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“Too bad,” Jack murmured, slipping his arms into his suit jacket. “I like her.”
“Yeah,” Tucker replied. “She’s easy to like.” He paused, eyes still on Abby. “Where’s Monique?”
“Headache. She gets bad migraines.”
Not surprised. The woman was strung as tight a bow and anal about everything. Being around her was exhausting, and he didn’t know how Jack put up with her.
“She headed up to the room about twenty minutes ago.”
Tucker watched Abby lean closer to Rick, laughter bubbling on her lips. His cousin said something—eliciting another round of giggles—and then headed for the bar, while Abby rolled her shoulders and glanced toward Tucker. She was flushed, sexy as hell, and probably well on her way to being more than a little drunk. Tucker knew that wine wasn’t her drink of choice—she was more of a Bud Light kind of girl. But in this crowd, she’d stuck to champagne and wine and she’d had more than her share of the Pinot Grigio before and after dinner.
Abby held Tucker’s gaze for a few seconds, a soft smile on her lips, and it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. Just like that, the air was sucked from his lungs and Tucker sat straighter, nerves jumping like a junkie looking for a fix. A sudden gust of wind tugged on her hair blowing it across her face and she turned on her heel, disappearing into the night.
Tucker was on his feet and mumbling a goodnight to his brother in exactly three seconds flat. He strode past the bar, past those gathered for last call, past his cousin Rick and a few others, never taking his eyes off the doorway that Abby had disappeared through.
Once outside, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gloom, though there was a sliver of moonlight bathing the tables and chairs in an eerie mist. Florida in October wasn’t exactly an oven, but it was cooler than normal and his breath made puffs as he exhaled.
Where the hell was she?
He glanced around, a frown on his face. The smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves soothed him as he caught sight of Abby near two large palm trees, down on the beach.
Her silhouette looked ghostly—the breeze still carried her hair, and she made no effort to tame the long strands so they drifted around her head in a slow, sensual dance. He made his way across the patio, his leather Armani’s sinking into the sand as he headed toward her. Tucker stopped a few feet from Abby and shoved his hands into his front pockets.
“It’s so nice out here,” she said without looking back at him. “Peaceful.”
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
Tucker took another step and he was beside Abby. He stared out into the darkness, watching the white frothy waves as they crested and came toward them, falling apart when they met the beach.
“But sad somehow you know?” she continued softly. “As if there’re secrets out there that we’ll never know.”
An ache formed in Tucker’s gut as he continued to look out over the water.
Or maybe secrets he wasn’t ever meant to know.
“Your family is lovely.”
Abby turned to him and that fresh scent of hers drifted in the air. It infiltrated his body and chased away his bad thoughts.
God, she smelled nice.
“I don’t know if lovely is the word I’d use to describe them, but they’re mine and I can’t complain.” He paused. “They really like you.”
“Even Cooper?” she said with a sly smile.
Tucker laughed. “Especially, Cooper.” He leaned down, so that his mouth was next to her ear. “And Rick and Beau and hell, you managed to make an impression on Jack, and he’s been so damn preoccupied lately that that’s gotta win you some kind of prize.”
“Prize?” Her voice was husky now. “Do I get to pick my prize?”
For a moment there was nothing but the sound of waves buffeting the beach and the whistle of wind in the palm leaves overhead. Things faded away, the rolling waves gentled and the wind softened. It was as if the those few seconds hung in the air—frozen in time—leaving him only with water and sand and Abby.
And a deep, dangerous undercurrent of sexual awareness that he couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard he tried.
“In that dress, you can pretty much ask for anything.”
She moved slightly so that she was facing him, her eyes downcast, her chest rose and fell rapidly—as if she was having trouble breathing. And dammit if Tucker didn’t have the same problem. The air was too heavy, it was filled with dark and lustful things.
