He dropped his jeans on the sand and swung her up in his arms, walking out towards the sea.

“There’s only one way to know for certain.”

“You build a good fire for a boy who never took his Scouting oath.”

Kara sat on the sand with her arms wrapped around her knees as Dylan added a couple of logs to the fire he’d built after their swim. Skinny dipping with a drop dead sexy man by silver moonlight was a memory she’d filed away in the ‘keep forever’ file, and sitting beside him in the firelight was another tableau she never wanted to forget.

Bare-chested and tousle-haired, he looked as if he’d been cast from gold. Solid, gleaming gold.

She sipped brandy straight from the bottle, letting the warmth of the alcohol burn slowly inside her mouth. Every bone in her body felt heavy, totally relaxed. Heart-stopping sex, a lazy swim, and the perfect makeshift dinner can do that to a girl.

She smiled as she watched Dylan spear a marshmallow on a stick he’d whittled into a skewer.

“You really are the all American boy,” she smiled softly, watching him toast the candy over the flames.

He glanced up. “You think so?”

She nodded. “Hair, teeth and toasted marshmallows. Case closed.”

“I see.” He held out the stick, the golden-toasted marshmallow on the end of it.

“Is it going to burn me?”

“Not if you’re cautious.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Do you even know what the word means?”

Kara rolled her eyes. “I can be cautious. I just don’t feel like I need to be where you’re concerned.”

She took the stick and lifted the marshmallow to her nose, taking in the sweet, burnt sugar smell. It reminded her of candyfloss, bought and greedily consumed on chilly evenings at the bonfire night funfair back home as a kid. But she wasn’t cold tonight. She was warm inside and out from the fire Dylan had built on the sand, and in her heart.

Dylan heard Kara’s words, felt her trust, and wanted more than anything for them to be true. He wanted to be the man she made him feel like he was, rather than the guy who’d let his brother die and lost everything he owned trying to save the other one.

Thoughts of Justin ran like a thief through his head, stealing his happiness away, leaving him empty and imprisoned by the awareness that he needed to tell Kara the truth.

And he would. He didn’t know when, but he would. He’d honestly tried to a couple of times already, but each time the words got stuck behind his selfish need to stay on the pedestal where she’d put him. The view from up there was so good. Life with Kara was blue skies, mile wide smiles and smoking hot sex. The skies would no doubt still be blue after she knew, and he could survive without sex if he had to, but the idea of wiping that beautiful smile from her face nearly broke him.

Watching her now as she tried to exercise caution with the hot marshmallow, he knocked back a mouthful of brandy and tortured himself, wondering how she’d react. Would she hate him? Would she be furious? God, please let her be furious rather than cry, because he’d rather cut out his own tongue than make Kara cry.

He kidded himself that he wasn’t like the other liars in her life. He was a liar by circumstance rather than choice, he wasn’t hiding truths from her for his own benefit. Or was he? She didn’t even know his name, for God’s sake. She couldn’t Google him, because she didn’t know his name. She couldn’t read all of the salacious scandal about his family, because she didn’t know his name.

And the problem was that with every passing day, he wanted to stay Dylan Day more and more.

Kara held out the empty stick towards him.

“See? Cautious. And delicious.” She licked her lips. “Do me another?”

Dylan pushed the stick into a second soft, white marshmallow, trying to shake off the blues and enjoy the moment. The firelight warmed Kara’s skin tone to toffee and danced roses in her cheeks. She looked like the best cheerleader in the world.

He let himself imagine her for a couple of moments, all short skirt and pompoms, spelling out his name with that huge smile of hers on her face. ‘Gimme a D…D.Y.L.A.N. D.A.Y!’

And there it was again. The big lie that sat between them. And he wanted more than anything for her to know the truth.

“What’s on your mind, Sailor?”

He looked up from turning the stick close to the embers. She was way too in tune with his emotions. Could she see the mess inside his head? The darkness?

He sighed heavily. Was this the right moment?

“Here.” He held out the stick. “It’s ready.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kara sensed Dylan’s mood shift from carefree to pensive, despite the fact that he was clearly trying to cover it up. It wasn’t the first time she’d sensed his withdrawal, and it confused the hell out of her. She wanted in… into his head, and into his body. And not just sometimes. All of the time.

Planting the used marshmallow stick in the sand, she scooted over and swung her leg over his jean-clad hips. Pleasure returned slowly to his face as she straddled his lap, wrapping her legs around his back and her arms around his shoulders.

“I’m treating you to the full-on, all-body Brookes special here,” she said, loving the way his arms moved to hold her close even as the heavy sigh left his body. “This hug has been known to end wars.”

An appreciative sound rumbled in Dylan’s chest. “I can well believe that.” He twisted her still damp hair in his fingers. “It’s almost perfect.”

Kara pulled her head back. “Almost?”

Dylan peeled off her vest top. They’d both pulled minimal clothing on after their swim.

“You’re wearing stuff. You need to be naked to achieve war-ending status.”

“Nice line, Sailor.”

Kara climbed out of Dylan’s lap and shimmied out of her cut-offs, dropping her vest top on the sand beside them. Back in position a couple of seconds later, she wrapped herself around Dylan for a second time.

“And now?” she asked.

“Fucking perfection,” he said, scooping her close to sit on his erection, his crotch hot and hard between her spread legs.

“Am I?”

“Stop fishing, English.”

“I just wanted to make you forget whatever it is that creeps up on you sometimes and steals your smile.”

Dylan’s hands roved over her back and ass, following her curves as if he were committing them to memory. He let his forehead rest on her shoulder for a few seconds, and Kara stroked the back of his head. His body language told her two things. He needed to talk, and he needed to fuck.