Revised
Thump!
Kate Munroe jerked when the volleyball landed in the sand eight feet to her right. Seriously? She was this far away from the beach volleyball court and the ball still managed to bounce near her? The court hadn't been occupied when she'd arrived earlier, but she'd put a distance between it and her, anyway. Not enough, it seemed.
The loud jocks playing the game were easy on the eyes, being all tall, shirtless, tanned and ripped. She'd found her attention drawn to them repeatedly, instead of concentrating on the work she'd brought with her. But, what was a girl to do, with all that muscular eye candy cavorting about just steps away? Their proportions were a lot more interesting than the room dimensions she was calculating. Too bad none of them could play worth squat.
With one, last admiring glance at the hunky men, she gathered up her sketchbook and other belongings, and moved farther down the beach. She was going to need a lot of sand between her and the volleyball game, and not just because she didn't want to get hit.
Settling down in her chair once more, Kate reopened the sketchbook and tried to concentrate on her drawing. God, she wished she could afford to do interior design full time and have her own office space. But her greedy siblings had taken care of those possibilities by suing her for her portion of her inheritance from their parents. Now they both owned their houses while she was left drawing on the beach and subletting her best friend's beach apartment, since that woman was out photographing lions in Africa for a travel magazine. Some people had all the luck, and Kate wasn't one of them.
Stretching her legs in front of her, Kate paused and considered the turn her life had taken. Three years ago she'd gotten her interior design degree and had started taking on freelance jobs in hopes of making a name for herself. Her parents had been proud. Meanwhile, her older brother had divorced his fourth wife and started AA meetings for the third time, telling their parents this time would be the last time. Her younger sister had kicked the pot habit, again, in hopes of regaining custody of her two children, the niece and nephew whom Kate saw far too little.
Not being close to her siblings because of their life choices, she had still sought them out for comfort when their parents died in a car accident. For a short time, it seemed that the deaths of their mom and dad did what they couldn't do in life: bring their children closer together. Until the reading of the will.
She stared at her sketchpad through a sudden sheen of tears. Even after all this time, the memories managed to tweak her emotions. Her parents had stipulated that she would receive the bulk of their assets upon their deaths, since they had poured out so much money on her brother and sister while they'd been alive. Kate supposed the decision made sense to them on paper, but in reality it caused a firestorm from which she was still making her way out.
Her siblings had taken her to court, cleaning themselves up and producing such sob stories of trying to go straight that the judge ate it up like crumb cake. Kate's inheritance, which she would have used to start her business properly, the way her parents had wanted her to do, dwindled into three portions. And upon leaving the courtroom, her brother had said, "Thanks, sis," while her sister gave her a nod. That was the last she'd heard or seen of them.
Thump!
Kate pulled out of her reverie when the ball dropped even closer to her. She blinked away the tears as one of the hunks ran and scooped the offensive object out of the sand. Just before he returned to his companions, their gazes locked, and she jolted. He had intense, green eyes that seemed to look deep inside her, as if searching for the sorrow and disappointment she buried under layers of false bravado.
And then the moment was gone, because he smiled, showing white, even teeth. He gave her an acknowledging nod, and jogged back to the court. She stared at his retreating back, that broad, golden expanse with just a slight sheen of sweat covering it, and figured she'd imagined that probing look.
She shook her head and returned to her sketch, throwing her long, brown hair over one shoulder and dismissing her morose memories. Crying over the loss of her family connections would not change the outcome. Instead, she found herself contemplating the good-looking volleyball jock as he rejoined his game.
He probably thought flirty behavior would buy him leeway against his mediocre playing skills. She pitied his girlfriend, whoever she was. If he made love anything like he played volleyball she was in a world of hurt, though he was easy on the eyes, with those shoulders and height that said football would be a better fit for him. Shrugging, she went back to drawing the draperies she was considering for a client. One of the few customers she still had, thanks to her siblings.
Bam!
What the heck? One minute she was attempting to block out thoughts of her past, as well as the beach beefcake, and the next she was seeing stars. That frigging volleyball had bounced off her head! Tossing her sketchbook and pencil aside, Kate jumped up, blinking tears of pain from her eyes and rubbing the crown of her head. With so few people on the beach, it stood to reason that the ball would find her. She'd been a target for balls and Frisbees all her life. Not much had changed, except the pain. What was it filled with? Lead?
"I am so sorry."
It was the volleyball jock with the penetrating gaze and mouth-watering chest. Up close he was even better looking. Short-cropped, light brown hair that curled at the ends, a face covered with a hint of blonde stubble, and those green eyes that now sparkled with sheepish humor. And that chest that looked sculpted from marble, yet warm and touchable.
Flexing her fingers to keep from reaching out to touch his sun-kissed skin, Kate bent and grabbed up the ball, resting it against her hip with her arm. The guy's eyes followed her movements, then traveled up her bikini-clad body to meet her gaze. Tingles erupted over her skin as if he'd caressed her.
Her feminine response to his admiring once-over irritated her, and fueled her tart reply. "Well, that just makes it all better," she snapped, surprised at how harsh she sounded. She hadn't always been this defensive. There had been a time when she would have replied with flirtatious banter, perhaps even have offered to show him how the game was supposed to be played. But that was before she'd had the rug of her life yanked out from under her by the people closest to her.
Apparently her reaction didn't faze him, though, beyond a widening of those moss-green eyes. "We are playing in a designated court." He began. "It's a really big beach. Maybe you should sit farther away." He cocked a lean hip covered in black and neon green board shorts slung low.
"And maybe you should practice more before playing out in public, because the ball hasn't been in the designated court. It's been all around me." Kate had to raise her chin to meet his eyes, a fact that didn't escape her notice. At nearly 5'10" she rarely had to look up to men. But she had to with him, and that fact alone made her more disgruntled. Why did she have to meet a tall, handsome man now?
He laughed at her sour reply, and lazily brushed sand off one of those amazing shoulders. She watched the tiny particles disappear in the ocean breeze.
"Maybe I just wanted an excuse to meet you. It worked, didn't it?" His smiled broadened, showing those straight, white teeth. Damn it, despite her irritation, she found him attractive, and had to remind herself that she didn't need a man in her sorry life. Uh-uh.
"News flash. The caveman days of clubbing a woman over the head are gone. No wonder you're playing on the beach with a group of guys."
Another appealing chuckle erupted from his tanned throat, a response she hadn't expected. Since her siblings' treachery, she'd become guarded, adept at rejecting the attention of friends, as well as the advances of interested men. After all, if she couldn't trust her family to treat her right, who could she trust?
Tossing aside her memories, she watched him wipe his right hand on his shorts and extend it. "Sawyer Hayes." Damn, even his name exuded testosterone. She ignored the gesture.
"Nice meeting you, Mr. Hayes. You'll have to excuse me. I've lost my desire to sit on the beach and get knocked on the head by a volleyball." Still holding the ball under one arm, she bent to retrieve her things.
"This is where you're supposed to tell me your name."
Pausing, Kate braced herself against the strength of his pleading green eyes. "Not today, cowboy."
"Then, what about my ball?"
Oh yes, the ball. She looked down at it, and then at him, tall, tanned and gorgeous, as well as completely convinced that she would succumb to all his godlike good looks. An idea struck her, and she couldn't suppress the grin it brought to her face. It was something she would have done before she'd become disillusioned by life. Glancing first at the ocean, she then speared him with another direct look. His own smile faded as he picked up on her intention.
"No. You wouldn't." He began shaking his head and reached for the ball.
Pulling it out of range she said, "I need some time to get out of the line of fire, so yes, I would. Go fetch," and on that parting remark she hoisted the ball and threw it toward the ocean, where it landed with a splash. A chorus of disbelieving howls erupted from the volleyball court.
With a shrug toward the players and a triumphant look at her companion, Kate grabbed up her chair and sketchbook before marching toward the apartments fronting the beach. Feeling that disbelieving green gaze hot on her backside, she squared her shoulders.
"That was cold. Stone cold." She heard him shout, but Kate refused to turn around, though she did smile to herself. Served him right. As she crossed the sand, she acknowledged the fact that she hadn't felt this light-hearted, playful, even, in ages. She'd walled herself off from all relationships for so long she'd forgotten what carefree felt like.
Now she always walked around as if she had a death sentence looming over her which, in a way, she did. If she didn't pull herself out of the strapped-for-cash hole her siblings had dug for her, she would be dead; at least, financially. But catching the notice of a hunky guy certainly went a long way toward lightening her heart, if only momentarily.
Hopping over the low patio wall of her apartment, she slid through the unlocked slider door. She couldn't resist sneaking one more look at the guys on the beach. Well, at one in particular. The hunk with the uber-masculine name. Hayes stood facing her apartment, and even though she knew he couldn't see her through the window, she retreated farther into the room.
He'd come onto her aggressively while appearing easy going, a combination that attracted her. She liked men who didn't play games, who let you know how they felt right up front. But, as much as she'd enjoyed their banter, she needed to pass on the insta-attraction. She had to get her life in order first. Complicating her already muddled life with a cute guy wasn't her plan. And Sawyer Hayes had complication written all over him.
Thinking about her sucky life made Kate glance at the wall clock in the kitchen. She had just enough time to shower and change before heading to her nanny job. Although she wanted to be an interior designer full time, she enjoyed spending time with Mr. Cabrera's son, Roberto (he preferred the Americanized Bobby). And the money was excellent.
The eight-year-old was smart and sassy, with a big heart, even though his mother had been dead for several years and his father worked all the time. Bobby pined for attention from his dad, making him appear younger than his years, but that man was too busy earning money to be aware of his son's emotional needs.
For instance, tonight he had an evening meeting with a real estate client. Kate wanted to yell at Mr. Cabrera and tell him he should spend more time with his son, perhaps throw some baseballs with him. Bobby complained that he was the worst hitter and catcher on his Little league team.
But his father was too wrapped up in the next big deal to hear the embarrassment in his son's voice. Didn't he already have other team moms taking Bobby to the practices and then bringing him home? Besides, if she was blunt with him, he'd probably fire her and hire someone else.
Mr. Cabrera was that old-fashioned, macho kind of man who couldn't be told by a lowly babysitter that he was doing something wrong. He had the answer to every problem, and it was money. Bobby needed the stability she provided in his life. She'd just try to make up for his father's absence as best she could, and maybe Mr. Cabrera would wake up before it was too late and notice his young son.
Deciding to bake cookies with Bobby if he had all his homework done, Kate shot one more admiring look out at the volleyball court beefcake before moving down the hall to the bathroom.
***
Sawyer narrowed his eyes on Kate Munroe's swaying hips in that tiny red bikini bottom, allowing himself a moment of male appreciation. When he'd started this drug investigation months ago in his hometown of El Paso, he hadn't imagined he'd be staking out a curvy female suspect on a California beach. He was used to interrogating druggies strung out on heroin or cocaine, not runway model types that would fit a man's bed better than a jail cell.
He had to acknowledge that, after traipsing through the desert and almost getting killed over the border, surveilling a statuesque brunette in a C-cup bikini was the Holy Grail of assignments. Too bad she was probably dirty. Prison orange wasn't going to look half as good on her.
"Here it comes."
Sawyer turned toward the voice. Billy, one of his agents, splashed after the ball to snatch it up before the tide took it back out. Sawyer moved toward him, and the rest of his men approached.
"Damn, I don't mind one bit keeping my eyes on her." Tim, the newest guy on Sawyer's detail, kept shooting looks after the now absent Kate Munroe. Sawyer snapped his fingers under the agent's nose to get his attention, and the rest of the team chuckled. Sawyer gave them all a censorious look, and they subsided.
"She's a suspect in a high-stakes drug trafficking investigation, and we'd all do well to remember that. Besides, if we stand around gossiping like teenage girls, she's going to know something's not right. Now, wipe the drool off your chins and finish the game. Your serve, Billy." Sawyer jogged toward the court, aware of the disapproving silence behind him.
He knew the guys were just blowing off steam. Hell, it had gotten pretty intense back in El Paso. One of their members was still back there convalescing from a nasty gunshot wound. That was why it was so important to kick this investigation into high gear, before more of them got wounded, or even worse: killed. They didn't have time to stand around salivating over a sexy suspect.
As their game continued, Sawyer made sure he goofed up enough not to raise Ms. Munroe's suspicions if she was watching, which he was pretty sure she was. Even though she'd acted indifferent, he'd seen her quick up-and-down look, the tell-tale flush up her chest and into her face that said she found him attractive.
He was curious why she hadn't acted on that interest. Was it because she was sleeping with her boss, the man he and his DEA team hoped would lead them to their main objective, the head of the Mexican cartel who vanished south of El Paso two months ago? Or was it because she didn't want a guy, period? If Sawyer was a betting man, he'd gamble on the former. He had a good enough opinion of himself to know most single women would give him a tumble if he showed interest like he had a moment earlier.
Besides, a woman like Kate Munroe didn't look like the type who went without male companionship for very long. Her body screamed all night sex. So, if she wasn't interested in Sawyer, she was probably already banging her boss, Fernando Cabrera, the pilot for the Mexican cartel leader and father to the little boy Kate Munroe babysat. As the image of Kate Munroe rolling in the sheets with Cabrera played in his mind, Sawyer spiked the ball with too much force.
While Tim chased it out of bounds with a surly look shot his way, Sawyer continued his musings. Did Munroe know who she was sleeping with? Was she scoring horse and screwing her boss for payment? Or was she exactly what she looked like on paper, a disillusioned college grad who took a high paying job to make ends meet after losing most of her inheritance to greedy siblings? He shouldn't care either way, because she was simply his ticket to finding Cabrera's boss, the infamous Armando Ortiz, head of the cartel snake.
The problem was, when he'd picked up the ball before he'd actually pegged her, he'd met her gaze, and could have sworn he'd seen tears in her eyes. He'd pulled her out of her thoughts, and those thoughts hadn't been happy. What was bad enough in her life to make her cry? If she was a cartel leader's bed warmer, she should be drowning in drugs, dough, and sex, so what could be wrong?? Unless, of course, she was innocent, which is what he aimed to find out.
"Yo, Hayes."
Sawyer looked up. "What?"
"Game over. We won. You want best of five?"
Sawyer shook his head. No need to continue. He'd made contact with his mark. Now he had to massage that into an extended association somehow. But he did owe his guys food.
"Naw, you bastards won fair and square. I'll pony up for pizza."
While the guys hooted and headed for their cars, Billy paused and looked back at him. "You coming?"
Sawyer shot a glance over at the beachfront apartments where Kate Munroe lived, and where he'd managed to move in next door. He'd put Act II into action later tonight, if the opportunity came up. In the meantime, he could dig up more info on her, and maybe Cabrera. Find out just how close they actually were. He shook his head in reply to Billy's question.
"No, you guys go ahead. I've got some work to catch up on. If there are any leftovers, highly unlikely with you pack of jackals, bring them over." He took a step toward his new home, but Billy's voice halted him.
"Y' know, boss, it wouldn't kill you to hang out with us like you did back home. We all miss Guerrero, but he's gonna make it after some rehab."
Sawyer pivoted, and met Billy's slightly challenging gaze. The guy had balls, criticizing him. And, he'd hit the nail on the head. One of their own had nearly died, and Sawyer wouldn't rest until Ortiz and his cartel were shut down. He owed Guerrero and his young family that much. If foregoing a pizza meal or two with the guys got the job done faster, then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
"There will be plenty of other pizzas, Billy. Our surveillance warrant is only good for three months. I don't want to waste any time."
"You're the boss." Billy shrugged and took off at a jog to catch up with the rest of the team. Sawyer headed for his apartment and a change of clothes, already forgetting about the pizza invitation.
After spending two hours with his San Diego-based DEA contact going over that man's records of Ortiz's organization, Sawyer returned to his new apartment, satisfied that he had a handle on the cartel's previous activities in the golden state, but nowhere closer to getting any dirt on Kate Munroe. She didn't turn up anywhere except as Cabrera's son's nanny.
By now low clouds had swept in over the beachside community, obscuring the sunset and setting the parking lot lights on. As Sawyer drove into the apartment complex driveway, he breathed in the salt air through his open window, waving to a couple walking their stroller and wiener dog down the sidewalk.
Was she an innocent participant in this case, or guilty as hell? The memory of the tears he'd seen in her blue eyes when she thought she was alone tugged at him. No matter how he tried to dismiss them, he couldn't. They were a piece of the puzzle that he couldn't ignore.
If he analyzed that moment when he startled her with the ball, he had to face his own interpretation of her tears gleaned from what he already knew. And that was, beneath her sass and defiance, hid a woman who felt things deeply and didn't want anyone to know that about her. She'd built a wall of attitude around herself after what her siblings had done to her, and it was only by chance that he'd seen beneath her armor.
How he could know that after one brief encounter, he didn't want to examine too closely. He wasn't the type to dig beneath the surface of a person's actions. He believed what someone did defined them just as much as what they thought. Therefore, if she worked in Ortiz's cartel, then she was probably dirty.
Except for those damn tears. People of his acquaintance didn't cry, they cursed him. They shot at him and his team. So, unless she was playing a part 24/7, the waterworks had been genuine. And that's what he kept going back to.
As he made the last turn toward the parking stalls in front of his place, the subject of his conjecture come out of her apartment and locked her door. He took his foot off the gas and watched her approach her car. Here was his chance to further their acquaintance.
Working DEA as long as he had, he was used to playing a part, as well as choosing the right personae that fit the group he was infiltrating. The problem was, he had very little experience playing opposite women, especially hot, prickly women like Kate Munroe. He would just have to go with his gut on this one.
So thinking, he pulled his jacked-up F-150 into the slot beside her Sentra, too close for her to open the driver's door. And then he waited, taking a stick of gum from his breast pocket and popping it into his mouth. His pulse spiked in anticipation.
He saw her take in his huge truck dwarfing her compact. He couldn't control the grin on his face, knowing that she couldn't see him through the glass. Yet. She muttered something, and he took that as his cue, tapping the accelerator just enough to make the engine growl. She jumped, and then headed straight for his side of the truck. He had to admire her pluck. Not many women would do what she was doing.
"Could you please move your truck—oh, it's you." She said it like he was Jack the Ripper. She glared at him through his open window. He gave a half-smile and chewed his gum a few seconds, taking in her long hair drawn into a wavy ponytail, the red and white striped, short sleeve T-shirt that emphasized those perky breasts he'd noticed in the bikini. It was definitely harder to investigate a woman, he concluded, especially one as attractive as Kate Munroe. His mind and body were shorting out like a toaster in a filled bathtub, and they hadn't even spoken yet.
Tonight she wore white jeans and sneakers, and looked young enough to be a college co-ed with that ponytail and minimal makeup. Thank goodness she wasn't because, by the way he was reacting to her appearance, he'd have to arrest his own ass for what he was thinking. He reeled in his inappropriate thoughts and began his performance.
"Yeah, it's me. Sawyer Hayes, remember? And you are?" He held out his hand, raising his brows while hers furrowed into a frown.
"Getting pissed off. You can't park any better than you play volleyball. Now, can you move?" Her right hand went to her hip, and Sawyer fought the urge to watch the T-shirt material pull across her chest. He wanted to make her interested in him, not come off as a perv.
But what came out of his mouth was decidedly pervy. "Oh, I can move alright. I've got moves you haven't seen, sweetheart. But I want to know who's asking." He could have punched his own face. Did he want to scare her off? With that kind of talk, he was well on his way to doing so. However, it was too late to backtrack, so he simply revved the truck's engine and hoped for the best.
She remained where she was, glaring into his eyes and tapping one foot. As the silence lengthened, he began to think that his sophomoric behavior had indeed spoiled his chance to get closer to her. His heart sank. This was not good.
A/N: Finally, the new and, I hope, improved version of this first chapter. I hope you took the time to reread the first rendition, so that you can compare the two. Let me know what you think of the revisions. And if you're a first-time reader, vote, comment, and follow. Music is unusual, I know, but fits their thoughts pretty well.