by Joanne Rock
He was ready to back off. Hell, he needed to back off.
“I normally play it safe,” she informed him. “But this week, I’m on vacation from my real life.”
He might have responded, but then she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.
His brain stopped in second gear while the rest of him responded on instinct. Her lips were incredibly soft, the contact the barest brush of her mouth on his as if she was conducting another scientific test, waiting to see how long it took to prompt him into sensual overdrive. When other women had approached him this year, he’d turned them down flat, his interest in dating seriously compromised after Kelly. But he couldn’t find any of that cool indifference now.
He pulled her closer to press her hips to his, chest to chest, belly to belly. If Lacey Sutherland turned out to be a lead, at least she was one that he wouldn’t let go.
Kissing her was a supercharge to his senses, bombarding him with desire for her from every angle. She tasted like sweet rum and her tongue tangled with his for dominance. She arched up on her toes, her body stretched delectably over his.
Her hum of pleasure ratcheted up the heat, a mating call he couldn’t resist after a year of abstaining from women altogether. He hadn’t even been tempted since Kelly, but now his body protested every one of the last 360-some days of restraint.
All at once things turned carnal.
He plunged his hand into her hair, tilting her head to just the right angle. She seemed to melt under his touch, her whole body shifting, heating, accommodating to every adjustment. Blood pulsed through him with new, fiery need, pounding his temples and narrowing his focus to this woman who felt, smelled, tasted so exactly right.
She strained against him as if she couldn’t get close enough. He lifted her, needing her tight against him. She moaned as he backed her into a coconut tree for better leverage. He reached down to the hem of her skirt and, lifting one of her legs, he wrapped it around his waist. The move positioned the hot core of her against the throb between his legs.
For a moment the contact felt exquisite. But that wasn’t enough to quench what he wanted. And she sure as hell didn’t behave like a woman who’d had enough yet. With a squeal, she brought her other leg up and crooked it about his hips, locking her ankles at his waist. Sealing them together.
The sensation was so raw. So dark and primal he didn’t even think about fighting it. Hell, right now, he couldn’t think why he shouldn’t have her. She’d said she was on vacation from real life. Maybe right now so was he.
He pushed up her skirt just enough to reach under with his hands. Her silky thighs quivered at his touch, every inch of her so responsive to him he felt like King-freaking-Midas. Her skin got hotter and hotter as he reached the lace-trimmed leg of her panties.
Hunger ripped through him, her scent making him crazy as he slipped his fingers beneath the lace to touch her. She arched into his hand, pressing herself to him, demanding more.
He traced the slick folds of her feminine flesh, her body already wet and ready for him. Had he done this to her? And she wanted to write it all off as a kind of attraction that didn’t matter?
Determined to make her see things differently, he released her lips to kiss the long, sexy column of her throat. The soft sounds she made, urging him on, had him ready to undo his belt right there. She clutched his shoulders and his hips, clinging to him, and he couldn’t see past her or the moment to slow down.
Instinctively he knew what to do to draw out her response, her slick heat pulsating with need as he stroked her into a gasping, twitching frenzy. He could feel how swollen she was, knew she was so close and—
A light flashed across the beach behind him, casting a blue-white glow on Lacey’s skin for a moment.
“Crap.” Damon stepped away from the tree, steadying Lacey in his arms even though her legs remained locked tight around him. Reason returned to him with the force of a pistol whip to the jaw. What the hell was he doing when he hadn’t even checked this woman out yet?
“What?” Her fingers teased down the back of his neck as she leaned into him again.
“It’s a shore patrol.” The worst possible kind of company while he had a woman—quite possibly a drug runner’s accomplice—backed up against a tree. “The Coast Guard.”
LACEY TRIED to blink through the fog of unprecedented lust to figure out what Damon was talking about. Out in the water, she spotted a boat carrying a mounted searchlight making a slow pass along the shoreline where they stood—at least, where Damon stood, while she clung to him as if she hadn’t had a man in years.
She was hanging by a thread, letting her guard down, her inhibitions down and her panties…well, sideways. And he cared what the Coast Guard thought?
“What are they going to do about a little harmless tongue tangling on the beach?” She touched his cheek to encourage his gaze back to her since the man’s neck had craned around at a good hundred-plus degrees.
“Shit.” Strengthening his hold on her, he took off running through the coconut trees and undergrowth as the searchlight began to track back toward them.
His hands gripped her thighs through her dress, her weight seeming like no concern to him as he made impressive time back up the hill toward the bar.
“My laptop!” she protested, holding tight to his shoulders as she ducked her head into his neck. “I left everything down there.”
She didn’t even have her shoes on.
“I’ll go back down and get them when the patrol leaves.” His words weren’t even breathless, as if he carried an extra 120—okay, a fair bit more than that—around with him all the time when he ran.
Which made her wonder…
“Why are we running?” As some common sense started to filter through the lust haze, some of her earlier fears returned. What in the hell was she doing with her legs wrapped around a man she knew nothing about other than that he kissed like a fantasy and hid from military personnel?
“We don’t need the hassle of being questioned by a bunch of overzealous seamen tonight.”
“But we weren’t doing anything wrong.” Although there was that pesky issue of public decency. She wriggled her legs loose as he reached the top of the hill at the end of Café Rosita’s parking lot.
A couple of cab drivers smoked cigarettes on the curb, but neither one paid them any attention. Other than that, the street was quiet except for the pulsing salsa tune that vibrated the ground beneath them.
“Speak for yourself.” He glared out at the searchlight as it traced the beach again.
“Oh my God.” She backed up a step toward the cab drivers, preparing to call for help. “You’re a drug runner.”
His head whipped around and he turned that sexy hot stare of his on her again.
“Hell no.” A grin kicked up one corner of his mouth. “I’ve got to work with those guys. I’ll never hear the end of it if their searchlight catches me with a woman.”
It took a few seconds for the information to sink into a brain that had already switched into panic mode.
“You’re Coast Guard?” She sized up his short hair, that suited a military man just fine, and his Bermuda shorts and wife-beater shirt that didn’t.
“Lieutenant Damon Craig, at your service.” He flashed a military ID under her nose before he grabbed her hand and tugged her back into the relative shelter of coconut trees. “Sorry to give you a scare. A shore patrol would never bust up a couple kissing on the beach, but if they knew it was me—” He shrugged as he gave her a self-deprecating grin. “The guys can be brutal to each other.”
Relief flooded her veins that he wasn’t a bad guy, the adrenaline letdown all the more powerful after being so keyed up for him just minutes ago.
“You’re a military man.” She finally had the answer to her question about what he did for a living.
Shuffling this new bit of information around in her head, she was already pulling together his dating profile. Coast Guard lieutenant and incredible kisser see
ks…what? A hot time on the beach with a total stranger? Would he expect a follow-up performance after that kiss? She’d been upset after the way Nicholas treated her, and she’d let that fuel some of her need to get close to Damon.
And oh my, she needed to get out more. She could hardly control herself with the first man she’d kissed in ages.
“There’s an air station at Borinquen, not far from here.” He gestured vaguely with a jerk of his thumb. “Let me go get your laptop and shoes. I’ll give you a ride back to your hotel.”
And because she was tongue-tied and completely out of her element about how to behave with a stranger she’d just let fondle her intimately on a public beach, Lacey nodded mutely.
In no time, he returned with everything she’d left behind, reminders of her purpose here in Puerto Rico. Because even though the date with Nicholas hadn’t worked out, that didn’t mean she’d just sit idle until she lost the competition with Laura. She needed to post exciting new content on her site if she wanted to beat Laura’s visitor numbers. Since she wouldn’t blog about her failed date, she’d have to rely on her Plan B material. She’d get out to explore the singles scene here and blog about it. She’d check and recheck the new compatibility system and hope she could implement it before the month-long competition was over.
“It’s this way.” He pointed the way to his car as he handed over her shoes.
Warily, she brushed as much sand off as she could before strapping on the teal-colored high-heeled sandals that had made her feel so glamorous earlier. Now she felt oddly vulnerable as the night had gotten completely out of hand.
“I can’t.” She straightened, refusing to follow him. “I think I’d better call it a night, Damon.”
He turned, paused and sauntered back toward her. His slow pace made a new tension tighten in her belly. Sure, she still felt the tingle of red-hot awareness that had been kick-started into overdrive on the beach. But now that feeling mingled with wariness because she knew the formidable sway he held over her. She’d never met a man who could raze her barriers the way he had in mere minutes.
For that matter, no man had ever dented her barriers, period. She was an expert about holding back. Ensuring no one ever had enough of her to hurt her.
“I’ve offended you.” He seemed to offer his own explanation for why she refused to ride home with him.
“Of course not.” She reached for her laptop and tugged it gently from his grip. “I just…feel awkward. I’d be more comfortable taking a cab if you would be kind enough to explain to one of those drivers that I need to get to the Hotel Aquadilla.”
Nodding, he finally relinquished her bag and she put it over her shoulder. Having her computer and her phone close by made her feel slightly more in control.
As long as they didn’t kiss again. This man could destroy her willpower with one heavy-lidded look. And, sweet heaven, she couldn’t believe how quickly she’d lost control back on that beach.
“Not a problem. But can you tell me one thing?”
“Ask away.” She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that he’d given up on driving her back to the hotel so easily. A ridiculous, contrary notion of course. But her body still throbbed with the unmet need he’d stirred deep inside her. Had he shut off that switch so quickly? Or was he simply better at hiding sexual frustration? She couldn’t imagine how she’d ever fall asleep while images of what might have happened plagued her overheated imagination.
She’d never, ever taken a sexual encounter so far, so fast. She usually had big-time issues with physical intimacy considering her past. Yet with Damon, she’d felt normal. Desirable. And so hot she thought she’d never cool down again.
“Are you still convinced there are rules for attraction?” He reached up to caress her bottom lip ever so softly with his thumb.
The touch distracted her at first, calling to her every overwrought nerve ending and making her lose sight of the question. The effect this man had on her was so far out of her realm of experience that she didn’t know what to do with it. But then, as her eyes drifted half-closed, her brain caught up with her body and she processed the words.
Her eyes flew open.
“Absolutely. I’ve staked a career on it.” Defensiveness crept back, replacing all those feel-good endorphins. Was he challenging her work again?
His hand fell away.
“I thought maybe the kiss convinced you that compatibility isn’t always predictable.” His jaw clenched, the action highlighting the dimple in his chin. “I’m curious about the kind of work you do. I’ve never met a matchmaker before.”
“And I’ve never met a Coast Guard lieutenant who gave me such a hard time about it before.” She smiled to take the bite out of her words. She wasn’t used to pickup lines, and she thought Damon might be angling to see her again.
Something she really shouldn’t allow, as much as her body hummed with pleasure at the very thought. Now that her date with Nicholas had fallen through, she needed to bolster the blog with exciting new content, since she had no personal online dating experience to chronicle, the way she’d hoped when she’d come down here.
“I wonder why you’re so convinced you can predict who’s going to be attracted to whom.” He stared at her, contemplative.
“I can’t. I can only predict compatibility, and attraction doesn’t equal compatibility.” A fact she was quickly recalling the longer she tried to carry on a conversation with him. He was still essentially a stranger even though she’d just let him touch her in ways that made her blush to think about. They didn’t have anything in common besides a case of red-hot lust, apparently. “Thank you for helping me out earlier. Now I’d better find a ride home.”
Brushing past him, she marched toward the cabbies, who seemed to have finished their smoking break and now watched the disagreement unfolding.
Digging in her laptop case, she removed the address for her hotel again and tossed it toward one of the drivers, determined to make herself understood.
“Hotel Aquadilla, por favor.” And, without waiting for him to agree, she marched straight to the back door of the taxi and slid into the seat.
“I’m just saying it can be good to follow your instincts now and then,” Damon called to her from somewhere back in the parking lot, his voice growing closer as if he’d started the trek to his own car.
“Good night, Damon,” she called out the window, catching a glimpse of his square shoulders headed up the street.
Ignoring the tug of regret in her belly, she recalled one of the reasons she’d come to Puerto Rico was to prove to her sister she could have, in Laura’s words, a good time. Aw, hell. Funny to think the man she’d just kissed like there was no tomorrow had also encouraged her to act on instinct.
In light of how exciting their kiss had been, she would say she’d already checked the box on thrills for this vacation. Now she needed to get back to work and figure out why she’d been set up with a dud like Castine.
While that plan made good logical sense, Lacey knew that playing it safe would also mean she’d probably never see Damon Craig again. What if that meant she’d never experience another kiss like the one they’d just shared?
All at once, she had new appreciation for the visitors to her Web site who resisted their smart, compatible matches for the sake of sexual chemistry with someone who was all wrong for them. If nothing else, her night with Damon had made sure she knew exactly how tough it was to walk away from the most delectable of temptations.
Chapter 3
“YOU’VE GOTTA FIND this girl.” Enrique huffed out the words as he pumped iron, his forearm curling a dumbbell twice the size of his head. Veins popped out along his wrist as he worked out next to Damon.
They sat in the base gym on nearby weight benches, the clank of iron muted by the heavy-metal music blaring over a crappy stereo system.
“You think she’s connected to the drug ring?” Damon had wrestled with that possibility all night long.
He
hadn’t told Enrique all the dirty details of the night before, but they typically hit the gym at the same time on the weekends and the lieutenant-JG had pushed him for highlights of what had happened after Damon left the bar with Lacey.
It was a topic he hadn’t been eager to revisit. He’d been working damn hard to put her out of his head after he’d done a preliminary background search this morning, and she came up clean.
Hard being the operative word. He’d swum laps in his condo’s pool at 3:00 a.m. in an attempt to cool his jets, but sleep had eluded him until just before sunrise. At which point he’d dreamed about her, his brain supplying an endless variety of scenarios in which they’d finished what they’d started last night.
“What’s wrong with you, man?” Enrique rested his weight for a ten-count before he started his next set of reps. “If I let some innocent chick wander around town, oblivious to the fact that she’d pissed off a drug pusher and possible sexual predator with an ego as big as Texas, I’d like to think you’d tell me to get my head out of my ass.” He paused in his reps. “Sir.”
Damon shook his head, not giving a rip about protocol. Crewing together on an HH65-A “Dolphin” helicopter, they’d been stationed together twice before Borinquen, Damon as a pilot while Enrique served as a rescue swimmer. Their shared time on duty included a three-year stint in Alaska where they’d saved each other’s butts from killer waves, frostbite, broken ice floes, a couple of pirates and one pissed-off polar bear. When no one else was around, Uncle Sam’s rankings didn’t really come into play.
“You think he’d go after someone like her? Someone the whole bar saw him with?” The memory of Nick Castine’s hands on Lacey made his gut burn with surprising heat.
No matter that Damon had done some groping of his own. He hadn’t moved on her against her will.
“You know how these guys are. They build their gangs on an alpha-dog pecking order. Castine sees himself as top of the pack and he wants to make damn sure everyone around him recognizes his dominance. Besides, the jury’s still out on whether he’s a run-of-the-mill sex addict or more of a full-out predator. He could have targeted this girl for more attention either way.”
