Flashpoint Read online

With a sigh, she pulled it on, then didn’t look at herself in the mirror. She did not want to change her mind. In that vein, she slipped into a pair of flip-flops and headed directly toward her car before she could come up with a million and one reasons not to go, starting with needing to work on the house and ending with because she was nervous.

  Being nervous was not an option.

  Not only was she going to go to this party, she was going to go and relax.

  Let loose.

  She needed to remember the concept. She needed to live the concept. She was going to smile and laugh. She was going to let go. And maybe even manage to do so with one wildly sexy Zach Thomas.

  If he was still interested.

  Please let him still be interested.

  She drove to the beach, parked and got out of her car, the salty air brushing at her hair, the waves pounding the surf sounding all soft and romantic. Then she glanced over at the man getting out of the truck right next to her and her heart knocked hard into her ribs.

  Zach wore board shorts and a T-shirt, his body looking at ease and beach ready. His eyes, though…not so relaxed. Nope. As she watched them lock on her, they were filled with the same hunger and frustration she felt, and she knew.

  He was most definitely still interested.

  8

  IT HAD BEEN a shitty day all around, Zach thought as he got out of his truck. He’d had another unpleasant phone call with Tommy, who refused to tell him what was happening with the arsons. Then he’d covered for Cristina on three calls and as a result, hadn’t been ready for their monthly inspection, and the chief had chewed him out.

  Zach had almost not come tonight.

  But now, looking into Brooke’s eyes, he was suddenly glad he had. Very glad. Just taking her in, he felt a visceral reaction clear to his toes. For the first time since he’d met her, she wasn’t dressed for the practicality of their work. No uniform trousers and matching shirt, no steel-toed work boots, no carefully controlled hairdo that said. Back off. The rest of me is wound as tight as my hair.

  Not that that look didn’t have some hotness to it.

  But tonight she was in a pale blue sundress of some lightweight material that hugged toned limbs and a body that reminded him she was in shape.

  Great shape.

  She’d left her hair down, the strawberry blond strands falling in soft waves just past her shoulders, lit softly by the moonlight. A few long bangs were swept to one side, curving along her cheek and jaw, emphasizing her face.

  A beautiful face.

  Looking at him.

  Smiling at him, with just a hint of nerves.

  And he stood there, a little stunned, because when she smiled for real it lit up her face and her eyes, revealing humor and a sharp intelligence, and…and a sexual awareness that sparked his.

  Hell, his had been sparked from the moment he’d first set eyes on her, but once he’d realized she wasn’t going to play, he’d tried like hell to redirect.

  She wasn’t going to play. Playing wasn’t her thing. He needed to remember that. He really did. Turning, he headed down the beach. Not to the party, not yet. He needed a moment—

  “Zach?”

  Alone. He’d needed a moment alone, away from her, to clear his head, where he couldn’t see her looking at him, so sweet and sexy, smiling that smile—

  A little breathless, she ran around to the front of him, one hand stopping her loose hair from sliding into her face, the other spread on her dress as if to keep it from blowing up in the wind.

  Torn between hoping for a gale-force wind or running away, he stood there instead, rooted to the spot. “You look…”

  “Silly, right?” She smoothed down the fabric but the breeze continued to tease the flimsy material, lifting it, revealing her lovely thighs for one all-too-brief, tantalizing glimpse. “I know. I should have stuck with something more practical—”

  “Amazing,” he managed. Even the sound of her voice lifted his spirits. Somehow she made him feel better by just being. “I was going to say you look amazing.”

  “Oh.” She flashed another kill-him-slowly smile. “It’s just a dress.”

  “I like it. I like the lip gloss, too.” It smelled like peaches, and he wondered, if he leaned in right now, would she let him have another taste of her?

  Just one.

  Who was he kidding? One taste wouldn’t cover it. Neither would two. Nope, nothing less than an entire night of tasting would be good enough.

  Tipping back his head, he stared up at the star-littered sky, taking a moment to draw in the salty air, to listen to the waves.

  But that moment didn’t give him the peace he needed. Not when she was still looking at him, her gaze wordlessly telling him that she wanted him, too. “You should head on over to the party.” He gestured with a hitch of his chin to the bonfires already going about a hundred yards down the beach, and the growing crowd.

  In spite of what Zach thought of him, the new chief was extremely popular.

  “Can we walk first?” Brooke gestured in the opposite direction. “Just us?”

  Walking alone with her on a moonlit night along the beach? A fantastically bad idea.

  “Please?”

  No. Absolutely not.

  She held out her hand. “Sure,” his mouth said without permission from his brain, and taking her hand, he led her down the path to the water. There they kicked off their flip-flops and walked with the surf gently hitting the shore on their right, the cliffs on their left and the moonlight touching their faces.

  Pretty damn romantic, which didn’t help.

  A wave splashed over their bare feet and legs, and the bottom of Brooke’s dress got wet, clinging like plastic wrap.

  Perfect. Just what he needed. Brooke all wet.

  Letting out a low laugh, she gathered the material in her hands, pulling it up above her knees as she backed farther up on the sand.

  He thought she’d turn and head toward the party, but she didn’t. She kept going.

  And like a puppy on a leash, he followed.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.

  He took in her profile, the small smile on her glossed lips, the few freckles across her upturned nose, her hair flying around her face. “Yes,” he agreed. “Beautiful.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “I was talking about the scenery.”

  “I know.”

  “But you weren’t looking at it.”

  “No.”

  “I…” She let out what sounded like a helpless sigh. “You were saying that I’m beautiful?”

  “Yes.”

  “See, that’s the thing.”

  “There’s a thing?”

  “Well, you make me feel a thing.” She looked away. “A few things, actually.”

  Uh-huh. And that made two of them.

  The breeze continued to toy with the wet hem of her dress and his mind at the same time. He took in the empty beach, the myriad alcoves and cliffs lining the shore, forming lots of private little spots where they could escape to without being seen.

  Where he could slowly glide that dress up her legs and—

  “Ouch.” She hopped on one foot, then bent to pick something up. “A shell.”

  He traced his finger over it in the palm of her hand. “I used to have jars and jars of these when I was little.”

  “You grew up here?”

  “Yep. Santa Rey born and bred. My parents were surfers. I think my first words were surf’s up.”

  She laughed, but then the sound faded. “You miss them. Your parents.”

  Lifting his eyes from the shell, his gaze collided with hers. “It was a long time ago, but yeah. I miss them.”

  “I lost my dad before I was even born, and I still miss him.”

  “What happened?”

  “He died in a car wreck. My mom…she didn’t really recover. She never settled in one place again, or with one man.”

  “That must have been rough on you.”

  “Not as r