Seduction on the Sand (The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay #2)(23)

She tilted her head to rest against his hand. “Now you’re just trying to play me.”

He threaded some hair through his fingers and added a little pressure so she would turn to face him.

“I swear I’m not doing anything but sitting in the sunshine with a gorgeous woman, enjoying food and conversation, and thinking about how much I want to kiss her.”

With a sigh, she scooted around to face him with her whole body, crossing her legs under her flouncy skirt and forcing him to make eye contact. “I never know when you’re being real.”

“I’m always...” But was he? “I’m being totally real about wanting to kiss you.”

She shook her head, helping herself to a chocolate-covered strawberry, nibbling while she scrutinized him. “I think I know what bothers me most about you, Becker.” She pointed the bitten end at him.

He had to laugh. “Now there’s a loaded statement. Sounds like the whole ‘bother’ list is pretty damn long.”

“Endless,” she agreed with a wry smile. “But this is the big one: Sometimes you’re Texan, sometimes you’re not. Sometimes you’re cocky, sometimes you’re sweet. Sometimes you play a little slow on the uptake, sometimes your smarts are daunting. Sometimes you say you’re on my side, sometimes you’re clearly on the other team.”

For a long time, he said nothing, debating all of the different possible responses to that, and not liking any of them.

“And sometimes...” A slow smile curved her lips and her eyes sparkled as she flipped the strawberry stem on a paper plate. “I really like you and, yeah, sometimes I want to kiss you, too.”

“I don’t want to hear about the other times,” he said softly, meeting her almost halfway. “Let me know which Becker you like, and that’s the one I’ll be.”

She popped back. “See? That’s what I don’t like. The ability to change and shift and transform to suit the moment. You do that, you know.”



Why lie? “I know. I like things to be expedient. So I’ve learned to, I don’t know...” He dug around for the least offensive way to describe himself. “I’ve learned to blend in with whoever I’m around,”

he finally said.

She curled her lip like her last bite had been bad. “Don’t you want to fix that trait?”

“I’m not quite thirty yet,” he said. “I will, in time.”

“Then call me when you do, Becker.” She reached out and trailed a featherlight touch on his cheek.

“If it’s the guy I like, I might be up for some of that kissing you mentioned. If it’s the phony guy who says what he thinks he needs to say to get what he wants, I’m out.”

He snagged her wrist before she could pull her hand away, wrapping his fingers around the narrow bones. “I want to be the Becker you like,” he said gruffly.

“Just be the only Becker there is. I mean, how can you be anyone else?”

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, then let their fingers entwine as he managed to get a little closer. “I moved a lot as a kid.”

She regarded him, silent, waiting for whatever that had to do with his ever-changing personality. A lot, he knew.

“I developed an incredible ability to fit in, no matter where I was. Vermont, Texas, Carolinas, big city, small town, on the base or off, every year or so I was in a completely new environment, and I knew survival depended on fitting in.”

“Lousy excuse for being a phony,” she shot back, the utter lack of sympathy causing a ping inside but not really surprising him.

“I’m not phony,” he insisted. “I prefer to think of myself as a chameleon.”

She rolled her eyes. “Semantics. Fake is fake.”

“I’m not fake. I don’t see what’s wrong with bending with the wind a little if it makes other people happy and moves things along smoothly. When I’m hanging with my softball team, I’m one of the masters of the universe with nine zeroes. When I’m doing a deal, I’m a commercial real estate mogul.

When I’m home with my folks, I’m their ordinary son.”

“Who are you right now?”

He smiled and opened his mouth, but she put her fingers over his lips. “The honest truth, Becker.

No jokes, no saying what you think I want to hear. Right now, who are you?”

“A guy who really, really wants to kiss you.” He leaned closer. “Honest, unwashed truth.”

She shook her head. “And you’re also that real estate mogul who wants to buy my property.”

He gave a shrug, not denying that. “He wants to kiss you, too.” He closed the rest of the space between them. “A lot.”

He expected her to dodge him, but she stayed perfectly still, letting him place his lips on hers for a slow, tender kiss. A strawberry and chocolate kiss, as warm as the tropical sun and light as the bay breeze that lifted her hair and ruffled her skirt.

With a barely audible moan, she tilted her head and let him intensify the contact, their clasped hands separating so they could add light touches. He caressed her bare shoulder, and she tunneled her fingers into his hair.

“I like this Elliott,” she whispered into the kiss. “But I don’t know when you’ll change.”