long day with you watching the door.”
She yawned then and quickly covered her mouth. Dune saw she was tired. It had been an eventful evening. Sophie had outlasted most of the guests. She’d overcome several of her fears and lived to tell about it. He was proud of her.
“Shall we call it a night?” he asked. “The DJ and the bar have shut down and the clean-up crew just arrived.”
She lifted one foot, rolled her ankle, then admitted to him, “My feet hurt.”
He walked her toward a wooden bench. “Sit down and take off your sneakers.”
“Go barefoot?”
“Your feet will thank you.”
He helped her with a small knot in one of the laces and off came her dressy tennis shoes. She stretched out her feet, small feet with red marks across her toes. Her toenails were painted red. Sexy, he thought.
Sexy? Not a word he usually associated with Sophie. There was something about her small, pale, shapely feet that made him want to start his hands low and work high, right up her body.
A jarring thought and one he dismissed as fast as it formed. It was time to drive her safely home, then walk her to the door and say good night.
Sophie stood up and sighed. He took her high-heeled sneakers and stuck them in the pockets of his sport jacket. She held out her hand, an unassuming gesture, but one that made her secure. He had no problem holding her hand. He rather liked it.
Neither spoke on the ride home. Anticipation settled between them. Dune felt it and wondered if Sophie did, too. A question weighed heavily on his mind: should he kiss her? He debated the kiss from every angle.
Pro: Her sweetness and innocence appealed to him. He’d always dated sun-bronzed beach babes who’d been around the block at least once and knew the score. He’d never take advantage of Sophie. He liked her. A lot.
Con: A solid friendship lasted longer than most lovers. Sophie had a romantic heart. Women often read more into a kiss than was actually there. He never led a woman on if he could help it.
A short time later he pulled the SUV into her driveway, then cut the lights and engine. The full moon turned the crushed pink seashells to gold. Dune helped her out and, being barefoot, she took to the grass as they walked to the door. Two outside lanterns lit the entrance. They stood beneath their amber cast.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” she said. “It meant a lot to me.”
“I had fun, too.” And he meant it.
Neither moved, they only stared, for a very long time. Her gaze was wide, hopeful, expectant. Time seemed to stop, as if waiting for him to make his move. He’d yet to decide what move to make.
The Sneaker Ball was a big night for Sophie. Memories were important to her. Ruffling her hair was out of the question. A handshake seemed lame. He went with the kiss.
Slowly, gently, he framed her face with his hands. Her skin was pale and smooth. Youthful. The pulse in her throat quickened. She was fragile and feminine. Genuine, giving, and kind. She had a good heart. And a kissable mouth, sweet and generous. Inviting. He found himself studying every detail of her face, taking his time, making every second count.
He leaned toward her and she lifted slightly on her toes. They came together. The front of his starched shirt pressed her fan-pleated bodice. His knee sought space between her thighs. He supported her against him.
She gave an involuntary sigh.
His throat was suddenly tight.
The brief brush of their lips quickly complicated his life. She was a woman worth kissing. His chaste kiss soon deepened. She kissed him back, softly at first, fitting her mouth to his, responsive and seeking.
She clutched his forearms, a woman of trust and innocence. Their kiss was as perfect as any he’d ever known. Her inexperience excited him a little too much. Heat swelled between them. His body stirred. He’d lingered too long.
He eased back and released her. Her eyelids were heavy, her green gaze veiled. His after-midnight stubble had scratched her cheek. Their scents mingled: her vanilla, his lime, and their arousal.
She was Trace’s sister, he reminded himself, a young woman with a lot of world to conquer. She would continue her summer adventures with or without him. He planned to keep an eye on her. It wouldn’t be a hardship. He could teach her to swim, maybe even to drive, when she wasn’t busy seeking her career.
He needed to leave now before his dick talked him into staying. “’Night, Sophie,” he managed to say.
She fished her key out of her purse, inserted it in the lock, and gave him a small smile. He then passed her the high-heeled sneakers he’d kept in his jacket pockets. She opened the door and stepped inside. The slide of the dead bolt and beep of her security system called it a night.
He took a solo walk back to the Tahoe.