forget.” But Clay wasn’t in the mood for romantic fun and games tonight, especially if his friends struck out with the new arrivals. In fact, he had half a notion to go back to their rented beach house, open a cold one, turn on the TV and hang out inside. Alone.
“While you light the grill,” Poncho told Duck, “I’ll lay a little buenos días on the lovely twosome and invite them to our barbecue.” Then he glanced at Clay. “What are you waiting for? Go offer the brunette an invite. Or would you rather I lay a little groundwork for you first?”
“I don’t need your help.” Clay stole another glance at the brunette. Chances were, she was on vacation, too.
Oh, what the hell. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her. Maybe she’d be interested in the cowboy type and in sharing a night they’d both remember—long after they each went their own ways.
* * *
Sergeant Erica Campbell lay on her back, her open historical romance novel held up to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare while she read.
Earlier this afternoon, she’d noticed the three hotties who’d been splashing in the water and playing football on the shore. The one called Bullet had glanced her way, and when their eyes met, he tossed her a big, Texas-size grin. She meant to ignore him, but he seemed so boyish and charming that she couldn’t help returning his smile.
All three of them were attractive and well built, but Bullet either spent a lot of time at the gym or had a job that required strength and vigor.
His light brown hair was short, much like his friends’. Water glistened on his broad shoulders. Six-pack abs and a taut belly drew her undivided attention like a sharp, crisp salute. Now there was a real hunk. And a drop-dead gorgeous one at that.
But the last thing she needed to do, especially this weekend, was to give someone the idea that she wanted company. So she quickly averted her gaze, reached into her small tote bag for the spray bottle of sunblock and applied it. Then she lay back down on the towel and reached for her novel.
Male laughter erupted yet again, drawing her from her story as it had several times since she’d come outside her rented beachfront bungalow to catch a few rays. As much as she’d wanted to ignore the three men who were sharing the same stretch of beach with her, she found that next to impossible. Two of them had a slight southern drawl, and she suspected they were Texas natives, just as she was. One of them also appeared to be Latino. So was she, although she couldn’t speak a lick of Spanish.
Their short haircuts suggested they might be in the military. That wouldn’t be unusual. There were quite a few bases located on the island.
She made it a point to avoid men stationed on Oahu, even though that wasn’t easy. Men often approached her, even when she was in uniform, and tried to hit on her. So the bikini she was wearing today was a little risky, since it might draw even more attention to her.
It’s not that she was stuck-up or prudish, but she’d witnessed firsthand how deployments and conflicting duty assignments could take their toll on a relationship, especially when both people were in the military.
She loved being stationed in Honolulu. She didn’t much like being downtown in Waikiki, though. It was too much like other big cities. But the North Shore, as far as she was concerned, was paradise on earth.
Again, she glanced at the handsome tourists. They seemed to be in their late twenties or early thirties. And they shared a playful camaraderie she found interesting.
Listening to their conversation, she’d picked up on their nicknames. She and her sister Elena had done the same thing, calling themselves Rickie and Lainie when they were girls. She wondered if they would have continued doing that until adulthood. Probably. They’d been so close. And for the most part, they’d only had each other.
As the guys teased each other about a dirt-bike crash that resulted in Bullet getting a gash in his head and Poncho puking at the sight of blood, she realized they’d grown up together. That they’d been friends for a long time.
She wished she’d kept in contact with some of her high school friends, but when she enlisted nearly six years ago, she’d lost touch with them. Not that she hadn’t made new ones. It’s just that the Army had a way of shaking things up with regular deployments or reassignments.
Again, the three laughed at something that had landed them in detention, further convincing her that they were high school buddies who’d come to Hawaii on vacation. Not that it mattered. Erica wasn’t here to gawk at hot guys. She was here to think, to regroup and to kick that shadow of guilt she felt as she grieved for her adoptive parents.
She’d cried when she’d gotten the news of the accident and then again at the funeral. She’d loved them. How could she not? They’d rescued her from the foster care system when she’d been in the third grade.
Still, it had taken a long time for her to bond with the couple. But that was probably due to the hospitalization and the death of her twin sister that same year. Now there was a crushing loss that had struck hard, leaving a void that would never go away.
Needless to say, the Army was Erica’s family now. And in a couple of months, when her contract was up, she’d eagerly reenlist without giving it a second thought.
She’d just reached an especially steamy part of her novel when a shadow crossed her face, drawing her from the heated love scene. She assumed the sun had passed behind a cloud until a man cleared his throat.
Startled, she glanced up. When she spotted one of the guys standing over her, the hottie she’d heard them call Bullet, she slammed the book shut and set it aside with the cover facedown. Her cheeks, already warmed by the sun, as well as the words on the page, heated to the boiling point.
Talk about getting caught red-handed—or rather red faced! Had he realized she’d been in the middle of a love scene?
“I’m sorry,” Bullet said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you or interrupt your reading.”
She sat up and combed her fingers through her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry about. That book wasn’t very good anyway. I was just about to throw it into the ocean.”
“I could do that for you,” he said. “I’ve got a pretty good arm.”
“So I noticed. I assume that’s why they call you Bullet.”
His lips quirked into a crooked grin, and he gave a little shrug.
Arrogant guys were a real turnoff. Usually. But she loved football and found this particular quarterback intriguing. But there was no way in hell she’d hand over that blasted book to him. And even though she’d claimed otherwise, it had been a great story, one she intended to finish, although that wasn’t going to happen this afternoon.
Neither of them spoke, and as he studied her, she felt vulnerable. And half-dressed. If her swimsuit cover-up was handy, she’d slip it on now.
She blamed the self-consciousness on that damn love scene, but in all honesty, Bullet wasn’t making it easy to forget the words she’d read. The bare chest. The heated kiss. The hand slipping into the slick, silky folds...
“You on vacation?” he asked.
She rarely shared intimate details about herself with strangers, but the guy seemed like a
