Moonlight Beach Bachelors: Her Forbidden Cowboy

They shared a smile. “I see.” But when she’d first arrived, he was wearing jeans and a casual cotton shirt. Was he dressing up now? “Do I need to change my clothes for dinner?”

“No, no. Mr. Zane spilled iced tea on his shirt. You are dressed nice.”

“Thank you.” Okay, great. She felt better now. When she’d packed her clothes, she hadn’t given much thought to her wardrobe. All she hoped for was to clear her head a little while here. “I thought I’d go for a walk on the beach. I’ll be back in plenty of time for dinner. See you later.”

Mrs. Lopez nodded and focused on the stove. Jess’s stomach grumbled as she left the spicy smells of the kitchen and walked out the double doors to the deck. From there, she climbed a few more stairs down, until warm sand crept onto her flip-flops.

* * *

There were no lakes or rivers back home that compared with the balmy breezes whipping at her hair, the briny taste on her lips or the glistening golden hues reflecting off the ocean. Her steps fell lightly, making a slight impression in the packed wet sand until the next wave inched up the shore and carried her footprints out to sea. Even with the sun low over the water’s edge, her skin warmed as she walked along the beach. To her right, beachfront mansions overlooking the sea filled her line of vision, each one different in design and structure. She was so intent on gauging the houses, she didn’t notice a jogger approaching until he’d stopped right in front of her.

“Hi,” he said, his breaths heaving.

“Hello.” A swift glance at his face made her gasp silently. He was stunning and tanned and one of the most famous movie stars in the world. Dylan McKay.

He hunched over, hands on knees, catching his breath. “Give me a sec.”

For what? She wanted to ask, yet she stood there, feet implanted in the sand, waiting. He was easy on the eyes, and she tried not to stare at his bare chest and the dip of his jogging shorts below a trim waist.

He righted his posture, and blood drained from her body as he aimed a heart-melting smile her way. “Thank you.”

Puzzled, she stared at him. “For?”

“Being here. For giving me an excuse to stop running.” He chuckled, and white teeth flashed. Was the sun-gleaming twinkle from his smile real? Could’ve been. Dylan McKay was every red-blooded woman’s idea of the perfect man.

Except hers. She knew there was no such thing.

“Okay. But...you could’ve just stopped on your own, couldn’t you?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m supposed to run ten miles a day. It’s a work thing. I’m preparing for a role as a Navy SEAL.”

No kidding? She wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t know who he was. Or that his bronzed body wasn’t already honed and ripped. “Gotcha. How many did you do?”

His lips twisted with self-loathing. “Eight.”

“That’s not bad.” Judging by the pained look on his face, he was a man who expected perfection of himself. “There aren’t too many people who can run eight miles.”

His expression lightened and he seemed to appreciate her encouragement. “I’m Dylan, by the way.” He put out his hand.

“Jessica.” It was a one-pump handshake.

“Are we neighbors?” he asked, his brows gathering. “I live over there.” He pointed to a trilevel mansion looming close by.

She shook her head. “Not really. I’m staying with Zane Williams for a short time.”

When his brows lifted ever so slightly and his eyes flashed, she read his mind. “He’s...he’s family.”

He nodded. “I know Zane. Good guy.”

“He is. My sister...well, he was married to Janie.”

A moment passed as he put two and two together. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I think I’ve gotten my second wind. Thanks to you. Only two miles to go. Nice meeting you, Jessica. Say hi to Zane for me.”

He about-faced, trotted down the beach in the opposite direction and soon picked up his pace to a full-out jog.

She headed back to the house, a smile on her lips, a song humming in her heart. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

She spotted Zane braced against the patio railing and waved. Had he been watching her? She was hit with a surge of self-consciousness. She wasn’t a beach babe. Her curvy figure didn’t allow two-piece bathing suits, and her pale skin tone could be compared only with the bark of a birch tree or the peel of a honeydew melon.

As she climbed the stairs, her gaze hit upon his shirt, a Hawaiian print with repeating palm trees. She’d never seen Zane look more casual and yet appear so ill at ease in his surroundings.

“Nice walk?” he asked, removing his sunglasses.

“It beats a stroll to Beckon’s Cinema Palace.”

Zane laughed, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You got that right. I haven’t thought about the Palace in a long time.” His voice sounded gruff as if he’d go back to those days in a heartbeat.

There wasn’t a whole lot to do in Beckon, Texas, so on Saturday night the parking lot at the Palace swarmed with kids from the high school. Hanging out and hooking up. It’s where Jessica had had her first awkward kiss. With Miles Bernardy. Gosh, he was such a geek. But then, so was she.

It was also where Janie and Zane had fallen in love.

“I met one of your neighbors.”

“Judging by the glow on your face, must’ve been Dylan. He runs this time of day.”

“My face is not glowing.” She blinked.

“Nothing to worry over. Happens all the time with women.”

“I’m not a wom—I mean, I am not gawking over a movie star, for heaven’s sake.”

He should talk. Former brother-in-law or not, Zane Williams was a country superstar hunk. Dark-haired, six foot two, a chiseled-jawed Grammy winner, Zane wasn’t hard on the eyes, either. The tabloids painted him as an eligible widower who needed love in his life. So far, they’d been kind to him, a rare thing for a superstar.

He picked up his crutches and lifted one to gesture to a table. “This okay with you?”

Two adjacent places were set along a rectangular glass table large enough for ten. Votive candles and a spray of flowers accented the place settings facing the sunset. “It’s nice, Zane. I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble. I don’t expect you to entertain me.”

“Not going to any trouble, Jess. Fact is, I eat out here most days. I hate being cooped up inside the house. Just another week and I’ll be out of these dang confinements.” He raised his wrapped wrist.

“That’s good news. Then what will you do?”

Inclining his head, he considered her question. “Some rehab, I’m told. And continue working out details on the restaurant.” He frowned, and the light dimmed in his eyes. “My tour’s not due to pick up until September sometime. Maybe.”

She wouldn’t pry about the maybe. He hobbled to the table. Leaning a crutch against the table’s edge, he managed to pull out her chair—such chivalry—and she took her seat. Then he scooted his butt into his own chair. Plop. Poor Zane. His injuries put him completely out of his element.

Mrs. Lopez appeared with platters of food. She set them on the table with efficient haste and nodded to him. “I made a pitcher of margaritas to go with the enchiladas and rice. Or maybe some iced tea or soda?”

“Jessica?” he asked.

“A margarita sounds like heaven.”

He glanced at the housekeeper. “Bring the pitcher, please.”

She nodded. Within a minute, a pitcher appeared along with two bottle-green wide-rimmed margarita glasses. “Thanks,” he said. Zane leaned forward and gripped the pitcher with his wrapped hand. His face pinched tight as he struggled to upend the weighty pitcher. He sighed, and she sensed his frustration over not being able to perform the simple task of pouring a drink with his right hand.

“Let me help,” she said softly.

She slipped her hand under the pitcher and helped guide the slushy concoction into the glasses. She gave him credit for clamping his mouth shut and not complaining about his limitations.

“Thanks,” he said. He reached out, and the slide of his rough fingers over hers sent warm tingles to her heart. They were still connected through Janie, and she valued his friendship now. She’d made the right decision in coming here.

The food was delicious. She inhaled the meal, emptying her plate within minutes. “I guess I didn’t know how hungry I was. Or thirsty.”

She reached for her second margarita and took a long sip. Tart icy goodness slid down her throat. “Mmm.”

The sun had set with a parfait of swirling color, and now half the moon lit the night. The beach was quiet and calm. The roar of the waves had given way to an occasional lulling swish.

Zane sipped his third margarita. She remembered that about him. He could hold his liquor.

“So what are your plans now, Jess?” he asked.

“Hit the beach, work on my tan and stay out of your way. Shouldn’t be too hard. The place is huge.”

Tiny lines crinkled around his eyes, and he chuckled. “You don’t need to stay out of my way. But feel free to do whatever you want. There are two cars parked in the garage, fueled and ready to go. I can’t drive them.”

“So how do you get around?”

“Mariah, usually. When I’m needed at the restaurant site or somewhere, she’s drives me or I hire a car. She’s been a trouper, going above and beyond since my accident.”

Mrs. Lopez picked up the empty dishes, leaving the margarita pitcher. A smart woman.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lopez. Have a good night,” Zane said. “See you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” she said to both of them.

“Thanks for the delicious enchiladas.”

On a humble nod and smile, she exited the patio.

Zane pointed to her half-empty glass. “How many of those can you handle, darlin’?”

“Oh, uh...I don’t know. Why?”

“’Cause if you fall flat on your face, I won’t be able to pick you up and carry you to your room.”

He winked, and a sudden vision of Zane carrying her to the bedroom burst into her mind. It wasn’t as weird a notion as she might’ve thought. She felt safe with Zane. She truly liked him and didn’t buy into his guilt over Janie’s death. He wasn’t to blame. He couldn’t have known about faulty wiring in the house or the fire that would claim her life. Janie had loved Zane for the man that he was, had always been. She wouldn’t want Zane’s guilt to follow him into old age.

“Well, then, we’re even. If you got pie-eyed, I wouldn’t be able to pick you up, either.” She took another long sip of her drink. Darn, but it tasted good. Her spirits lifted. Let the healing begin.

Zane cocked a crooked smile. “I like your style, Miss Holcomb.”

“Ugh. To think I would’ve been Mrs. Monahan by now. Thank God I’m not.”

“The guy’s an ass.”

“Thanks for saying that. He sure had me fooled. Up until the minute I was having my bridal veil pinned in my hair, I thought I knew what the future had in store for me. I saw myself married to a man I had a common bond with. He was a high school principal. I was a grade-school teacher. We both loved education. But I was too blind to see that Steven had commitment phobia. He’d had one broken relationship after another before we started dating. I invested three years of my life in the guy, and I thought surely he’d gotten over it. I thought I was the one. But he was fooling himself as well as me.” A pent-up breath whooshed out of her. A little bit of tequila loosened her tongue, and out poured her heart. The unburdening was liberating. “My friend Sally said Steven looked up his old girlfriend seeking sympathy after the wedding that never happened. Can you imagine?”

Zane stared at her. “No. He should be on his knees begging you for forgiveness. He did one thing right. He didn’t marry you and make your life miserable. I hate to say it, darlin’, but you’re better off without him. The man doesn’t deserve you. But you’re hurt right now, and I get that. You probably still love him.”

“I don’t,” she said, hoisting her glass and swallowing a big gulp. “I pretty much hate him.”

Zane leaned back in his seat, his gaze soft on her. “Okay. You hate him. He’s out of your life.”

She braced folded elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. The sea was black as pitch now, the sky lit only with a few stars and clouded moonlight. “I just wanted...I wanted what you and Janie had. I wanted that kind of love.”

Her fuzzy brain cleared. Oh, no. She hadn’t just said that? She whipped her head around. Zane’s expression of sympathy didn’t change. He didn’t flinch. He simply stared out to sea. “We had something pretty special.”

“You did. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“Don’t be.” His tone held no malice. “You’re Janie’s sister. You have as much right to talk about her as I do.”

Tears misted in her eyes. “I miss her.”

“I miss her, too.”

She sighed. She didn’t mean to put such a somber mood on the evening. Zane was gracious enough to allow her to stay here. She didn’t want to bring him down. It was definitely time to call it a night. She put on a cheery face. “Well, this has been nice.”

She rose, and her head immediately clouded up. The table, the railing, the ocean blurred before her. She batted her eyes over and over, trying to focus. Two Zanes popped into her line of vision. She reached for the tabletop, struggling to remain upright on her own steam. She swayed back and forth, unable to keep her body still. “Zane?”

“It just hit you, didn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. I think so.” She giggled.

“Don’t move for a second.”

“I’ll...try.” A tornado swirled in her head. “Why?”

He rose and hobbled over to her. Using one crutch, he tucked it under his left arm. “I’m going to help you get inside.”

“But, you said...you c-couldn’t. Uh...” She giggled again.

Zane wrapped his right arm around her shoulder. “Okay, now, darlin’, I’ve got you. Your body will be my other crutch. We’ll help each other. Move slowly.”

“W-where are we g-going?”

“I’ve got to get you to bed.”

Her head fell to his shoulder. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought how nice it felt to have him hold her. He smelled good. He would take care of her.

“Focus on putting one foot in front of the other.”

She tried.

“That’s good, honey.”

Hobble-hopping, they moved together. It seemed to take forever to go a short distance in the dark shadows of the night. Keeping her eyes down, she watched her feet move. Then blinding light appeared in a burst. She squinted. “What’s that?”

“We’re inside the house now,” Zane was saying.

“That’s g-good, right? I’ll be in b-bed soon.” A warm buzz spread through her like soft, sweet jelly.

“Not upstairs. You’ll never make it. We’re going to my room.”

She couldn’t wait to lay her head down someplace. She didn’t care where. More careful steps later, they entered a room. A ray of moonlight beamed like an arrow, aiming straight at the bed.

“Okay, we made it,” Zane said. He sounded weird and out of breath. “You’ll sleep here tonight.”

He guided her down. The bed hit her bottom quickly and cushioned around her. She swayed sideways and was immediately set to right. Zane held her steady as the mattress dipped again and he sat next to her. Dizzying waves bombarded her head. She’d sat too quickly.

“Think you can take it from here?” he whispered.

No. Aware of Zane’s eyes on her, she waited until the twister in her head calmed. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.”

Her giddiness fading, her lighthearted high dropped to a pitiful low. It hadn’t taken her long to become a burden to Zane. If only she hadn’t sucked down that second margarita. Zane had warned her to go slowly. Expensive tequila and jet lag had done her in. Man, chalk another mistake up to her lousy intuition.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said.

But she was, and an urge to thank him wiggled through the fog in her head. Pursing her lips, she leaned forward toward his cheek. Her aim off, she missed and caught the corner of his mouth instead. As she brushed a soft kiss there, he tasted of tequila and the sea. So good. Inside, a warm sprinkling of something wonderful spread through her body. “Thank you,” she whispered, not sure if her words slurred.

Then his arms wrapped around her and gently lowered her down. Her head was enveloped in a large, fluffy pillow, and a silky sheet came to rest over her body.

She heard a whispered, “Welcome,” right before the world finally stopped spinning.

Two

Jessica gazed at the digital clock on the nightstand. Eight-thirty! She flashed back to last night and drinking those two giant margaritas, then slowly looked around. She was in an unfamiliar bed.

She’d finally let go and given herself permission to have a good time, and where had that gotten her? She’d made a fool of herself. Zane had hobbled her inside the house and slept heaven only knew where. Was there another bedroom on this floor? Maybe a servant’s quarters? She’d seen an office, a screening room and a game room. No beds, just couches. “Oh, man,” she mumbled.

She scanned the stark but stylish bedroom where she’d slept. A flat-screen TV, a dresser and a low fabric sofa were the only other furniture in the room. If it wasn’t for a shelf that housed Zane’s five Grammys, as well as a couple of CMA and ACM awards, she wouldn’t have guessed it was his master suite. There was nothing personal, warm and cozy about the space.

Hitching her body forward, she waited for signs of pain, but there was nothing. Thank goodness—no hangover. She grabbed her glasses from the nightstand, tossed off the covers and rose. Seeing she was still dressed in her shorts and tank top, she emitted a low groan from her throat as she slipped her feet into her flip-flops. How reckless of her. She’d abused Zane’s hospitality already.

She entered the bathroom, another ode to magnificence, and glanced at herself in the mirror. Smudged mascara and rumpled hair reflected back at her. She washed her face and finger-combed her long wayward tresses. She’d take care of the rest once she reached her own room.

Exiting Zane’s room, she made her way down a short hallway. Voices coming from the kitchen perked up her ears.

Mrs. Lopez spotted her and waved her inside. “Just in time for breakfast.”

Mariah and Zane sat at the kitchen table, coffee mugs piping hot in front of them. Upon the housekeeper’s announcement, both heads lifted her way. Blood rushed up her neck, and her face flamed.

“Morning,” Zane said, peering into her eyes and not at her wrinkled mess of clothes. “You ready for some breakfast?”

“Good morning, Jessica,” Mariah said. They’d obviously been deep in concentration, poring over a stack of papers.

“Yes, yes. Sit down,” Mrs. Lopez insisted.

“Oh, uh...good morning. I don’t want to intrude. You look busy.”

“Just same old, same old,” Mariah said. “We’re going over plans for Zane’s new restaurant. We could use your input.”

She’d given Zane her input last night. God. She’d kissed him. Remembering that kiss sent a warm rash of heat through her body. She’d missed his cheek and gotten hold of his lips. Was it the alcohol, or had her heart strummed from that kiss? The alcohol. Had to be. He must have known it was a genuine miscalculation on her part. She hadn’t meant to kiss him that way.

“Yes, have a seat, Jess,” he said casually. “You need to eat. And we sure need a fresh perspective.”

Before her shower? Luckily Zane hadn’t mentioned anything about her lack of discretion last night or her state of dress today. She’d overslept, that much was a given. Back home, she rose before six every morning. She loved to go through the morning newspaper, take a walk in the backwoods and then eat a light breakfast before heading to her classroom.

There were a platter of bagels with cream cheese, a scrambled egg jalapeno dish and cereal boxes on the table. The eggs smelled heavenly, and her stomach grumbled. Seeing no other option, she sat down and reached for the eggs as Mrs. Lopez provided her with a bowl and a cup of coffee.

“Bien.” She gave a satisfied nod.

Jessica smiled at her.

As Zane and his assistant finished up their breakfast, she ate, too, complimenting Mrs. Lopez on the food she’d prepared.

Zane told Mariah, “Janie and Jessica worked at their folks’ café in Beckon. They served the best fried chicken in all of Texas.”

“That’s what most folks said,” she agreed. She couldn’t claim modesty. Her parents did make the best fried chicken in the state. “My parents opened Holcomb House when I was young. They worked hard to make a go of it. It wasn’t anything as grand as what you’re probably planning, but in Beckon, the Holcomb House was known for good eats and a friendly atmosphere. When Dad died five years ago, my mom couldn’t make a go of it by herself. I think she lost the will, so she sold the restaurant. I’m no expert, but if I can help in any way, I’ll give it a try.”

“Great,” Mariah said.

“Appreciate it,” Zane added. “This restaurant will be a little different than the one in Reno, in cuisine and atmosphere. The beach is a big draw for tourists, and we want it to be a great experience.”

Zane probably had half a dozen financial advisors, but if he needed her help in any way, she’d oblige. How could she not? She cringed thinking that Zane slept on a sofa last night. A quick glance at his less than crisp clothes, the same clothes he’d worn last night, meant that he probably hadn’t got to shower this morning, either. Because of her.

Once the dishes were cleared, Mariah pushed a few papers over to her. “If you don’t mind, could you tell us what you think of the menu? Are the prices fair? Do the titles of the dishes make sense? We’re working with a few chefs and want to get it just right. These are renderings of what Zane’s on the Beach will look like once all done, exterior and interior.”

For the next hour, Jessica worked with the two of them, giving her opinion, voicing her concerns when they probed and offering praise honestly if not sparingly. Zane’s on the Beach had everything a restaurant could offer. Outside, patio tables facing the beach included a sand bar for summer nights of drinking under the moonlight. Inside, window tables were premium, with the next row of tables raised to gain a view of the ocean, as well. It wasn’t posh, but it wasn’t family dining, either. “I like that you’ve made it accessible to a younger crowd. The prices are fair. Have you thought about putting a little stage in the bar? Invite in local entertainment to perform?”

Mariah shot a look at Zane. “We discussed it. I think it’s a great idea. Zane isn’t so sure.”

Zane scrubbed his chin, deep in thought. “I’ve got to get a handle on what I want from this restaurant. My name and reputation are at stake. Do I want ocean views and great food or a hot spot for a younger crowd?”

“Why can’t you have both?” Jessica asked. “Quality is quality. Diners will come for the cuisine and ambiance. After hours, the place can transform into a nightspot for the millennials.”

Amused, Zane’s dark eyes sparked. “Millennials? Are you one?”

“I guess so.”

His head tilted, and his mouth quirked up. “Why do I suddenly feel old?”

“Because you are,” Mariah jabbed. “You’re cranking toward forty.”

“Thirty-five is a far shot from forty, and that’s all I’m saying.”

“You’re wise to stop there,” Mariah said playfully, yet with a note of warning. Jessica could tell that Mariah Jacobellis wasn’t a woman who put up with age jokes. Although Mariah was physically lovely, she seemed to take no prisoners when it came to business or her personal life. Jessica admired that about her. Maybe she could take a lesson from her rule book.

Zane leaned way back in his seat. “You got that right.”

Mariah stacked the papers on the table and rose, hugging them to her chest. “Well, I’m off to make some phone calls. Zane, think about when you want to resume your tour. I’ve got to let the event coordinators know. They’re on my back about it. Oh, and be sure to read through that contract that Bernie sent over the other day.”