Love on the Boardwalk (2 page)

Brad thought back four months. He and Coop had stayed at their family’s beach house in Ocean City for a week. Ran into Trina and her best friend, Darcy. While Coop and Darcy got tangled up in each other, all four of them got tangled in what he’d suspected to be nothing more than a wild flight of imagination on Trina’s part. In actuality, it ended with the girls being held at gunpoint and the guys locking up a particularly disgusting criminal who preyed on foreign teenagers.

Trina had been a lot of things that week on the beach. Crazy. Capable of cobbling impossible assumptions together into a surprisingly solid case. Wacky. As addicted to changing careers as he was to the Orioles. Adorable. Way too deep a pool for him to jump into at that cataclysmic point in his life. But the one thing she definitely hadn’t been was a stripper.

Why would a nice girl from Baltimore be working in an AC strip joint? Especially one with a solid friend like Darcy, who Brad was sure didn’t know about this job, and would definitely not approve. Couldn’t be a money thing. If Trina was hard up, Darcy would’ve either taken her in or handed over a loan. It didn’t make sense. And the more he thought on it, it sure as hell didn’t feel right.

Coop was family to Brad—by choice, not just because of their matching blue eyes. And even a rookie cop could read the clues to know that Coop would fold Darcy into that family sooner rather than later. Which made Trina a friend-in-law, at the very least. Which meant he had to look out for her.

Totally altruistic. Just the right thing to do. Nothing to do with how he’d wanted to plant his fist in the guy three tables over who’d tried to smack Trina’s ass as she walked by. Or how the thought of some other guy getting the same eyeful of bra and breast that he had made him a little crazy.

He finished off the brownish water left at the bottom of his drink and slammed it on the table. Club Eden was no place for a sweet and funny woman like Trina. And he wouldn’t waste any more time flirting while jackasses gaped their fill of her. Cape or no, he intended to rescue her from this pit. Brad stood, intent on charging off to find her. Luckily, she appeared from behind a listing palm.

Grabbing his sport coat off the banquette, Brad draped it around her shoulders. “We’re leaving.”

Lips pursed, she cocked her head. “You want to come with me to dinner?”

What he wanted was to throw her over his shoulder and make a run for the door. But mindful of the bouncer, Brad just put a hand at the small of her back to urge her forward. “I want to take you away from here,” he growled. “Dinner, drinks, back to Baltimore—take your pick.”

“I do need to be back in less than an hour, but geez, you really offer a girl the world. All I had in mind was some boardwalk fries and a soda.”

Brad turned sideways to avoid a collision with a string of three very topless, oiled-up and glittery dancers. “We can decide the menu later. It’s hard for me to think about food with all this nakedness around me.”

“Shucks.” She paused in the doorway, the ceiling gels putting a pink glow all around her. Gave him a sly, knowing smile. “There goes my fantasy of having you lick a hot fudge sundae off of various naked parts of me.”

Chapter Two

As soon as they cleared the always-sticky threshold of Club Eden, Brad threw an arm around Trina’s waist and hustled her down the sidewalk. Not that Trina objected. Being leered at and “accidentally” groped for hours on end wasn’t her idea of a good time. Getting away from the smoke and the stench of alcohol, the music and the strobe lighting would do wonders for the headache she developed each night at this point in her shift. Her mood, now, that had picked up to somewhere just this side of awesome once she spotted Brad. She’d harbored a crush on the detective since the moment they met last summer. Fate dumping her almost into his lap tonight must be a reward for...well, something.

“How about we get some air before dinner?” he asked after they’d gone a block in complete silence.

“Sounds good.” Although food could wait. She’d far rather keep walking, tucked against Brad’s side. Feeling his warmth as their thighs brushed. The strength of his biceps against her back. It was all kinds of wonderful. It had been way too long since she’d gotten this close to a man. And she couldn’t think of a better way to end her dry spell than Brad Hudson.

At the end of the next block, he steered them onto the wide, weathered boards of the iconic Boardwalk. Early October meant it was still warm enough for shorts some days, but at night a determinedly cool breeze came off the water. A gaggle of teenaged girls giggled their way past, all clutching plates of golden brown funnel cake covered in a thick layer of powdered sugar. Two lazy sea gulls sat on the edge of an overflowing trash can. Aside from that, she and Brad were alone.

Garish lights of the Boardwalk behind them were as bright as midday. It was about as romantic as the cat food aisle in a grocery store. But in front of them, from the dunes onward, was nothing but the unrelieved darkness of the ocean and the evening sky. And darkness had great romantic potential.

“Are you rescuing me?” she asked breathlessly. Because that would be wonderful. Sexy as all get out. Romantic, albeit totally unnecessary. Trina could take care of herself.

Without hesitation, Brad said, “If you need rescuing, then sure, I’m your guy.”

Excellent. A real-life hero at the ready. Her very own white knight for the night. “I don’t, actually, but thanks for the offer.”

He glared down at her. “Maybe I think you do need to be rescued. Does Darcy know you’re here? In AC? Working in a strip joint?”

If that was his interrogation-room voice—and it was more than scary and hard-edged enough to be—then the criminals of Baltimore didn’t stand a chance. Still, she’d done nothing wrong and refused to be steam-rolled by someone clearly in a mood. Throwing attitude around was not a one-sided game. So Trina jutted her chin out a little. Cricked her head waaaay back to look up at him. And put a little extra sway in her hips to make sure to bump against him every time she thrust out her leg.

“Yes to the first. Both parts. No to the second.” Trust a cop to make a big deal out of a perfectly legitimate job. So lots of her co-workers spent their shifts mostly naked. So what? Were Brad’s questions fueled by his protect-and-serve mentality? Or was he that much of a stick-in-the-mud? Because she didn’t want to waste her time trying to break her dry spell with somebody using their police badge as a chastity belt.

He leaned against the railing to the dune crossing. Crossed his arms over that big, broad chest. “Are you ashamed to tell her?”

Wow. Thorough was his middle name. Trina bet he was the kind of guy who flossed every night. Never skipped. Because it was the right thing to do. She backed up until her butt met the opposite railing. Mirrored his pose. “I just never got around to it. Do you tell
your
best friend every single thing you do at work?”

“Coop’s my partner. He knows what I do all day, ’cause he’s with me.”

“Oh, yeah.” So much for trying to deflect the question back on to him. That was supposed to work in an interrogation. Trina made a mental note to figure out later how she’d screwed it up. Mistakes were learning tools, after all. And she sure learned a lot on any given day.

“Besides, a strip club isn’t work. It’s a one-way ticket to a crap life.” One big step was all it took to bring him flush with her on the other side of the narrow path. Brad caged her in with his arms. “Do you need money? A job? All you have to do is let me help. Because let me tell you, what you’re doing now with your life is a very bad idea. Very dangerous.”

It absolutely tickled her that he was pulling this gallant routine. Such fierce protectiveness for someone he barely knew said a lot about Brad’s character. It made him even more appealing. But the hammering away at her had to stop. No matter how blue his eyes were, Trina refused to put up with being talked down to like that. “I don’t need a job. I have one. And your cousin got it for me, so don’t be so judgmental.”

His mouth gaped wide open. Brad stepped back. Plowed a hand through all that thick and perfect hair. “Coop got you a job in a strip club?”

“No, silly.” Oh. That’s why he wouldn’t drop this thing. She’d forgotten to mention that Club Eden was just a ruse. A loud and smelly sham of a career. Of course, a hard-core sham. One that forced her to walk miles every night in painful shoes, and knotted up her shoulders from carrying the loaded drink trays. “I’m here undercover.” Trina dropped her voice to a stage whisper on the last word.

“What the hell do you mean? ’Cause from where I’m standing, you’re barely covered at all.” Sandwiching the lapel of his jacket between his thumb and fingers, Brad slid his hand up and down it, knuckles
almost
touching her breast.

Trina almost forgot to breathe. Then sucked in a lungful, hoping it would expand her chest enough to cause an accidental touch. Maybe all Brad needed was a little shove in the right direction. That direction, of course, being right onto her lips. “Um, that private eye Coop hooked me up with at the beginning of the summer? Joe Shulman? I’m working for him on a case right now. I’m officially a junior investigator trainee.”

His hand fell back to his side as he snorted. “That sounds like a certificate that you send away for with three cereal box tops.”

Okay. So she’d made up the title. Joe, in a weak moment, had agreed to let her use it. It might not sound as official as Detective Hudson’s title, but it made her
feel
official. That mattered. Especially after the first few months of filing and research and general gopher-type assignments Joe heaped upon her. She’d been okay with paying her dues, as long as it meant she was on track to become a full-fledged investigator. Using the title was a way to remind Joe, and herself, of the endgame.

Brad looked out across the dune at the blackness. Shook his head. Turned back to her. “I need to hear you say it. Tell me that you don’t really want to be a topless dancer.”

“Of course not. My boobs aren’t big enough, for starters.”

All that fierce protectiveness fell from his face. Replaced by a different kind of fierceness as he dropped his gaze and flat out ogled. “They look fine to me. Just big enough.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Lame. Not a flirty response at all. She needed to regroup. Get him off the topic of her pretend job. Put it to rest once and for all and move on to something more fun. And flirty, of course. “This waitressing is just a temporary gig while I dig up some dirt on a customer. I’ll be glad to dump it when I’m done. Gotta admit, I won’t miss it. I love new experiences. Kind of addicted to them, really. But I had my fill of this one after about half an hour.”

A full grin transformed his face. Even better, it revealed a dimple on the left side. “I’m relieved to hear you say that. Guess I can take my finger off of speed dial to call Darcy and Coop and get them down here for an intervention to save you.”

Near-crisis averted. Because Trina firmly believed in saving herself. Not that she needed it right now. But it was a good motto to live by. She’d been caught unprepared this summer when held up at gunpoint. And had vowed to never be that helpless again. “I do get to keep the paycheck and the tips, so that’s an added bonus.”

“Well, I hope they let you keep the uniform, too.”

Trina hated the uniform. The shoes hurt. The grass skirt chafed along her hips. And the stupid vines around her bra top just drove her nuts. But seeing the look in Brad’s eyes, hearing the deep thickness of his voice, made her want to keep it. Or at least, keep it on until he decided to rip it right off.

Oh yeah, she was just as attracted to Bradley Hudson now as when she’d seen first spied him, tan and wearing only trunks. They’d flirted like crazy that whole week on the beach. She’d fallen fast and hard for the hot blond hunk with his thick hair, ripped muscles and dreamy blue eyes. Sparks had flown both ways. And then...nothing. Not even a kiss. Then she left the beach and didn’t hear another word from him. Unless you counted how often he visited her in dreams. Yummy dreams.

The way he was looking at her right now left no room for interpretation. He was interested. But half a second away from launching herself at him, Trina stopped. Decided to think through her action plan first. Joe constantly reminded her to take the time to plan and then review the plan before enacting it. To be methodical rather than her go-to spontaneity. So she thought about it. Thought about how there’d been just as much interest at the beach, and yet he’d walked away. Wondered what had stopped him. Wondered if whatever it was might stop him again, now. Leave her feeling like an idiot.

Back then, she remembered, he’d just come off a broken engagement. Which she’d hoped meant he was up for some hot rebound nookie.
That
sure didn’t pan out. But, come on, he was a guy. No way was Brad still nursing a broken heart. Men healed and moved on much faster than women. So if he wasn’t still moping about his ex, why’d he been drinking at Club Eden? Alone? Looking none too happy about the situation, either.

Yeah, the safest course of action (something else Joe always counseled, to the point of boredom—a totally safe life struck Trina as a fun-free zone) would be to figure out why Brad was here. Before launching herself at him like a stud-seeking missile. After all, he’d given her the third degree about being in Atlantic City. It’d be, yes,
fun
to turn the tables on him.

She shot out a hip and shook a finger at him. “Forget my uniform. Why aren’t you back in Charm City wearing yours? Fighting crime and kicking bad-guy ass?”

“Detectives don’t wear uniforms. Unless you count the bullet-proof vests we put on when things might get hairy.”

“You think you can skate right past my subtlety? Nice try, but I don’t give up that easy. So I’ll come right out and ask: Why are you here? Now? Alone?”

“I’m not alone. I’m standing in the sand with a pretty girl. That’s about as far from alone as you can get with clothes on.”

The junior investigator trainee part of Trina goggled in awe at his effortless evasion of her question. He’d even topped it off with a nice compliment to really throw her off the trail. She could learn a lot from Brad. Maybe, once they were both back home, Joe would let her take a field trip to watch Brad in action on a case.

But the part of her that was pure woman could tell he was tap dancing around the truth for a reason. Trina had excelled at her five years of tap class. She’d partner him and not let go. “You didn’t start out the night this way. Sure, your luck’s turned around. But half an hour ago you were in a strip club. Alone. In a city known for wild and crazy partying. Spill it,” she ordered.

Brad sighed. Shuffled his feet like a toddler ‘fessing up to sneaking cookies. Jammed his hands in his pockets. The ocean crashed onto the shore, punctuating his silence. Finally he sighed again, and this time let it out long and slow. “I’m on my honeymoon.”

Holy crap balls. That was not at all what Trina had expected. The questions slammed into her brain as fast and scattered as shotgun pellets. How had she gotten the signals so wrong? How had he met and proposed to someone else so fast? Why on earth honeymoon in a classically seedy gambling town? Oh, and where the hell was his wife?

Yeah, that one pretty much overshadowed the rest.

Unless...appearances could be deceiving. Maybe Brad wasn’t as straitlaced as he appeared. Maybe he and the missus had come to Atlantic City for a very specific reason. Trina didn’t have a judgy bone in her body. Different people liked different things, and that made life very, very interesting. But she didn’t want to participate in some of those...ah...differences. No matter how flattered she was that Brad had found her worthy. Better to send him on his way and go back to her original treat for the evening, boardwalk fries. Also hot and steamy, but not nearly as satisfying.

“So...you were trolling the strip club for a threesome? To spice up the old honeymoon? What are you—swingers? Into ménage? Or more?” Trina slipped off his jacket and tried to hand it back. “Thanks, but I’ve got a hard and fast rule when it comes to sex. One at a time is enough for me. I don’t think I’d know what to do with all the extra appendages. It’d be like playing naked Twister. Spin the dial and put your left arm on the red—”

Brad gasped. Coughed. Almost laughed, and then sort of choked while he pushed the jacket back at her. “A threesome? With you?”

Well, that stung. The utter disbelief in his voice verged on rudeness. She didn’t want to participate, but it’d still be nice to be wanted. Trina let the jacket drop to the sand. Rising temper catapulted her voice at him loudly. “Don’t you dare pretend it hadn’t crossed your mind. I saw you eyeing me.”

“Because I think you’re pretty,” he yelled back. “Not because I want a threesome.”

“What, I’m cute, but not cute enough to take home to the wife?”

“I don’t have a wife,” he burst out. “Dana dumped me, remember? Six months ago. This week was supposed to be our damned honeymoon.”

“What?”

“I forgot to cancel my vacation request. The captain thought it’d be better for me to use the down time, since it was already scheduled. So I’m here. Alone.” He held up his left hand and wiggled his empty ring finger. “No wife. Definitely no threesome.”