Last Virgin In California. Maureen Child

buy a boat and run a charter fishing service off one of the islands in the Caribbean.

      But then, his neat little world had dissolved and so had the plans.

      Her question was still hanging in the damp air between them though, so he found an answer that would satisfy her curiosity. “I go see my sister and brothers. And my new niece.”

      Lilah heard the pride in his voice and smiled wistfully to herself. As an only child, she would never get to be Aunty Lilah. And at the rate she was going, she’d never get to be “mom” either. Suddenly, she saw herself thirty years from now, curled up in her same apartment in San Francisco, surrounded by cats and peering through the curtains at the world going on without her.

      Not a pleasant prospect, by any means.

      “You know,” he said, “when you’re quiet, it’s a little scary.”

      She chuckled. “A Marine? Scared? I don’t believe it.”

      “Worried more than scared. What are you thinking about?”

      Since the image of her older self alone with cats sounded a little too “pity-party,” she said, “Just wondering what it was like to grow up with brothers and sisters.”

      “Loud,” he said.

      “And fun?”

      There was a long pause while he thought about it. Then he said, “Sometimes. Most times, it was work. I’m the oldest, so I was usually left in charge and—”

      “So giving orders really comes naturally to you.”

      “All right…”

      “Sorry,” she said. “Go on.”

      “Not much more to tell.” She felt him shrug. “I have one younger sister and three brothers. Triplets.”

      “Triplets. Wow. Identical?”

      “Oh, yeah. Almost no one can tell them apart.”

      “But you can,” she said, enjoying that hum of pride in his tone again.

      “Sure. They’re my brothers.”

      “And your niece?”

      “Ah,” he said, his voice warming, “Emily’s a heartbreaker. And since she’s walking now, she’s driving Kelly, my sister, nuts.”

      Lilah enjoyed hearing about his family. Love filled his voice when he spoke about them and as he painted word pictures, she drew their images in her mind. The brothers looked like Kevin, she guessed, although she was willing to bet they weren’t as handsome. After all, what were the odds of having four gorgeous men in one family?

      She imagined Kelly and her baby and—

      “What’s Kelly’s husband like?” she asked, assuming the woman was married. She couldn’t imagine Kevin Rogan, master of all he surveyed, allowing his sister to be a single mother.

      Beneath her hand, the muscles of his arm tensed slightly before relaxing again. Hmm. Not too fond of the brother-in-law, was he?

      “Jeff’s a Marine. He’s on duty now. Somewhere.”

      “Somewhere?”

      “He’s Recon. Kelly doesn’t even know where the hell he is.”

      “And you’re not happy about that,” she said.

      He shrugged again and Lilah wished she could see his expression, but the fog was still too thick, sliding past them like phantom fingers.

      “Marines make lousy husbands, that’s all.”

      “Kind of a generality, don’t you think?”

      “Personal experience.”

      Ah. She remembered what her father had had to say about Kevin’s ex-wife leaving him a mess, so Lilah trod carefully. She didn’t want him to know she’d heard anything about his past. He didn’t seem the kind of man to enjoy knowing that his private life was still being talked about.

      “So you were a lousy husband?”

      His footsteps faltered slightly, then he went on and if she hadn’t been paying such close attention, she might not have noticed the hesitation at all.

      “My ex-wife must have thought so,” was all he said.

      “Was she a good wife?” She probably shouldn’t have asked that, but Lilah’s nature was something she couldn’t fight. She didn’t mean to be nosey, exactly. It was simply that she couldn’t keep herself from trying to help. Whether that help was wanted or not.

      “I’d rather not talk about it.”

      “It might help,” she said. “Sometimes telling a stranger your problems makes them easier to solve.”

      “There’s nothing to help,” he said, his voice low and sharp as a knife. “It’s over. My marriage ended a couple of years ago.”

      Maybe, she thought. But there seemed to be a part of him that hadn’t let go. Though she doubted he’d admit that under threat of torture. And, since she’d been enjoying herself up until this minute, she let the conversation end. No point in starting a fight.

      She stumbled over something in the dark and would have pitched face forward into the dirt if he hadn’t caught her.

      His hands at her waist, he held on to her while she steadied herself and Lilah tried not to feel the heat from his hands pouring into her body.

      This was ridiculous. She was twenty-six years old. The last living virgin in California. She had a pretend fiancé and absolutely no business being swept away by a good-looking Marine with a bad attitude and a glorious smile.

      And yet…

      She stared up at him and the mist enveloping them parted, drifting away on the sea air and leaving them in a patch of moonlight. He hadn’t let her go and Lilah felt every imprint of his fingers, right through her sweater and the shirt she wore beneath it. His pulse beat seemed to hammer into her, accelerating her own heartbeat and twisting her stomach into knots.

      “This is a bad idea,” he said, his gaze moving over her face as if seeing her for the first time.

      “Terrible,” she agreed.

      “We have nothing in common.”

      “Absolutely zip.” She ran her tongue across her bottom lip and watched his gaze follow the action. Her stomach pitched again as though she were on some high-flying roller coaster and taking the long dip in a rush of speed.

      “You’re only here for a month.”

      She nodded. “Maybe less.”

      “You’re engaged.”

      “Oh, yeah.”

      “And,” he whispered as he lowered his head toward hers, “if I don’t kiss you right now, I just might lose what’s left of my mind.”

      She went up on her toes, rising to meet him. “Can’t have that,” she said on a sigh.

      Lilah kept her eyes open and watched him come closer. But when his lips came down on hers, her eyes closed and breath left her body. If he hadn’t been holding on to her, she would have dropped, because her knees gave out the instant his tongue touched hers.

      She groaned and leaned into him. His arms came around her like an iron vise, pressing her to him, holding her length along his. His hands swept up and down her back, stroking, caressing.

      His mouth tantalized her, his breath dusted across her cheek and she felt the pounding of his heart slamming against her chest. He explored her mouth, tracing the tip of his tongue along her teeth, her cheeks, drawing the last of her breath from her. She gave as good as she got, returning his caresses while she clung to his shoulders in an effort to keep from puddling on the ground at his feet.

      Never,