Declan still wasn’t sure where the invitation to spend the day together had come from. He had further complicated things by convincing Ella to purchase her first bikini. Looking at her wading in the ocean a few yards in front of him, he cursed his own stupidity. Not only were his eyes glued to her slender, curvy body, so were every other man’s. This idea of a day on the beach had sounded innocent enough a few hours before. Truthfully, he had been so desperate to get out of Ella’s apartment before her family returned and shot him that he had grabbed onto the first idea he had. Probably not his best, but it had to be better than staring down the barrel of a Smith and Wesson.
He couldn’t believe that he had woken to find a room of strangers staring at him this morning. It was pretty comical once you got past the initial horror of it. The only similar situation he had encountered in his past was a husband barging in. He wasn’t proud of that one and he had ended things almost as soon as it had begun. Today’s intrusion had been unusual for him on a few levels. Firstly, he made it a rule to never stay the night with a woman. He usually wanted to leave and even if he didn’t, he couldn’t risk freaking a woman out when one of his nightmares took over. He needed to talk to Ella about that before he scared the hell out of her.
When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he almost jumped out of his skin. The fact that someone had gotten that close without him knowing was a testament to his level of distraction. And then he wanted to groan in misery when his brother, plopped down on the sand beside him. Yeah, apparently things could always get worse.
“Hey brother, I thought that was your car parked in front of my house. I was a little skeptical though since you aren’t really a sand and surf kind of guy.”
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Declan asked.
“Shouldn’t you?” Brant countered. Declan didn’t bother to reply since normally he would have been at the office. When Brant started squinting at the shoreline, he knew things were about to get a whole lot more uncomfortable. “Hey, isn’t that . . . ?”
“Ella,” Declan supplied, “her name is Ella.”
Brant looked from her smiling face in the distance to his straight-faced expression, obviously making the connection. “So, I’m guessing you aren’t here alone working on your tan? Are you like . . . dating her now?”
Declan snorted saying, “I don’t date. We’re just hanging out.” Hanging out? Where in the f**k had that come from? Beside him, Brant seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“Relax, I’m just surprised. This is the first normal woman I can remember you bringing around in a while.”
“Normal? What the hell are you talking about?” Declan demanded.
Brant laughed as he pointed to Ella. “That girl there is prom dates, roses, and diamonds. You’re usually more of a motel, tequila, don’t bother leaving your number, man.” Brant held his hands up in surrender as Declan glared at him. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that, she just isn’t your usual type. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Not even close,” Declan admitted, “and I’m probably f**ked nine ways till Sunday, but I can’t seem to stop.”
“Well, I’m the last one in the family who should be giving advice on love. Come to think of it, we all suck in that area so I’ll just wish you good luck. For what it’s worth, everyone seems to like her around the office and she is beautiful,” Brant whistled appreciatively.
Scowling at him, Declan snapped, “Stop looking at her. Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?”
“Nope,” Brant replied, “I’m free until this evening.”
Declan suddenly turned the tables on his brother. “I heard you had a bit of an . . . upset at work yesterday morning?”
Brant looked at him blankly until understanding dawned and with it a frown. “How did you hear about that? I swear there is no privacy at Danvers.”
“Still having problems with the new assistant, huh? Maybe you should just trade this one in like you usually do before she kills you.”
Declan enjoyed seeing his normally unflappable brother turn red and start to stammer. “I don’t know how she could have forgotten that I can’t tolerate milk. After giving me a cup of coffee loaded with the stuff, she has the gall to act like it’s my fault. Why didn’t I taste the milk? Why did I drink the whole cup before I figured it out? Why don’t I take medication for it? I’m the one who was miserable for the rest of the day and instead of apologizing, she snaps and rolls her eyes at me like I did something to her.”
“It’s not that I’m defending her, but they do make medication for that and you usually know if you’re drinking black coffee.”
Curling his lip, Brant spat, “I might have noticed had I not been stuck on a very persistent telemarketing call that she put through to my office. While she was killing me with cream, I was trying to convince some idiot that I was happy with my long distance carrier!”