was still warm and a loaf of bread lay on the counter, the house was silent.
Her bare feet quiet on the hardwood floors, she drifted across the living room, drawn by the view of blue sky, gold-dappled ocean and the small waves flouncing against the sand like sassy little girls with white-edged petticoats. Then she saw Vance. Pleasured relief filled her as she took in his relaxed figure. In jeans and a T-shirt, he sat on the deck by the stairs that led to the beach. His back was propped against one newel and an empty mug rested beside his hip. As she watched, he broke off pieces of toasted bread and tossed them into the air.
Greedy seagulls had figured out his game and wheeled for them, somehow just managing to avoid midair collisions. Pigeons gathered, too, hoping for a missed crumb or two. Their tubby, sooty-feathered bodies waddled around the sand at the bottom of the steps, looking as out of place in the beach setting as the tourists who showed up wearing their dress socks with sandals.
She pushed open the sliding glass door, and the outside air washed over her, warm and salty and welcoming. Vance had yet to notice her arrival and she indulged in another moment of observation. He tossed another piece of toast into the air, his face lifted, and she saw the small smile on his face. It made her own lips curve.
He looked at ease, she thought, a rare state for him. Even when he was still, there was an alertness about him, as if he was waiting. Something like a runner braced for the starting gun at a race, she decided. Or, considering where he’d been and what he did, waiting for the sound of a real gun.
Her hand went to her belly as it suddenly jittered. Vance, at war. Her fingers curled and she moved the fist to the space between her breasts, cursing her hard-thumping heart. After the many times she’d waved goodbye to her father, she thought she’d learned how to manage these sudden bouts of anxiety.
Vance, at war.
Did she make a sound? Because his head swiftly turned and his gaze landed on her. He raised his half-casted arm and waved two fingers. “Hey.” Layla held her breath, then released it as he followed that up with an easy smile. Happy to see you, it said.
Hot goose bumps skittered across her skin as she stepped farther onto the deck. “Good morning.”
He glanced toward the surf, then back at her. “Looks that way. Sleep well?”
“Mmm.” Without being able to help herself, she continued toward him, drawn by this new mood of his. Maybe they’d have more scary-wondrous sex, maybe not. For now it was enough to see that look of contentment on his face.
His fingers caught hers, pulling her nearer. He shifted around to face the beach, leaving a spot for her on the step. As she sat down, he purloined her mug and brought it to his own mouth, his blue eyes warm over the rim.
More hot chills burst over her skin and her nipples budded, remembering the heat of his mouth. Okay, for sure she wanted more scary-wondrous sexy times with him. And also moments like this, when they shared a morning and a cup of coffee.
Maybe she was beginning to believe in the Beach House No. 9 magic, after all.
“V.T.,” a voice said, and a figure came around the corner of the deck, approaching from the beach.
Vance stiffened, and his fingers untangled from hers. “Fitz,” he said, and the name sounded more like a snarl. “One dance with Layla and you can’t keep away? Are you trying to steal another of my girls?”
The other man flicked a glance at her. She gave him a small nod. He hadn’t said much during their dance the night before—a dance he’d clearly orchestrated to give Vance and Blythe a chance to clear the air, not that it had seemed to do much good—but she had more sympathy for him than maybe she ought. He had hurt his brother.
Fitz returned his attention to Vance. “We have unfinished business, V.T. Me and you.”
Layla made to rise. “I’ll go.”
“Stay,” the two men said together.
Great, she thought, but settled back on the step.
Fitz wore a pair of khakis and a white polo shirt. He hesitated a moment, then dug into his pocket for something he then tossed to his brother.
Vance’s reflexes were good, but his cast got in the way of the catch. The