Cape Cod Kisses (3 page)

As they walked past the boulders and followed the surf toward the lights of the resort in the distance, he said, “I’m Quinn.”

“I’m Shelley.” She smiled at him, another ray of moonlight shining down as she said, “Shelley Walters.”

“I’ve got to ask you, why a solo honeymoon, Shelley?”

“Because dating is a bore, and waiting for a honeymoon might mean I’d never take one.”

“Dating is a bore, huh?” He couldn’t agree more.

For a moment as she turned to meet his gaze, he swore heat flared between them again. But then, she stopped walking, put her hand on her forehead, and shook her head as if she was trying to stave off the effects of the champagne by sheer will.

Quinn remembered that feeling from his college days when he’d had one too many. He had the urge to put his arm around her, to steady her and block her from the bay breeze. She had to be cold in that wet dress. But before he could, she began walking again, each step a little less steady.

“Guys are all about work, sex, and more work,” she continued. “Don’t get me wrong. I really enjoy certain parts of that, but…” She trailed off as she focused on stepping over a large rock in the sand.

She had men nailed down pretty well. He couldn’t dispute her assessment, but hearing it from her made him feel a little embarrassed because the “more work” part hit so close to home. They walked across the sand, listening to the sounds of the bay, her pace slowing considerably as the champagne fully hit her system. She stumbled over another rock, and he reached for her.

“Whoa,” he whispered, pulling her against him before she could fall. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

“
Sweetheart.
” She sounded almost wistful. Slightly breathless, too, as if being this close again felt as good to her as it did to him. “That sounds surprisingly nice when you say it. Almost like you mean it.” She flattened her palms on his bare chest, fully awakening the desires he'd been trying to push down before he could forcefully bank them. Her words sounded a little more rounded now as she looked up at him and said, “Maybe Taryn is right and an island fling would be fun.”

An island fling?

What had he done to deserve this test? Quinn hadn’t had an island fling in too many years to count, ever since he’d become so consumed with his business that he came back to the island for only a few hours over the holidays, for family gatherings. But a fling with Shelley? Just the thought of it made him want to cancel every meeting he had scheduled for the next week so that he could focus on learning everything about her. Why she'd come to the island. What made her laugh. And, especially, what would make her gasp with pleasure...

“Maybe you should kiss me,” she said, swaying a bit more now. “Just like a real honeymoon.”

Hell yeah, I should kiss you. Not because of any honeymoon, but because you’re gorgeous…and your laughter is the sweetest sound I’ve heard in forever
.

He knew he wouldn’t, though, knew he couldn't when the shock of the cold cove water had worn off and champagne was clearly swimming through her veins. He set the champagne bottle down in case she stumbled again.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside.” He settled a hand on her lower back in an effort to guide her toward the porch, her skin hot to his touch despite the wet dress.

Before he could step away, she said, “Well, if you won’t kiss me...”

The next thing he knew, her body was melting against him and she was winding her hands around his neck...and pressing her full, warm lips to his.

It was pure instinct to kiss her back—how could anyone resist a woman this beautiful? This sweet. This
sexy
.

For a long moment, Quinn was caught up in the heat of their kiss, the smooth dance of their tongues. She kissed him eagerly, tasting of sweet champagne and wicked desires. Her tongue traced his lips and her hands slid into his hair, and he was lost to anything but his need to deepen the kiss, to put his hands firmly on her hips and draw her closer and learn more of her taste, and to drink in more of her little gasps of pleasure as they both instinctively closed the distance between them.

A brisk breeze brushed over his skin, bringing his senses back into focus, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to force himself to pull away. He’d already let the kiss go on longer than he should, but
holy hell
, what she did to him was like nothing he’d ever felt before. She’d felt so right in his arms that it knocked him totally off kilter.

He couldn’t let her go, though, since she was obviously still not steady on her feet. With an arm around her waist, he said, “You should probably get some rest, Shelley.”

She touched her fingertips to her lips and stared up at him, her eyes guileless. And so damned sensual that his hands itched to pull her closer again. “Or we could kiss some more.”

He could still taste her on his tongue, could still feel her sweet curves pressed against him. There was nothing he wanted more than to kiss her again. Not one thing on this planet would be better than devouring her mouth again, stripping her wet dress away, tasting every inch of her skin...and getting to learn each and every one of her sounds of pleasure. But Quinn knew it wouldn’t be right. Not when her eyes, and her words, were still fuzzy from the champagne.

“Next time we kiss,” he promised her before he could think better of making promises to a beautiful stranger on a dark beach, “I want to make sure you remember it.”

“How could I forget when it felt so good?”

Her question sent his heart kicking into overdrive again, just the way her kiss had. Knowing better than to try to even answer her question, he simply pulled deep from his control again and suggested, “Do you want me to walk you up?”

She frowned for a moment. “No. Not yet.” She looked out at the ocean. “It’s so pretty out. I want to sit on the beach for a little while and look at the stars.”

It would be safer for both of them if she simply went inside and got into bed—alone. But she’d plopped down on the sand beside his feet. Telling himself the only way to make sure she didn’t get back in the water was to stay with her, Quinn grabbed a towel from the porch of her cottage, draped it over her shoulders to keep her warm, then sat down beside her.

“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” Shelley lay back on the sand, looking up at the clear night sky. “One of the most stunning things I’ve ever seen.”

“It really is,” he agreed as he also lay back on the sand. But he wasn’t looking at the stars.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. Her hair was soaking wet, and now sandy, too, but her contented smile and the happy sigh she’d just exhaled, told him that she didn’t mind it at all.

She turned to face him. “Thanks for saving me on my solo honeymoon, Quinn. Even if I didn’t need saving, it was actually kind of fun. Especially,” she added with a sexy gleam in her alluring eyes, “that kiss.”

That kiss…

It was one he’d never forget.

She fell quiet, then, for long enough that he realized she’d fallen asleep, the smile still on her lips.

Trying not to wake her, he lifted her into his arms again. He’d never actually carried a woman before, but tonight he’d already had her in his arms twice—and both times had felt damn good.

Carrying her up the cottage stairs, he reached for the door and wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked. Not only because the resort and the island were both very safe places, but because Shelley didn’t seem like the kind of woman who worried about locking her doors too often.

The cottage was dark, save for a light left on above the sink in the kitchenette. He carried her across the threshold and quickly surveyed the cottage. His brother Derek had remodeled it two years earlier, removing the wall between the kitchen and living room and installing a big bay window, complete with a window seat, opening up to a beautiful view of the water. The hardwood floors were wide planked and still in perfect condition.

Quinn hesitated, debating both about putting a sexy stranger in bed and about wearing his wet, sandy sneakers inside the cottage. His grandfather’s voice sailed unbidden into his mind.
Treat this resort like a castle and it will always be one.

With Chandler’s voice grating against his every nerve, Quinn toed off his wet running shoes and then carried her through the cozy living room, past the built-in bookcases and the stone fireplace. When his feet hit the plush bedroom carpeting, he hesitated again, imagining Shelley waking up and being terrified if she couldn’t remember who he was.

For the first time in his life, he hoped a woman would stay asleep when he took her to bed. He walked into the bedroom, pulled back the thick, burgundy comforter and plush sheet, and laid her gently on the bed, still wrapped in the towel. She made a seductive little sound as she curled toward him, one arm arcing over her head, the other across her ribs, with her long dark hair spread across the pillow. Noticing flecks of sand on the sheets, he debated changing her out of the sandy dress and into something else from her closet, but he wasn’t sure he trusted himself
that
much.

Not when she was his every fantasy come true.

Quinn brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, unable to stop drinking in her incredible beauty. She’d thanked him for being a part of her solo honeymoon, but the truth was that he should be thanking her for saving him from a night of living in his own head, going over and over all the things he needed to accomplish by the end of the week.

What was it about her that had his heart taking notice and his mind taking a reprieve from work?

All he knew for sure was that it felt surprisingly natural to press a soft kiss to her forehead and to whisper, “Good night, Shelley Walters. Thanks for making it a surprisingly good one.”

WHAT WAS I thinking last night?

Shelley squinted at the sunlight peeking in through the blinds and rolled over, burying her face in the pillow, wishing she had a toffee-flavored coffee from her café. She needed a gallon to come out from under this hangover fog. She’d had only a couple glasses of champagne, but for a lightweight like her, that was easily more than enough. She kicked her feet to get whatever was scratching them off, but every kick abraded her skin. As she flung the covers off and found a smattering of sand in the sheets, pieces of last night started to come back into focus.

Quinn.

Pictures came to her, one after the other, of the most beautiful man she'd ever set eyes on—blue eyes, dark hair, and a gorgeous chest—along with a vague memory of the two of them walking across the beach to her cottage, where she put her arms around his neck and—

Oh God.

I kissed him!

She bolted upright, eyes wide as the memory of a perfect—and shockingly hot—kiss suddenly hit her as clear as day. The delicious taste of his mouth, wonderfully sweet and fiercely possessive all at once. How he'd gripped her hips and pulled her closer, so close that she'd gasped at the pleasure of being pressed up against such hard, hot muscles. She'd never experienced such an intense
,
sexy kiss before, one that she'd never ever wanted to end.

But had it ended? Or had their kiss turned into so much more?

She’d been skinny-dipping when he’d found her, but the rest of it was a little too vague for her peace of mind right now.

She might have been considering getting a little bit wild last night...but this was
way
too wild, even for her.

Holding her breath, she looked down at her thighs and closed her eyes as she slid her hand up her hip under her dress to feel for her underwear.

Oh no. I’m not wearing any.

No, no, no.

Scanning the room for clues, she jumped from the bed. Her head throbbed and the room swayed. She grabbed ahold of the bedpost for stability. She never drank much, and a hangover was not something she was used to dealing with. Nor did she
want
to deal with it.

Following a trail of sand into the living room, she tried to put the pieces of last night together. She touched her hair, which was a sticky, sandy mess, just like her dress. She had nothing on beneath her dress. But she didn’t have any recollection of his body over hers or his hands on her skin.

Shelley looked at her hands, the memory of his firm chest against her palms finally resurfacing. Surely if they had gone to bed together, she’d have some memory of more than one incredible kiss and her hands brushing briefly over hard muscle. Something told her that making love with Quinn was something no woman could ever possibly forget. Not when one look, one touch, one kiss had been enough to melt her insides.

No amount of champagne could have made Shelley forget her breathless awareness to him. She'd never felt anything like it before, a
wanting
that had instantly taken her over right from the first moment she'd set eyes on him. Wanting that shook her even now with its intensity as she replayed the previous night with greater and greater clarity by the minute.

She opened the front door and inhaled the chilly sea air.
Too bright.
Shading her eyes, she crossed the deep porch and sat down on one of the rocking chairs beside the small painted table. When she’d arrived at the cottage, she’d imagined having breakfast at this table, but food didn't sound at all appetizing right now.

Her eyes finally landed on a bottle of Motrin, a carafe of orange juice, and an envelope with her phone lying on top of it.

She picked up the bulky envelope, peeked inside, and felt her cheeks heat up as she withdrew her thong. Her hand instinctively covered her face, and she didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. She was almost afraid to read the accompanying note...

Solo honeymooner,

Thought you might want these—especially the Motrin. I found your favorite scrap of lace in the sand again and didn’t want to chance it getting lost. Enjoy the beautiful day, and don’t worry—apart from our one kiss, I was a perfect gentleman when I tucked you in.

Q.R.

With a shaky hand, and feeling relieved, she set the note on the table. But when she started to head inside to take the Motrin, she realized he’d also brought back her empty champagne bottle and left it for her at the other side of the door. He’d placed a candle in the neck of the bottle, melting it around the edges to secure it in place.