Page 27 of Speak of the Devil

Resting her chin on her knees, she doodles in the sand, but her eyes stay on mine. “Would you ever move back to La Jolla?”

I look out at the horizon, tossing around that question a few times in my head. “Probably not. Our producers, the record label, our manager, and team are all here. So are my cousins and their families.”

“What about your parents?”

Chuckling, I think about a text my dad sent yesterday from . . . I don’t know where they are. “They travel a lot. They always did. I think I spent more time at Laird and Nikki’s house than I did at my own growing up.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, the words grave in her tone.

“Nothing to be sorry about. They were good parents. We get along well. They just had big careers that took them away a lot.”Tempted by her, I drag my finger through the sand. “Grounding is a good word,” I add as if it’s part of our conversation.

She smiles, facing me as if I’m more interesting than that incredible ocean in front of us. “We should get you to the beach more.”

When I end up touching Cat’s hand, I almost move mine away. I look down instead. “We should.” I’ll be a “we” with her any day.

Sliding my gaze from our fingers to her leg, I weave my way over the curve of her hip and higher to her chest. Still traveling north on her body, her lips make me lick mine, then I reach those eyes that encourage me to dig for treasure, the gold shining in the sunlight.

A heavy sigh is expelled on the launch of her saying, “I should go.” She’s lifting to her feet and dusting the sand from her jeans before I have a say in the matter.

I’m not sure what just happened, but she’s right. I’m not looking for another friend, and she’s not looking for a distraction. I stand, wiping the sand from my jeans, then grab the trash. It’s tempting to ask all the questions populating my mind.

Why the rush?

Other plans?

Can I see you again?

Keep your mouth shut, Faris.

We walk to the parking lot, and I dump the trash in the bin. Producing her car key, I hold it in the air. “Thanks for the car.”

“Anytime.” When she smiles again, it’s as if there’s more she wants to say or time she’d like to burn with me. Or maybe I’m reading her all wrong. She takes the keys and looks down at them in her hand, fidgeting through the few on the ring. “I can give you a ride home.” Looking back up, she adds, “I don’t mind.”

“The offer is enticing, but?—”

“I’m happy to give you a ride.” She cuts through two cars to get to hers, then turns back, still moving to her car. “Unless you’re worried that I’m going to stalk you.” Shrugging with her arms out to the sides, she laughs. “You willing to take the risk?” She’s damn cute and even more enticing. Stopping in the middle of the parking lot, she huffs. “I double-dog dare you, Shane Faris.”

I start walking because I never could pass up a dare. “Since you double-dog dared me . . .”

9

Cate

I catchShane sneaking peeks at me when he thinks I’m not looking. I swear his gaze softens, and my heart softens along with it. A gentle pitter-patter that leaves me wondering where we go from here.Other than the divorce attorney’s office, that is.

There’s no arrogance tucked into the corners of his mouth when he smiles at me. His eyes don’t seem to hide any agendas to keep me on guard. But I still need to be careful with him. He’s someone who “lives life to the fullest” as he puts it. That’s not a lifestyle that meshes well with the predictability of my comfort zone.

Responsible.

Dependable.

Beige and boring.

I can’t seem to set aside that he basically insinuated my life is orderly, in those exact words, too. Just another reason to safeguard my heart and keep him solidly in the friend zone. No harm in having a good time for a few hours that doesn’t include abed. That will probably be new for him and a nice change of pace as well.

We’re finally moving through traffic again, and I turn as directed. I have always loved the tree-lined streets of Hollywood Hills, but it still surprises me that he lives here. “Do you still surf?” I ask, glancing at him when I come to a stop sign.

“Not as much as I’d like.”

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