"A Saunders, huh?" Zane asked.

"Insane?" His nickname left Sophie uneasy.

"She's Trace's sister," Dune responded first to his brother, then to Sophie. "Zane's a hurricane hunter with the 53rd Weather Reconnaissance Squadron. He's stationed at Keeslar Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi. He flies into tropical storms and the eye of a hurricane. He's mental."

Zane stared at Sophie. "My job's a little more dangerous than playing volleyball."

"Not if you have Mac James as a partner," Dune said and everyone laughed.

Everyone but Sophie. She had yet to fully comprehend the Cates family ritual. One in which even Shaye played a part. They had an unusual way of greeting each other. She shouldn't have interfered, yet her fear for Dune had been real. She hoped she hadn't embarrassed him.

"Sophie," Zane said. "You are brave, babe. How long have you been Dune's bodyguard?"

She was anything but brave, yet boldness had stirred when she thought Dune was in trouble. "I don't protect," she said softly. "I find solutions. I had an extra ticket."

"Speaking of tickets," Zane said to Shaye. "You could've sent me one or set one aside."

"You should've called," she said. "I had no idea you were coming home."

"Pure spur of the moment trip."

Shaye frowned. "You never make plans."

"Whenever I do, they usually get canceled."

"No date?" Dune asked.

"I thought I'd steal yours."

"I go home with who I bring." Dune drew Sophie even closer. Her cheek pressed the front pocket on his shirt. She wrapped her arm about his waist. They were a natural fit. His strength and warmth relaxed her.

"She's cute," Zane said.

"She's classic," said Mac James, coming to join them. "Stand in line, dude, I met her long before you did."

"What the hell does she see in Dune?" asked Zane.

"I have no idea," Mac said, tongue-in-cheek. "He's old and broken."

"I have a few good years left in me," Dune said.

"I have more than you," said Zane. He cocked his head. "The music's started. Go dance with your woman."

Sophie waited for Dune to deny she was his woman. He didn't. Instead he slipped on his sport jacket, then put his palm to her lower back and guided her toward the carousel. The ride was closed, but that didn't stop him from sneaking in. He raised the chain and they ducked under.

Sophie glanced around. It was as private a place as they'd find anywhere on the pier. She was glad to be alone with him.

The twinkling white lights reflected off the hand-carved purple and white horses with the jeweled amber eyes and gold saddles. Dune led her onto the polished wooden platform. They now stood between the horses, a man and a woman amid the shadows of the orange scalloped top.

The music reached them. The DJ favored slow songs, a mixture of past and present. Lonestar's "Amazed" followed "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith. The music seduced them before they even started dancing.

Dune gazed down on her. "My protector," he said with a half smile. "What possessed you to step between me and the wild man?"

"I was afraid for you," she said softly, honestly.

He kept on staring at her, as if he were trying to figure her out. "You're five foot two, a total lightweight, yet you defended me. You had no idea Zane was my brother."

"I thought I could talk him down," she said. "The extra ticket worked."

"You were fearless."

"You didn't hear my knees knocking?"

"Fortunately, you didn't have any weaponry with you."

"My Viking ax would've come in handy."

Dune laughed, rich and deep. "You had my back, and I thank you." He then held out his hand. "Dance with me?"

She eased into his arms. There was nothing formal or conventional in the way he held her. He bent slightly and wrapped her against him. Her high-heeled sneakers gave her height. She slid her arms about his waist. Her cheek rested over his heart. Her stomach pressed his groin.

Grace eluded her. She'd taken ballet, but she hadn't gotten beyond the plie. Her rhythm was always off, yet she refused to miss an opportunity to dance with Dune even if she stepped on his feet.

This was the most romantic night of her life. Even so, she needed to keep the evening in perspective. They were just friends. He had his choice of women. Chances were good he would've chosen someone else besides her had Marisole not twisted his arm.

Someone prettier, someone sexier, someone taller.

She had a lot to overcome. One day at a time, she thought, sighing. The reflection of a star twinkled in the amber eye of a white wooden horse. Sophie swore the mount winked at her. She took it as a lucky omen.

They slow danced through several songs, even the fast ones. She felt the warmth of his breath on her brow, heard the steadiness of his heart beneath her ear. A hint of his cologne mixed with the starch of his shirt. She felt safe, protected, and unafraid.

Dune Cates rolled his shoulders. His back grew tight from hunching over. Sophie was the shortest woman he'd ever danced with. Looking down on her now, he ignored the ache between his shoulder blades. Instead, he recalled her facing off with Zane.

His brother could be a royal pain in the ass. Zane played people. For those who didn't know him, he appeared rough, angry, and confrontational. For those who knew him well, he was good-natured, loyal, and a positive role model. He loved kids and sports and was a hell of a mechanic. He'd flown home for this event.

Dune still couldn't believe Sophie had stood up to his brother. This slip of a woman with her silky hair, fancy dress, and high-heeled sneakers had dared to step between them. Each was a foot taller than she and twice her weight.

Sophie of the soft smile and sweet innocence was surprisingly daring. Her inner warrior woman had surfaced. He liked that side of her.

Pressed against him now, she kept her eyes closed, and her breathing was even. She was genuine and kind. She was an amazing woman and would be even more so when she came into her own.

He'd tucked a lot of life under his arm.

She was on the road of discovery.

He smiled to himself. He might suggest she take dance lessons. She'd stepped on his feet several times and he'd taken a heel to his instep. They swayed more than danced. He liked her scent, vanilla and female. Her body was soft, yet compact. He liked holding her.

He tried to ignore the press of her stomach against his groin and concentrated on the sign above the ticket booth. Carousel. Big word, shorter words. Car, our, sour, are, rouse . . . arouse. His game wasn't working.

He inched back fractionally only to have her lean forward. Her body sought his and he sucked air. Less space separated them now. He was about to pitch a tent. He needed a diversion.

Such a distraction came in the form of Mac James. "Mind if we share your dance floor?" his partner called from the chain by the ticket booth. Mac didn't wait for Dune's response. He lifted the metal links for Jenna to duck under and he followed.

Their peace was broken, Dune thought. It was just as well. Another minute with Sophie and he'd sport a boner. "We've got company," he told her.

Sophie turned in his arms and he sensed her reluctance to release him. He curved his hands over her shoulders, squeezed. She relaxed. Her bottom brushed the top of his thighs, just south of his balls. Heat circled his neck. He exhaled and fought his body for control.

Mac grinned, and Dune narrowed his gaze on him. "What are you smiling about?"

"You know what I'm smiling about."

"Knock it off."

"Are you surviving the night?" Jenna asked Sophie. "There are hundreds of people and lots of noise. I know you prefer it quieter."

Sophie nodded, then said, "It's very crowded, but Dune and I are off to the side. I'm enjoying myself."

Dune was having a good time, too, he realized. A better time than he'd expected. Sophie was quiet, yet easy to be around. He'd never imagined she'd be such a turn-on.

"What about you two?" Sophie asked Jen.

Jen pursed her lips. "We're okay for the moment."

"We hit the buffet," said Mac. "The food's great."

Dune noticed the stain on Mac's tie. "Food goes in your mouth, not on your clothes."

Jen rolled her eyes. "The man used his napkin as a bib and still made a mess. He went back for seconds. Marisole chased him off when he tried for thirds."

"Killer crab cakes with mango sauce," Mac defended. "I was hungry. There's no food at Frank's house."

"Because you ate it all," Dune said. "We're down to dog kibble."

Mac pulled a face. "Lamb and rice tastes bland," he said. "It's not my favorite flavor."

"Mac took the last Milk-Bone from Ghost," said Dune.

"Your dog growled at me."

"Could you blame him?" asked Dune.

"Dog breath," muttered Jen.

"I brushed my teeth," said Mac.

Dune shook his head. Mac was incorrigible. Jen chose the straight and narrow. They made an odd couple.

"We've Got Tonight" by Bob Seger began to play. Bodies would press against one another and couples would kiss. Dune stood back as his partner and cousin faced off.

Mac wanted to dance.

Jen did not.

"We agreed to no touching," said Jen.

"It's a slow song," argued Mac.

Jen crossed her arms over her chest. "An arm's length between us then."

"This isn't a cotillion."

"How do you know a cotillion?" she asked.

"I once rode a dirt bike on a public sidewalk in my hometown of San Diego," he told her. "The cops pulled me over and gave me a ticket. I faced a juvenile judge who court ordered ballroom dance lessons. His Honor thought to make me a gentleman."

"The judge was?" Dune already knew the answer.

Mac shot him a dirty look and said, "My dad."

They all laughed at Mac's expense.

"Mac was a hell-raiser," Dune said to Jen. "The stories from his childhood-"

"Wouldn't surprise me in the least," she cut him off. "I grew up alongside you and your brothers. Every one of you ran wild on the boardwalk. You were always bloodied, bandaged, and in trouble."

Jen winked at Sophie. "One time Dune tried to jump his dirt bike from the boardwalk onto the beach. Not a smart move. He flipped the bike midair and dislocated his shoulder on the landing." She sighed. "Shaye was the only one with common sense."

"Good times." Dune said as he and Mac bumped fists.

"How about you, Sophie?" asked Mac. "Ever been on crutches or have a cast?"

She stood quiet, her expression thoughtful. Dune was aware she'd grown up alone without a lot of playmates. Much of her life centered on her home. She read books and collected weaponry. She'd never had close friends until recently. Her volleyball team was drawing her out of her shell. Tonight she stood on the pier surrounded by people. A big step for her, he knew. He doubted she'd ever had an accident. She'd been protected by her family.

She surprised him by saying, "I fell off my bicycle once. I needed a Band-Aid."

A short pause before Mac said, "Babe, you're one of us."

Dune heard her soft sigh of relief. Acceptance was important to her. He blinked against the sudden image of a small girl on the side of the road. The impression faded as fast as it formed. In that moment he felt a strange connection to Sophie, even though he had nothing solid. He let it go for now. He'd figure it out later.

"Food or dance?" he asked her.

"Food," she said. "I skipped lunch."

Dune took her hand and they headed toward the buffet. The line was long and once again he was greeted by guests. He was good at small talk. He'd found over the years that once people complimented him, they felt free to chat about themselves and their own accomplishments. They wanted to prove to him that they were worthy of his time.

He saw them all as his equals. He'd been blessed with height and athleticism, yet everyone had skills to hone. It was all about making smart choices, along with fighting off volleyball rookies who wanted to take him down. There was only room for one top seed. He would hold on to his spot as long as he possibly could.

They finally reached the first-course table and each took a plate. Dune chose the short ribs in a raspberry glaze and Sophie went with salmon steak. They both added fresh vegetables to their plates. Dune picked chocolate-caramel mousse for dessert. Sophie debated between key lime pie and strawberry flan. Dune had big hands. He snagged both for her.