Crash Into Me (4 page)

She
shrugged her assent, teeth chattering, and followed them up the stone steps,
staring at his back as he held his daughter close. They passed through an
unlocked gate, walked across a dark patio, and stepped over the threshold into
the kitchen.

Just
like that, Sonny was in.

Surrounded
by the comforts of her own home, Carly reverted back into a normal teenaged
girl—prickly, insensitive, and self-absorbed. “I’ve
got
to get out of
these wet clothes,” she said with a shudder. As Ben led Sonny from the kitchen
to the living room, Carly dashed up the stairs, her shoes making squishy sounds
on the hardwood flooring.

“Carly,”
Ben called after her, “why don’t you bring something for, uh”—he didn’t know
Sonny’s name, and she didn’t offer it—“her to wear?”

At
the top of the steps, Carly’s pretty face puckered. “She won’t fit into
anything of mine,” she said, studying Sonny’s blanket-clad form with a critical
eye. “You get her something.” With that, she tossed her wet mane over her
shoulder and flounced away.

Ben
wore a pained expression. “Sorry,” he said. “She’s—” He broke off, finding no
words to describe his daughter’s disposition.

“It’s
fine,” Sonny replied, admiring the interior of the house. The living room was
spacious, inviting, and blessedly warm. A couple of overstuffed chairs and a
leather couch faced a fireplace rather than a television set, and a live
Christmas tree was set up in one corner, bedecked with a ragtag collection of
ornaments that had obviously been made by a child.

Her
heart melted at the sight.

“I
like your tree,” she said. “No one puts up lights around here anymore. I’d
forgotten it was Christmas.”

“We’re
all environmentalists,” he explained. “Conserving energy.”

“Is
that it? I was afraid that acknowledging the change of seasons, in such a warm
climate, had become passé.”

He
arched a brow. “Where are you from?”

“Out
of town,” she said, looking away. A fire crackled in the hearth. Sonny wanted
to crawl inside it and curl up there to sleep, to stare into its depths until
it reached out to eat her, to open up her blanket and let the flames lick at
her body.

“You’re
too small to wear my clothes,” he said with a frown. “But I suppose I can find
you something.”

And
then he left her there, standing by the fire.

She
felt a strange lassitude, a reluctance to benefit from this emotionally charged
circumstance, and a disdain for the inherent ugliness of undercover work. Ben
Fortune’s love for his daughter was genuine and his gratitude was sincere.
Sonny Vasquez would have accepted his thanks and walked away. Summer Moore was
obligated to milk it for all it was worth.

He
returned with a couple of neat, folded items. “These are mine. Carly may have
been right about her clothes not fitting you. I don’t understand how she fits
into some of them herself.” He shrugged, smiling, immensely appealing as a
clueless single dad.

Her
stomach fluttered in awareness.

Ben
Fortune had the kind of face that photographers, sponsors, and advertisers
loved, a natural charisma that leapt off the pages of magazines. His features
were strong and rugged, not perfect enough to be boring, and his smile was
becomingly off-center.

On
paper, he was tall, dark, and handsome. In person, he was irresistible.

And
how trusting he was, to allow a complete stranger in his home. It certainly
didn’t gel with his standoffish public image.

She
didn’t smile back at him. Instead, she accepted his clothing, changed in his
bathroom, and with a derelict disregard for duty, curled up in his chair and
fell asleep, alone, in front of his fire.

“Who is she?” he whispered.

“How
should I know?” Carly whispered back.

“She
saved your life.”

“I
didn’t catch her name while we were drowning.”

“Maybe
she’s your guardian angel.”

Her
response was an unladylike snort, her apathy so honed to perfection that he
almost bought it.

“Why
did you go out there? Really? Were you thinking about—”

“No!
God, why does everyone think I’m freaking out over Mom? I’m not.”

“Carly?”

“Yeah?”
She rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance.

“I
love you.”

For
a moment, he had her, the old Carly, the girl who smiled at him radiantly,
hugged him spontaneously, and loved him unconditionally. Then her eyes became
shuttered, and that girl was gone. “I know,” she said carefully, as if his love
hurt her.

He
turned his attention back to the stranger, for this Carly would retreat if
pressed, and he couldn’t bear to see her slip any further away from him than
she was right now. “Should we wake her up?”

“Hell,
yes. I won’t be able to sleep with some random person in the house.”

“Why
do you think she’s random?” he asked, adopting Carly’s word for strange. He was
irritated by her lack of gratitude, but he was also curious, and the woman was
unusual.

“Just
look at her.”

In
repose, she looked cute and cuddly, like a fuzzy kit fox or a wolverine cub,
the kind that would mulch your arm into shreds if you reached out to pet it. He
didn’t know how he knew she was ferocious, but he did, and for some reason it
endeared her to him. She also must be strong for her size; pulling a person out
of the undertow isn’t easy. Before she’d changed, he couldn’t really tell what
she had going on underneath that scratchy blanket, but he’d caught a few
glimpses of something…curvy. Now her body was swallowed up by his loose jeans
and oversized sweatshirt.

His
gaze wandered back to her face.

Ben
wasn’t the type of man who noted the color of a woman’s eyes, unless he was
looking into them, and only then if he was trying to get her into bed. Hers
were so striking he remembered them with perfect clarity. So light they should
have appeared colorless, but didn’t. They were strange, ice blue, electric. Hot
and cold at the same time.

And
her skin was warm. Especially now, in front of the fire. Her hair was drying in
straggles around her face, hair the color of warm honey, like her skin. And her
lips—

“Dad.”

“What?”

“Are
you retarded? You’re staring.”

He
dragged his attention from the sleeping sylph. “What would have happened to you
if she hadn’t been there?”

Carly
didn’t want to answer, so she shoved at the stranger’s shoulder, waking her
abruptly. “Here’s some tea,” she said, pushing a cup into her hand.

Something
dangerous flashed in the woman’s light eyes, and for a second, Ben thought
Carly was going to get a well-deserved faceful of Earl Grey. Then it was gone,
as if he’d imagined it, and she accepted the tea with a tentative smile.

“We’d
give you something stronger, but Dad’s an alcoholic, so we don’t keep any hard
stuff around.” When he glared at her, she blinked innocently. “Well, it’s
true.”

“What’s
your name?” he asked.

“Summer,”
she replied.

“How
old are you?”

“Dad!”

Summer
laughed. “Old enough to know better.”

“Know
better than what?” Carly asked.

“Than
to fall asleep in a stranger’s home,” she said, casting Ben an amused glance.
When their gazes locked, a warmth passed between them, as though they’d shared
a secret.

Taking
a sip of tea, she turned to Carly. “How are you feeling?”

“Me?
I’m fine.” She studied her sock-covered feet, probably ashamed she had refused
clothing to the person who had saved her life.

“Thanks
for the tea.”

“Dad
made it,” Carly allowed.

Summer’s
eyes met his again, over the rim of the cup, and his pulse thickened. “It was
my pleasure,” he said with a slow smile.

Carly
jumped to her feet. “He thinks you’re pretty,” she blurted.

Summer
sat up very straight, running a hand through her disheveled hair. It had dried
in clumpy locks that were sticking up in some places and smashed flat in
others. “I’m not,” she said ruefully.

Carly
nodded, almost impolite enough to verbalize her agreement.

They
were both blind, Ben decided.

Summer
peered down into her empty teacup, as if she might find some leaves down there
to chart her future course. “I should go,” she said.

“No,”
he protested, too loudly, rising to his feet.

Carly’s
sleek black eyebrows drew together.

“I
mean, you’re…you don’t even have any shoes on,” he said.

She
shrugged. “I’ll find them on the beach.”

“I’ll
drive you,” he offered, desperate to extend the visit. There was something
about her. He didn’t believe in angels, but he was unnerved by her, and it had
been so long since he’d felt…anything.

“No,”
she said. “It was nice meeting you—Carly.” She tasted the name on her lips,
smiling as if she liked it. Then she looked at him expectantly.

“Ben.”

He
stared at her mouth, waiting for her to test his name out the same way.
“Good-bye,” she said instead, glancing at Carly.

“Bye,”
Carly said, offering a tight smile.

“I’ll
walk you out,” he said, willing Carly into silence with a pointed glare.
Amazingly, she complied.

Behind
Summer’s back, he mouthed “Thank you” to his daughter.

She
said
You’re welcome
by flipping him off.

The tide was going out, not coming in, so
her jeans, shoes, and cell phone were all where she’d left them on the beach.
Ben looked out across the water, a grim expression on his face. To his trained
eye, the undertow couldn’t have been more apparent.

“Does
your daughter know about currents?” she asked.

“Of
course.”

“A
lot of people can’t discern them from the shore.”

Ben
let out a heavy sigh. For him, and most surfers, all of the elements of the
ocean were discernable at a glance. Not seeing a rip current would be like
ignoring the water, or being unaware of the sand. “I think I’ll lock her in her
room until she’s thirty.”

Sonny
smiled, because he sounded serious. “I’ll give you back your pants, but I need
to borrow your sweater, if you don’t mind. Mine got swept away.”

“Keep
it,” he replied absently.

Since
his sweatshirt covered her to midthigh, and he wasn’t looking anyway, Sonny
dropped trou right there on the beach, stepping out of his jeans and into her
own. By the time she zipped up, he was looking. She folded his jeans and
returned them, still warm from her body, finding something unbearably intimate
about the gesture.

They
stared at each other for a long, awkward moment, the pounding of the surf the
only sound in the dead of night. Then her cell phone rang, breaking the mood,
and she was so flustered that she almost said, “Vasquez,” ruining her cover.

“Hello?”
she answered instead.

“Sonny?”

“Yeah,
it’s Summer,” she said, in case Ben had radar hearing, and tipping Grant off
she wasn’t alone.

“What
the hell were you doing? I was worried.”

“I’ll
call you later,” she said, clicking her phone shut and pocketing it.

“Who
was that? Your boyfriend?”

“My
boss,” she said, surprised by the invasive question. “He can be a nuisance.”

“Want
me to take care of him for you?” he teased.

She
studied his broad shoulders, his athletic musculature. She could take him down
in less than three seconds. “I can take care of myself.”

The
hint wasn’t subtle, so he would have no trouble picking it up. Still, he made
no closing remark.

She
stuck out her hand.

He
accepted it, but instead of giving her a polite handshake, he held on to her,
as if he wanted to keep her. “Let me take you out to dinner. To thank you
properly.”

She
pulled on her hand, but he held fast. “Are you asking me out?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

He
frowned, giving her the impression he was unaccustomed to rejection, and found
it less palatable than he’d imagined. “What if Carly comes along? She loves to
enumerate my flaws. You’ll be in no danger of liking me.”

She
doubted it, but considered the invitation, if only to get her hand back. He
radiated warmth, and at his touch, her body felt alive from the roots of her
hair to the tips of her toes. She’d underestimated him, mistaken his laid-back
attitude for congeniality. In the water, his movements were so graceful as to
appear effortless. On land, he was just as smooth.

If
he were any more intent on seduction, she’d be flat on her back.