by Cathryn Fox
Night fell over the island as she ran her data, and when her stomach growled she realized she hadn’t stopped to eat. Room service was an option. She lifted her head at the high-pitched chirps coming from outside her patio door and watched a tropical bird settle itself on the perch. Maybe she’d take a quick trip to the buffet, stretch her legs out a bit. And there was that ice cream shop she passed. With any luck they’d have butterscotch ripple.
With that last thought in mind, she took the three flights of stairs down to ground level and stepped out into the balmy night. Lanterns lit up the walkway, and she shot a glance around to get her bearings. The resort was huge, big enough for her to get lost. She checked the posted map and decided to take a short cut, walking around the adult pool.
As she approached the Olympic-size pool, a splash reached her ears. Underwater lights lit up the lanes, highlighting a large figure at the bottom—a large unmoving figure. A wave of unease trickled through her as she counted off the seconds. Good God, who was down there and what were they practicing for, an Olympic medal in Hold-Your-Breath-Underwater?
She shifted from one foot to the other, glancing at her watch. Where the hell was the lifeguard? Her foot tapped restlessly. Okay, something was seriously wrong. As her heart raced, she kicked off her shoes, and pulled her sundress over her head. Dressed only in her lacy bra and comfy undies, she dove under and swam to the dark, lifeless figure on the bottom. Blue eyes flew open when she touched the man’s arm. Caught off-guard, a bubble of air ripped from her lungs.
Big hands captured her shoulders, fingers biting in a tight grip. He kicked off the bottom, pulling her with him, and punched through the surface. He shook his head, his eyes going wide as his wet hair slicked off his face, showcasing his features.
“Holly?”
She sucked in a huge breath, and for one shocked moment she just stared. “Josh?”
He scrubbed his chin, the little rasping sounds of his day’s growth of beard reverberating through her. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“What do you mean what am I doing? What the hell are you doing?”
His glance moved over her face, his brows pulled together. “I was swimming.”
“Swimming?” she asked, her voice boarding on hysteria. “You call that swimming? You were sitting on the bottom of the pool. Where I come from we call that drowning.”
Big droplets fell from his dark lashes as he lowered his lids, the hard lines on his face softening. He pulled her against his chest, and his strong heart pounded hard against her cheek. “Shit. I really scared you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah.”
He inched back, his gaze moving over her face again. “I’m sorry.”
“What were you doing?” she managed to say as strong hands splayed over her back. A shiver moved through her. Damn. That probably shouldn’t feel so good.
“It’s how I think. Unwind and relax, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “That’s not normal, Josh.”
He laughed, a rich, decadent rumble that hit like a bolt of lust. All righty, then. “No? Then what is normal?”
“Get a retriever. Go for a run. Read a book. Drink wine.”
Wine. Yeah, forget the ice cream. Wine was exactly what she needed. Lots of it.
His grin widened, and he flashed those fabulous teeth again. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. You’re shivering.” He backed her up, his hands spanning her waist as he lifted her clear from the pool like she weighed no more than one of those pens he kept clipped to his shirt collar. He set her on the edge, threw one leg over and jumped from the water. Smooth.
She sat there, face to crotch, and sucked in a silent gasp. Ripped camo board shorts. Wet. Clinging to his body. Ridiculous, right? Laughable really. But she sure as hell wasn’t laughing. No, the way those shorts showcased hard thighs and other hard…ridges was anything but a laughing matter.
He reached for her hand, and she cleared her throat. A quick tug brought her to her feet, and she became very aware of her nearly naked body and the way Josh’s gaze kept dropping lower and lower.
“Let me get you a towel.” He turned, and she tried not to stare as his muscles bunched and relaxed again with each long stride. This is what he was hiding under those T-shirts? She looked over the tribal tattoo centered between broad shoulders that tapered to a trim waist and a perfect backside, but when he turned back, he gave her a full-frontal view of a sculpted chest and rippling abs that resembled a pinball game. As her gaze zigzagged like the silver ball, and bounced off hard muscles and deep ridges, it lit up all her sensors—every last one of them. Holy God. Guess it was a good thing she’d had no idea what was really going on under all those clothes, otherwise she never would have gotten any work done at the office.
“Here.” He shook out the towel, tossed it around her back, and knotted it in the front. Hot breath spilled over her cheeks, and her body flushed as his hands tangled in her hair. The barest of touches spread tingling heat through her as he pushed the wet strands from her face to examine her, studying her like she was a string of code he couldn’t quite figure out. She took in the rise and fall of his chest, and as his strength surrounded her, her heart thundered.
Very slowly he leaned in, and her nipples tingled beneath the wet lace that left little to the imagination. “Thanks,” he said.
She infused her voice with a lightness that she didn’t feel. “Payback for saving me from Stanley. We’re even.”
“I didn’t know we were keeping count.”
She shivered, almost violently, and he clearly mistook it for cold. One strong arm circled her waist, and he packaged her against his hard body. Pleasure sharpened. Shameless need gripped deep in her womb. He turned her and guided her toward her dress. He scooped it up, the material practically disappearing in his big hand.
He peered at the numerous paths leading to the different buildings. “Which way to your room?”
She followed his gaze, but her brain had stopped firing minutes ago. Everything about this rock-hard Josh embodied control, and it threw off her focus. Honestly, she hated that in a man, hated to feel anyone had any power over her, but strangely enough, with Josh it felt almost tempting…erotic. Flames surged through her, and a moan she had no control over caught in her throat.
Maybe I should do him.
She pointed toward the buffet to distract him from the sound. “I ah…I was on my way to get something to eat.”
He drew her in tighter, cocooning her in his heat. “I think you’re going to want to get changed first.”
“You’re right.” She stared up at him, her tired body feeding off his energy, his steely control…the insane sexual chemistry arcing between them. Forget the gamer-boy vibe that usually encompassed him. Tonight his aura was sexual, carnal, and suggested he might like to play games all right, just not the kind that came with a hand-held console.
Chapter Two
In one of the resort’s restaurants—closed in the early morning hours—Josh Steele wrapped a black apron around his waist and looked over the ingredients spread out at his work station. He grinned and gave a silent thanks to Mrs. Jackson for teaching both him and his kid sister how to fend for themselves in the kitchen—and the world.
Most stand-in parents didn’t give a rat’s ass if their foster kids gained any life skills, and were only in it to collect the paycheck that came with providing a roof over their heads. But he and Anna were lucky when they were placed with the elderly lady from Brooklyn during their teenage years. Josh might never have gone to college without her support, and no way would Anna have gotten back on the right track after getting involved with a gang of troubled teens.
Mrs. J made them feel important, showed them they had value. As a nurse, she also taught them to see the good in others, to give back and help whenever they could, which was why Josh had gone on to serve his country after college—until a bomb shattered his knee and took him out. But it could have been a hell of a lot worse. Far to
o many of his comrades hadn’t made it home alive. He’d been given a second chance and he damn well planned to make something of it. He owed his fallen soldiers that much.
“What first?” Holly asked.
With her small hands planted on her hips, she looked over the ingredients like they were completely foreign to her. And why wouldn’t they be? She’d grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth and had a handful of chefs to prepare all her meals and drinks. Yeah, she might have changed her last name after moving halfway across the country, but he knew all too well who she was—pampered daughter of Blair Fairfax, ruthless real estate tycoon with far too many enemies.
His boss.
As he handed her a paring knife, he nodded to the ingredient list and instructions written on the index card in front of them. “Why don’t you go ahead and slice some limes and lemons.”
“I’m on it,” she said, an eagerness in her voice that surprised him—even though it shouldn’t have. He studied her for a moment longer, taking in the steely determination in her eyes. They might come from different worlds, but after watching over her for the last couple weeks, it had become glaringly apparent that they had one thing in common—no matter what assignment they faced, they always put forth their best effort. For him, he gave every mission his all because, as a former SEAL, it was ingrained into him. Her reasons weren’t quite as clear to him. Why would a princess run so far away from home—leaving behind all the luxuries her father had to offer her—to work so hard for some douchebag who continued to overlook her for the senior analyst position?
Josh had only been with Encore for a short time, but with Holly’s work ethic and dedication to the company, no one deserved the senior analyst position more. The only thing holding her back was her need to do everything on her own. Why was that? Maybe after this week she’d learn that working with others was a strength not a weakness and finally secure the position she was fighting for. Hell, before he became a security specialist for her father, he’d had to rely on his buddies for survival. In the desert, if one failed, they all failed. Leaving a man behind went against everything a SEAL held sacred.
Wait! What the hell am I doing?
Holly’s life was in danger, and his goal was to get her back home under the safety of her father and his men, not help her get a promotion and stay in California where she was an open target, no matter how much she deserved the position. Unbeknownst to her, someone had threatened her life, and her father hired him to keep her safe and see to it that she returned home. The confidentiality contract he’d signed prevented him from telling her the truth. Apparently, her father hadn’t wanted to upset her. It seemed strange to him—hell, if something had threated his life, he’d want to know—but he didn’t know Holly, or how she’d react to the treat. Maybe she’d give in to hysterics. Besides that, a contract was a contract, and he planned to keep his mouth shut and keep her under his care. No one would be getting near her on his watch.
“Hold up,” a voice said from the front of the room. “Drop everything.”
Everyone stopped what they were doing, and Josh glanced up to see Misty Ward, the middle-aged woman who’d spoken to them at the meeting yesterday. What was it she’d said about the mixology exercises? Oh right, no hands. This ought to be interesting. Seriously, though, how they were supposed to make a Bloody Mary without using their hands was beyond him.
Misty clapped, a huge smile on her face as she adjusted her apron, and pointed to the poster behind her. There is no “I” in Team. “Since this week is all about teamwork and bonding, your partner must pass you the ingredients before you’re allowed to use them.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Claire, who was paired with Stanley, said from the workstation beside them.
Misty wagged her finger. “But remember, no hands allowed. You’re each given a bowl. You must pass the ingredients to the other person, and that person must put them in the bowl before they are allowed to touch them with their hands. Everyone understand the rules?”
Both laugher and groans erupted around them, and Holly made a strange, strangled noise that reminded him of a wounded animal. Josh angled his head to see her. As those big, brown, honey-flecked eyes of hers locked on his, he felt a pull deep between his legs. Shit. No matter how hot she looked in her lacy bra and panties when she’d jumped to his rescue last night, she was the last person he should be thinking about sexually.
His job was to watch over his boss’s daughter—not have sex with her, or think about how sweet she’d taste.
God, that pouty mouth.
But guys like Josh—from the wrong side of the tracks—made great bedmates but not life mates. A past relationship with a rich girl who broke his fucking heart and nearly derailed him during college had taught him to steer clear of pampered women who would never see him as anything more than a good time.
Not that he was looking for more from Holly, or anyone. He wasn’t. That lesson also taught him that when things didn’t go their way, the entitled always ran home to daddy, which he fully expected Holly to do if this trip didn’t produce an advancement for her. Once that happened, he’d collect his money and be well on his way to completing his MBA and opening his own software engineering firm.
“Josh?”
“Ah, what?” he asked, dragging his mind back to the task at hand.
“If you want me to slice the lime and lemons you have to pass them to me.”
“Right.” He reached for them but her hand closed over his to stop him.
Jesus Christ, her skin is so soft.
“No hands, remember.”
“Yeah, shit. Okay.” He looked at the loose limes and lemons lined up on the counter. Christ, he’d been through SEAL training. How hard could it be to use his body to pass Holly a couple pieces of fruit? He glanced to the front of the room, and captured Misty’s attention. “Can we use our elbows?”
“No elbows, arms or teeth,” Misty said, pointing her finger at him. “The first team to get their completed drinks on the counter wins two points, and the best-tasting Bloody Mary wins one point. If you drop anything, you can no longer use it.”
“Here goes nothing.” Josh leaned forward and, using his chin, rolled one of the limes to the edge of the counter. He angled his body and captured it between his chin and chest. He turned and when he caught the wide-eyed way Holly was watching him, her pouty lips parted slightly, the lime slipped.
“Whoa,” she said.
Before it fell, she stepped into him, sandwiching the fruit between their bodies—their stomachs, specifically.
“Good save.” Damn, is that my voice? He cleared his throat and hoped he no longer sounded like he’d sucked a few of those lemons when he said, “I just need you to slide downward, so you can get it under your chin.”
She writhed, and Josh damn near bit off his tongue as her breasts slid lower on his body. He exhaled sharply and tried to keep his mind on the task at hand—and off the sexy way she was moving against him.
“Just a little more,” he said, his cock jumping in his pants.
Down, boy.
Her hands slid around his back and linked as she shimmied lower, her body pressing hard against his to keep the lime from falling. It was all he could do not to grab a fistful of her hair and tug, opening her mouth so he could lean forward for a taste. Would she taste as sweet as she smelled?
“It’s harder than it looks,” she grumbled.
Yeah, no kidding.
Fuck, man, he sure as hell hoped she was talking about the game they were playing and not what was going on below the band of his board shorts. Thank God for the apron. The last thing he needed was for her or the team to know he was sporting the hard-on of the century.
She swayed back and forth in a manner that had his thoughts spiraling in a direction they had no right going. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. He thought about it. Visions of Holly sprawled out on his bed, his to do with as he pleased, raced through his mind’s eye.
Kill me
fucking now.
“Almost there,” she said.
Me, too.
A groan crawled out of his throat, and she looked up at him. He briefly pinched his eyes shut, and when he opened them again and found her on her knees, dark lashes blinking over big doe eyes as she gazed up at him, he drew on every ounce of control he had to keep himself from falling to the floor and having his fucking way with her.
Keep your mind on the task, dude.
“You okay?”
Really? She was asking if he was okay? Hell no, he wasn’t okay! She was gyrating against him in a room full of people, and all he could think about was sex—with the last girl in the world he should be thinking about having sex with.
“Yeah,” he said, the denial spilling from his mouth. “You got it yet?” He winced as his voice came out harder than he intended. But Jesus, this was pure torture—dangerous in so many ways.
Watch over my daughter, he said. Find a way to get her to return home.
Josh was pretty sure gyrating against her during a damn mixology contest wasn’t what he’d signed up for. Fuck me.
Behind his back, her fingers slipped and came to rest at the top of his ass. “Just push against me,” she said, her voice wispy, breathless. “I need the pressure to get it under my chin.”
He rocked his hips forward and tried not to think about how many more times they’d have to do this. Christ, by the time they passed the lemons, his balls would match the color of his eyes.
“Got it,” she said, and inched away. She dropped the lime into her bowl, a pink flush on her cheeks as she turned back. She smiled up at him, and when her plump lips parted, his pulse leaped. Jesus, seeing her like this, with her guard down, was just about the sexiest thing ever. She finger-combed her long hair back, flicking it over her shoulders, and desire burned through him.
If he knew what was good for him, he’d back off, ask for a new partner. It was just a matter of time before the chaos building inside him won out and he acted on his urges.
