The Soldier's Twin Surprise
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Judy Duarte
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15,7K
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13
Chapter One
If Captain Clay Masters hadn’t been so focused on the sexy brunette wearing a red bikini, he might not have been nailed in the head by a spiraling football.
Damn. He glanced at his old high school buddies, both of whom were laughing like hell, and then he retrieved the ball.
Over the last thirteen years, he’d stayed in touch with Duck and Poncho via email, texts and occasional phone calls, but they hadn’t spent any real time together since they’d all gone off to college. But you’d never know that. The moment they got together last Saturday in the baggage claim area of the Honolulu airport, it seemed as if they’d never gone their separate ways.
Now here they were, spending their well-earned vacation time on Oahu’s North Shore. The surf season had ended weeks ago, so the beach was secluded and nearly empty, other than the three friends and the petite brunette stretched out on a towel on the sand.
Poncho nudged Clay’s arm and nodded toward her. “She sure is rocking that red bikini.”
He had that right. Clay hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her ever since she set out her towel on the sand. And when she’d applied her sunblock? He’d been tempted to ask if she wanted his help.
But he hadn’t come here to hit on the first woman he saw. He wanted quality time with his buddies. Once they arrived, he’d traded in his flight suit for board shorts and flip-flops. He hadn’t even bothered shaving the past two mornings, which gave him a shadow of a beard. And instead of answering to sir or Captain, he’d reverted to the nickname he’d earned as a star quarterback at Wexler High—Bullet.
“Remember what I told you when I picked you up at the airport,” Clay told his buddies. “This week, I’m just a good ol’ boy from Texas, soaking up the sun and enjoying the surf.”
“We heard you,” Poncho said. “But hell, Bullet, maybe you should reconsider and proclaim your military status. Just look at her.”
Clay had been looking. She was stunning, with long brown hair and a body shaped to feminine perfection.
But ever since he’d gone to West Point, he’d been assigned to a military installation. And it hadn’t mattered where he was stationed, there were always plenty of local women who wanted to latch on to a military man, particularly an officer, for the bragging rights. And the benefits package wasn’t bad, either.
That didn’t mean Clay hadn’t had his share of romantic flings, but whenever he left the base, he usually kept his Army status under wraps.
“She looks lonely.” Poncho nodded toward her. “I’m going to talk to her. Maybe she’d like to join us for a cold beer.”
Duck laughed. “Just leave it to me, y’all. I’ve had more luck with the ladies than either of you.”
“Maybe so, but she doesn’t strike me as being your type.” Clay stole another glance at the bikini-clad brunette. “She doesn’t look like a buckle bunny or a rodeo queen.”
At that, Poncho gave Duck a nudge. “Don’t get carried away, man. She’s got her eye on Bullet. I’ve seen her stealing peeks at him every so often.”
Clay had noticed that, too, which was more than a little tempting. But he wasn’t about to desert his friends, no matter how gorgeous a lady was. “Come on,” he said. “This isn’t supposed to be a week of nights on the prowl. We’re here to relax and have fun—with each other. So are you going to stand around gawking at our neighbor or play ball?”
Poncho snatched the football from Clay’s hands, and the game picked up right where they’d left off. But like before, Clay had a hell of a time keeping his focus on throwing passes. Or catching them.
“Hey, Bullet.” Poncho slapped his hands on his hips. “You’re lagging, old man.”
Clay shook off his hormone-driven thoughts, realizing he’d gotten sluggish. So he threw a hard spiral to Poncho, who dropped it. “Ha! Look who’s lagging now.”
They continued to toss the ball, but how was Clay supposed to keep his mind on the game when he couldn’t keep his eyes off the sexy brunette?
Finally, he decided to throw in the towel. So he called a time-out to his friends. “I’m ready for a cold beer.” He was also ready to start the grill.
As his buddies trudged through the sand to the place where they’d left their stuff, two other young women, a blonde and a redhead, arrived at the shore and began setting out their ice chest and towels.
“What do you know,” Poncho said. “Looks like we have company. And if Duck and I play our cards right, we could all get lucky tonight.”
Poncho and Duck might be willing to sidle up to the newcomers, but Clay was still drawn to the olive-skinned brunette who could’ve modeled for the latest Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Not that she was doing anything especially sexy or alluring. Hell, she was just reading a book.
“It’s clear that Clay has scoped out the brunette,” Poncho said, “which is fine by me. I’ve always favored blondes. That is, unless Duck wants to arm wrestle me for her.”
“No problem,” Duck said. “I’ll take the redhead.”
“Okay, guys.” Clay folded his arms across his chest. “What if they’re not interested?”
“Oh, they’re interested. They keep looking over here and giggling. But you’ll have to work a little magic on the brunette.” Poncho chuckled. “Something tells me you’ve gotten a little rusty at laying on the charm.”
“I’ve still got the touch. There are some things a guy doesn’t forget.” But Clay wasn’t in the mood for romantic fun and games tonight, especially if his friends struck out with the new arrivals. In fact, he had half a notion to go back to their rented beach house, open a cold one, turn on the TV and hang out inside. Alone.
“While you light the grill,” Poncho told Duck, “I’ll lay a little buenos días on the lovely twosome and invite them to our barbecue.” Then he glanced at Clay. “What are you waiting for? Go offer the brunette an invite. Or would you rather I lay a little groundwork for you first?”
“I don’t need your help.” Clay stole another glance at the brunette. Chances were, she was on vacation, too.
Oh, what the hell. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her. Maybe she’d be interested in the cowboy type and in sharing a night they’d both remember—long after they each went their own ways.
* * *
Sergeant Erica Campbell lay on her back, her open historical romance novel held up to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare while she read.
Earlier this afternoon, she’d noticed the three hotties who’d been splashing in the water and playing football on the shore. The one called Bullet had glanced her way, and when their eyes met, he tossed her a big, Texas-size grin. She meant to ignore him, but he seemed so boyish and charming that she couldn’t help returning his smile.
All three of them were attractive and well built, but Bullet either spent a lot of time at the gym or had a job that required strength and vigor.
His light brown hair was short, much like his friends’. Water glistened on his broad shoulders. Six-pack abs and a taut belly drew her undivided attention like a sharp, crisp salute. Now there was a real hunk. And a drop-dead gorgeous one at that.
But the last thing she needed to do, especially this weekend, was to give someone the idea that she wanted company. So she quickly averted her gaze, reached into her small tote bag for the spray bottle of sunblock and applied it. Then she lay back down on the towel and reached for her novel.
Male laughter erupted yet again, drawing her from her story as it had several times since she’d come outside her rented beachfront bungalow to catch a few rays. As much as she’d wanted to ignore the three men who were sharing the same stretch of beach with her, she found that next to impossible. Two of them had a slight southern drawl, and she suspected they were Texas natives, just as she was. One of them also appeared to be Latino. So was she, although she couldn’t speak a lick of Spanish.
Their short haircuts suggested they might be in the military. That wouldn’t be unusual. There were quite a few bases located on the island.
She made it a point to avoid men stationed on Oahu, even though that wasn’t easy. Men often approached her, even when she was in uniform, and tried to hit on her. So the bikini she was wearing today was a little risky, since it might draw even more attention to her.
It’s not that she was stuck-up or prudish, but she’d witnessed firsthand how deployments and conflicting duty assignments could take their toll on a relationship, especially when both people were in the military.
She loved being stationed in Honolulu. She didn’t much like being downtown in Waikiki, though. It was too much like other big cities. But the North Shore, as far as she was concerned, was paradise on earth.
Again, she glanced at the handsome tourists. They seemed to be in their late twenties or early thirties. And they shared a playful camaraderie she found interesting.
Listening to their conversation, she’d picked up on their nicknames. She and her sister Elena had done the same thing, calling themselves Rickie and Lainie when they were girls. She wondered if they would have continued doing that until adulthood. Probably. They’d been so close. And for the most part, they’d only had each other.
As the guys teased each other about a dirt-bike crash that resulted in Bullet getting a gash in his head and Poncho puking at the sight of blood, she realized they’d grown up together. That they’d been friends for a long time.
She wished she’d kept in contact with some of her high school friends, but when she enlisted nearly six years ago, she’d lost touch with them. Not that she hadn’t made new ones. It’s just that the Army had a way of shaking things up with regular deployments or reassignments.
Again, the three laughed at something that had landed them in detention, further convincing her that they were high school buddies who’d come to Hawaii on vacation. Not that it mattered. Erica wasn’t here to gawk at hot guys. She was here to think, to regroup and to kick that shadow of guilt she felt as she grieved for her adoptive parents.
She’d cried when she’d gotten the news of the accident and then again at the funeral. She’d loved them. How could she not? They’d rescued her from the foster care system when she’d been in the third grade.
Still, it had taken a long time for her to bond with the couple. But that was probably due to the hospitalization and the death of her twin sister that same year. Now there was a crushing loss that had struck hard, leaving a void that would never go away.
Needless to say, the Army was Erica’s family now. And in a couple of months, when her contract was up, she’d eagerly reenlist without giving it a second thought.
She’d just reached an especially steamy part of her novel when a shadow crossed her face, drawing her from the heated love scene. She assumed the sun had passed behind a cloud until a man cleared his throat.
Startled, she glanced up. When she spotted one of the guys standing over her, the hottie she’d heard them call Bullet, she slammed the book shut and set it aside with the cover facedown. Her cheeks, already warmed by the sun, as well as the words on the page, heated to the boiling point.
Talk about getting caught red-handed—or rather red faced! Had he realized she’d been in the middle of a love scene?
“I’m sorry,” Bullet said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you or interrupt your reading.”
She sat up and combed her fingers through her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry about. That book wasn’t very good anyway. I was just about to throw it into the ocean.”
“I could do that for you,” he said. “I’ve got a pretty good arm.”
“So I noticed. I assume that’s why they call you Bullet.”
His lips quirked into a crooked grin, and he gave a little shrug.
Arrogant guys were a real turnoff. Usually. But she loved football and found this particular quarterback intriguing. But there was no way in hell she’d hand over that blasted book to him. And even though she’d claimed otherwise, it had been a great story, one she intended to finish, although that wasn’t going to happen this afternoon.
Neither of them spoke, and as he studied her, she felt vulnerable. And half-dressed. If her swimsuit cover-up was handy, she’d slip it on now.
She blamed the self-consciousness on that damn love scene, but in all honesty, Bullet wasn’t making it easy to forget the words she’d read. The bare chest. The heated kiss. The hand slipping into the slick, silky folds...
“You on vacation?” he asked.
She rarely shared intimate details about herself with strangers, but the guy seemed like a friendly sort. So she nodded and said, “Yes.” She had to report at the base before midnight on Sunday.
“My buddies and I are checking out on Sunday morning,” Bullet said.
She used her hand to shield the afternoon sun from her eyes. “I noticed your accents. Are you guys from Texas?”
“Yep. We grew up in Wexler. It’s in south Texas, about two hours from Houston. Ever hear of it?”
“Actually, I have. I was born in Houston and went to high school in Jeffersville, which is about fifty miles from there.”
“No kidding? Small world.”
“In some ways.” But it could be a great big world, too. And lonely.
Bullet swept a muscular arm toward the water. “How ’bout that ocean? Ever see anything that blue?”
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” In fact, that’s why she spent a lot of her free time at the beach on the North Shore.
“You here with friends?” he asked.
“Not at the moment.” She glanced at the two women sitting together on a blanket in the sand. It might be nice to have someone with her today, someone to offer solace and a diversion. But she didn’t.
“Just spending some alone time?” he asked.
She didn’t see a need to reveal that she was staying by herself this weekend, although she was pretty damn good at defending herself—with a gun or in hand-to-hand combat. “I have two vacation days left,, so I rented that bungalow behind me.”
“That makes us neighbors.” Bullet nodded toward his friends, who’d stopped playing and now stood with their hands on their hips, talking to two other women who’d just arrived. “We’re staying in the house next door.”
She’d already come to that conclusion, but she didn’t comment.
“We’re going to be grilling brats and hot dogs,” Bullet added. “And we’ve got plenty of beer on ice. Sodas, too. We even have a bottle of vodka and some OJ. You’re welcome to join us.”
Erica looked at his buddies, her gaze returning to Bullet, her attraction growing by leaps and bounds.
“Just so you know,” he added, “my friends and I are nice guys. Trustworthy and honorable. Especially Poncho. His day job is driving a squad car down Wexler’s main drag, keeping the residents safe.”
One of them was a police officer? She hadn’t expected that.
Erica was usually skeptical of flirtatious men, but something told her Bullet was honest. And that she’d be safe with the three Texas tourists.
So in spite of her plan to spend the rest of the day and evening alone, she agreed to join them.
“We’ll be starting the grill soon,” Bullet said. “How does an ice-cold beer sound?”
Every bit of common sense she’d ever had prompted her to say that she’d reconsidered, that she was going to pass on the barbecue after all. She wasn’t especially fond of hot dogs. But the loneliness and grief were getting to her, so she felt compelled to say, “Sure. Why not?”
“I’ll bring a beer over to you,” he said. “Unless you’d prefer a soda or mixed drink? I could make you a screwdriver.”
“Actually, the beer is fine.”
“You got it.” Then he turned and walked away, gracing her with a view of his broad shoulders and swim trunks that rode low on narrow hips and outlined a great pair of glutes. Dang. The guy had a heart-stopping swagger.
Moments later, after she’d shoved the novel into her tote bag and brushed out her hair, he returned with two ice-cold longnecks and handed one to her. She looked at the label. It was the Longboard Island Lager, made by the Kona Brewing Company. Apparently, these guys wanted the whole Hawaii experience.
“Mind if I sit here?” he asked.
“Go ahead.” She moved the ice chest, making room for him to sit beside her on the towel.
Instead, he chose the sand. She appreciated the humble move. She hated it when men tried to push boundaries. And the fact that Bullet seemed a bit shy and cordial was a bit of a turn-on.
Who was she kidding? It was more than a little alluring.
She took a long, refreshing drink. It had taken her a while to get used to the taste of beer, but after some time in the Army, she’d come to enjoy it after a hard day in the field.
“Tell me something,” she said. “Honestly. Is Poncho really a cop?”
“Yep. In fact, he was just promoted to detective.”
“I suppose he looks more like an authority figure in his uniform.”
Bullet laughed. “I don’t blame you for being surprised. Poncho used to be the rowdy one who led me and Duck astray, but once he turned twenty-one, he shocked the entire town, if not the high school, by joining the Wexler Police Department.”
“And Duck?” she asked. “Is he in law enforcement, too?”
“No, he’d rather be a lawbreaker.”
“Seriously?”
Bullet chuckled. “Maybe back in our high school days, but not so much anymore. Actually, he’s a rodeo cowboy. And a good one.”
She tended to be skeptical by nature, especially of men she’d just met, but Duck had a soft Texas twang and a lanky, muscular build. Of course, looks could be deceiving. Yet something in Bullet’s eyes suggested he wasn’t giving her a line of bull.
“What about you?” she asked, more curious about Bullet than the others.
He didn’t answer right away, then offered her a charming smile that dimpled his lightly bristled cheeks and made him appear both rugged and boyish at the same time. “Let’s just say that I can outride, out rope and outshoot both of them.”
That surprised her, although she wasn’t sure why it would. And he’d admitted that he was a better cowboy than the others, which just might be true. At least he hadn’t bragged about the number of silver belt buckles he’d won in the rodeo.
Erica had pretty much outgrown the type of guys she’d known as a teenager back in Jeffersville. Nevertheless, she found Bullet far more attractive than she should.
“How long will you be in Hawaii?” Bullet asked. Erica wasn’t about to reveal too many personal details with a guy she’d just met, no matter how hunky he was or how trustworthy she thought he might be. But then again, she didn’t see any reason not to be somewhat honest. If she kept the story simple, he wouldn’t have enough information about her to find her again—if he turned out to be a jerk. He didn’t need to know that she was stationed in Honolulu for the time being.
“Actually,” she said, “I just flew in from Houston.” It was the truth, of course. And it supported her comment about having two days left of her vacation. But she’d actually just returned from bereavement leave.
Several weeks ago, she’d gotten an early-morning call from the Texas hospital where her parents had been taken after the accident. Her father had suffered a massive coronary while driving home from church. The car had crashed through a guardrail and rolled down an embankment. He was pronounced dead on arrival, and her mom died from her injuries a few hours later.
Erica sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. It had been a long month, a sad and lonely one. She’d gone to Texas to bury the parents who’d adopted her.
But the worst was past. She had two days left of her leave before she had to report to duty at Schofield Barracks, so she’d rented the bungalow through Airbnb, where she hoped the warm sun, the soft tropical breeze and the sound of waves lapping on the sand would provide a healing balm.
She and Bullet sat there awhile, both caught up in their own thoughts. Or so it seemed.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
She could have told him anything at that point—Jennifer, Heather, Alexis. She’d heard that it was a game some women played. They’d create fake careers and backgrounds, too. But Erica wouldn’t go that far. Instead, since he and his friends referred to each other with nicknames, she’d offer him one, too. The one her twin sister had given her years ago. “My name is Rickie.”
He nodded, as if making a mental note, then took a chug of beer. Since he hadn’t offered up his real name, she didn’t ask. What was the point? She didn’t expect to see him after she checked out and returned to base.
It was weird, though. She hadn’t been called Rickie since the night Lainie had gone to the hospital for the surgery that failed. At the memory, at the thought of the final words they’d shared with each other, a pang of grief shot through her, reminding her that she’d lost her entire family. Two of them, in fact. Not many people could claim to be orphaned twice, but this time around, at twenty-five, it was a lot easier than when she and Lainie had been eight.
Under the circumstances, she probably should keep to herself tonight so she could dwell on her emotions and come up with a good game plan to face the future. Wasn’t that why she’d come to North Shore this weekend?
For someone determined to keep to herself, she couldn’t explain why she’d let herself be enticed by the hunky, football-playing tourists. Maybe it was some sort of coping mechanism preventing her from dealing with her own issues, her own sadness.
If she could distract herself with the antics of a trio of strangers reliving their glory days on the beach, then she wouldn’t be forced to think about her recent loss.
But she’d much rather laugh than cry. And these guys were playful and entertaining. Intriguing and handsome. Especially Bullet. Besides, she didn’t have to tell him that she was in the Army and actually lived nearby.
Why get so personal when, after Sunday morning, she’d never see him again?
