Copyright © 2009 Melissa Lopez
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
Boomerang Love
Australia
“You’re a bloody fruit loop.” Miller drained the rest of his beer and set the empty mug down. “Chill, or let’s get out of here.”
Cohen ignored his brother and looked around the crowded pub one more time. The place was teeming with tourists. No doubt, Miller had the right of it. A bloody fruit loop, to be waiting for a woman he’d spent half the night with a year ago. Still he could recall their fevered promises to reunite this year. If only he’d been able to get the night out of his mind or Hayleigh out of his fantasies.
“Mate, the least you could do is spill.” Miller waved the barkeep over again. “You’re making me bloody nervous. I can’t even enjoy the beer.”
He winced. Just like his brother to get down to business. Cohen was still surprised Miller had lasted an hour in silence. Would it have been too much to ask—for once—to have Miller go along? Miller would think he was a real nut, if he found out the reason Cohen had dragged his arse into the city.
Cohen’s gaze didn’t leave the door. He didn’t want to miss her. Though, as time passed, he agreed with Miller. He was an idiot for waiting, thinking she might show up after all this time.
Miller swung around and braced an elbow on the bar. “Bloody perv tonight, aren’t cha?”
Cohen blew out a breath. “I’m looking for someone.” Though he had eyed every female who’d come through the door, he hadn’t seen her. A time or two he’d looked too long. Nothing wrong with looking. He’d always favored a nice full rack.
Christ. What a nut to be waiting.
“Someone?”
“I met someone in here a while back. I’m looking for her.”
“Considering neither of us has been to the city…” His brother folded his arms and slowly scoped out the pub. “…in what…?”
“A while.” He cast Miller a glare before turning back to the door.
“So, I’m guessing you and this woman did more than chew the fat.” A shit-eating grin spread across Miller’s cakehole.
“I may have mentioned her to you and Ethan.” Maybe, he’d spoken to Ethan more than Miller about Hayleigh. Their oldest brother could be bloody difficult to talk to. Especially in recent months.
“Damn me.” Miller shook his head. “You were a dog after last year’s Sydney trip.”
Cohen caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth. He had no desire to give his brother any details of that night. They’d done a whole lot more than talk. Hayleigh had allowed him to screw her against his truck. Then she’d allowed him to screw her inside his truck.
His erection swelled at the memory of how hot she’d been. Hours of sucking face, and he’d been hornier than he’d ever been. He’d made the moves, and Hayleigh had melted at his every touch. Several hours of dance and a little talk had ended with an hour of the most remarkable sex of his life.
“Pig’s arse.” Miller nudged him. “Are you telling me you hooked up with a Yank and expect her to show up again?”
Yeah. Sounded like bullshit to him to when it was laid out fact on fact.
“Bloody fruit loop.” Miller’s expression showed his disbelief and disgust. He turned back to the bar. The barkeep placed another mug in front of him and without a word moved off. “I bet a week’s pay, you had a gutful of piss.”
“I wasn’t drunk.” He’d been buzzing, but he could still recall every minute of the night.
“Mate, you’re a grazier. You spend your days tending cattle and sheep…” His brother took a long swallow of his beer. “The Yank didn’t consider the screwing any more than a one-night stand.”
Fists clenched, Cohen turned back to the door. “Look, I know this is a waste of time. Head on back…”
“I got all the time in the world.” Miller sipped his drink.
Frustrated, Cohen wanted to give his brother a knuckle sandwich. Instead, he ordered a beer for himself. How many times had he tried to forget about his one night with Hayleigh? Since last year, he’d screwed every woman he could to work her out of his system. Had even gone as far as to date a neighbor. Nothing had helped.
Hayleigh had gotten into his blood, and he didn’t know how to work her from his mind. If she didn’t show…
“Mate, there’s a spunky sheila eyeing you.”
Cohen turned around, and his breath stalled. Oh, Christ. She’d returned.
“That her?”
Mouth dry, he swallowed. No way to get his head around seeing her again. Hayleigh had bloody returned like a boomerang. Slowly, his gaze perused her from head to toe. Loose brown hair framed brown eyes. A kissable bow-shaped mouth. Eh, she was spunky as all get out.
“She looks nervous. Better get over there before another bloke spots her.” Miller gave him a shove in the pretty brunette’s direction. “I’ll catch up to you back at Ethan’s place.”
“Thanks, mate.” He nodded. While in the city, they always stayed at Ethan’s condo.
Light-brown eyes widened as he approached. She backed toward the wall she’d been standing near.
Miller’s retreating back gave him pause. Damn. Maybe he should have come alone. The opportunity to see their brother Ethan had been his chance to visit the city. But seeing Hayleigh waiting for him…it reminded him Miller had been left cold at the altar and hadn’t been worth shit since. Denae hadn’t spared Miller a thought, yet Hayleigh had traveled across the Pacific Ocean to be with him.
That was saying something.
Only, he’d have bet the world Hayleigh wouldn’t show. Pure instinct had driven him back to the pub. He glanced over to Hayleigh.
Lust stirred.
Shaking off the guilt over Miller’s situation, he moved. He’d waited forever for this moment. He smiled. “G’day.”
“Hello.” Hayleigh’s skin flushed from her cheeks and neck along her full cleavage. Eh, he’d always favored a nice rack.
His erection swelled, turning rigid within his pants. Christ, she was something to look at. No getting over her beauty. His hands itched to caress the fullness of her jean-clad hips, to trail down her curved belly. She’d picked up some weight since last year, but the curves only encouraged him to explore. She looked softer somehow.
“You remember me?” Her lower lip trembled, only to have her catch it between her teeth.
“Hayleigh Davenport, I remember every inch of you.”
Riptide Love
Cairns, Australia
“Ten seconds to drop zone.” The pilot gave Ethan the thumbs-up sign.
Already in position, he readied himself for the dive. He ignored the knots in his stomach that never ceased to develop right before a jump.
Wind blew the helicopter he sat in, while below the aircraft, waves crashed violently. They’d been damn lucky they’d already been en route when the storm got ugly. The night was expected to get worse.
“Three, two, one.” The pilot cued him.
Oh yeah… Bring it on.
On mark, Ethan hit the water and headed toward the smoldering cruiser. Swimming as if his life hung in the balance, he cut his way through the volatile ocean. Even with fourteen years of experience in search and rescue, reaching the boat was no easy task.
A lift dropped down to the water once he was clear.
Once there, he located a couple clinging for their lives to the hull of the boat. “Just the two of you?” Though a distress signal had been sent out, it was unclear how many people were onboard. A fire and a storm. What a shitty night for them.
“Oh Christ. We didn’t th—ink anyone heard our call…” A wave swept over them, cutting the man off.
Ethan had to fight his way back to the clinging pair. “Anyone else here?” he called over the roar of the wind.
The woman’s teeth chattered. “No.” Dark hair shielded her face.
The adrenaline pumping through him sent him into action. From the look of the couple, hypothermia was a real danger. And his job wasn’t done until his arse was back in his seat.
Ethan focused. One thing at a time. “I’ll get you both into the chopper.” He struggled to pull the lift he’d been dragging over.
The man crowded him. “Oh Christ, let me in.”
“Sheilas first.” Ethan did his best to urge the man back to the sinking cruiser. In scenes like this, women and children always took first priority unless there was an injured party. Though wet, the pair didn’t appear wounded. In more dire scenes, he took the first person he came to.
Panicked, the bloke clawed at his arm.
“Back off, mate!” Ethan jerked away. “I’ll knock your arse out if need be!” Too damn easy for a bloke to drown a rescuer out here. The possibility of death could send the biggest of men into a frenzy of fear. Later, the bloke more than likely wouldn’t remember his actions.
With the storm blowing over, they were on a time clock. And you could never trust the sharks not to get hungry and come up and take a bite out of someone’s arse.
He reached out his hand to the drenched woman. Once she let go of the boat’s railing, he had trouble keeping a grasp on her. The water fought against them.
Going under the water, the sheila cried out as she surfaced. She was of little help, yet he managed to reel her in. The churning water stole some valuable minutes as he worked to get her settled and strapped in. “Hang on. The team will do the rest,” he reassured her, though he couldn’t tell if she heard him over the gusting noise of the hovering aircraft.
Away she went. The lift swayed as it drifted upward.
While she was being hoisted into the chopper, he stayed close to the bloke. Twice, Mother Nature sent them hurtling into the hull of the boat.
When the basket hit the water, he collected it before returning to the clinging man. “You’re up.” Within minutes, the guy was on his way to safety.
The storm turned vicious as Ethan took his turn in the lift. His teeth clenched until he climbed inside, out of the wind and downpour.
Warm air circulated in the cabin as a dim light illuminated the space.
He’d no sooner climbed into his spot when the man got his attention. “Thanks, mate.” The bloke huddled under blankets.
Ethan nodded.
The woman’s quaking caused him to turn his head to where she lay stretched out. The medic of their team had given her blankets, which covered her from neck to foot. They’d warm her up.
Her face was framed by sopping dark hair as she turned his way.
He sucked in a breath as their gazes caught. Huge, green, cat-like eyes stared, refusing to blink.
Oh, bugger me.
Ethan was first to glance away.
Oh, bugger me.
Rarely did he remember a face of someone he rescued. Never kept a tally of those he pulled from the water, of those lives he saved. No, he only remembered those few he’d lost. Those were the ones who haunted his nights.
Only those he lost.
But he’d remember this night. He’d remember her forever. She’d come into his life like a riptide. One he hadn’t wanted to escape.
The woman who’d been playing a role in his fantasies for some time now lay within his reach. He’d just pulled Denae Button from the bloody pond.
A groan rumbled through his dry lips. Denae had been the reason behind the ruin of his perfect life—at least, as he’d once known it to be.
Live hard, play harder and die fast.
That’d once been his motto.
His days of partying were long gone. He’d no one to blame but his own bloody dumb arse.
With his hand, he scrubbed the water away from his face.
A heavy weight of tension worked its way into his neck and shoulders. Soon the muscles ached from far more than the seeping cold.
Eyes closed to shut out the past, he curled his hands into fists. Heat knotted in his chest.
Oh, bugger me.
I owe De an apology. Had owed her one for a long time now. He owed a lot of people apologies.
He supposed Denae would be a good place to start. He didn’t believe he had the balls or the stomach to approach the others he’d hurt. His mum. His brother.
Oh, fuck. No way could he approach his brother. Not once in his life had he measured up to his big brother. Upon learning who De had belonged to…
A struggle inside the cabin drew his attention. Denae fought to rip the oxygen mask from her face. Sobs racked her frame.
He scrambled over to her side.
“She’s fighting me.” The medic attempted to still her hands.
“I know her.” He urged his teammate aside. “Easy, De. We’ll have you to a hospital in no time.” He stroked her hair back from her forehead. He put the mask back into place.
For only a heartbeat, accusing eyes met his. Only a heartbeat, then she turned her head away to cry.
The knots twisting his stomach could no longer be ignored. So many apologies to give to others.
Christ, I need my arse kicked.
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