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Derrick. Lovely day, isn't it?"
    "Mrs. Hinkley," he said, warily stepping around
the crazed fiend on a leash she liked to call a dog—appropriately named
Rambo for the dachshund's penchant for drawing first blood—to place a
kiss on her papery cheek. "It's nice to see you."
    "And you, young man, and you. You keep an eye on my
girls out there, you hear? It's crowded as the Fourth of July today."
    Thinking of Mia, he smiled a bit too warmly. "Yes,
ma'am, I will."
    "See that you do," she said, a glint in her faded
blue eyes that said she understood him more than he might like. Derrick shifted
beneath her too-knowing stare.
    Rapping him lightly on the wrist with the end of Rambo's
leash, Mrs. Hinkley nodded her regal head—for some reason she always put
him in mind of British royals and polo matches—and continued on her walk,
her little ankle-biter trotting at her heels.
    Post-Labor Day weekend, the beach was still covered with
well-bronzed native sun worshippers and winter-white tourists alike, all baking
in the afternoon heat. The calendar might claim Autumn, but the change of
seasons meant little in southern California.
    Derrick lifted his face to the breeze, breathing deeply of
the ocean-scented air. There was nothing better, in his estimation, than a day
spent on a gorgeous California beach in the company of his two best girls.
    It was too bad Jeff hadn't joined them, but Mia had refused
to call him with her breakup crisis since Jeff was in the throes of love
himself. Sundays were his days off, and Jeff generally made plans with Greg as
often as he could. Mia hadn't wanted to interfere. Derrick also suspected she
hadn't wanted Jeff's less-than-sympathetic presence in her face too soon. Jeff
had really hated Barry and would be nothing but celebratory over the end of
Mia's relationship.
    Calling out greetings to people he knew, Derrick followed
the girls, Mrs. Hinkley's admonishment in his mind. He took keeping an eye on
the girls seriously, even though they considered themselves modern, independent
women who didn't need a man for anything. That might be true—they were
certainly smart and capable—but a little extra protection never hurt anyone.
    Allison strutted along, in the lead of their mini parade as
usual, shaking her hips for all they were worth. If he knew his fellow man, and
he did, her efforts were not going unnoticed. Even amidst a sea of ridiculously
hot female flesh, a guaranteed find on any California beach, Allison's
confident swagger signaled like a homing beacon.
    He grinned. Allison liked men, and she liked sex, and she
didn't like to go too long without either. But he felt it his duty to make sure
she didn't pick up the wrong sort of guy, so he cast a warning glare at a few
of her potential victims. The rest appeared harmless enough. She'd have a
selection to wade through later.
    A fair share of the ladies tossed inviting glances his way,
as well, all gleaming white smiles, tanned, oiled skin and sun-streaked hair.
But with Mia firmly in his sights, he had no interest in answering their
come-hither stares.
    Then there was Mia, oblivious to her own appeal and the
hungry eyes tracking her progress across the sand. He could hardly claim
unbiased motivation when it came to her, but he'd be damned if any of the beach
bums lazing about would get near enough to touch. He'd waited for her long
enough.
    Waiting time was done. No other men would get in his way.
    He'd like to slap a giant, permanent label with the word
MINE in blazing red ink across her heart-shaped ass, but he settled for turning
the heat of his expression from warning frown to a don't-even-fucking-think-about-it stare when he intercepted those hungry male eyes
roving in her direction.
    Satisfied his message had been received without a challenge,
he cruised along in the girls' wake, his mood once more on the upswing. With
Barry finally out of the way, he was ready to make his move. And it was about
damn time.
    All through college and afterward,