Losing Control - By Robyn Grady Page 0,37

number of thigh-high stakes were erected and red tape wound around the wood. Protected areas for turtle nests.

Cole surveyed the surrounds - gently sloping dunes, soft sand, idyllic view. He laid out one of the blankets. "Looks like this is our base."

The blanket-covered dune made for one very comfortable backrest. Reclined side by side, he cast the other blanket over Taryn's bare legs. That woman was right. He found the breeze off the water refreshing, but Taryn might think it cool.

After several minutes of listening to water wash on the shore and foliage clattering behind them, he asked, "What do you think would be their favorite time to break out? Don't babies usually come around two in the morning?"

The breeze caught her soft laugh and carried it away. "Can you imagine them all asleep safe in their shells waiting for the right moment? And so many of them." She frowned. "Do you think mother turtles ever wonder how their babies make out?"

He grinned to assure her. "No, I don't."

Her gaze dropped and grew distant, then she said, "I wonder how Muffin and her big belly are holding up."

In the mix of moonlight and shadows, Taryn looked so thoughtful, he wanted to reach over and squeeze her hand for support, even if her concern was only over a cat.

"She'll be okay." Remembering her philosophy on strays wanting a home, he asked, "Have you got families picked out for the litter?"

"Are you interested?" She gave a playful smirk. "Oh, that's right. Real men don't own cats."

"I do like the fact they can look after themselves. Independent characters."

"There's no better feeling than knowing you can make your own way in life."

"So you don't dream of marrying a rich man who'll shower you with every luxury for the rest of your decadent life?"

"Guess you've met a few women who want to settle down with a wealthy tycoon slash tyrant."

He pretended to preen a tie. "Gee, you make me sound like such a catch."

She surrendered to a smile. "To answer your question, no. I've never wanted to marry for money."

"Me, either," he quipped.

"If you ever had the time to marry."

"Perhaps I'd make time if the right person came along."

When her eyes widened and suddenly neither of them had anything to say, Cole wished he'd thought before he'd come out with something that had sounded like a bad pickup line. He didn't use pickup lines - good, bad or anything in-between.

She jerked upright and looked ahead. "Was that some movement?"

He glanced around. "Not that I saw."

She reclined back, pulling the blanket extra high on her neck.

Cole exhaled. He really had made her uncomfortable. Best to let that thread drop and talk about something else. Something nonpersonal. But, truth was, he wanted to get personal. Whether it was the moon or the water or maybe even that delicious pink nectar, another twenty-four-plus hours alone with Taryn didn't seem long enough.

He picked up grains of sand and, in their silence, let them fall.

"I've made you anxious."

Still looking dead ahead, she shrugged. "Why would I be anxious?"

Oh, maybe because you're alone on a secluded beach with a man you want to kiss and who also wants to kiss you. Because earlier you'd gotten away with convincing yourself that you shouldn't - we shouldn't - when you know deep in your blood that we should.

"I'm not anxious," she went on. "I'm not...anything."

He mulled for a moment. Studied her profile.

"You're not."

She was winding her fingers deeper into the blanket, lifting the cover higher still around her neck. "Not in the least."

"And if I were to do this?"

He leaned toward her but stopped a heartbeat before his mouth met the sweep of her neck...when she'd be able to feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. "Are you anxious now?"

He heard her swallow. "That's not the word that springs to mind."

"Maybe we shouldn't worry about words." Giving in to the tide, he breathed in her intoxicating scent then brushed his lips over a pulse that beat erratically at the side of her throat. He felt her quiver, almost heard her questioning her own resolve. But she didn't bawl him out. Didn't move away.

Rather, still looking ahead, she lifted her chin and said, "I think we should go back."

"Anything you want." His lips brushed a line up to her lobe. Anything at all.

Her neck rocked slowly back. He imagined her eyes drifting shut...the hormones in her system heating and sparking just like his own.

Gently he turned her head until they were gazing