“Oh hell,” he muttered. “I’ve got to go. I promised Charlotte that I’d sort through the uninvited guests this time. Last time, the girls brought home someone who couldn’t speak English, but kept flashing a wad of dough that would choke a horse. Those kind make me nervous. Know what I mean?”

Cole grinned and waved goodbye as Lee made his way down the beach, following in his daughters’ wake.

“He’s nice,” Debbie said.

“So are you,” Cole answered as he pulled her around and into his lap.

The look he gave her was one that she’d save forever in her memory.

“Thank you very much, Cole.”

Her voice was soft and gentle. He ached to taste the words on her lips.

“You’re very welcome,” he said, and settled for less.

Chapter 4

“Are you cold?”

Cole’s voice wrapped around Debbie’s senses, making the breath she’d been taking harder to swallow. She scooted closer to the bonfire and turned her back to the flames, giving equal time to her shivering body.

“Just a little. I think it’s the breeze coming off the ocean.”

“Hold up your arms,” Cole asked.

“Are you going to rob me?” she teased as she threaded her arms through the sleeves of the sweatshirt he was pulling over her head.

“I haven’t quite decided what to do with you, girl.”

His voice was low and steady, nothing like his heart. It rocked against his chest like a boat in a storm.

She smiled and rubbed her hands against the welcome warmth covering her arms.

“The sweatshirt’s either J.D.’s or Dusty’s.” Cole answered her question before it was asked. “It was in my trunk. I found it when I went to get my sweats. Good thing they’re a lot shorter than I am, or you’d be lost in here.” He ruffled the top of her curls. “I also found the matching pants. Want to try them? They have elastic at the ankles and a drawstring waist.”

“Please.” Debbie was trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

She used Cole for a leaning post and quickly thrust her legs into the blue sweats. They bagged around her ankles as she tried to find the drawstring at the waist.

“Here, let me,” Cole said, and slid his hands beneath the sweat shirt, fumbling in the semidarkness surrounding the bonfire Lee Whaley had built at the edge of his property.

Debbie held her breath, closed her eyes, and pretended that the touch of his hands at her waist was a prelude to more.

The voices of the other guests at the Whaley residence faded into the background as they ranged from the second-story deck of the home to the water’s edge and scattered along the beach. People were more than replete from the evening’s meal and trying to walk off their binge.