by Low, Gennita
Lace wasn’t interested in the sharks swarming in the water. She liked the one standing so close the heat from his body warmed her head to toe.
But Dex only cupped her elbows, and she’d given him ample opportunity and implicit permission to touch so much more.
Now that the quaking had stopped, she felt her face grow hot. Lace drew away and began to offer him a small smile of apology, but his slitted gaze made a quick trip down her body. Oh. Maybe she hadn’t blown this first encounter after all. Could she use that hint of attraction to wrangle an invitation for drinks after they reached the villa’s dock?
She licked her lips and pouted them. “I guess I should be getting back to my boat…”
“No more shivers?” His voice was deep and slightly husky.
“Only where it counts,” she whispered, arching a brow.
His mouth twitched, but he set her back, his hand trailing from her arms ever so subtly.
Her breath hitched, and she was glad she was already soaking wet because her body was warming, and the evidence of her desire could have been embarrassing.
Dex shot a glance over his shoulder. “Bring the boat around to the platform.”
The engine fired. The escort boat made a slow circle of the yacht, Dex’s large hand at the small of her back to keep her steady. When they bumped softly against the rubberized edge of the platform, he held her hand, not letting it go until she’d stepped safely up onto the lower deck platform. He dropped his hand and began to turn.
Lace reached across and tapped his shoulder.
His face slowly turned, his jaw jutting to reveal a stern, hard line.
Good Lord, that mean look made her hot. “Can I offer you a drink…later…seeing as you saved my life?”
Soft laughter came from his equally well-built friend. Blond brows rose over dreamy brown eyes, and he gave her a slight shake of his head.
She wasn’t deterred. Instead, she steadied her gaze on the dark-haired man with the glacier eyes. “I promise I don’t bite.”
“We’ll see,” he said, then turned away from the platform.
His firm voice didn’t give her an ounce of hope he was serious. Sighing, she turned, giving him a look that conveyed her disappointment, and then walked away. So maybe the sway of her bottom was anything but natural, but since she was wearing a thong, she knew exactly where his gaze went.
Lace wasn’t giving up. That attitude wasn’t in her DNA. When she wanted something, she went after it. And she wanted him. Yes, every one of his security team members was equally lovely, but he’d challenged her. She flipped back her red hair, but the effect was spoiled as water-soaked tendrils slapped her shoulder.
The sound of the skiff’s motor roaring into life again gave her Dex’s direction. A plan began to form.
One of the crisply uniformed crewmen stepped forward with a towel. “Is there anything else I can bring you, miss?”
Grateful for the distraction, she gave the crewman a smile. “A martini. Very dry. And I want a chaise moved to the high deck.” The skiff was currently bobbing beside the starboard side of the yacht. She’d drink her favorite cocktail atop the upper deck platform—very slowly—and make sure Dex knew she was watching him. And maybe she’d take off her top—to catch the late afternoon rays. None of the wives or girlfriends of the wealthy men who’d actually paid for the trip—she’d been given hers gratis—had been the least bit shy about stripping. So, she wouldn’t be breaching any of the boat’s rules.
The potent drink would give her a little Dutch courage. And maybe he’d think the blush that washed over her skin was solely due to too much sun.
Dexter Haygood didn’t have long to wait before he caught flak.
“Mmm-mm. Don’t know how you passed that up,” Justin Walsh, the team’s combat medic, said, his face reflecting disappointment in his friend.
Seated at the side of the skiff, Hank Jones, their machine-gunner, shook his head. Always silent, the big man’s expression spoke his disgust. His dark face was screwed up in a frown.
Dex snorted. “I’m not part of the amenities.”
“Halloran gives us free rein of the villa. And he didn’t say a thing about keeping away from the passengers. I think he likes giving them the thrill of rubbing elbows with ex-SEALs. And…we have our own cabanas.” Justin gave another irascible waggle of his brows. “You could invite her for a little some-some and no one would bat an eye.”
“We’re here to do a job,” Dex said, feeling annoyed that he hadn’t managed to hide his attraction to the redhead from his team. Now he’d never hear the end of their teasing. Not something he was accustomed to, as he rarely protected beautiful women in his line of work.
Which made him wonder again what the hell he was doing on this assignment. Protecting the Clementine’s passengers shouldn’t have required more than a couple of onboard guards, which Halloran employed regularly, not a four-man combat-ready rapid response team in an armed escort boat, and a second on-the-ground team patrolling the estate. And the machine gun stowed under a bench in the boat rather than secured in the gun turret underscored the fact this wasn’t their usual mission.
“Why look a gift horse in the mouth?” Justin gave him another cheeky grin. “This job is a vacation. We’re in the Caribbean, not the Indian Ocean. Maybe the powers that be thought we could use a little R&R.”
From his position behind the wheel of the powerful boat, Johnny Turtoro gave Dex a pointed glance. “Yeah, boss. You’d think you’d be happy we aren’t taking fire from Somali pirates.”
Dex frowned. When had his team gotten so chummy they thought they could chime in on his love life? “There’s more money on that boat than on any transport barge traveling the Strait of Malacca. It’s target rich. Halloran is right to be cautious.”
“Whatever. I think you’re smitten.” Justin lifted his head, staring at the raised upper deck of the Clementine. His jaw sagged for a second, and then his grin stretched, white teeth flashing. “Yo, Dex. Think she could wear any less?”
Dex shot a glance upward and sucked in sharp breath.
The redhead sat on the edge of a chaise next to the low rail of the boat, a martini glass in one hand, dark glasses shading her gorgeous green eyes. However, her cat-like smile wasn’t what held his attention.
He cursed under his breath, knowing he was going to cave and do the one thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t—get tangled up with a rich girl, someone whose expectations he’d never meet no matter how hard he tried.
But the expanse of ivory skin, too pale to ever tan, angered him. Not because the minx was giving his buddies a show, but because she was risking a sunburn on the prettiest set of breasts he’d ever seen. Nicely rounded. Firm. Nipples a pale, rosy pink.
And he’d already had an eyeful of her long legs and firm ass. His fingers still tingled from the lingering urge to fill his hands with those sexy curves. “Dammit,” he said under his breath, but not softly enough.
The team erupted in soft chuckles.
He swiveled his head to give them all a hot glare. “That’ll be enough. Tuturo,” he bit off the word, “take the boat around the other side.”
With his crew’s light-hearted complaints ringing in his ears, Dex turned, fighting a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Her unsubtle efforts to get under his skin had worked. She’d gotten to him.
Red hair, eyes as green as soft Kentucky grass. A body made for hot loving.
She wasn’t Lenore, the general’s daughter he’d dated on the sly who’d liked to run her hands over muscles newly honed by weeks of BUD/S training, but who’d been engaged all the while to her daddy’s Aide-de-Camp. And he wasn’t in his twenties and lovesick for a pretty girl.
After one last glance at the nearly nude beauty giving him a wave, he made himself a promise. He’d have her once. Then he’d walk away. One night ought to be enough to smooth his rough edges and prove to her the last thing she wanted was some ex-SEAL who didn’t have the time or inclination to be anyone’s pla
y-date. This didn’t have to be a big thing. Just a hook-up with a bored beauty.
So why in hell was his body tightening with excitement? Why was his chest expanding, dragging in sea air that somehow felt fresher than it had minutes ago? The sun beat down, but its merciless heat wasn’t what warmed him. The thought of plundering her long, lithe, pale body made him feel like a pirate. A marauder. And he didn’t like the satisfaction that fanciful vision gave him. Dex liked to be in control. Liked to take the lead, be the one to initiate contact and the one to fade away when things got sticky. Instinct told him the redhead might harbor those same inclinations. And he didn’t like the thought she believed she was leading him in this dance.
As the skiff cut a path through the waves to the other side, away from the tempting view of the woman he’d fished from the sea, he rocked his head side-to-side, easing the tension knotting his neck. He’d have her, then he’d concentrate on his mission, the job he was being paid the big bucks to do—however unlikely it was that danger might find them here in paradise.
Chapter Two
‡
“I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy our little adventure today.”
Lace forced a carefree smile as she glanced at the dive master, Troy Bennett. He was a handsome man—a slightly aging surfer with sun-bleached brown hair that was a tad long for his angular face. Dressed in a pale blue Hawaiian shirt and beige linen trousers, Troy wore clothing that fit in well with the casual attire worn by the wealthier guests mingling on Halloran’s veranda.
“I panicked. I’ll admit that. The water was so clear the sharks looked like they were swimming closer than they were.” She shuddered delicately, but instantly regretted the motion when his gaze was pulled downward to the deep cleavage of her tangerine silk halter dress.
The halves of the halter top bared the sides of her breasts, and the silk was thin enough the tips of her nipples dragged against the fabric. She’d foregone wearing a bra, hoping to draw another man’s gaze, but he had yet to arrive at the intimate gathering on their host’s wide, teak-wood veranda.
Drinks before dinner, the invitation slipped beneath the door of her private cabana had read. She’d arrived early, eager to thank her rescuer, but now she hoped he wasn’t avoiding her after she’d all but thrown herself at him.
“Will you be ready to dare the cage tomorrow?” Troy took a sip of his bourbon.
“Experiencing a cage dive is why I’m here.” Somehow, she’d get past her fear to give it a try. Just once. “I’d like to be able to describe it to my clients.”
His gaze held, and his brows dipped. “Clients?”
“I’m a travel agent.” At the narrowing of his eyes, she said, “Oh, did you think I was a paying guest?” She smiled. “My agency recently added adventure-style vacations, and we’ve gotten buzz from the news coverage of one of my partner’s recent adventures. We have more business now than we can handle. Everyone’s eager to try an extreme vacation. Mr. Halloran opened this adventure to me because he’s thinking about buying a fleet of yachts for high-end shark-diving cruises here.” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Like he needs another venture, but he’s very excited about the possibility. He says it’s his part of paying it forward to the locals who’ve been so welcoming since he moved to the island.”
Troy’s expression grew neutral, his smile a little stiff. “So you’re a travel agent. That’s nice. If you’ll excuse me, I need a word with our host.” He moved away, walking toward Mr. Halloran, but paused beside the wealthiest of their guests, a young entrepreneur who’d made his fortune in video games.
Obviously, he’d dismissed her the moment he realized she wasn’t one of the big fishes. Or maybe Halloran hadn’t shared his plans for the business, and he was attempting to hide the fact he was miffed. Was Troy worried he’d have competition? She arched a brow and took a sip of her tall mojito, letting those thoughts flit away as she stared out at the long strip of private beach her benefactor owned. This little corner of the island with its natural lagoon was paradise on earth—lushly tropical, with palm trees bordering the sand and calm blue sea for as far as could be seen. The sun dipped on the horizon, a huge orange ball amid lavender wisping clouds. The air was muggy and hot, but the fans circling above them from the porch rafters kept the temperature bearable. What must living like this 24/7 be like? Would one grow inured? Somehow, she didn’t think she would ever take this lifestyle for granted.
Footsteps on the polished teak planks behind her had her stiffening. The tread was heavy, coming straight for her. Without turning, she knew who stood right behind her because he held still while the heat of his body and his musky, masculine scent wrapped around her. A smell that fired every one of her hormones.
“You should have used more sunscreen,” came a deep, graveled murmur right beside her ear.
Warmth flooded her body. Her eyelids dipped, just for a second, while she enjoyed the way her heart skipped a beat and her blood surged. Nothing was more delicious than the chase—even if she wasn’t sure who was doing the chasing.
She drew a deep breath before turning slowly to meet the tall man’s gaze, careful not to bump against him. Not because she didn’t want to rub against him like a cat, but her nipples were already spiking hard, and she didn’t necessarily want the entire room to know of her intense attraction. That would be unprofessional.
Although she teetered on tall, strappy sandals, she still had to tilt her head to meet his cool gaze. “No one was around to lend me a hand with the sun block.”
His gaze dropped to her cleavage, and he arched a dark, knowing brow. “And what about the parts you could reach?”
“The sun made me tingle,” she said huskily, then licked her bottom lip as she eyed the dark polo shirt that stretched across his broad chest and the dark trousers that didn’t mask his muscular thighs or the nicely bulging knot at their juncture.
His lips twitched at the corners. “Are you always that reckless?”
“I’m not reckless,” she said with little toss of her head. This time, her hair fluttered around her face, and then settled on her shoulders. “But I like my little pleasures, and I never let anything get in the way of what I want.”
His mouth pursed and his eyelids dipped. “Are you staying for dinner?”
“I’m not that hungry.”
A dark brow arched. “Now that’s a damn shame.”
The sexy undertones of their conversation caused her belly to tighten. “Shall we?” she whispered, glancing at him flirtatiously from beneath the fringe of her lashes.
The moment she issued her bold invitation, he took over—sliding her glass from her fingers to set it on waiting tray, then cupping her elbow to lead her through the veranda’s French doors and straight down the corridor leading to a side door and the flagstone path outside. When he halted in front of her cabana, he stared, an unspoken question in his eyes.
One last chance for her to change her mind. Instead, she reached for the key she’d put on a golden chain around her neck because she hadn’t wanted to carry a purse. She lifted the chain over her hair, the action somehow making her feel as though she’d surrendered control. The shivers were back. That hint of danger surrounding him kept her slightly breathless.
Without a word, Dex held out his hand.
She pooled the chain and key in the center of it.
His fingers curled around them, and then he reached out, sliding a hand around her and drawing her closer.
Her breasts met his chest, and she sucked in a deep breath, lifting her head, inviting his kiss.
His mouth descended, pressing against hers, and then it moved, dragging against her lips, pulling in small circular motions until she slanted her head to follow the ebb and flow of his movements and stood on her tiptoes to deepen the luxurious splendor of this first intimate act.
She liked kisses. Light ones. Flirty ones. Ones given without expectations. Ones inviting more. They could be sweet or a prelude to something deliciously naughty. Playful
foreplay. But kissing had never affected her like this. Dark, delicious…carnal with a capital C.
And then he bit her lower lip.
She gasped, and his tongue swept inside, plunging her deeper into The Carnal Zone. The way he held her, rock-hard arms enclosing her, bold hands molding her curves, his firm lips forcing hers open to receive him… Good Lord, it was just a kiss…but it wasn’t. The act was so sexual. Every bit as intimate as fucking. A plundering of the first order.
Her hands crept up to his shoulders, and her nails dug deep to cling to his body as her knees weakened.
And then the intimacy was over before she’d registered the taste of him—a lingering hint of whiskey and mint. By the time he drew back, he’d stolen her breath and her composure. She pushed back her hair and gave him a trembling smile, wondering if she’d bitten off more than she could chew with this man.
He unlocked the door then guided her quickly inside.
Needing to get her bearings, she glanced around at the comfortable overstuffed and polished furnishings, the shining teak floors. She’d left on a lamp on an end table, but otherwise, dusk was settling, deepening shadows in the room’s corners.
The moment they were locked inside, she braced for his touch, but he moved away, heading to the window overlooking the long white strip of beach only steps away from her front porch. Already, moonlight silvered the crests of the rolling waves.
But he wasn’t interested in the view outside. He leaned his butt against the sill, his glance sweeping slowly down her body. “Perhaps we should start with introductions.”
Her eyes widened, and her tongue touched her swollen bottom lip. “You don’t know my name?”
“I know everyone’s name associated with this junket. But the exchange of names is polite, don’t you think?”
He wants polite? “I’m Lace McElhannon. I’m from Chicago.”
“Lace, I’m Dexter Haygood. I’m from San Diego, but I haven’t been there in years.”
After a long pause, she blurted, “I understand you were a SEAL.”
