3
The woman fell with as little grace as Tripp imagined a woman could. Her momentum kept her off balance until she tumbled from his arms and onto her butt in the sand.
Tripp stared down at her, one eyebrow raised.
For a moment, neither moved.
He shook himself from their awkward freeze-frame and extended a hand in her direction. The other he held up in an I-come-in-peace sign. Her palm pressed against his—soft, despite the grit from the sand.
“Sorry about that. I should have been paying more attention.” She slid away, wiping her hands on a pair of ratty sweat shorts that gave way to long, slender legs.
An urge to pull her into him and tug on the cascade of curls licked at him like a flame. He stuffed his hands in his pockets while she swatted at tiny flecks of sand.
“Where’re you headed?” He should have kept to his plan, returned home and never looked back, but Tripp Fox never gave up an opportunity.
“The diner.” She smiled at him. “I sort of skipped dinner.”
The tone of her comment, light and airy, endeared her to him more than it should have.
“Care for some company?”
“You think that’s wise?” The smirk reached her eyes as if she held some cosmic secret of which he should be wary.
He knew she meant his fiancée, but two could play the game. “It would be the safe thing to do. I don’t know why or how you were out here in the wee hours of the morning, but where I come from, single women shouldn’t be out alone … at night.”
She cocked a hip, crossing her arms. “Who said I was single?”
Tripp laughed. “Touché. Let me rephrase. Women … alone at night … better be immortal if they want to stay perfectly safe.”
“Who says I’m not one of the undead?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and intrigue. “Or I’m not packin’ some heat?”
He leaned to the left, switched to the right as if to check for signs she held some supernatural power or a firearm.
Her eyebrow rose.
“Do you want company, or not?” His tone turned terse, but he softened it with a smile.
Her gaze stayed locked on his, dark brown eyes giving away no emotion. If she held her own in the middle of the night dressed in evening wear, he figured she could make it to the diner alone, too. He just didn’t want to walk away.
“Don’t you have somewhere you should be? A fiancée to tend to?”
“Did I say fiancée?” He fidgeted with the pendant tucked inside his pocket.
“You did.”
Tripp looked down at his toes.
Damn Jill and her trumped-up plans.
“I think what I said was … she
says
I’m her fiancée.”
Lexi remained silent as if waiting for him to go on.
“She asked me, and I didn’t say yes, if that matters.”
Why the hell am I telling her this?
That eyebrow arched again as she blew away a stray hair—one of the same he’d twisted around his finger less than twenty-four hours before.
“Okay … yes, she thinks we’re getting married, but I haven’t made my decision yet. So, it can’t mean we’re actually engaged, right?” He extracted his hand from his pocket and held it out.
Dammit, there I go again.
He shook his head. “Company, or not? Last chance.”
The woman stepped past him without a word. He spun on his heel, taking in his fill. Her natural dark coloring, the sway of her hips and the swing of her ponytail sent his blood straight south, tightening the space between his pelvis and jeans.
After only five steps down the beach, with her arms still crossed over her chest, she called out, “You can come if you want,” but continued to walk.
Tripp tapped his middle finger against his forehead.
This is stupid. She’s playing your game.
He took a step, prepared to call out to her, only to realize she never told him her name. “Hey.”
She turned, but kept walking backwards. The space between them stretched to twenty paces.
“What’s your name?”
Her smile lit her face. “Does it matter if you’re never going to see me again and I’m nothing more than a one-dinner stand?”
Tripp considered for the duration of one additional step. “It’s not like I’ll ever get caught,” he mumbled to himself. “Yeah, I’d like to know who I’m talking to.” He jogged to catch up with her. “So? Miss Early Morning, care to enlighten me?”
She bobbled her head as they walked in sync along a deserted path illuminated by random deck lights. “Karen. Karen Jones.”
He cocked his head. As the perfect liar—when he needed to be—he knew a bad one when it hit him.
Under the rising moon’s glow, Tripp walked at Karen’s side toward the diner. Even the idea of Karen as her name didn’t suit her, but he didn’t feel the need to pry and kept silent.
“So, Tripp …”
“Fox. Tripp Fox.”
“So, Mr. Fox, nice tat.”
Tripp ran a hand over the blue star he knew poked out of his shirt. “Ah … it’s sort of a birthmark.”
Her body tensed. She breathed deep and exhaled a sigh he would have heard if across the ocean.
M
ystery girl gets more mysterious.
“How about you? Got any hidden gems?”
“Not that I’ll admit.” She winked, adding a smile. “I was thinking. You haven’t proven to me you’re not engaged.” Challenge lit her eyes.
“I didn’t buy her a ring.”
Dark curls bounced as she shook her head. “Not good enough. Some people wait until closer to the wedding date. Did you have an engagement party?”
“No.” Tripp kept his gaze on hers. Jill’s parents threw an elaborate party, but even she’d refused to call it by its rightful name, vowing to call their relationship a ‘commitment’ until Tripp took the last step and bought her the ring. Jill had purchased a ring herself, along with a band for him.
Encouragement
, she’d said. He wouldn’t be caught dead with it on … ever.
“You had to think about that one.”
Tripp withheld a laugh. “Just wanted to be able to answer truthfully.”
“Does she like the hoop?”
He touched the small gold ring in his ear, one Jill begged him to remove. She said her father wouldn’t wear one, so why should Tripp? “Do you?”
“I do.”
He stopped walking as her eyebrows winged skyward.
“So tell me about this non-fiancée.”
The wind kicked up around them. “Her name is Jill. She’s a daddy’s girl with a big trust fund. We met about a year ago. End of story.”
The stare he received told him nothing.
“She really did ask me to marry her. And I really never said ‘yes’.” He held up a hand as if to say scout’s honor, though he hadn’t ever participated in the Boy Scouts, except to taunt a few of the members.
And once again you’re explaining yourself to a woman who still hasn’t told you her real name.
The woman’s laugh carried with the ocean’s roar. “You sound afraid of her.”
Tripp raised an eyebrow. “I’m not, but she can be intimidating. It’s just easier to let her have her way—though, on this one point, I haven’t conceded.”
“I believe you.”
“You do?” Surprise had him stopping again.
Lexi nodded. “So what do you do, Mr. Fox?”
She closed in on the pier. He had to catch up again. “I work for myself.”
She tilted her head away from him. “Doing … what exactly?”
“I’m kind of like the repo man. You know, the banks hire them to return stuff that’s not been paid for. In my case, though, I handle it in a more private and discreet manner—”
“Like a detective or PI?”
Tripp grimaced. While he sometimes worked for or with the police, he hated the direct association with them. It came too close to the gray areas of his work. “You could say so.” When she didn’t press further, he turned the tables on the question.
“And what do you do … Karen?”
She stood straighter as if prepared to deliver a speech. “My sister and I own a flower shop.”
Lie number two crossed the threshold.
Tripp smiled. “So daisies or roses?”
“Roses.”
Before he broke into the truth, the darkness of the pier stood before them and a figure stepped out.
• • •
“You have a bodyguard this time?” A deep undertone of menace slithered along his voice. “I want what I paid you to retrieve.”
Lexi froze, stilling even her breath. Her plan had been to return the pendant to his wife, even though it had been gifted to Lexi by the same.
“I don’t have it.” She tried to keep her tone apologetic. “I’m sorry.”
“Have what?” Tripp whispered, stepping closer to her side.
Lexi shook her head as if to say ‘don’t ask’. “Didn’t you find your box? I gave you your money back.”
If you hadn’t freaked me out, I might not have dropped it.
The man edged closer, his hands hiding within the well of pockets on a long trench coat. “Oh, I found it, but that’s not what I wanted.”
“I can’t help you.”
His eyes narrowed, lips creasing into a sneer. “You’re out here with him looking for something.”
Lexi forced herself not to look to Tripp.
One hand slid from hidden depths, the glint of a knife pointing in her direction.
She gasped, her body trembling.
This is not what I signed up for!
“I want my necklace. I know you found it. That’s what you promised. You always find what you’re looking for. It’s a gift, you said.”
Tripp stepped away as if boils covered Lexi’s skin. While she agreed she wouldn’t be a good catch, she’d have preferred a bit of protection at just that moment.
You’re on your own, Lexi. Made your bed, now sleep in it.
She forced her expression to a flat, blank stare, letting the words form in her mind.
“Is she like a divining rod, man?” Tripp’s voice quipped like a stereotypical surfer.
Lexi jerked toward him.
What the hell?
The man spun toward Tripp, the knife tilting down. “I don’t know what that is.”
Tripp stalked closer to the man as if they should talk one on one. “So, she like found somethin’ of yours, and you got your money back, too?”
The man shook his head. “I got my money back, but she didn’t give me my stuff. The bitch owes me a necklace.”
“A treasure hunt, then? So I could tap me some jewels, too?”
Nerves danced along Lexi’s spine; the hair on her arms stood on end.
Run, Lexi. Just run.
Even B-movie horror actresses know to run at this point.
Lexi stayed frozen to her spot.
Or not. Shit. Shit. Shit.
She lost sight of Tripp’s face as he moved through the dark.
“No, man, see. My ex, the bitch, hid this one piece of jewelry from me. I know it’s worth millions, and she got lawyers to keep it from me.” The man relaxed into banter as if he and Tripp held a long-standing friendship. “She claimed—” He quoted in the air. “—that it wasn’t hers and couldn’t be counted in the divorce.” His knife hand even slipped so the blade angled toward the sand. “All I want is my fair share.”
The man’s grin grew as he re-pocketed the knife. “We had a deal.” He nodded toward Lexi. “Now if you want to help me, I could split—”
Tripp spun around, locked the man’s head in the vise grip of his arm. The man kicked his feet but made no contact with Tripp. His motions grew wild with only gurgles coming from his throat.
“You … are a prick,” Tripp said just loud enough that Lexi heard and stayed riveted in place. “You search for something that doesn’t belong to you, get your investment back, and still intend to accost a woman thanks to your own stupidity?”
The man’s movements slowed.
“And then you think you deserve your money and the prize?
The man’s head jostled.
“You’re all done with this little venture now, aren’t you?” Tripp’s voice, while quiet, commanded. “If the lady says she hasn’t got your piece, I’d put some belief into her words and walk away. Fast. If you think she’s got a gift, I’ll make hers look like a daytime walk on Sesame Street.”
Lexi’s eyes widened.
The star. Dammit. He does know what it means.
Tripp stretched out his arm.
The man fell to his knees, gasping for air. “You.” He breathed in deep, struggling to a stand, and started a run-jog-stumble motion away from where Lexi stood.
She turned back to Tripp holding the knife with the blade pointed right at her. The cat and mouse game she’d taken as banter took on an ominous undertone, and the beach left her very little room to hide.
This is why audiences think movie heroines are freakishly stupid. No way I can outrun this guy.
Tripp bore ‘the mark’. No one would ever find out what he did to her. She backed herself into the water. Waves crashed into her legs, dousing her ankles and shoes.
“Didn’t I tell you the dark is dangerous?” He flicked the end of the knife.
A shudder wracked her body as breath constricted in her chest. She snapped her gaze from right to left, even hoped the man might still be around, though two men against one woman did not bode well for her odds.
“Guys like him … they just don’t know when to quit.”
If she could reach the diner, someone would be there to rescue her.
I never should have gotten involved in this. But now, I have to push myself beyond my normal.
“You ready to finish our walk?” Tripp’s tone reminded her of their earlier time together, not the delusional sound she expected of a man wielding a silver instrument of death.
Lexi aimed a finger at the knife. Her attempts to hold it steady failed.
“Oh, sorry.” He closed it and tucked it into his pocket. “Didn’t want him to carry this around. Who knows what he might do with it.”
“Thank—you.” Lexi’s voice broke between the two short words.
Tripp jumped in front of her, placing his hands on her cheeks. “Whoa there. It’s okay.”
She pushed against his chest as the fear returned.
He smiled. “I told you earlier today that I wasn’t going to hurt you. I’m still not. I only meant to scare the crazy away.”
Despite the gesture, uncontrolled anxiety brought out the shivers. “I’m—I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I just—”
“Didn’t know what to think? It’s dark. Some nut attacks you. I come to your aid, and you see it as a possible setup. Totally getcha.” His hands didn’t leave her face. “What would’ve happened had I not been here?”