can tie me up. Stay.”
She let out a slow breath. “No. You’re right. I’m a menace.”
“I don’t care. I like it.”
Shaking her head, she pulled away. “You’re not a masochist.”
“Sure I am. Whip me, beat me, make me sorry. Just don’t leave me like this.”
His insinuation that she owed him something for getting him worked up did not go over well. “Hey. I never said I was going to sleep with you.”
He still wasn’t thinking with his brain. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I am. Bye.”
He held on to her arm, detaining her. Her eyes flashed a violent promise, a warning that he recklessly ignored.
It was a mistake.
In an instant, the arm holding hers was wrenched up between his shoulder blades and he was flat on the ground, face pressed into the stone patio. “Please,” he wheezed, short of breath and instantly contrite. “Feel free to leave, whenever you like.”
“You’re damned right I’ll leave.” She pressed her knee into his back, punishing him a little.
“Will you please let me up?” he asked, resisting the urge to struggle. He didn’t doubt she could hurt him some more if she wanted to. How she’d incapacitated him so easily, he couldn’t fathom. He had at least fifty pounds on her, all of it muscle.
When she relaxed her grip and moved away, he breathed a sigh of relief. Wincing at the blow to his ego, not to mention the pain in his shoulder, he pushed himself up off the ground, hoping he wouldn’t be too sore for surfing tomorrow.
“I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “Nathan was right. I have been dating myself way too long. There hasn’t been anyone since Olivia.” He studied her from beneath lowered lashes, anticipating her response.
For a moment, he was sure she was going to walk out on him. Then she cocked her head to one side and said, “If you treat yourself as badly as you have me, I don’t suppose you ever get lucky at the end of the evening.”
Burying his hands in his jeans pockets, he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “Actually, I’m a pretty cheap date.”
Her lips twitched. “I’ll just bet you are.”
He liked her, he realized. Not just her face and her body and her sadistic sexual quirks, but her sense of humor, her personality, and her kindness. “Where did you learn those moves?”
“Self-defense classes.”
“Oh, yeah? Will you teach me?”
“No.”
He supposed he deserved that. “Will you teach Carly?”
She considered. “Maybe.”
“Want to come over tomorrow?”
“Definitely not.”
He thought fast. “Carly and I go to Tijuana every Christmas Eve for midnight mass. Come with us. I promise not to make any insulting overtures.” He smiled ruefully. “At least, not in front of her grandparents.”
She regarded him with suspicion. “If all you want from me is sex, why are you inviting me to family gatherings?”
He didn’t have a good answer for that question. Neither did he want her to read too much into his invitations. “At this time of year, it’s all I have to offer,” he said finally. His game was way off, he knew. He used to be able to tell women what they wanted to hear.
She smiled at his honesty. “I’ll think about it.”
“The sex?”
“The midnight mass.”
CHAPTER 8
“Rise and shine, sailor.” The smell of whisky pervaded the room.
James opened his eyes with great reluctance. He’d been dreaming of Carly, of taking her on a trip around the bay, just the two of them. When he dropped anchor, finding a romantic cove where they could while away the day, he’d seen something swimming in the water, a dark shape, shimmering just below the surface…
“What?” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “It’s Christmas Eve. We aren’t working today.”
“Yes we are. Piss away that hard-on and make me breakfast.”
Groaning, James threw back the pile of wool blankets and stumbled into the bathroom. The cold, more than anything else, brought his constantly raging hormones under control. Arlen Matthews didn’t believe in wasting money on central heating.
James pulled on his clothes and headed toward the kitchen. With only the basic food items available, the morning meal was never a grand affair. James made do with cold cereal, as usual, after mixing a disgusting concoction of raw eggs, hot sauce, orange juice, and milk for Arlen. He was supposed to add a little hair of the dog, but judging by his dad’s breath, he didn’t need any more alcohol.
James sighed. He’d be captain
He drove, navigating Arlen’s old blue pickup truck through light traffic to Stephen’s place downtown. His brother must not have been expecting to work either, because he wasn’t waiting on the front steps of the run-down duplex as usual.
“Goddamn druggie,” Arlen mumbled, taking a swig from a flask.
James turned off the engine. “I’ll go in.”
Arlen shrugged and settled into the passenger seat, pulling his trucker cap down over his bloodshot eyes.
The door wasn’t locked, and James didn’t bother knocking. It was an informal kind of place. Inside, two guys he knew by face, if not name, were playing video games in the predawn light. Drug paraphernalia littered the coffee table. They barely glanced at him as he passed by.
At the open bedroom door, he paused, knowing from experience to keep his eyes averted. His brother’s girlfriend was an exhibitionist. “Stephen?”
“James,” Rhoda murmured. “Come in, honey.”
A little voice in his head told him not to look. He should have listened to it. Rhoda was on the bed, her nude limbs entwined with someone else’s. James blinked, thinking he was seeing an optical illusion, for he counted more breasts than should have been present. Then he realized that Rhoda was with another woman.
“Want to join us?” she asked, sliding her hand over the curve of her partner’s belly.
The other woman was passed out cold.
James pulled the door shut and continued down the hall, shuddering with revulsion. He couldn’t believe his brother crawled into bed with that. Rhoda was a dizzy blonde, overdyed, overused, and worn out. Drugs had sucked up all of her feminine curves, but it was her personality, more than anything else, that made her unattractive.
Stephen was in the back room, shirtless, barefoot, doing a line. It was probably 60 degrees in the room. The Matthews men weren’t big on cranking up thermostats.
When he noticed James standing there, he jumped to his feet, wiping powder from his nose. “Motherfucker! I thought you were the cops.”
James rubbed a hand over his face. If Stephen was worried about getting busted, why did he leave the doors open, have strangers coming and going at all hours, and keep glass pipes out everywhere? “Dad wants to work.”
Stephen didn’t consider saying no. “Shit. Let me get ready.”
An hour later, on the water, the early-morning sun broke over the horizon. It was going to be one of those spectacular winter days, crisp and clear, with miles of visibility and hardly any churned-up surf marring the smooth blue blanket of ocean. A good day for fishing, although James would rather be anywhere else.
When they pulled in the net, it was heavy with catch. James normally didn’t care for his brother’s company
