He glanced at Sam and chuckled. Sam and the other kids reminded Quinn of his real life and prevented him from losing touch with who he really was. He’d pulled strings to get Sam placed in a decent foster home, and he refused to put up with any shit that would jeopardize her placement there.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked her.

“Shouldn’t you mind your own business?” The laughter quickly died as her huge green eyes flashed with defiant, angry sparks.

Quinn had been the same rebellious pain in the ass at that age. Stepping closer, he pulled the Yankees cap off her head and a mass of tangled blonde hair fell over her shoulders. Without the disguise she appeared younger and more vulnerable. Smart foster kids like Sam tried to beat the system by making themselves invisible in the mistaken belief they’d have a better chance at remaining in one home.

Shut up and don’t cause trouble was the mantra repeated by caseworkers. Quinn ought to know. But even Quinn with all his experience hadn’t known the kid was a girl until the third time they met. He hoped that once she adjusted, she’d trust her new foster family and revert to looking like what she was, a feminine young teen.

“They don’t let you wear hats in school. Go now or I’m calling Aaron and Felice,” he told her.

Sam’s bravado crumbled and tears welled in her huge eyes. “They won’t care, Quinn. Felice is pregnant and they don’t need me around anymore.”

Before Quinn could react, Sam took off in the direction of school. “Oh hell,” he muttered.

Aaron and Felice were a young couple who’d failed at adoption too many times. They’d turned to foster care and requested a girl, even accepting a teenager, something few families willingly did. A hardass by nature, Quinn still had faith in Sam’s foster parents.

He ran his hand through his already windblown hair and made a mental note to check in with Felice before pushing his thoughts toward his problems.

His Chevy Blazer sat parked across the street, but the crisp fall air, combined with the possibility of being alone, called to him. He had time before he had to return to the charade he was currently living, and damned if he wasn’t going to make the most of it. He headed for the boardwalk and Islet Pier, the place that had been his refuge for as long as he could remember.

At this time of year the beach was deserted, the snack shacks were empty, and all would remain that way till spring. He breathed in the salty air and a sense of peace filled him-until his serenity was broken.

A jet black-haired woman strode down the steps, onto the sand, and toward the pier, beneath where Quinn stood. Her long dark hair blew around her shoulders in wild disarray, and the classic profile was unmistakable. A jolt of familiarity kicked him in the gut.

“No frigging way,” he muttered aloud. Hadn’t he taken care of Zoe Costas himself?

He calmed his thoughts and suddenly the other possibility dawned, this one more frightening than the last. If it wasn’t Zoe he was watching beneath Islet Pier, it was her twin, Ari, the college psychology professor who Zoe had sworn was safely in Vermont. Who Zoe had promised wouldn’t return to Ocean Isle and get in the way. Not on a bet. No matter how grief stricken Ari would have been when she heard of her twin’s presumed death, Ari wouldn’t desert her students mid-semester and fly home. She’d grieve in her own world, the sane world she’d escaped to years before. Zoe had promised.

Shit, he thought, shaking his head. Obviously, because of their estrangement, Zoe had no idea what her twin would or wouldn’t do. Because Ari was here.

And Quinn had a problem.

Before he could decide what to do about it, the distinct sound of a male voice yelled above the crashing waves. A split second later, a shot rang out. Acting on instinct, Quinn jumped from the pier and tackled Ari to the ground.

• • •

Ariana hit the sand hard, grunting on impact. Pain shot through her chest. But even with the wind knocked out of her, she was keenly aware of the hard male above her and the too real knowledge that someone had taken a shot.

At her.

Waves beat against the shore and seagulls screeched in the air, but in her ear, she felt hot, heavy breath. Every last nerve ending came alive with a female awareness she hadn’t felt in so long.

Seconds passed in which neither of them moved. Not only was Ariana covered by a heavy male body, but he smelled extremely good. He was a combination of muscle and determination. And he’d either saved her life or fired that gunshot. She wasn’t about to wait around to find out which.

As soon as he rolled away from her, she rose to her feet and took off at a run, zigzagging across the beach. The sand slowed her effort and she hadn’t made it more than halfway to the main road before he grabbed her around the waist. Hauling her into his arms, he pulled her behind a vacant snack shack.

“What the hell kind of run was that?” he asked, breathing too easily considering she was huffing and puffing.

“Serpentine,” she managed to explain, through her wheezing and fear.

Behind her, she thought she heard him laugh. “From The In-Laws?” His amused voice held utter disbelief.

But Ariana wasn’t laughing. She had escaped into old movies to get away from her family’s antics, and she’d obviously learned something. “If you ask me, you ought to be applauding my ability to think on my feet. When someone shoots at you, you don’t give them a straight place to aim. You give them a moving target instead. It makes sense to me.”

He obviously didn’t agree with her thinking, because he burst into a full-blown laugh. She tried to wriggle forward and out of his grasp, but he merely tightened his grip. He yanked her against him, pressing her solidly against his back.

Panic started to take hold, but before she could fight, he spoke. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice strangely reassuring despite their circumstances.

“Then let me go.” While he debated, she used the time to draw deep, even breaths and regain her equilibrium.

He twisted around, pulling her with him to scan their surroundings. “It looks like our gunman’s gone,” he said at last.

She could have told him they were alone. No sound of footsteps, nothing disrupted the heady masculine breathing in her ear and against her neck, making her tingle.

“If I let you go, do you promise not to run?”

“Not that I have to answer to you, but I won’t run.” Because he’d promised not to hurt her and because she wanted to get her first glimpse at the man with the silken voice.

“Good.” He loosened his hold, then grabbed for her hand instead. “Let’s get out of sight.” He turned and, after kicking the shack door open with his foot, tugged her inside.

To her surprise, she wasn’t afraid to be alone with him. He turned on the light in the old building and she finally looked at him straight on. Sandy blond hair, cropped short yet still slightly messy from the wind, framed a deeply chiseled face. Dimples curved either side of his lips, and a day’s razor stubble covered his cheeks.

He looked as good as he sounded. He was temptation in a black leather jacket as Ariana was now all too aware. And he was studying her with the same intensity she’d been giving him.

She should focus. She had more pressing concerns than whether his hazel eyes were more green than brown, or whether his lips were hard… or tender and soft when he kissed…

“You’re not Zoe.”

That broke her fantasies about the man. “What makes you so sure?”

“That’s easy, sweetheart.” He chuckled, his gaze raking her over head to toe. “You’re dressed like a nun.”

She’d always disdained her sister’s flashy, sexy wardrobe, but at the moment, she’d give anything to be dressed more like her. The pantsuit Ariana had considered her armor earlier suddenly felt stifling and uncomfortable.

He shrugged. “Not to mention you’re missing the second hole in your right ear.”

She narrowed her gaze. He’d noticed little details about Zoe others might have missed, and she could have kissed his razor-stubbled cheeks. Ariana had found someone she could question about her sister’s disappearance, and she was nearly giddy with relief.

But when he reached out and toyed with the single pearl in her ear, relief turned to desire. His calloused skin rasped over hers. Her body trembled, and it wasn’t the cool air causing the sensation. “I’m glad to see you’re observant.”

“I’m also persistent,” he said in a cocky voice that seemed to suit him.

A combination of arrogance, certainty, and suave charm, he was the complete opposite of any man she’d been with in the past. He definitely was a marked contrast from Jeffrey Boyd, the man who’d given her a taste of young love, then betrayed her by demanding she choose between him and her unconventional family. Ariana had done the only sensible thing. She’d left them all behind in search of her own life.

Unlike the men she dated in Vermont, this man was a package of pure testosterone and all-male sexuality, which probably explained the liquid rush of desire and the sudden attraction she felt for a perfect stranger. Though she sensed his need to be in control, the distinctive trait seemed to suit him. Whereas Jeffrey, she’d come to realize, had just been a pompous ass.

“If you’re not Zoe, you must be-”

“Ariana.” She licked her dry lips, her breath finally coming in even cadence. Gut instinct told her he wasn’t a killer. He’d also been close to Zoe. Both factors tipped in his favor. “And you are?”

“Quinn.” He extended his hand for a shake, holding on to her fingers for a few seconds too long to be considered polite. His thumb caressed the pulse point in her wrist before he lowered his arm to his side.