Sand Angel Page 0,3

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He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. That wasn’t his Zoë.

“Next thing we know—she’s gone.” Emotion softened Josh’s brown eyes. “Man—” he shook his head, “—she didn’t let any grass grow under her feet.” His regret disappeared as a half grin slid across his face. “Hooked up with a guy…er, company that sells bikes, quads, toys of all sorts.”

Josh was a party boy. Toys were his specialty, as were women. Pride and perhaps envy brightened his eyes as he spoke about Zoë.

“She’s been all over the U.S. racing and performing freestyle demonstrations. Doing pretty good too. Ought to see her rig.” Josh glanced over his shoulder in the direction his sister fled. There was no sight of her—only mountains and mountains of light-brown sand. “Well…that is if she hasn’t already left.”

Drew moved toward his quad. “Any idea where she went?” No way was he going to allow her to leave without at least talking to him.

Josh swung a leg over his quad and reached for the key. “If she got the message I left on her cell phone she should be parked right next to us.”

Drew slipped his helmet off the handlebars and over his head, before he tugged his goggles across his eyes and straddled the bike. Foot on clutch, he down-shifted several times to first gear, started the engine and then released the clutch slowly as his thumb pressed the gas.

With a jolt, the quad lurched forward. He revved the engine and sped away. But to where? He scanned the barren terrain. Every hill looked the same. Drew recalled Josh telling him that more than a few people got lost in the Dunes, a stretch of sand three to five miles wide and about sixteen miles long.

As Josh rode beside him, his friend pointed to the GPS on the quad.

Duh. He knew that. The ground positioning system was a necessity in an environment like this. He checked the settings, made a sharp turn and headed after Zoë.

When he arrived at camp, which was a collection of tents and travel trailers, he drew to an abrupt stop. His heart collided against his chest as Zoë slipped her shirt over her head, revealing the black exercise bra beneath. Once-ivory skin was now tanned, rippling over tight muscles. There wasn’t an inch of fat on her, which every man around noticed as a series of catcalls sounded. She ignored them as she draped the shirt across her bike seat. Determination in her steps, she headed toward her trailer.

Standing at the back of her toy hauler, she pushed in the first lever and raised it before crossing over to the other side to unfasten the final lever. Then she eased the ramp to the ground, flipping the final lip of the ramp down. It was clear she intended to load her bike.

Josh was right about her leaving and her rig.

The toy hauler had to be thirty-nine feet long. Add to that the fact it had two slides that enlarged her bedroom and living space when extended out, as they were now, and Zoë had a house on wheels. Her four-wheel drive, one-ton pickup was nothing to frown at either. Damn, the woman had to be doing well. Her ride was magnificent.

Hell. Zoë was magnificent.

A combination of curves and dips set his body to meltdown. His cock twitched, swelling at the thought of feeling her warm flesh wrapped around his again. Wild images of what he’d do to her surfaced, as always. He wanted to dominate her. Make her plea for him to pleasure her. Instead, three years ago her soft, hungry kisses had stolen his control.

But not this time.

Drew couldn’t help reaching down and cupping his hard length.

After he divested her of the bra and savored the taste and feel of her firm breasts, he would work on getting her out of those damn boots and pants. A shiver raked his spine as he thought of tasting the honey between her thighs, a thought that had kept him with an almost constant hard-on in Iraq.

Damn if his cock didn’t swell even more. If this kept up he wouldn’t be able to walk.

He watched her move with confidence, at ease in the new world she had carved out for herself—a world without him. How ironic. At nineteen she had wanted him, now she wanted nothing to do with him. The distance he put between them three years ago he felt would do them good—test their love. His fingers tightened on the bike’s handle

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