Cape Cod Kisses (2 page)

After getting caught in an evening meeting and missing his flight, Quinn had to charter a plane to get to the island. It was almost midnight, and he was in no mood to defend this trip to Rich when he hadn’t wanted to take it in the first place.

“My grandfather had another heart attack a month ago. I don’t know what he’s got up his sleeve, but family comes first.”
Always
. “Even crotchety, old, stubborn family.”

Quinn’s grandfather, Chandler Rockwell III, owned the Rockwell Resort and employed more than half of the island’s workforce. He wasn’t known by his family or his staff for his warm demeanor. But that didn’t mean Quinn would ever disrespect him.

“At least you made tonight’s meeting,” Rich relented. “I’ll have those documents ready for signature by this time next week, but you need to go over the reports as soon as possible.”

After agreeing to compile information for Rich to take to Monday’s meeting and get back to Maryland in time to sign the documents in person, Quinn ended the call and loosened his tie. Needing to go for a run to burn off some energy, he threw his leather duffel up on the bed and pulled out his jogging shorts. He was as much of an exercise junkie as he was a workaholic. He believed in keeping his mind and his body sharp, and even though he was tired after a grueling sixteen-hour day, he was going to go for that run.

He changed into his shorts, splashed water on his face, and glanced up at his reflection in the mirror. For a moment, it was like looking into his grandfather’s eyes—serious and way too stressed.

Quinn shook his head to clear that strange thought, stuffed the keycard into his pocket, and headed out the door just as his eldest brother, Trent, came out of the suite next door.

“I thought I heard you.” Smiling, Trent embraced Quinn.

The Rockwell men were all over six feet tall and broad shouldered. Trent, Quinn, and their younger brothers, Derek and Ethan, all resembled their father, with thick dark hair, an angular nose, and a strong jawline. Quinn and Trent shared their mother’s baby blues, while their brothers and their sister, Sierra, inherited their father’s dark brown eyes.

“Got in late. Hope I didn’t wake you.” It had been a few weeks since Quinn and Trent had been able to find a couple of spare hours away from their demanding jobs to meet for dinner in New York, where Trent lived and ran his legal practice.

Trent raked a hand through his hair. He was still wearing his suit pants but no shirt. “I’m not even close to heading to bed yet.” He eyed Quinn’s shorts. “Going for a run? At midnight?”

“Gotta work off some steam. Want to join me?” Quinn and Trent had often run together as teenagers and when they were home during college breaks.

“Thanks, but I’ve got at least another hour of work to do on these briefs, and we’ve got the meeting with Chandler in the morning.”

They always called their grandfather by his first name when speaking to each other, since he wasn’t warm enough to be considered
Grandpa
, and he’d never have allowed the endearment anyway. Chandler demanded that they refer to him as
Grandfather
.

“Now that you’ve reminded me about Chandler, I think I’ll make it a six-mile run instead of five.” Quinn blew out a frustrated breath. “Did you hear anything more about why he’s made all of us come back here?”

“Sierra said she thinks it has to do with the resort, but I couldn’t get ahold of Dad. He’s going to meet with all of us tomorrow afternoon.” Trent checked his watch. “You’d better go if you’re set on running.”

“Right. We’ll catch up in the morning.”

Quinn’s legs felt like they’d been caged in place for too long as he headed out for his run. It took a while for his limbs to loosen up and his body to remember it
liked
to run.

He took off down Bay Road, running parallel to the water. Stars dotted the sky, and moonlight basked the road in a soft glow. Finally, he found his groove and ran at a good clip for the first few miles, mentally working through his meetings from earlier in the day and trying to ignore his agitation at being summoned to the island.

Like always, he ran down a path by the trees, heading for Mill Cove. If any place on this island could help him clear his head, it was the secluded cove where, as a kid, he used to escape when he felt the island pressing in on him.

Rockwell Island was large in size but had always felt like it was small on choices for Quinn. He knew if he’d stayed on the island, he’d have been railroaded into running the resort, like his father had. His grandfather had not been pleased when Trent, Quinn, and Derek had left the island to build careers elsewhere, or when Sierra and Ethan had followed their own career paths outside of the resort, even though the two of them had returned to the island to live after college.

With the encouragement of their parents, the five of them had all found ways to avoid falling under the scrutiny of Chandler as the latest Rockwell Resort employee. Their father, Griffin, however, had not been so lucky. He’d worked at the resort his entire life under the controlling and often demeaning eyes of Chandler. Although Griffin practically ran the resort now, Chandler still refused to acknowledge his son’s vital role in the resort’s success.

As Quinn neared the water, the temperature dropped and the sounds of the bay infiltrated the chaos in his head. A welcome distraction, although still not loud enough to drown out thoughts of work. He ran along the wet sand, close to the shoreline, his heart beating hard and fast as the boulders that marked the entrance of the secluded cove came into view. The soles of his running shoes pounded against the dense sand as he rounded the massive rocks, and there, nestled between a thick tree line on one side and a rocky outcropping on the other, was Mill Cove.

He smiled as he slowed his pace, fixing to stay awhile, maybe think through some of the work he had to prepare for the meeting with Rich later that week. Each footfall became less pronounced as he neared the edge of the cove, the water shrouded from the moonlight by thick, full branches and sharp boulders.

Quinn was bending at the waist, placing his hands on his thighs to catch his breath, when splashing sounds caught his attention. He shifted his eyes to the water, listening intently.

A soft feminine laugh filtered into his ears, and he turned toward it, taking a step forward and nearly tripping over an empty champagne bottle.

Great
. It would be just his luck to stumble upon a couple making out in
his
cove.

He caught movement near the water’s edge and squinted, bringing the gorgeous curves of a naked woman into focus. She was facing away from him, her fingertips dragging along the surface of the water, flinging it into the air every few seconds, accompanied by that feminine laugh.

All alone in the water, she turned in the iridescent light of the moon, revealing a silhouette of her full breasts, the lush curves of her hips, and her long dark hair.

Quinn stood stock-still, mesmerized by her beauty and the sweet sound of her laughter. But when he shifted and stepped on a piece of driftwood, she immediately looked toward the sound of wood cracking.

For a split second their eyes locked.
Sweet Lord, she was beautiful.

And then with a gasp of surprise, she was suddenly submerged beneath the water, the waves covering her head to toe.

QUINN SPRINTED INTO the icy water and scooped the woman up in his arms, incredibly thankful that he had been there when she went under.

Holding her close, the first thing he did was make sure she was breathing okay. Thanking God that she was, he asked, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She looked up at him in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Saving you.” His heart was still pounding way too hard as he strode out of the water with her in his arms. That split second when he’d thought she was drowning had been terrifying.

“Saving me?”

She pushed wet hair out of her eyes, and he nearly stumbled as a direct ray of moonlight illuminated her high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that managed to look both intelligent
and
seductive. She truly was the most beautiful woman he'd ever set eyes on.

“I was just having fun skinny-dipping. At least until I realized you were standing there. That’s when I dropped down under the water so you wouldn’t see me naked. Besides,” she said as he finally realized she was trying to push out of his arms, while also trying futilely to cover up her lush curves, “how do I know you’re not the one I need saving from? Some guy skulking around the cove after midnight grabbing naked women out of the sea.”

“I’m not that kind of guy,” he promised her, even though he was losing the battle of trying to ignore the feel of her bare breasts against his chest, the sweet scent of her naked skin, and the fact that her voice fit the rest of her perfectly—warm and full-bodied. “I would
never
hurt a woman. I swear I’m just trying to help you.”

But he knew if he really wanted to prove to her that he was a good guy, now that they were out of the water, he needed to let go of her naked body. Deliberately not letting his eyes wander over her curves again, he finally set her down.

“Do you remember where you left your clothes?” he asked as he turned around to give her privacy to go find them.

“Of course I remember.”

Quinn assumed by the distant sound of her voice that she’d walked a short ways up the beach to find her clothes and was now getting dressed.

“I might be a lightweight,” she continued, “but I didn’t drink
that
much champagne tonight. Besides, you’re
supposed
to have fun and be a little wild on your honeymoon. You can turn around again now. I’m dressed.”

Quinn turned, and holy smokes, the strapless minidress she wore was now drenched and nearly translucent, doing absolutely nothing to hide her curves. He tried to shift his eyes away, but
Jesus
, it was hard. She was
that
sexy.

By the time he was finally able to make himself look away from the wet fabric over her naked curves, he was stunned by the expression on her face. Not fear, anymore. Not confusion, either. Instead, it looked like she wished she were back in his arms again. The night was cool, but in that moment the heat between them easily trumped the evening breeze.

At least until his brain finally registered what she’d just said.

“Honeymoon?” None of this made any sense. Why was she out here by herself if it was her honeymoon? And if she'd just gotten married, then where had the desire he swore he'd seen in her eyes come from? The only thing he knew for sure right now was that some guy was going to try to kick his ass when he found Quinn out here on the beach with his wife, when all Quinn had been trying to do was make sure she was okay—or at least that's what he’d started out doing. “Where’s your husband?”

His questions, especially the word
husband,
seemed to sever the heated thread between them. She waved a dismissive hand and made a face. “Husbands are
totally
overrated. Plus, you don’t need one for a solo honeymoon.”

Solo
honeymoon? He’d never heard that one before. She was surprising him at every turn. Sexy
and
interesting was a combination he hadn't come across many times in his life.

“You’re not married?”

She shook her head, but even just that small movement sent her off-balance. She was still as good as naked, and he’d hate for some other guy to find her like this—a little tipsy and too damn gorgeous for her own good. No question about it, he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he didn’t see her home safely in one piece.

Quinn didn’t know if this was his lucky night or if he was being punished for some unknown sin. But given that he would never dream of taking advantage of a woman out having fun skinny-dipping by herself in the moonlight, he was putting odds on punishment. Especially since even though he now knew she wasn't married, he was only on the island for long enough to get through tomorrow's meeting.

But at the same time, he'd never been this drawn to a woman before. Or been so intrigued. Maybe tomorrow, some how, some way, he could track her down and—

Just then, he realized there was a scrap of material floating near the water’s edge. A scrap that looked like super-sexy lace panties.

“Are those yours, too?”

She followed his gaze, and her cheeks pinked up as she went to retrieve them. “Thanks. I would have been sad to lose my favorite pair.”

Great. Now he was going to have to work like crazy to stop thinking about both her skintight, see-through dress
and
the panties she’d just picked up. Already, though, he was failing on every front as desire continued to simmer hotter inside of him by the second.

“I’d like to make sure you get home okay.”

She didn’t respond, simply started heading up the beach. He kicked something else and bent down to find a cell phone half buried in the sand. Looked like she’d forgotten more than just her favorite pair of panties.

“Where are you staying?” he said after he picked up her phone and slipped it into his pocket. He spotted the empty champagne bottle and picked that up too, and then caught up to her.

“The honeymoon cottage at the resort.” She looked to the right, then the left, then stopped walking. “I’m not going the right way, am I?” The sudden laughter underlying her words gave him the sense that the alcohol was beginning to sink in big-time now.

Even her laughter was sexy. “Nope.”

Quinn found himself wishing the honeymoon cottage wasn't quite so close by. He wasn't ready to say goodnight to her just yet. Not anywhere near close to ready.

“Well,” she said as she turned around and headed in the opposite direction, “I suppose since we’re on an island, I would have gotten there eventually.”

Quinn felt his lips twitch. She was like a sweet—and breathtakingly sensual—ray of moonlight on what had been a bleak and chaotic night. He’d never understood how people could allow themselves to float through even one night without a plan, without being completely in control. But in the few moments before she’d seen him in the cove and ducked down in the water to cover herself with the waves, it had been captivating to watch her act like she hadn’t a care in the world, so happy and confident.