Roxanne Claire - Barefoot by the Sea

Ian stared at the horizon, then closed his eyes, the horizontal slice of the sea against the sky burning his lids like a negative picture.

“We’re close, Ian, close to shutting down that gang. But we haven’t succeeded completely. Listen to me.” He lowered his voice as if he wanted Ian to press the phone closer to his ear and not miss a single word. “One of the two remaining members is Luther Vane’s younger brother, Darius.”

Luther Vane. Who had admitted he’d stabbed Kate ten times.

“So if you want to whisper one word of your history and identity, you remember that. It’s not about money for Darius Vane. It’s about taking out the guy who put his brother in jail, and, frankly, that’s a more dangerous motivator. You understand that, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond, the pressure of that reality too hard.

“Then let me remind you. Once N1L is shut down, you have a chance at getting your kids. A chance. Once you get them, you are still in a government protection program, and so are they, only you’ll take on another identity and live in another country as their father. There’s no getting around that. If Darius gets wind that you are alive and well and have your kids, he might stop at nothing for revenge.”

The truth actually hurt when it was spelled out like that. There was no room in his life for a woman. Even when he had the kids—he wouldn’t let himself think “if”—he couldn’t subject Tessa to a life under protection. A woman who recoiled at deceit? A woman whose whole personality was formed by her mother lying to her?

No, he couldn’t do that to her.

“Are you there?” Henry barked.

He was there…but dead inside. “Yeah.”

“Okay, then you heard me. For God’s sake, don’t let your cock or, hell, your feelings get in the way of that reality.”

He dragged out the word feelings like they were nothing but repulsive.

Ian blew out a breath. “I won’t.” The promise sounded vacant and weak, kind of like he felt right then.

“And I’ll keep you…” The rest of Henry’s sentence was drowned out by a loud truck engine coming up from town, on the other side of the road. Ian automatically turned away, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone, all his protective instincts on alert with the news that rang in his ears.

Luther Vane’s brother was out there—somewhere.

A door slammed and he had to turn, coming face-to-face with a bull of a man crossing the street. “Hey, dickhead!” the man called out.

“What the hell was that?” Henry asked.

Grace Hartgrave’s husband. Son of a bitch! “Nothing. I gotta go.”

“Remember those two things, mate. Oh—and for Christ’s sake, stay out of trouble.”

Ian tapped the phone and stood with his feet splayed as Hartgrave ambled over, silent, menacing, and really pissed off. Well, Grace’s parting shot had been “Fuck you.” And Ian had a feeling he was about to get fucked.

Hartgrave stopped about two feet from Ian, who didn’t say a word. They were about the same height, but the other man had marshmallow where Ian had muscle. He could kill Grace Hartgrave’s husband, but the last thing he ever wanted to do was land on the radar of local law enforcement.

“I talked to my wife.”

He should do more than talk to her; maybe then she wouldn’t throw herself at strangers. Ian just nodded.

“She said you made a pass at her.”

“She’s lying,” he said simply.

“Gracie don’t lie.” Beads of sweat formed on his oversized forehead, his face the flushed red of a heavy drinker.

Ian pressed his lips together, meeting his opponent’s narrow gaze. “She did this time.”

“You see her last night?”

“I saw her, but I didn’t see her.”

Hartgrave’s fist balled as he raised it. “See this, motherfucker?”

Ian didn’t look at the fist, instead hearing Henry’s parting shot. Stay out of trouble. “She was in the restaurant.”

“And you stalked her in the parking lot.”

“That’s not my version of the events.”

He took another step closer, his gaze flickering to the bike behind Ian, then back to Ian’s face. “You touch my wife, you’ll never see that motorcycle again.”

Ian nodded.

“It’ll be in the bottom of that bay.”

Another nod.

“With your dead body on it.”

Ire shot through his veins, the image of Luther Vane flashing in his brain at the threat. He wasn’t the least bit scared of this blowhard in front of him, but what if the N1L got to Hartgrave somehow? As preposterous as that seemed thousands of miles and an ocean away, what if Ian told Tessa the truth and she whispered it to a friend and that led to a stray comment? Really, how many degrees of separation was this man from Darius or Luther Vane?

Right then, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that no matter what he felt, how much guilt pained him, how hurt she’d be, he couldn’t tell Tessa the truth.

In fact, he had to do the opposite.

“Did she mention to you that I got engaged to Tessa Galloway?”

The other man frowned. “What? You just got here.”

Ian shrugged. “Love at first sight, my friend. She’s wedding-dress shopping right now. We’re hoping you and Grace make the beachfront wedding.”

He scowled, slowly lowering his fist. “That don’t mean you won’t try and get what you can from my wife before you got your own problems.”

Not bothering to argue, Ian shook his head. “I like what I have, pal.”

Hartgrave snorted. “You like what I have.” But the conviction was gone from his voice, and maybe a little bit of the threat. “Remember what I said.”

He took a few steps back and turned around to go to his truck, throwing one last glare over his shoulder at Ian, who stayed right where he was until Hartgrave’s truck had disappeared, taking any hope of telling Tessa the truth with it.

Tessa’s soft gasp as she looked in the mirror was drowned out by Zoe’s squeal and Lacey’s “Aww” and Jocelyn’s slow clap of approval. Ashley watched from the floor of the dressing area, smiling up when she wasn’t texting.

“That’s so totally it,” Zoe announced, fluttering around the dressing stage like a robin over her nest. “That neckline, that bodice, that little row of pearls. Love!”

Tessa took a minute to look down and smooth the cool silk over her hips. The handkerchief hemline rose and fell flirtatiously around her ankles and calves, making it perfect for a beach wedding. The fabric had a shell-pink cast to it, so it didn’t scream virginal first-time bride. And the tiny rosebuds along the portrait neckline made her hurt with how perfect they were.

Perfect for Tessa, not Zoe.

“You’d never wear this,” she said. “I should have tried on that one with the gold belt and plunging neckline.”

Zoe’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I loved that dress, but this one is…it’s you.”

“Precisely,” Tessa said, glancing at the others for an assist that was clearly not coming. “I thought this was going to be your wedding dress.”

“Well, just in case, you should buy it.”

Three—no, four—heads nodded in agreement with Zoe.

“You guys! I’m not spending…” She reached down to look at the tag, but of course there wasn’t one. She wasn’t in a department store; they’d come to an exclusive Naples boutique that reeked of money. “Whatever it costs.”

“It’s so pretty, Aunt Tess. You could wear it for any fancy thing.”

“But you all want me to buy it for a farce of a wedding?”

“What makes you think it’s a farce?”

“Lacey!” Tessa choked on her name.

“Seriously, Tess,” she continued, getting up from her comfy viewing chaise to approach the stage. “The way he looks at you, the way he talks to you. I mean, did you see the look on his face when you said you’d be trying on dresses? Maybe you can wear it twice—once for the bridal consultants and, again…later.”

Why were they all helping to build up her hope?

The next “You guys are nuts” welled up, but somehow the words didn’t come out. They weren’t completely nuts. He had given her the dreamiest smile. And last night, under the stars, they’d kissed for hours and talked more—not about him, but about all kinds of things.

There was no way that guy didn’t like her a lot. And vice versa.

She turned back to the mirror, the rush of seeing herself in the dress washing away common sense and reality and questions.

“Buy the dress, baby,” Zoe said. “No alterations and it fits like a dream. And you have to have something to wear for the big event.”

“Can’t I just wear a pretty dress I already own?”

“I’m afraid the consultants won’t buy it,” Lacey said.

“Ash?” Tessa asked, but she was texting. Finally, Ashley tore her gaze from the screen to look up and, from the glint in her eyes, Tessa knew exactly whose name was on that phone.

“What?” Ashley asked from her residence in la-la land.

“I was hoping for the voice of reason.”

“I think if he makes you feel good and you really love him, then go for it.”

Tessa narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going to pretend I love him,” Tessa said. “But…” She grazed the smooth fabric again. “If I have to pretend to get married…”

They all waited, hanging for the verdict, but she blew out a breath and looked around, as if he might show up at any minute.

“I’m really falling for him,” she whispered, so softly Zoe had to step closer to hear her. “I mean, like, whoa and damn, girls, I am really falling for him.”

Jocelyn joined Zoe, closing in. “And that’s a problem, why?”

“Because I still sometimes think—no, I actually know—he’s not telling me everything about himself. He even admitted there was more than he was telling, but refused to disclose.”

“Give him time,” Jocelyn said. “Some men take eons to open up.”

“Still,” she said. “It scares me.”

“Relationships are scary,” Lacey said. “You think he’s not telling you everything. And I thought Clay was too young and Joss thought Will was too close to her father and Zoe thought Oliver would tie her down.”

“He does, occasionally.”

On the floor, Ashley giggled. “Aunt Tessa, I think they’re trying to tell you that every new guy has problems but, if it’s true and lasting and honest, you’ll overcome them.”

Lacey beamed at her. “Right you are, baby girl.”

Ashley smiled back, then gave a knowing and hopeful look to Tessa. “Are you listening?”

“Yes,” Tessa assured them. “But this is different. It seems like every time we get close, he shuts down.”

“He’s a guy,” Jocelyn said. “They don’t see the need to spill their guts. It doesn’t mean he’s not getting ready to. He obviously really cares about you.”

Tessa nodded, then looked in the mirror again as Zoe climbed up on the bride’s stage and slipped an arm around her. “He’s got a lot of promise, is all we’re saying.”

She curled her arm around Zoe and, as she pulled her in for a hug, got a nudge from the baby belly. “There is the little matter of how much I want a child.”

“Is he opposed completely to the idea?” Zoe asked. “My God, surely he’d offer up some of his liquid gold when he sees you in that dress, if not before.” She shot a look at Ashley. “I guess you’re old enough to get those jokes now.”

“I know what liquid gold is, Aunt Zoe,” Ashley said quietly and held up a hand to Lacey. “Don’t, Mom.”

Lacey shot her a surprised look, but then turned to Tessa. “Honey, I don’t care what he says. I saw that man hold Elijah and he wants a baby. It was all over his face. He’s probably terrified to admit it, but he couldn’t hide how taken he was with that child. Give him time, Tess.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe they all were. “I’m cautious,” Tessa said. “And I don’t trust easily. I don’t really know if he’s marriage material or daddy material or donor material or a good time in the garden.”

“In the garden?” Zoe spat. “You did it in the garden?”

Ashley’s head shot up, her text forgotten.

“We did not do it,” Tessa said. “We talked, really. And kissed.”

“That tells you so much about him,” Lacey said.

“That he’s made of titanium?” Zoe asked.

“That it’s real for him,” Lacey insisted. “He respects you.”

Tessa fought the urge to underscore the point with Ashley, who was facedown in a text, anyway.

The boutique attendant knocked on the dressing-room door and peeked in. “Do we have a winner?”