Under the Boardwalk (Costas Sisters 1)

Seconds passed in which neither of them moved. Not only was Ariana covered by a heavy male body, but he smelled extremely good. He was a combination of muscle and determination. And he’d either saved her life or fired that gunshot. She wasn’t about to wait around to find out which.

As soon as he rolled away from her, she rose to her feet and took off at a run, zigzagging across the beach. The sand slowed her effort and she hadn’t made it more than halfway to the main road before he grabbed her around the waist. Hauling her into his arms, he pulled her behind a vacant snack shack.

“What the hell kind of run was that?” he asked, breathing too easily considering she was huffing and puffing.

“Serpentine,” she managed to explain, through her wheezing and fear.

Behind her, she thought she heard him laugh. “From The In-Laws?” His amused voice held utter disbelief.

But Ariana wasn’t laughing. She had escaped into old movies to get away from her family’s antics, and she’d obviously learned something. “If you ask me, you ought to be applauding my ability to think on my feet. When someone shoots at you, you don’t give them a straight place to aim. You give them a moving target instead. It makes sense to me.”

He obviously didn’t agree with her thinking, because he burst into a full-blown laugh. She tried to wriggle forward and out of his grasp, but he merely tightened his grip. He yanked her against him, pressing her solidly against his back.

Panic started to take hold, but before she could fight, he spoke. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice strangely reassuring despite their circumstances.

“Then let me go.” While he debated, she used the time to draw deep, even breaths and regain her equilibrium.

He twisted around, pulling her with him to scan their surroundings. “It looks like our gunman’s gone,” he said at last.

She could have told him they were alone. No sound of footsteps, nothing disrupted the heady masculine breathing in her ear and against her neck, making her tingle.

“If I let you go, do you promise not to run?”

“Not that I have to answer to you, but I won’t run.” Because he’d promised not to hurt her and because she wanted to get her first glimpse at the man with the silken voice.

“Good.” He loosened his hold, then grabbed for her hand instead. “Let’s get out of sight.” He turned and, after kicking the shack door open with his foot, tugged her inside.

To her surprise, she wasn’t afraid to be alone with him. He turned on the light in the old building and she finally looked at him straight on. Sandy blond hair, cropped short yet still slightly messy from the wind, framed a deeply chiseled face. Dimples curved either side of his lips, and a day’s razor stubble covered his cheeks.

He looked as good as he sounded. He was temptation in a black leather jacket as Ariana was now all too aware. And he was studying her with the same intensity she’d been giving him.

She should focus. She had more pressing concerns than whether his hazel eyes were more green than brown, or whether his lips were hard. . . or tender and soft when he kissed . . .

“You’re not Zoe.”

That broke her fantasies about the man. “What makes you so sure?”

“That’s easy, sweetheart.” He chuckled, his gaze raking her over head to toe. “You’re dressed like a nun.”

She’d always disdained her sister’s flashy, sexy wardrobe, but at the moment, she’d give anything to be dressed more like her. The pantsuit Ariana had considered her armor earlier suddenly felt stifling and uncomfortable.

He shrugged. “Not to mention you’re missing the second hole in your right ear.”

She narrowed her gaze. He’d noticed little details about Zoe others might have missed, and she could have kissed his razor-stubbled cheeks. Ariana had found someone she could question about her sister’s disappearance, and she was nearly giddy with relief.

But when he reached out and toyed with the single pearl in her ear, relief turned to desire. His calloused skin rasped over hers. Her body trembled, and it wasn’t the cool air causing the sensation. “I’m glad to see you’re observant.”

“I’m also persistent,” he said in a cocky voice that seemed to suit him.

A combination of arrogance, certainty, and suave charm, he was the complete opposite of any man she’d been with in the past. He definitely was a marked contrast from Jeffrey Boyd, the man who’d given her a taste of young love, then betrayed her by demanding she choose between him and her unconventional family. Ariana had done the only sensible thing. She’d left them all behind in search of her own life.

Unlike the men she dated in Vermont , this man was a package of pure testosterone and all-male sexuality, which probably explained the liquid rush of desire and the sudden attraction she felt for a perfect stranger. Though she sensed his need to be in control, the distinctive trait seemed to suit him. Whereas Jeffrey, she’d come to realize, had just been a pompous ass.

“If you’re not Zoe, you must be—”

“Ariana.” She licked her dry lips, her breath finally coming in even cadence. Gut instinct told her he wasn’t a killer. He’d also been close to Zoe. Both factors tipped in his favor. “And you are?”

“Quinn.” He extended his hand for a shake, holding on to her fingers for a few seconds too long to be considered polite. His thumb caressed the pulse point in her wrist before he lowered his arm to his side.

She tipped her head, ignoring the cascading sensations he’d inspired. “Quinn what?”

He shrugged. “Donovan.”

“So tell me, how do you know Zoe?”

His gaze locked with hers. “We worked together at Damon’s.”

The casino. Ariana winced at the reminder of her sister’s life as a sometimes showgirl, sometimes dancer, too-often con artist. “Let me guess. You were the bartender where she stripped? Her escort for ballroom dancing classes? Or her partner in bed?”

“Zoe never mentioned you were a smartass.”

The chuckle in his voice cheered her. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, strong and comforting. She swallowed hard, angry at herself for her conflicted emotions when it came to her sister’s choices.

She sniffed and wiped her damp eyes with the back of her sleeve. “I’m surprised she mentioned me at all.”

“Actually she spoke of you often, Ari,” he said gruffly, using her name for the first time.