by Joanne Rock
Damon bit off a ripe curse. He knew Castine’s file as well as Enrique did. Knew about the sidebar on his personal behavior. But since his sexual tendencies hadn’t affected how he dealt drugs so far, the information had remained in the background of the investigation.
Settling a weight bar back into its cradle, he knew Enrique was right. Even if there was a small chance he was right, Damon owed it to Lacey to warn her about Castine.
“How am I going to alert her without compromising our investigation?” He’d been pushing his luck to confront the guy in Rosita’s last night. But then, drug runners and Coasties had been sharing the same port watering holes since the USCG was born, so Damon had told himself it wouldn’t necessarily tip off Castine to the military’s interest in him.
“Tell her it’s a matter of national security. Encourage her to board a plane and get the hell out of town. Or, at the very least, see if she’d consider staying in San Juan while she’s down here.”
That made sense, although after the way Damon had needled her about her career last night, he suspected he wouldn’t have much luck convincing her of anything.
“We didn’t part on the best terms.” Major understatement.
“Big surprise there.” Enrique changed arms with the barbell, his gaze fixed on a petty officer who’d transferred in the week before. The woman claimed a spot on a pull-up bar and proceeded to raise herself in lightningquick reps.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Damon was edgy after no sleep, but it seemed like Enrique was doing his level best to needle him.
“You’ve lost all charm with the ladies since Kelly left you.” Rolling the barbell aside, Enrique started toward the pull-up bar and then turned back. “But even though you push the chicks away, you gotta ask yourself why you went over to rescue little Miss Muffett last night when I was right there and could have done the deed.”
He shrugged, directing his attention back toward the petty officer as he strode to the other side of the gym.
“That’s because your idea of saving the day is buying a round of drinks for everyone,” Damon called, gathering up his towel as he headed for the showers. “I didn’t think the situation called for peacemaking, savvy?”
But Enrique was already engrossed in conversation with the pull-up queen. Which meant Damon would have to finalize a plan to see Lacey on his own.
“Lost all my charm, my ass,” he muttered as he shoved his way into the locker room, sweat rolling down his forehead and his chest. “She’ll probably be thrilled to see me.”
THE LAST PERSON Lacey expected to approach her at her hotel’s poolside bar the next day was Nicholas Castine.
She peered up at him through her pink-rimmed sunglasses, an umbrella drink in one hand as she scrolled through the Connections Web site blog on her laptop with the other.
“Sorry to surprise you, Lacey,” he repeated, smoothing a hand down his silk tie—lavender today. “I won’t stay and certainly don’t want to bother you, but I wanted to apologize in person for my behavior last night.”
“How thoughtful.” She managed a tight smile before returning to the work on her laptop. “I’ll admit I had higher expectations for our date.”
She didn’t plan to let him off the hook easily, still annoyed that her matchmaking profiling system had steered her toward someone who’d treated her the way he had. But then again, because the system had chosen him as one of her top three matches, she was marginally curious to hear what he had to say in his defense. They’d exchanged several pleasant e-mails before arranging to meet. He’d even supplied a lot of great information about the singles’ scene in Puerto Rico for her dating research.
“I realize that. And I guess I had the wrong impression about your expectations since you traveled so far for our date.” He accepted a drink from a waitress wearing khaki shorts and a polo shirt with the hotel name on it. He dropped a sizable bill on her tray but wisely did not try taking a seat on the deck lounger next to Lacey. “I overstepped last night because most women I meet these days—they expect to move quickly.”
She said nothing, unsure how to respond until he clarified that remark. Was he suggesting she’d dressed too provocatively for their date? Or that women in general wanted to jump into bed with him shortly after meeting him? Of course, she had little room to judge him when she’d been quick to speed things along physically with another man last night…
The memory of Damon Craig’s touch was enough to torch her concentration into smoldering ash. Her eyes lingered on the same line of data on her computer screen, unable to go forward when scintillating snippets from the night before distracted her.
“That’s no excuse, I know,” Nick went on, tipping a short glass of a dark amber liquid to his lips. “But honestly, most women I’ve met online have been looking for hook-ups more than, ah, time to get to know each other.”
He set the glass on a small table between them where she’d rested her cell phone and her purse, looking ready to leave. And she was more than happy to see him go since she had zero tolerance for manhandling losers.
But that was in her personal life. In her professional life, she could at least afford to set aside her distaste for the man long enough to give him the third-degree on what he’d entered in his matchmaking profile.
“Wait.” The man represented the most significant dating research she’d done down here, and if she wanted to launch a public version of her new dating-software service when she returned this month—and keep her sister from wiping her off the Web during this contest—she needed to know about any bugs in the system.
“Yes?” He still kept that polite distance, the excess of personal space assuring her he wouldn’t touch her.
“Have you been using Connections exclusively?”
She hated the idea that her company’s matchmaking site had been invaded by singles who wanted to transplant the bar scene experience to their online dating. At that rate, she wasn’t doing any more than pimping people out for sex.
Eeeww.
“Shh.” He lifted a finger to his lips, smiling through the shushing as he sat down on a lounger nearby. “Using a matchmaking service is nothing I advertise. But I travel so much that it has become more difficult to meet women. And yes, I’ve only worked with Connections.”
She wanted to ask him how he’d tricked her system into thinking he was so great when he was a touch-happy groper, and then decided maybe she didn’t have enough professional determination for this little interview after all. She wanted him gone.
But then he leaned closer and lowered his voice.
“You know, since you and I didn’t work out, I’m trying something new to meet people at the end of the week. It’s like a ship-wide speed-dating event on a party barge that leaves out of Rincon Friday night.” He pulled a pair of shades out of his jacket pocket and slid them onto his nose. “If you want, I can look up the details and leave them at the front desk if you’re interested.”
“No, thanks.” She kept her tone clipped. And she folded her laptop to end the conversation.
“Lacey.” A second man’s voice startled her, the tone instantly recognizable from over her shoulder. “May I have a word with you? Alone?”
Damon Craig strode into view, his six-foot frame clad in a pair of cargo pants and a T-shirt. He wore a long-sleeve blue dress shirt unbuttoned and rippling in the breeze. He cast a hard stare at Nicholas, a silent testosterone war flaring up between them.
“Of course,” she replied easily, determined to douse the he-man strutting before it got out of control. “Nick, thanks for stopping by.”
To her relief, the other man nodded, his eyes fixing on her instead of Damon Craig, who’d just strode into their conversation uninvited.
Did he think she was going to melt in his arms again like the night before? Indignation stiffened her spine at the memory of how easily she’d let herself be carried away.
“Once again, you have my apologies. I’ll drop off that informatio
n to you later in the week in case you change your mind.” Without a word to Damon, the American businessman departed, attracting admiring glances from every woman within fifty feet of him.
Women who didn’t know about his air of entitlement or his assumption that every female around wanted to sleep with him.
Still, her outrage at Castine’s nerve didn’t compare to her surprise at seeing Damon again. The indefinable appeal of the Coast Guard lieutenant had not diminished overnight, had not suffered for their abrupt goodbye. Her whole body hummed with vital awareness of his even though he stood some ten feet distant.
“What information?” He swung on her without prelude, stalking closer. “I can’t believe you’re even talking to that guy after how he treated you last night.”
Lowering himself into the deck lounger beside her, Damon’s long legs sprawled against the wooden slats of her chair.
“Hello to you, too.” Her gaze darted to his hands and she experienced a vivid flashback to those long fingers gliding up her thigh. The memory was so good it hurt, especially since it hadn’t culminated in the ultimate payoff.
“Lacey, I mean it.” He leaned forward, his big, buffed shoulders blocking out anything and everything but him from her line of sight. “What did that guy want with you?”
Remembering now exactly what she hadn’t liked about this guy she took a deep breath and prepared to tell him where to get off.
“He came to apologize, which is more than I can say for you.” Swiveling away from him, she slid her feet back into her high-heeled espadrille sandals and retrieved her laptop.
“Wait.” Damon’s command fell on deaf ears. But then he touched her and all bets were off.
It was just a gentle brush of his fingers along her shoulder, a skim of hot male warmth against the thin gauze tunic she wore to cover her bathing suit. But it damn near short-circuited her brain.
“I really need to talk to you in private.” His deep, masculine voice sent a shiver over her skin, the sound pooling pleasantly at the base of her spine. “Please.”
By the time he deployed the operative word of good manners she was toast anyhow.
“I can’t be alone with you.” She risked a glance over her shoulder and found his face too close to hers, too much in kissing range.
“We can go to your room.” He stood, drawing her to her feet with a hand under her elbow before he released her again. “I’ll even promise to keep my hands to myself, okay?”
She halted there, uncertain of herself, of him, of what the hell she was thinking to let him join her in a hotel suite surrounded by a tropical paradise. But he was already taking her laptop case and waiting for her to head back inside.
For three measured heartbeats she stalled. Hoped she hadn’t taken leave of her senses. Damon Craig had no place in this vacation—dating him wouldn’t be the blog publicity stunt she’d hoped would drive more traffic to Connections and the new online dating program she’d developed.
“Lacey?” He turned to check on her progress, impatience evident in the tense line of his shoulders.
She wasn’t frightened of him in the least, so she could hardly use that as an excuse to avoid him. If anything, she was simply afraid of her response to him, more powerful than any chemistry she’d ever had with a man. Still, if she could pinpoint what drew her to him…
She would increase her level of empathy with her Web site clients, that was for damn sure. Maybe her whole career would improve if she came off her island a little more often to remember what dating was like. She could only push her matchmaking expertise for so long as a single woman before clients would wonder why she couldn’t find a good match for herself.
Was she totally justifying her desire to spend more time with the iibersexy Coast Guard lieutenant? Probably. But how could she resist the only man she’d ever met who made her feel sensual, desirable and not in the least afraid to test her wings in the sex department? After growing up insecure and overweight, it had taken years to feel good about herself.
Damon advanced on her, his expression closed, the set to his jaw broadcasting frustration.
“I’m coming,” she assured him, hurrying his way. Her new plan filled her with excitement, a bubble of sexual eagerness floating along her skin with a barely there caress. She let her eyes wander over Damon and then lowered her voice. “Or at least I will be soon.”
SEX WAS ON HIS MIND again.
Nick Castine lingered in the shadows of the hotel lobby, watching another predator scoop up the tasty little morsel he’d left behind. Lacey Sutherland had been a coup for him—a testament to the sheer genius of his new method of finding women to feed sexual needs that had blown out of control in the past six months.
Watching her now, Nick allowed the frustration to burn inside him. It had been simple enough to slide his profile into the Connections matchmaking program. Their security was outdated. His picture—under three revolving aliases—would now show up as a potential match for twenty-five percent of women who used the site. His profile was variable, skewing to mirror the woman’s.
But he’d messed up on his date with Lacey. He’d recognized early on that she was a more traditional female, using Connections to meet men interested in long-term relationships. But he’d been high on life last night, psyched about his quick success rigging the datingservice site and flush with money from a recent lucrative deal. He’d moved too fast, allowing the beast inside him too much rein when she would have come willingly enough if he’d given her more time.
Or a potent cocktail laced with the drugs that made his addictions so damn much fun.
Now she was sidled up to the clean-cut dude who had to be a cop or a military man. And she looked all too freaking happy about it. Nick definitely wouldn’t tap that ass now without some medicinal aids. Or brute force.
Both of which appealed to him, especially since the bitch had the nerve to call him a lowlife in public. He used to be able to control his urges better. But his addiction had grown so strong that he would have women any way he could get them. He thought about sex constantly, his only relief coming in the few days or sometimes the few hours after an encounter with someone new.
Arranging big-money deals didn’t even distract him anymore unless he knew he would be using some of the drugs for recreational use. For paralyzing some tender young female into doing whatever he said and serving his sexual demands for as long as he wished.
No doubt that’s how he’d convince Lacey Sutherland to spread her long, luscious legs for him. Her conscious mind might prefer G.I. Joe, but with a few chemical additives, Nick would teach her.
Walking out of the lobby toward the parking lot, he began planning their next encounter. After the way she’d rejected him, he needed to have Lacey in order to clear his mind of her. With the biggest shipment of his career to orchestrate this week, Nick couldn’t afford any mental distractions.
That meant the sooner he found a way to bang the blonde, the better.
SMILING WOMEN made him twitchy.
In Damon’s experience, that meant they were up to something, hiding something. Of course, a woman like Lacey invited suspicion anyhow. She was traveling alone and meeting in secluded corners of the island with a suspected drug runner. Plus Damon was wildly attracted to her, which made him wary as hell.
The last time he’d gotten hot and bothered about a woman, she’d followed him to the Aleutian Islands, then had fallen in love with some criminal, following him to Tucson while Damon hauled fishermen out of the Atlantic. She’d called the moving company while he was in the E.R. for hypothermia, in fact.
So yeah, Lacey’s cat-who-swallowed-the-canary expression had him flipping out a little bit. He really should just tell her what he needed to and leave. But if Castine was already showing up at her hotel, he had to help her protect herself.
“My room’s right here.” She gestured to the left where the ocean-view accommodations must be. Real estate wasn’t cheap in Puerto Rico, but he knew the waterfront space wasn’
t bank-breaking, either.
Damon watched her as she withdrew her room key, his skin heating up at the simple, intimate act of a woman letting a man into her hotel room. An act of trust he promised himself he would be worthy of.
He intended to take that “no touching” thing seriously.
“Sorry to call you away from the pool.” He held the door wide for her as she walked in first, tossing her keys on a TV stand at the foot of a king-size bed.
The room wasn’t palatial, but it was big. Simple white cotton covered the bed in a crisp spread, the numerous pillows all white. A bud vase held a few branches from native plants. The brilliant greens, yellows and oranges seemed all the brighter for the white stucco walls and lack of other decor. But that was Puerto Rico. You could plant toothpicks and harvest plants like these in a year’s time. It was a far cry from Air Station Kodiak where a handful of scrappy pine trees were all that could weather the winters.
“It’s okay.” She dumped her purse in a nearby leather chair and stepped out of her heels, her toenails painted bright fuchsia today. “I probably got enough sun anyhow.”
She arched up on her toes for a long, catlike stretch, her back bowing slightly as she yawned and reached a hand up toward the ceiling. The lush display of feminine curves made his mouth go dry, her gauzy cover-up falling open to reveal amazing breasts.
They were high and perfectly proportioned. A delicious mouthful.
“So what did you want to talk to me about…” She still had that mysterious smile on her face and he wondered if she’d caught him ogling her. Not that she looked terribly upset about it. “…in private?”
She twirled one end of the golden braid that served as a belt for her white cover-up. Looking up at him through her inky lashes, he knew damn well she was flirting with him but he didn’t know why. She’d been the one to pull away last night, getting all prickly when she thought he’d dismiss her work.
