And it was. The natural progression continued. Sierra flew to New York for the design and fitting of the dress. The nuptials took place in Oysterville, and it was the wedding of the year, uniting Pastor Moore’s daughter and her naval officer. The bustling preparations swept through the town. There would be a sword arch of Will’s groomsmen in full dress uniform and a reception catered by Star of the Sea. There was a dazzling ring from Tiffany, an ultramodern swoop of platinum and diamonds designed by Paloma Picasso.

When she saw Will for the first time in years, Caroline steeled herself. His familiar “Hey, stranger” was accompanied by the briefest of hugs. Now they were strangers.

The rehearsal dinner was a beach party flowing with champagne and excitement. Guests had been encouraged to bring swimsuits for a midnight plunge. The SEAL team groomsmen looked as though they came from a special breeding program, one that selected for square jaws, perfect posture, massive shoulders, and piercing eyes.

Thumping music from someone’s car speakers filled the air. Stoked with driftwood logs, the flames of a beach bonfire climbed high. Champagne shifted to tequila shots and the music got louder. People grabbed partners and danced in a circle around Sierra and Will, who looked blissfully happy, surrounded by dozens of friends. So many from Southern California, Caroline observed. She didn’t know most of them. She barely knew Sierra and Will these days. Yet she recognized their joy, which soared like a pair of fireworks.

A couple of times, she caught Will looking at her with a question in his eyes, but didn’t know what to make of that look. Too much time had passed. This was what they all knew would happen. What they all expected. Wanted. She wasn’t jealous. No way. She certainly didn’t want to be married, not now. Maybe not ever. An amazing design career in New York City, not a husband, was what beckoned her.

The moon came up, illuminating the breaking waves along the shore.

“I can’t stop looking at the navy guys,” Rona Stevens said to Caroline in a stage whisper. “If I drink any more, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

“That’s all of us tonight,” Caroline admitted, taking another tequila shot from a tray that was being passed around. It was her fourth or fifth shot. She’d lost count. “Let’s jump in the water and cool off.”

“The Navy SEALs are in the water,” Rona pointed out.

“Exactly,” said Caroline. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but tonight she wanted to go somewhere else in her head. She wanted to go to a place where she could be unambiguously happy for her two best friends. She untied her silk sarong—one of her original creations—and let it drop. “Are you with me?”

“I’m in.” Rona shucked her skirt and top. Five years after high school, she still had her cheerleader body, thanks to her job as a trainer at the local gym. She’d been voted “The Girl Most Likely to Succeed,” professing her intention to study sports medicine and work for an NFL team, but she’d never left the peninsula and still dated Hakon off and on again. She looked fantastic in a trendy one-piece maillot, though. “We’re going to freeze our asses off,” she warned Caroline.

“The navy guys will warm us up.” Caroline grabbed her hand and they ran headlong into the breaking waves, where people were already splashing and shrieking. The cold shock took her breath away, but she powered through it, diving under the water into blackness. By the time she surfaced, Rona was already fully flirting with one of the SEALs. Two others surfaced on either side of Caroline like a pair of trained orcas.

“Damn,” said one of them. “The weekend just got about a thousand percent better. What’s your name, darlin’?”

“I’m Caroline. You’re Matt, right? And Lars?”

“Beauty and brains,” said Matt, who had glorious teeth and large, beautiful hands. “Matt Campion, at your service.”

She hiccupped. “Right. So I’m a genius because I listened to the introductions?”

“You’re a genius because you’re smoking hot.”

A wave sloshed over her head and she lost her balance and was pulled under. In a split second, a pair of iron-hard arms scooped her up, and she found herself looking into Matt’s smiling eyes.

“My first rescue of the night,” he said, then glanced at Lars. “Take a hike, man. This one’s mine.”

“I am, am I?” She wound her hands around his neck and hung on while he carried her out of the water. “Yikes, now I’m freezing,” she said through chattering teeth.

“Let’s do something about that,” he said.

A few moments later, she was lying with him on a thick tattersall blanket some distance from the bonfire. The firelit bodies, dancing to the thumping rhythm, looked vaguely tribal. Matt handed her an airline-size bottle. “Jägermeister,” he said. “It’ll warm you up.”

She drank down the shot, a curious mixture of citrus, licorice, and spices. “Ooh, now I’m dizzy,” she confessed.

He rolled closer to her and drew her into his arms. “I know what you mean, darlin’.”

“No, I mean—”

He stopped her with a deep kiss that tasted of salt water and liquor, his thighs hard and damp against hers, his erection apparent. The swiftness and surprise took her breath away, and she pressed her hands against his chest. He made a throaty sound as his muscular tongue searched deeper and his hands found the straps of her bikini top.

She turned her head to the side, ducking his mouth. “Whoa, slow down, big fella,” she said. The Jäger and the tequila seemed to evaporate in an instant. “I’m not really into this.”

“Hell yeah, you are,” he said with a chuckle. “Hold still, gorgeous. I’ve got something for you.” He put her hand on his erection. “Ah, that’s nice.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” She took back her hand. “Knock it off.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing her shoulders against the blanket. “I have protection.”

“Protection?” A sharp, incredulous laugh escaped her. “What the hell—did you really think we were going to—”

“That’s right, little lady. It’s your lucky night.”

Little lady? Seriously? Caroline squirmed beneath him, trying to put some distance between them. He was massive and rock hard, immovable. She was confused. Embarrassed. She felt something else as well—a quiver of alarm. “Enough already,” she said. “Get off me. I mean it.”

“So do I,” he said, his voice rich and warm. “You are the sweetest handful I’ve held in a long time.”

She managed to free one hand. She shoved it against his shoulder. “Dude, listen to me. It’s late and we both had too much to drink. I’m not into this, so get the hell off me.” She pushed harder.

“Oh, so you like it rough, do you?” he asked. “In that case, you and I are gonna get along just fine.”

“What? No. What part of no do you not understand?”

“I understand what your sweet body’s telling me, and I’m not hearing no.” He grabbed her wrist and pinned her to the blanket, a predator toying with its prey.

“Then you’d better listen closer,” she told him, her teeth chattering.