Wicked Sexy
Anne Marsh
Too sexy to resist?Danielle Andrews was supposed to be on her honeymoon. Instead, she's back on Discovery Island licking her wounds and running for shelter when she sees Daeg Ross coming her way. Years ago, on this very beach, Dani started something with the special ops aviation rescue swimmer. But she refuses to be tempted by the wickedly hot military hunk again.Daeg Ross is used to jumping into treacherous waters. But his feelings for relationship-shy Dani are a whole new type of risk. They are volatile–and irresistible. When their lives are threatened by the invading winds and endless rain of a tropical storm, Daeg and Dani are forced to take shelter and ride out a wild night. Together, will they sink…or swim?Uniformly Hot! The few, the proud, the sexy as hell!
Too sexy to resist?
Danielle Andrews was supposed to be on her honeymoon. Instead, she’s back on Discovery Island licking her wounds and running for shelter when she sees Daeg Ross coming her way. Years ago, on this very beach, Dani started something with the special ops aviation rescue swimmer. But she refuses to be tempted by the wickedly hot military hunk again.
Daeg Ross is used to jumping into treacherous waters. But his feelings for relationship-shy Dani are a whole new type of risk. They are volatile—and irresistible. When their lives are threatened by the invading winds and endless rain of a tropical storm, Daeg and Dani are forced to take shelter and ride out a wild night. Together, will they sink…or swim?
Uniformly Hot!
The few, the proud, the sexy as hell!
Can’t resist a sexy military hero?
Then you’ll love our Uniformly Hot! miniseries.
Mills & Boon Blaze’s bestselling miniseries
continues with more irresistible soldiers
from all branches of the armed forces.
Dear Reader (#u2f28010a-6048-541a-a122-208aa2c31fba),
When I spotted a little white crocheted bikini in a Victoria’s Secret catalog, I immediately started daydreaming about the kind of woman who could wear that itty-bitty scrap and my first Mills & Boon Blaze book, Wicked Sexy, was born.
When navy rescue swimmer Daeg Ross runs into Dani Andrews, she’s walking along the beach in said bikini. Daeg may dive beneath icebergs and into plane wreckage where sharks circle, but none of those missions yield the adrenaline rush he feels when he is reunited with Dani. Mills & Boon Blaze heroines are strong, independent women who aren’t afraid to strip down, emotionally or otherwise, and go after the hero…and Dani lives up to the bikini I bestowed on her.
I hope you enjoy their story!
Anne Marsh
Wicked Sexy
Anne Marsh
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anne Marsh writes sexy contemporary and paranormal romances because the world can always enjoy one more alpha male. She started writing romance after getting laid off from her job as a technical writer—and quickly decided happily-ever-afters trumped software manuals. She lives in Northern California with her family and six cats.
This one’s for Roberta, the agent equivalent of a navy rescue swimmer for writers! Thanks for the advice, the guidance and the ready email ear!
Contents
Dear Reader (#u15019af6-8e71-5770-adb6-b1abdd030f6b),
Chapter 1 (#u527cc518-1373-57f6-8c07-287685056574)
Chapter 2 (#ue19eea47-de1f-59a3-9e1d-2917344e3b5d)
Chapter 3 (#u44ce848c-15b0-58cc-bd38-e7168cc47933)
Chapter 4 (#uf235cea8-137c-57bf-87c4-06f7def1f246)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
1
THE WOMAN IN the white bikini needed rescuing.
Daeg Ross pulled his Harley into an empty spot along the strip of sand and killed the motor. The parking job put him close enough to make out the white crocheted pattern of the tiny top she sported. Her face was turned away, lost in a sheet of honey-colored hair, but the fabric of her suit cupped her breasts, creating an illusion of bare skin that had him wanting to get closer.
Real close.
He was rotten for noticing, but she was so sexy standing there on the beach. Besides, he wasn’t dead—yet—which was pure luck given how his last tour of duty had ended, so he’d looked. Twice. Sue him.
She wasn’t glancing his way, anyhow. She had her feet planted in the sand and her eyes on the ocean. The water started crystal clear, but picked up color as the bottom dropped away beneath the surface, though he didn’t think she’d stopped to admire the view. The set of her shoulders made her seem somehow lost. Unsure. Like she had no idea how she’d ended up on a beach or what she should do now that she was here, despite the swimsuit.
No more rushing to the rescue. Remember?
Parking beside him, Tag Johnson whistled. He pulled off his helmet and switched off the engine of his own Harley. “Now, there’s a sight a man doesn’t see every day.”
Cal Brennan, the third in today’s unofficial club, clearly didn’t disagree. “Real pretty, Johnson.” A fellow former rescue swimmer, Cal Brennan didn’t miss much, but right now, his focus was all horizon. Daeg’s gaze followed Cal’s out to sea.
The latest storm kicking up over the Pacific was still working her way toward shore, but the sky was already overcast with dark clouds moving in. The flight ceiling was dropping by the second. The weather boys hadn’t announced the arrival of the first tropical storm of the summer yet, but Daeg could read the signs. A storm was blowing in, fast and hard.
That storm was all business.
Their business.
All three of them—Daeg, Tag and Cal—were former spec ops, the heart and soul of a combat rescue team stationed in San Diego, California, that had seen more than its share of missions. After they’d survived the navy’s BUD/S training and Hell Week, they’d been each other’s eyes and ears. They’d fought together and swum together, always on the alert and ready to roll out with a mere moment’s notice. After that last tour, though, Cal had cashed out and returned to Discovery Island, the small hideaway off Northern California where he’d been born and raised. Cal might not be in the business of search and rescue for Uncle Sam anymore, but he’d started Deep Dive, an elite private company specializing in just that. The business also brought in divers from around the world for advanced training. So when Cal had accidentally overbooked, Daeg hadn’t had to think too long or too hard about the request to pitch in.
He was all in.
And just in case the teaching got boring, Cal was putting together a volunteer dive-rescue team for the island to handle anything that went bad—diving accidents, boating mishaps, capsizing and the like. Since the nearest dive team was twenty miles away, located on the mainland where a fire department ran a part-time operation, Cal wanted his island to have its own team that would provide a faster, better response. From the looks of that sky, they’d be busy sooner rather than later.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m heading back to base.” Brennan kicked the cycle into gear. Base was the dive shop they’d rebuilt into a command center for their training and search-and-rescue business. “Get ready before the storm hits—”
Tag whistled low, still eyeing the dark horizon. “You in, Daeg? We’ll check the gear, go over protocols.”
Tag gripped the handlebars, clearly anticipating some action. Those sure hands knew every inch of the Seahawk he’d put up in the air when an emergency call came in. He’d coax a smooth ride from the chopper, drive her beneath the cloud ceiling like he was taking a walk in the park. He needed the adrenaline rush of the flight, the urgency of pitting himself against the wind and the water every bit as much as Daeg did.
Daeg himself hadn’t been back to Discovery Island since he’d enlisted ten years ago, had told himself he didn’t miss the place, but now he wasn’t ready to leave. Something about that woman teased his memory. His senses.
“Daeg’s got his eye on something—someone—else,” Cal teased. “Man’s on a whole different mission.”
In response, he made a rude gesture, waving off Tag and Cal.
They weren’t wrong.
He slipped off his helmet and steadied the bike. The bike sank slightly into the hot asphalt. The sun had heated the island thoroughly, but even the California summer gave ground when the rays left and the ocean breeze kicked in. Fastening the helmet to the seat, he bent down and started unlacing his boots. Maybe he’d take a walk, see where it led him.
He had at least an hour to burn before the rain came.
And he was in the mood to forget. He wanted to flirt a little. Maybe get to know the pretty beachcomber if she was interested. After the past couple of months, he needed a bit of sweet oblivion.
When he’d been in the navy, storms always meant trouble. Someone, somewhere, would need a rescue, the H-60 would go up and his team would hit the water. No matter how dangerous that water got, he didn’t leave until the rescue happened.
Except once.
Usually, he exhausted himself physically and then sleep followed. But lately the dreams had been getting worse, as if his mind was just plain done forgetting what had happened on that final tour. The pills the doctor had given him weren’t an option as far as he was concerned. Too many good soldiers went that route and never came back. That last mission had messed with his head enough—he didn’t need a chemical assist.
So his options were working his butt off until he dropped—which his injured knee protested vociferously—or finding himself a woman. His gaze slewed right to the woman in the bikini before he could censor that last thought. Behind him the cheerful noise of the island’s boardwalk picked up as the tourists toweled off or suited up for a predinner stroll. There were plenty of women around, checking out the beach, some scantily clad but somewhere, somehow, he’d lost the urge for a mindless, anonymous hookup. Maybe he’d feel different by the end of the summer yet right now, with his R & R stretching out in front of him, he just felt empty.
The ocean kept calling his name like always and he couldn’t imagine staying put. He shuddered at the thought of going all white picket fence with a nine-to-five job.
Good luck with that.
Before he could change his mind, his boots landed beside the bike and he rolled up the jeans. Since his inner stalker was anxious to get better acquainted with Ms. White And Crochet, he’d give in to temptation.
Take the chance.
“That’s a real nice sunset,” he said when he was standing behind her, because apparently, this was the night to trot out every lame line known to mankind. Hell. He was rustier at the social-skills thing than the newest recruit.
Her head shot up and she almost jumped at the sound of his voice, her hands getting a death grip on her canvas tote. As he got his first full-on look at her face, he realized he was in trouble here.
He knew this face, knew this woman. Danielle Andrews. His Dani.
Catching her elbow with his hand, he made sure she didn’t fall.
She was still gorgeous. Even more so than she had been the last time he’d surprised her on the beach. Then, the feel of her skin against his calloused hands had been like satin. She’d been everything that was fine, and he’d known she couldn’t possibly be meant for him.
“You startled me.” She stared at him and, yeah, his body remembered her easily, was already yearning for a second touch from her. Dani’s face was still all-American pretty, with her wide eyes and that shoulder-length, honey-brown hair. She’d parted it down the center into two neat sections, and he got the feeling he could run his hands through those silky strands for hours. If she let him. Her hands eased up on the bag some as recognition and shock played out on her pretty features, so maybe there was a little hope for him. He released her elbow before she got the wrong idea.
She wasn’t a stranger, but he had no business touching her.
“You’re still here,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. That was the story of his life, though, leap headfirst into danger. Of course, here he’d been too busy feeling sorry for himself and admiring a beautiful woman.
Standing there on the beach, staring up at him, Dani Andrews looked confused, as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to haul off and hit him—or if she’d decided he wasn’t worth the bother. She certainly knew who he was. After all, she’d come over from the mainland and spent every summer at her grandparents’ place for as long as he’d been on the island. She’d worked at the ice cream joint at the end of the boardwalk, making cones, and he’d eaten his weight in ice cream just for the excuse to chat her up some. Those brown eyes of hers looked decidedly less friendly by the minute, her head already shaking back and forth. Or maybe that was the effect of the wind picking up as the storm offshore gathered steam.
“Daeg Ross,” she said and, from the way she pronounced his name, she was still plenty upset about how their last encounter ended ten years ago.
He, meanwhile, still wanted to kiss her, and that was the problem, wasn’t it?
He’d already kissed her—just once—all those years ago, not too far from this very spot. Fresh out of the search-and-rescue training program, he’d had two weeks’ leave before he shipped out to the Middle East. Cal’s family had been the closest thing to family Daeg had—his own father had never been part of the picture and he’d lost his mother in a car accident a few years before. So when his leave came up, returning to Discovery Island had seemed natural.
It had been prom night when he’d last seen Dani, and she’d been seventeen—too young for the likes of him, ice cream aside. He hadn’t been the one to take her to prom—she hadn’t asked and honestly, he didn’t even know if she knew his name, although he’d caught her looking at him a few times. Prom night he’d found her walking alone on the beach. She hadn’t started out the evening alone and they both knew it.
One look at her sad, disappointed face and he’d broken every rule in his book right then and there.
2
SHE STILL WANTED to kiss him.
Daeg Ross had dropped into her lap like a gift from the gods. Dani Andrews snuck a peek at his hard face. The gods of war, maybe. Daeg Ross was a bad boy through and through. He wanted something from her and she didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what that something was. The slow glide of his hot gaze over her made his interest clear, as did the warm smile that lit up his eyes until they were crinkling with amusement. He’d done a number on her seventeen-year-old self, and apparently the experienced soldier could be even more lethal.
He’d let go of her, but that light touch of his fingers still burned against her skin. There was a military tattoo on his wrist, and he seemed tougher and stronger, almost impervious to the growing chill in the air. It was getting more and more dark, and a mean wind was turning the usually flat surface of the bay into tiny whitecaps and raising goose bumps on her arms. It wasn’t bikini weather but this was her vacation, damn it. This was supposed to be her honeymoon.
Her fingers caught the ties on the sides of her bikini bottom and she noticed his gaze dipping to the sight, betraying him. And then he brought his focus back up slowly to her face. For once, her big, tough navy man was showing some emotion. Surprise. He hadn’t expected to find her here of all places.
Too bad.
He’d walked away from her once, breaking her heart in the process, and the irony of it was he hadn’t even known. He’d seen a young girl on a beach and after giving her a kiss she’d never forget, he’d run like hell. Back to the military. Away from her.
She’d gotten over him, moved on. Now he was merely a memory. She swallowed. Unfortunately, he was still too darn sexy. Her older self appreciated what she was seeing, even more than what her younger self had. His face had matured. It was stamped with experience, and those eyes of his were intense and knowing. Confident. He was a man who made things happen, forced the world around him to change. It was all too easy to imagine him diving out of a rescue chopper and into wild, turbulent waters. He’d cut through the churn effortlessly like he had everything else in his path, because she’d never met a man so focused or determined.
She’d grown up, too, though. She’d left the island behind her and earned her finance degree from UCLA. She’d analyzed risks for Fortune 500 companies and then suggested ways to manage those risks, earning her way to the top of the consulting firm she worked for. Right now, however, the biggest risk of all was standing in front of her, and she refused to let him leave her tongue-tied. “Hello, Daeg.”
“Dani.” Her name was a rough growl on his lips. Was that a hint of something deeper in those watchful eyes of his? He was eyeing her, she realized, like she was dangerous.
The sensation was intoxicating.
And infuriating.
She hated how anger and desire competed inside her, leaving her uncertain and wanting. Mostly, she wanted to leave him standing there alone on the beach. Daeg Ross was wicked temptation, but as she reminded herself again, she’d grown up a long time ago. Maybe this meeting was a chance encounter, a handful of seconds soon over. But then his eyes were taking in her body, making her insides clench with need, and that definitely made her mad. How could he just look at her and the years fell away?
She wanted more. More memories. She should be the one to leave this time, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He’d upended her whole world ten years ago with a simple kiss, but she still hadn’t learned her lesson.
The fact was, she still wanted Daeg Ross.
* * *
SHE WATCHED DAEG the entire two weeks of his leave, never getting up the nerve to approach him. He was five years older than she was, but decades older in terms of experience. She knew that. She knew there were at least a dozen good reasons why she shouldn’t go near him.
But she hoped.
And when he found her walking on the beach that night, after her prom date ditched her, she was glad. The whispers about his rough past before he’d come to the island didn’t scare her. He was big and sun-darkened, his hair cut close to his scalp with military precision. All the time he’d spent training in the water had given him broad, powerful shoulders, and she wanted to put her hands on those shoulders and hang on, because she knew he could take her with him, take her somewhere special.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” Daeg told her, and concern filled his voice. “It’s late, Dani-girl.”
That smoky voice aroused her past a point of no return. “I don’t care.” She didn’t. Tonight was supposed to be magical and yet her date had been a dud, showing more interest in his friends and their bootleg six-pack of beer than in her.
Daeg looked down at her, and she wondered what he saw. “You should.”
“It’s late.” She used his own words on him. “You should walk with me.”
He frowned, but wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. At first, their bare feet splashed through the surf. She’d ditched her heels back where the steps cut down from the road to the sand, but her dress dragged in the water. She’d chosen the dress for its lavender color, the color of crocuses and bubble bath. The yards of tulle and sequins had winked at her from the rack in the store. When she’d tried it on she felt like a princess.
So far, the night had yielded none of that magic.
Later, she wasn’t sure if she’d stopped to check out the stars and everything else had just happened—or if she’d dropped her head back, turned toward him.
He groaned something—her name, she’d decided afterward, replaying the memory of it in her mind—and the arm around her shoulders brought her impossibly closer toward him. She went willingly into his arms, her body pressing into his full-on. He bent his head and his mouth met hers.
This was what she wanted, what she’d been waiting for.
Daeg’s mouth was everything she’d dreamed about and more. Some delicious, new sensation tugged at her.
He took charge of their kiss and her. When the incoming surf caught the backs of her knees, her mouth opened on a gasp and he swept inside. The rough, masculine taste and texture of his lips and tongue sent an unfamiliar pleasure rocketing through her.
He guided her from the water and down onto the sand. Covering her, he cupped her head gently in his hands as he devoured her mouth. Don’t stop, she begged silently, entranced by the feel of him, the weight of his big body pressed against hers.
He kissed her and kissed her and she didn’t know where the kiss might have taken them because she recognized instinctively that he was as lost as she was, but then the surf broke over their feet. The cold water was a shock. She shivered and he cursed, rolling off her.
“This is a bad idea, Dani. Go home.”
Confused, she reached for him, but he shoved to his feet. He held out a hand to help her up. However, he was back to being a stranger.
A stranger she’d kissed on the beach.
She had sand in her hair, on her legs. The sodden weight of the dress pulled at her and she didn’t feel like a princess anymore. The magic abruptly vanished from the night.
“Go home,” he repeated harshly. “You drive here, Dani?”
Mutely, she nodded.
“I’ll follow you home,” he said. “Make sure you get inside okay.”
“And then?” She needed there to be something more. Tonight couldn’t end like this.
He shrugged and then shook his head. “There is nothing more, Dani. This was just a kiss.”
* * *
TEN YEARS LATER, on the same beach, the man of her dreams was watching her again, and he sure didn’t sound as if their parting had done a number on him. Of course, he’d been every bit as eager to get off the island as she’d been to stay. She’d lost count of the number of states she’d lived in growing up. Her father would move them to New York one year for a big real estate deal, followed the next by Florida for a condo development her father had been sure would be the investment of a lifetime. Six months after that, they’d headed to Nevada because the Florida project was bankrupt. Ranches in Wyoming, a ski resort in Vermont... Her father had tried them all, ending, of course, with California because the Golden State had a white-hot real estate market. Summers on Discovery Island had been the one sure, stable thing in her life.
He scrubbed a hand over his short hair. “It’s been a while.”
“Has it?” she asked sweetly, instead of telling him to get lost. Something about Daeg Ross sent her straight back to her younger self. That part of her wanted to tease, to coax or to even hurt him the way he’d hurt her.
The adult part wanted to kiss him again.
Her taste in her men was clearly suspect. The guy she’d been engaged to for two years had become Mr. Wrong. And he’d excused his own infidelity by claiming she was terrible in bed. No matter how she looked at it, her love life was either a disaster or a disappointment. Take your pick. She was supposed to be on Discovery Island having hot, raunchy honeymoon sex in Sweet Moon’s finest suite. Instead, she was holding down the fort while her grandparents sailed down to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, on a cruise to celebrate their fiftieth anniversary. They were undoubtedly having hot, raunchy second-honeymoon sex—which she was so not thinking about.
No more men, she insisted. Eventually, when she was ready to put her ex-fiancé behind her and start dating again, men like the soldier facing her wouldn’t make her list. Military men were outrageously built and beautiful, but they’d never be keepers. They shipped out, moved on and did everything but stay.
He peered down at her, and those eyes of his were hard. He’d seen things, done things. Those tours of duty had changed him. Well, she’d changed, too. She wasn’t that innocent girl walking along the beach.
Not anymore.
“Ten years,” he said, as if their timeline—or lack of one—was a challenge he was throwing down. “It’s been ten years, Dani.”
Numbers had always made sense to her. She was an actuary, which meant she turned risks into something you could calculate. In her world, loss was a formula and all you had to do was hold enough assets in reserve to offset those losses. Daeg lived in a different world, by different rules. Where she calculated risks, he took them.
Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t know you were counting.”
Counting implied caring, and he’d never cared about her.
* * *
DAEG HADN’T COUNTED. Not every minute. But he thought about her more than he should have. He’d wanted to come back here to Discovery and finish what they’d started. He’d wanted to push that cupcake of a gown down her body. Touch her. Learn every lovely inch of her, inside and out.
She’d been too young.
She was a woman now. No longer a girl. She’d have had lovers. He captured her hand in his, entwining her pale, slim fingers with his. He noticed she didn’t have a ring.
“You’re not married.” Thank God. There were rules even he wouldn’t break. His lovers had been women who were only looking for the same thing he was. Casual, fun affairs featuring hot sex with a side of companionship. He liked waking up next to someone in bed and he wouldn’t rule out settling down eventually. Someday. At some point in the future when his body gave out and he couldn’t make the cut to be a rescue swimmer. But that wasn’t today.
“That’s none of your concern.” Anger flashed in her eyes. She tugged on his hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
For a long beat, he hung on. She was strong, but he was stronger. “It does.”
“To me, maybe.” She shrugged. “But whether or not I’m married doesn’t mean a thing to you, Daeg Ross.”
She was right. Whether she was married or not shouldn’t matter to him. But the lack of a husband, a boyfriend, someone who had claimed her for his own and whose claim she had welcomed—that would mean she was available. His body went on alert, adrenaline pumping through him like it did before he made a jump. She didn’t have to be off-limits. He could pursue her, kiss her, touch her.
He could strip off that cute bikini of hers and bury himself deep inside her.
He could make the biggest mistake of his life.
The words came out of his mouth, anyhow. “You’re back for the summer?”
“I’m out at Sweet Moon.” He knew the place. Her grandparents had run it for years, booking romantic cabins with four-posters and fireplaces. It was the kind of place a man took a special woman.
He’d never spent the night there.
“Important occasion?” He kept his voice deliberately light.
She shook her head. “Not anymore,” she replied, giving him a wry smile. “But my grandparents reserved a cabin for me, so here I am.”
“His loss,” he growled, and her eyes widened as if he was some kind of mind reader, because he’d put two and two together and come up with the correct answer. “Whoever he was, he messed up.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly, making it clear she had no intention of giving him the details about what had brought her here alone to Discovery Island. “It’s over. Water under the bridge. Things happen.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But maybe I can make it up to you? What about ice cream?” he asked. He definitely needed to work on his social skills. “I may not have been back here in years,” he coaxed, “but I still remember how good the ice cream is.”
She eyed him cautiously, her brown eyes examining him. He didn’t know what she saw, but it must have been something good because she nodded and a slow smile lit up her face. “I can let you do that.” She paused, toying with the strap of her tote bag.
He gestured toward the ice cream shack at the far end of the beach and started walking. The muscles in his knee knotted, putting a hitch in his gait.
“You okay?” Dani’s expression was all worry.
“Leg’s fine.” He wasn’t fielding questions, not today, so he returned the conversation, what there was of it, back on her. “We need to worry about you. First thing you do when you hit the beach? You lose the sandals.” Stopping, he pointed at her sandy flip-flops, holding out his hand. “You can’t be comfortable in those things. Let me carry them.”
She hesitated, clearly not sure if she wanted to hand over her shoes or jam them into her bag, sand and all. When she looked down at her feet, as if she’d forgotten what she was wearing, his gaze followed hers. The nail polish on her toes was perfect—more proof this was her first day on the beach.
Leaning in closer, he caught a whiff of coconut-scented sunscreen.
“You haven’t been on the island long, have you?”
“A week. What gave it away?”
The pristine beach tote and the perfect polish were his first clues. “No tan lines,” he said.
“Being pale is an occupational hazard. I work in an office. It increases my risk of dying from heart disease because I’m too sedentary, but decreases my risk of contracting skin cancer. At least the sun is a controllable risk.”
“Wow.” That was a first.
“Too much?” She made a face. “My day job is as an actuary. I only moonlight as a beachcomber.”
She toed off the shoes, shaking loose a small avalanche of sand. He captured the flip-flops, which looked ridiculously feminine in his hand.
She looked over at him. “You have any other suggestions for me?”
Did he ever. Indecent suggestions a decent man would never say out loud.
Because he wasn’t looking for a happily ever after. Getting serious and marriage weren’t something he’d ruled out for himself in the future—the very, very distant future. As it was now, he was away for months at a time on missions he couldn’t discuss. So Others May Live. That was the rescue swimmer’s motto, but it made commitment difficult.
And since he didn’t do forever, he shouldn’t be looking at Dani Andrews and wondering if she’d taste as good as she had the last time he’d kissed her.
Trouble.
She’d taste like trouble.
She was too sweet, too innocent even all these years later. She’d never faced real danger, never experienced the missions he had. That made him fiercely glad. She was safe because he’d done his job, and he’d keep her that way, no matter how badly he wanted to kiss her now that he had her close again. The breeze from the coming storm tumbled her hair around her face and shoulders.
He needed to let her go. He needed to wrap up this conversation and walk away. Again. Instead, he took a step closer, brushing up against her with his body. He was close enough to feel the heat radiating from her. “First storm of the summer’s arriving soon,” he said, brushing her arm briefly because he couldn’t take being this close and not touching her.
When a really violent storm blew in, the hotels opened up their conference rooms, ballrooms, whatever, putting down mattresses and offering bottled water for the locals. Sometimes the safest course of action was to put a kind of wall between yourself and any incoming storm. That could work for any number of things, he reminded himself.
She scanned the horizon. There were still several boats out on the bay. “It doesn’t look too bad. All those boats—they still stay here and ride out the storm?”
“Depends.” He pointed to a slim aluminum shell bobbing up and down just a few yards offshore. “Right there you’ve got your basic panga-type boat—aluminum sides, no cover, fifty horsepower motor.” He shrugged. “Not bad for a casual fishing trip inside a harbor or near shore, but nothing I’d want to trust my life to out on the open water. A bad storm’s going to toss one of those right up on the beach here if the owner doesn’t yank it out first. Then you’ve got your bigger boats.” He touched her shoulder lightly, directing her attention to a handful of larger vessels anchored farther away. “If the mooring’s good, those boats might ride it out. Bumpy as hell, but as long as they don’t get hit by debris, they’ll still be there in the morning. Then,” he said, smiling wide, “you’ve got your biggest boats.”
“Biggest?” She laughed, and he tried to ignore the urge to lean in and kiss her.
“Yeah, biggest. As in my boat’s the biggest. Perfect for your average midlife crisis or deep-sea fishing. Those guys hire the likes of me to pull the boat and get her under cover. Or, if they’re too cheap to pull the boat before the storm hits, they hire me after the fact to go salvage the pieces. You like sailing?”
She pursed her lips. “No. I don’t really care for the water much. Are they safe?”
“Enough.” He pushed the memories back. “I’ve pulled more than one captain out of the water.”
When she tilted her head, the question was clear in her eyes, so he continued. “With spec ops,” he explained. “After I left here, I did a couple tours with a helicopter sea-combat squadron as a rescue swimmer. We worked the Middle East and then Guam. I was the guy who jumped out of the chopper.” Was. He could still go back. He’d only been here three days and it wasn’t too late to re-up if he got his leg in fighting condition.
“It takes a brave person to do something like that.” She glanced at him up and down. He’d like to think she lingered on the good bits, but he wasn’t going to kid himself. “Are you all right?” she asked finally.
“Never better. This is just a little R & R.” The first day of spec ops training, he’d learned the “I am all right” signal. If you weren’t all right, you were off the job because otherwise you were a liability to the team. As long as a man could stay in the water, he was okay. He could keep on getting the job done.
He eyeballed their destination. The ice cream shack was coming up fast. Too fast.
“How about you? Is this trip all pleasure?” he asked, because he didn’t want to be done talking with her and couldn’t explain why. Stepping up to the order window, he bought two cones. The place only had the one flavor—chocolate and vanilla twisted together in a little cone. Her fingers grazed his as he handed her the napkin-wrapped cone, brushing aside her thanks for the cone before dropping a large bill into the tip jar.
“I had a vacation planned.” She looked down and fiddled with the tie on her bikini. “But now I’m helping my grandparents out, so business as well as pleasure. They’re on a cruise celebrating their fiftieth and I’m holding down the fort while they’re away. They were going to hire a temp from an agency, but I was here so...why not do it myself?”
“You’re walking on the beach.” He grinned at her. “The summer’s not a total loss.”
He headed back toward the water’s edge and she went with him.
She swiped at the ice cream, and now he knew why the ice cream shack had stayed in business for so long. That tongue of hers catching the creamy treat had him imagining carnal acts he had no business imagining. He wanted to wind his fingers in her hair and coax her down on the erection straining his jeans. Instead, he took a desperate bite of his own cone, welcoming the cold.
* * *
HER SEXY SPECIAL ops soldier was all rough and tumble. Blunt. Big and hard and tough. Odds were, he was also honorable, straight to the core. A man like him not only had rules—he kept to them. He was temptation personified—and Dani was a woman on a diet.
No more men for her.
After all, she’d already lost one fiancé. No, scratch that. You lost library books and socks and house keys. You lost those things because you couldn’t remember where you’d left them. As for her ex, she knew precisely where he was. Back in San Francisco with his new girlfriend.
Discovery Island was stunning at sunset, only a short distance away from the California mainland and surrounded by all that blue water. A beach walk with this man had seemed safe enough. Besides, who didn’t accept an offer of ice cream? The vanilla-and-chocolate sweetness was better than any orgasm she’d ever had, anyhow.
The chances of having a satisfying orgasm had gone down to nil when her fiancé had ditched her, although she was certain the chances hadn’t been that good before. She checked on the man keeping pace with her and reminded herself that she didn’t do casual sex. Not to mention her ex-boyfriend’s remark that having sex with her was far too predictable.
She took another bite of her ice cream cone.
Making cones with the soft-serve machine had been wonderfully precise, three twists of chocolate and vanilla, then the flick to finish the cone off. Exactly three point five ounces. She’d weighed her first cones, just to make sure, but she’d been a pro almost from the start. From the hard pull of the handle to start the flow to the sugary cardboard taste of the cone that was always soggy by the time she reached the bottom, she’d known what to expect.
Predictable.
The man eating up the sand in long, restless strides next to her was anything but predictable, however. Which made him perfect.
A burst of orange and yellow shot over their heads. The wind was strong enough that the beach ball was really flying. From the accompanying protest right before the ball hit the water with a sharp smack, the ball’s owner hadn’t expected it to go airborne quite so far or so fast. Small feet sprinted toward the surf, kicking up sand before the child came to a screeching halt at the water’s edge. He must have been told not to go in alone.
Her flip-flops hit the sand as Daeg shoved his cone into her hand. There was good-natured laughter in his voice as he pulled off his faded T-shirt. “I think we need a rescue here.”
The sight of that shirt coming off woke something inside her. The thin cotton had clung to some pretty impressive muscles, but bare chested he was spectacular, all thick ridges of muscles and sun-bronzed skin. He sported a handful of scars, including a long one that wrapped around his chest beneath two pairs of dog tags.
Still grinning, he plunged into the chilly water, jeans and all.
He dived effortlessly after the ball. Waterborne, the limp vanished and all she could see was the power of that body as he skimmed the waves.
“He your boyfriend?” The child by her side leaned into her, watching Daeg pop up to the surface, shaking water from his face as he snagged the ball.
“No.” That whole sworn-off-men thing.
“Why not?” Out of the mouths of babes.
Waist deep in the water, Daeg lobbed the ball back one-handed. The boy caught it, calling out his thanks as he scampered down the beach.
“Gallant,” she called. How many men did she know who would have been willing to soak themselves to the bone to rescue a child’s ball?
“Cold,” he countered, wading toward the shore. “We rescuers jump in first and think next. Occupational hazard.”
This was it.
This was her second chance.
The denim was molded to his powerful thighs as he left the surf. Wet, those jeans left nothing to the imagination—and boy, was she imagining things now. Starting with that sexy trickle down his chest as the water sluiced off him. Despite the June weather, the water was cold. His nipples were hard, tight nubs, and her mouth went dry. The look in his eyes was pure heat, though—and he was looking right at her. Stormy eyes. Dark green and framed by those ridiculously long lashes, still damp from his swim.
She could do this. Before she could second-guess herself, she carefully tucked his half-eaten cone on the ground beside his shirt and stepped into his body, sliding her arms up around his neck. The sensation of her skin meeting his was an icy shock.
“Nice rescue, sailor.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t spot any hesitation in him as he lowered his head to hers. The beach was almost empty now, the place all theirs. His eyes watched her until she wanted those lashes to drift shut, wanted him to lose himself in her. What if he didn’t desire her or she didn’t do this right? She shoved the hurtful memories of her ex’s accusations to a remote corner of her mind. Chances were, this could be different.
Better.
Then he groaned, not from pain, but from pleasure. His arms came up around her waist and back, one large hand resting on the back of her neck. Who knew that innocent touch could set her on fire so fast? “You’re killing me, you know that? I want you right now and we haven’t even finished our walk yet.”
Sweet relief and even sweeter arousal shot through her. She’d never been naughty, exactly, but now she tilted her head back as if she’d been born to flirt, trusting the weight of her head to that hand. Deliberately, she smiled, really slow. She could do this. Was doing this. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me right now.”
He smiled, and as he leaned in she forgot to breathe. Every inch of her was focused on the man holding her, bringing her mouth toward his mouth. His kiss. The pleasure was all consuming. She hadn’t known she could feel this way.
His mouth found the edge of her jaw, a soft brush of skin on skin. Was he waiting for her to do something? Tempting. His lips pressed a wicked pattern of kisses along her neck. She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but she knew she wanted to give it to him.
“Don’t tease,” she murmured. Her eyes drifted shut, closing against the last fiery rays of the setting sun.
“Not for too long,” he promised, and then his mouth found hers. Oh, this man knew how to kiss. His lips covered hers, exploring and tasting with every lick and stroke. His hand angled her head backward until she opened up for him and his tongue stroked inside her mouth.
Skin to skin, as they were, there was no missing that thick erection. But Daeg was taking his time. Her soldier was being a gentleman. She appreciated that, but she also wanted him, his heat and his strength. She wanted more than just his kisses.
His tongue dipped deeper, teasing her. The moan slipped from her throat before she could stop it. The raw, unfamiliar sound was shocking to her. She was losing this battle. The weakness in her legs warned her she had to stop before this went too far. But he felt so good.
Her soldier didn’t look bored—no, he looked 100 percent aroused.
Hungry.
For her.
* * *
DAEG HAD DIVED beneath icebergs and into plane wreckage where sharks were circling, but none of those missions had ever given him the adrenaline rush he felt when Dani licked the last bit of ice cream off her lips and proceeded to kiss the hell out of him. He was shocked—happily so—but he was also navy search and rescue to the bone. So he hadn’t thought—he’d reacted and kissed her right back.
And in the ten years since he’d last seen her, held her, Ms. Andrews had mastered the art of kissing. She was intense. Passionate. She didn’t give him her tongue right away. All that heat, right there, but she made him work for it, work for her. Coaxing. She wasn’t shy. She just knew what she liked now—and she hadn’t made up her mind about him.
He was going to make all her dreams come true.
When she slipped her hands from around his neck, he ignored the disappointment and the urge to keep her close.
“I need to go. I can’t—” she said, clearly at a loss for words. Good to know he wasn’t the only one that kiss of theirs had rattled.
“Dani...” he whispered, tracing her bottom lip gently with his finger. He wanted to kiss her again, and then he wanted to do more. Wanted to take her somewhere and make love to her until he couldn’t remember who he was or what he was doing here. That was a good plan, he decided, tightening his arm around her. An excellent plan, in fact. As a general rule, he didn’t take a woman to bed after a first kiss, but this was different, the exception.
“No,” she said and stepped away from him. His arm dropped to his sides.
Before he could say anything—or worse, not say anything—she began walking down the beach.
He let her go, but much to his surprise, he could still feel her, sense her presence. It was as if their kiss had branded him. And the taste of her. Sweet heat and all woman.
But what about her nerves?
Someone or something had spooked her badly. Recently. He’d like to fix whatever problems she had, smooth away the furrow she got right there in the center of her forehead as she stared at him. As if she was trying to figure out how she’d ended up in his arms, kissing the hell out of him.
He could have told her he didn’t know, either.
But he was sure he wanted it to happen again. He wasn’t done kissing her. Not by half. She’d given him a starting point and now he wanted more.
And he wasn’t waiting another ten years to get it.
3
DAEG PARKED THE motorcycle outside Deep Dive. He wasn’t in the mood for whatever his boys would dish up tonight. Cal and Tag had watched him go after the blonde on the beach. They’d see him come back soaking wet, and they’d demand details he didn’t feel like sharing. And that was the kicker, wasn’t it? What should have been a simple walk on the beach and a summertime flirtation had morphed into one of the sexiest moments of his life.
He couldn’t get over seeing Dani Andrews again after all this time.
She was even more gorgeous today. Back then, she’d been just a girl, no matter how mature she’d pretended to be, all long hair and longer legs. Those big, brown eyes filled with hopes and dreams. When he’d met her on the beach that night, he’d picked her up and dusted her off—metaphorically speaking. Part of him had wanted to go after the guy that had hurt her feelings. Another part of him, though... That was the part that had done the kissing. The same part of him that had shown up again today.
He should leave her alone.
Problem was, she was sweeter than sweet and no doubt far too nice for a guy like him. She was exactly what he was not—all white picket fence and happily ever after. Meanwhile, he’d be leaving Discovery Island—again—in a few weeks, and that was nowhere near enough time for a woman like Dani.
And yet he didn’t want to leave her alone. Not this time.
As he crossed the wooden porch, the weathered boards creaked beneath his boots. The door opened fast and silent when he got a palm on it and pushed. Sure enough, Cal was waiting for him, feet propped up on the counter. The familiar smell of Neoprene and dampness filled the air. The front part of the building was dedicated to the diver training portion of Deep Dive’s agenda, holding racks of wet suits, tanks and weights. Whatever was needed to swim in the ocean, Deep Dive had it in spades.
“You all done with the blonde?” Cal eyed the wet jeans but, good man, he kept the observation to himself.
Daeg rummaged in his duffel and came up with a change of clothes. He had to smile, remembering that walk on the beach. “She’s finished with me.”
“Bad luck.”
“True enough.” Ignoring the commiserating grin, Daeg headed for Deep Dive’s command center before Cal could get the next question out of his mouth. Sometimes a tactical retreat was the only way to go.
The steel-and-concrete-reinforced interior room was the heart and soul of Deep Dive’s operations. With bad weather inbound, today’s focus was on maintaining situational awareness, but that would switch to command and control when the storm hit. A floor-to-ceiling monitor displayed weather and radar maps, tracking both inbound and outbound vessels and weather. Cal had been granted permission to link into the local coast guard command center for incident notification and infrared cameras posted strategically around the island delivering real-time information about conditions on the ground.
Surrounded by a bank of computers and monitors, Tag’s fingers flew across the keyboard as the man fed data into the geographic information system that would map the approaching storm and identify problem areas in Discovery Island’s sector. That was Tag. He’d catalog every weather front, every current and navigation chart. The ocean held no surprises for Tag.
“You got a room booked for me?” While he waited for an answer, he shucked his wet denim and pulled on the dry pair of jeans.
Tag nodded and pushed away from the desk. The chair wheels rolled over the cement floor with a squall of protest.
“You sure you don’t want to stay put in Cal’s spare room?”
Cal knew everyone and everything on the island. His loud, crazy family, complete with numerous aunts and uncles, a mother and father and four sisters, still lived just up the road from Deep Dive, and Daeg had wondered if the appeal of diving for Cal was the silence. Not that Cal didn’t love his family—there was no getting around the fact he was fiercely protective of them—but getting a word in edgewise was a challenge, particularly in the big, rambling house with what seemed like a hundred rooms jammed full of people.
The Brennans had all but adopted him when he and Cal had met on the mainland at swim meets. He’d been an inner-city kid swimming in community pools. No dad in the picture and his mom working two jobs to make ends meet. When a car accident killed his mother, the Brennans took him in. No questions asked. Daeg appreciated that. He really did. They were the closest thing to a family that he had, but he didn’t want to field questions about his leg and his future, and they’d ask. Cal’s family always asked. Then they advised, argued and discussed. At length. Daeg needed some space.
“I see you’re camping out here in the back room,” he pointed out, and Tag grinned, acknowledging the hit. Tag might not have visited the island before this summer, but even he had guessed the dangers of the Brennans’ good intentions.
“It’s as well furnished as our San Diego place was,” he pointed out. The three of them had shared an apartment near the San Diego base, but the place had been little more than somewhere to crash between missions and none of them had bothered with decorating. The only furniture was a couple of futons and the racks where they stored their gear bags. They’d lived ready to roll out at a moment’s notice, and that had always worked well for Daeg.
Cal showed up and jumped into the conversation. “Congratulations. You’re now a happy resident of Sweet Moon.”
For the second time that day, Daeg took a trip down memory lane. While he’d never met Dani Andrews’s grandparents, he’d seen the couple a time or two. He’d also seen the place. From a distance. Yeah, he’d done his fair share of drooling from afar.
“That the only spot you could hook me up with?”
Tag smiled knowingly. The man had his suspicions about the blonde on the beach and Daeg’s current dress-code issues. “Problem with the digs already?”
“Be nice to our boy, Cal. Doesn’t Sweet Moon have a reputation for serving up happily ever afters? Maybe he’s not in the market,” Tag joked.
That was true. Daeg had more than enough on his plate, thank you very much. Hell, he’d had his hands full of trouble earlier today, and that was only part of the problem. Memories teased him. He instantly recalled Dani’s soft skin and the feel of her shoulders beneath his fingers. He was enjoying her right up until the minute she’d run out on him.
“Absolutely not in the market.” He swiped the keys to his Jeep from his desk. He’d leave the Harley in town for now; bringing both vehicles over on the ferry might have been overkill. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll go check in.”
His knee ached and he evened out his gait as much as he could as he headed for the door. He was off-kilter, the threatening rain putting a hitch in his stride.
“Time to catch up with the blonde on the beach?” Cal’s voice was all tease and no sympathy. They were back to normal.
Making a face at his partners, he left the command center.
He popped the roof off the Jeep and drove, enjoying the wind tearing past his face. The storm moving in had a smell all its own, the metallic warmth of the spray and the sharper bite of sea salt. He wanted to be out there, riding the waves and surviving that rough swim. The ocean would make him fight for every stroke. Damn, he missed that.
When Sweet Moon finally popped into view twenty minutes later, he almost didn’t recognize the motel. Time hadn’t been overly kind. The tiny front lodge was weather-beaten, the paint worn down to a seashell-pink color. Eight cabins were situated cheerfully around the main office, although a small army of stone cupids and amorous lawn ornaments arranged in precise rows had survived time’s test just fine. He had a sneaking suspicion that, if he counted, the cupids had actually been fruitful and multiplied.
The car sitting next to the building announced someone was in, so he parked the Jeep and headed for the office.
Home sweet home.
* * *
THE CORNY BELL Dani’s grandfather had strung up over the door jangled as the same person who’d torn up the drive too fast strong-armed his way inside. The door always jammed in damp weather, which Sweet Moon’s newest guest discovered as he forced it open with a muttered curse. She looked up with a professional smile and, well, there was Mr. Spec Ops and her own personal blast from the past. Daeg Ross. She hadn’t seen him in ten years, and now she’d seen him twice in two hours. What were the odds?
Her libido started singing hallelujah while her brain backpedaled furiously. He was not supposed to be here. She’d kissed him and left him on the beach. And that had been the end of that particular adventure. He did not get to come where she was staying.
And yet he was now strolling toward Sweet Moon’s front desk as if he owned the place. That lazy grin of his told her he was really glad to see her.
No way.
Kissing Daeg Ross on the beach had been an impulse, a dumb one. Letting him get any closer for a longer period of time would be risking disaster.
Why Sweet Moon? Why, of all the hotels and motels on this tourist-crazy island, had he picked hers?
She’d spent summers on Discovery Island with her grandparents, followed by her senior year of high school, the year she’d taken that cruel but delicious beach walk with Daeg. Her father had been developing a resort property in Jamaica and decided that a construction site was no place for a teenage girl. That was her father, though. Good-looking and charming, he was fun to be around, but he loved a good gamble—real estate or the stock market, he’d always been searching for the next big thing and was always on the move. Her summer months on Discovery were an oasis of peace and stability, a handful of weeks when she wasn’t speculating what her father would do next or where he’d take them. This was her refuge. The one place she could count on to remain the same.
“No vacancies,” she snapped before he said a word.
Instead of leaving, he rested his forearms on the counter and looked over at her computer monitor. The antiquated booking system at Sweet Moon’s had been the first thing Dani had tackled. In the week she’d been on the island so far, she’d researched and installed a new software package. She’d also worked through her grandparents’ highly personal style of bookkeeping and created an organizational system that would not only move Sweet Moon’s into a more current century but be something her grandparents could run. Keeping busy was good. Productive, even. It also kept her from thinking—too much—about her AWOL honeymoon. It also meant that her computer screen depicted, in a highly visual and easily understood graphic, just how many vacancies Sweet Moon currently had.
“Not a problem,” he told her. “I already have a reservation.”
“Go elsewhere.” She carefully pressed the keys to activate her screensaver.
“Paid in full,” he added cheerfully.
Daeg was another Mr. Wrong, she was sure of it. He was as eager to roam as her father, although Mr. Wrong had never seemed so sexy. Or so tempting. Still, since she’d already been burned once, she wasn’t looking for a ring from Daeg Ross, but she could have a few nights—or weeks—of really hot sex.
Maybe celibacy wasn’t the answer.
Maybe it was like if she gorged herself on sweet things, her brain—and her stomach—would get the message. Too much sugar made you sick. Although was it possible to even have too much sex?
Daeg’s presence took up the entire room. Those broad shoulders beneath the faded cotton T-shirt and powerful forearms did a number on her senses. He was tanned from spending time outdoors—in the water—and she wanted to explore him inch by inch and see just how far that sun-kissed goodness went.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re stuck with me, Dani. Face it.”
Being stuck with Daeg Ross was a fantasy come true, she had to admit. He was 100 percent sexual satisfaction and she should refund his money. Instead, she was calculating the odds of sharing some mind-blowing time with him.
Those were some heated odds.
“Sweet Moon runs the risk of being stuck with you,” she corrected, turning back to her computer to divert her wild imagination back to safer ground. “Very temporarily.”
* * *
DANI ANDREWS DIDN’T walk away from him this time.
She was direct. No games. Daeg liked that. He’d know exactly where he stood with her...on his way out of here, if she had her choice.
He also counted one, two...three laptops in addition to the outdated desktop model, bookended by a stack of computer manuals half as tall as Dani was. Precisely organized cans of mechanical pencils and stacks of Post-it notes marched down the right side of her workspace. She’d transformed Sweet Moon’s front desk into her own command center. Tag would love it. He’d kissed a computer nerd.
A computer nerd who believed she could get rid of him.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes.” She went right back to working on her computer as if their conversation was done. “You are.” Her index finger hit the return key with a particularly vicious downstroke. “There are multiple other places on Discovery, all with vacancies. Pick one and I’ll transfer your reservation.”
She pushed and he’d pull.
“No.” He leaned in closer. “I have a reservation already. Right here.”
“Canceled.” She pointed toward the door. “Your exit awaits.”
He snorted. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Funny,” she said sweetly. “It’s never been difficult before.”
He wanted to kiss her again. To hold her in his arms and tuck her protectively in place. He wouldn’t give in to that urge, but it was hard. He liked her fiery, liked the snap in her eyes and the outrage pinking her cheeks. She noticed him when he made her mad and he could do something with that.
“Are you referring to earlier today—or to our last date, ten years ago?”
She didn’t answer his question. Instead, she just hit him with a fact. “That wasn’t a date.”
“Near enough. You, me, a romantic stroll on the beach. Our first kiss.”
That night was a lost opportunity. If he could have, he’d shake himself for letting her get away, even if she’d been so very young and the possibilities had scared him. He was older now. Fear had no place in his life. And he definitely wasn’t letting her get away again.
“I can stand here all afternoon. And let me repeat, you are not getting rid of me that easily.”
* * *
DAEG WAS LIKE a tidal wave that kept on coming. And he was right. He had a reservation, and Sweet Moon couldn’t afford to pass on a paying customer. Somehow she’d survive his—she checked the computer again—six-week stay. She grabbed a key off the hook on the wall and stood up.
“Cal booked the bungalow,” he offered, backing away from the counter so she could step around it without crashing into him. Now that he’d won this battle, his words sounded like some sort of consolation prize. Too bad she wasn’t feeling conciliatory.
“I’ll do my best to get over it,” she said drily. She pushed open the door, stepping outside, and he followed. Too close. Too large. Heat radiated off that powerful body. She needed to establish who was in charge here. This was her motel. Her space. Not his.
His boots crunched over the gravel as he walked beside her, and she practiced the fine art of denial by busying herself with the room key. Number eight. Good. Six cabins between herself and temptation.
Stepping up onto the porch, she slid the key into the lock with a practiced flick of her wrist. “Here you go. Number eight. Well, good luck with everything. It was nice seeing you again.”
Duty done, she tried to back away, but she came into contact with a hard male chest. That kernel of anger she’d been nursing since he’d shown up at Sweet Moon’s office grew. He didn’t get to come here and do as he pleased.
He’d had his chance ten years ago and he hadn’t taken it.
“Show me the room.” That husky rumble in her ear made her think about kissing him again—and more. He wasn’t touching her, not really, but he could. The question was, did she want him to?
Temptation beckoned.
She stepped into the room and glanced around. “Meet your cabin,” she announced. “One bed, one bathroom. Housekeeping comes in daily. If you need anything, you’re welcome to try the front desk.”
The bed dominated the room. Someone—likely her grandmother—had draped the huge four-poster with an obscene quantity of white gauze and piled the headboard with fussy pillows. All that fragility made Daeg look impossibly large and masculine. As he examined the space, the playful tease disappeared. “You don’t have something simpler?”
“Nope,” she said, enjoying the edge of discomfort in his voice. “And the offer still stands. I’ll find you another hotel. One more to your taste.”
“This will do.” He tossed his duffel onto the bed. The bag was military issue, an olive-green canvas as rough and tough and frayed as he was.
She forced her attention away from the bed, unable to hide her surprise. “You’re really going to stay? Here?”
“Sure.” There was no missing the gleam in his eye as he turned to face her. “You want to tell me why you kissed me today and ran?” His eyes held a whole lot of curiosity and desire, and remembering how he’d kissed her had her dreaming of a repeat performance. Time certainly hadn’t made Daeg Ross any less of a man’s man. That was plenty of spec ops soldier.
Daeg watched her, waiting for his answer.
She was here for the summer. He was here for the summer. Her hormones were saying that there was no reason for them not to be together—at least for the next few weeks. Rebound sex, her mind whispered. Think about it.
“Turn about is fair play?” she suggested.
He frowned as he connected the dots. “Kissing me was about your prom night?”
“No,” she corrected him. “It was about your kissing me on the beach ten years ago and then taking off.”
He was completely focused on her, and she’d bet he knew exactly how many feet separated them—and how long it would take him to close the distance. “I didn’t realize one kiss was an invitation to stay.”
“You didn’t want to stay,” she pointed out. In fact, he’d left the island the very next day. Their kiss had been amazing and the only good part of her evening, but she wasn’t telling him that now.
“You were a girl.” He made a move toward her and she threw up a hand.
“Stop right there,” she ordered and he paused. He should have looked silly, surrounded by the cabin’s kitschy romantic trappings. He wasn’t the sort of man a woman associated with tulle, and yet he’d never looked more male. Yep. He was getting to her again.
And he wasn’t done talking yet.
“Where did you think that kiss could go? And I had no business kissing you in the first place.”
“But you did.”
He ran a hand over his head. “Yeah. I did.”
“And then you hightailed it off the island. Never called. Never wrote.” She tossed him the keys and he caught them reflexively, his fingers closing over the metal. “I got the message. You need anything else, you call the front desk.”
“I had commitments,” he said, ignoring her invitation to wrap things up. “I’d enlisted. My recruiter would have been all over me and rightfully so if I’d missed my dates.”
“So you had no business kissing me?”
“Agreed,” he snapped.
“Fine. But it’s not happening again.” She turned on her heel, laying a course for the door. She was done here.
4
THE SANDY TRAIL leading to the beach was steep, and Daeg heard Dani coming before he saw her. Long, tanned legs in a pair of denim shorts followed a shower of gravel and a feminine voice. The summer heat was still lingering despite the forecast calling for rain. Swimming weather—as Dani with the towel slung over her shoulder clearly agreed.
One lap to go, he drove himself forward through the water. When he reached the far edge of the bay, right before the open water started, he dived for as long as he could. The week since he’d checked into Sweet Moon was one more week of training and strengthening his knee, though it still bothered him far more than he liked.
Dani was waiting for him when he pulled himself out of the water and dropped onto the sand beside her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he began a series of fast sit-ups. Flexing his stomach muscles until his elbows hit his knees, he sank into the familiar burn of the descent as he let gravity do the work, dropping his shoulder blades to the sand. Then up again. He had to do more than fifty-two in two minutes, yet, in fact, a hundred was barely average. He’d do better.
She was quiet as he completed his two minutes, and then she asked, “You always work this hard?”
He liked how her eyes lingered on his stomach as she spoke. He stopped and rolled onto his side.
“I need to fix this.” He gestured toward his leg. There was no hiding the scar, anyhow. Not that he wanted to. No, what he wanted to do was use the leg like he once had.
“In one week?”
One summer. One chance to make the team again. “My guys are out there, seeing action, so that’s where I go.”
“So that’s a definite on re-upping?”
Triceps bouncing, he pushed up fast and hard on his arms for his first push-up. One. He lowered himself, a fist’s distance from the sand then surged upward. Two. “That’s the plan,” he said finally, when he’d done the set. “Although Tag and Cal aren’t.”
Deep Dive was Cal’s dream, not his, but there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for his friend. Coming back to help him get his business off the ground was a given. Cal had had his back since their first dive together.
“They opened that new shop, Deep Dive.”
Deep Dive was far more than a dive shop. “They specialize in advance training for divers and do rescue and salvage jobs. They also offer the usual set of bread-and-butter dives to local hotspots.”
“Where do you fit in?”
That was the question. His teammates had decided to call Discovery Island home. He’d made a cash contribution and the temporary commitment to leading a training course or two when he was on leave, but he wasn’t ready to settle down. Not yet.
“I’m lending a hand,” he replied finally. “I’ll take experienced groups out on open-water dives and push the hell out of them to make sure they know what they’re doing. And I’ll wrap the current course and head back to San Diego and my unit.”
He’d ship out and life would resume its routine.
Switching onto his back, he looked up at her. Carpe diem.
“Come with me. We’ll go find more of that ice cream. Take another walk.”
“You eat ice cream on a regular basis?” Her eyes examined his body again and parts of him liked her attention just fine.
“I like sweet things.” His imagination worked overtime coming up with all the ways she’d be sweet. What would she let him taste and how far could he go? “I always have.”
She stood up, snatching her towel from the sand. She must have decided against the swim. Or picked up on the sexual tension humming through his body because, yeah, she was bolting on him. “No ice cream.”
“Why not?”
She smiled at him and, yes, that was one mean smile. He liked that spunk in her. She wasn’t going to make this easy. “Our dating wouldn’t go anywhere.”
“Ice cream,” he stated plainly. “I’m asking for one cone—not the next fifty years of your life.”
Dani looked skeptical. He was fairly certain she was running scenarios in her head, counting the possible outcomes and risks. He knew that sharing a second cone would be more than a quick, sweet treat. The question was, did she?
“Going for ice cream counts as a date. Are we dating? Because I was under the distinct impression that we’d already covered that—and ruled it out.”
“It would be fun,” he countered. “Take a chance. Jump on in.”
“Do you like doing it?” Her teeth worried the full lower lip. “Jumping?”
“Sometimes jumping is the only way to get the job done.” It had never occurred to him to not jump.
“That’s a hard way to live.”
Nothing worth doing came easy, and he always loved a challenge. He had a feeling the woman sharing the beach with him understood that—she just found her challenges somewhere else.
She continued. “So what happens if—when—you jump in and you can’t pull the other person out?”
The memory flickered to life. He’d already had his backside hoisted into the chopper and the mission had been a routine rescue. He and Lars had put the survivor in the basket and sent him up. Daeg had gone next because of the hit he’d taken in the water, making him incapable of a climb he’d done hundreds of times before.
And then the ocean had sucked Lars under as their spotter barked curses and directions to Tag. Too late. Lars had disappeared beneath the tsunami’s deadly debris-filled water. Cal had signaled he was going back in and dived. Dived and dived again, until Cal hadn’t had the air in his tank to keep going. The chopper, too, had been dangerously low on fuel.
They’d all given up and flown away. Knowing Daeg had left a man behind, who wouldn’t be coming home, crushed him.
Hell. No.
He forced his eyes open. Having Dani in his sights was better than rehashing the past, and he wasn’t going there again. Not today. Instead, he stood up, holding out a hand to tug her up. She hesitated, then accepted it, wrapping her fingers around his.
He glanced down to where they were temporarily joined and damn if he didn’t find that small bit of contact sexier than any of the dates he’d had in recent years. She was trusting him not to let go.
“Rescues don’t always succeed,” he admitted when the silence stretched out between them for too long. “When I got this souvenir for my leg, that was one of those times everything went wrong. I jumped with a partner and we got the survivor in the basket.”
Her fingers tightened on his, but she didn’t move.
“No swimmer gets in the basket before the survivor.” Flashbacks aside, he’d replayed that afternoon a hundred times in his head. “That was the one thing that went right. We were in the Indian Ocean, got there fourteen hours after a tsunami hit. The water was a mess, still churning with destroyed boats and other crafts, but we’d set the basket down where she seemed clear.”
“But the water wasn’t clear?”
“Not even close.” The current had picked up, that first bump against his legs a nauseating wake-up call. He hadn’t known if he’d struck something, or a living and breathing something that would surface and take a chunk out of him. “The circumstances made it impossible to see. A piece of some kind of strong metal fence tore through my leg and there I was, bleeding all over the place. My partner signaled for the basket, put me in and I got out alive. Less than a minute later, he went under.”
The tsunami had wrecked a number of coastlines. All that mud and churn. Torn-up wood, dead animals and cars. Stuff that had once been a part of people’s lives, but was loose in a deadly flood. Shock had had him good by the time he’d reached the bird’s floor.
He hadn’t realized until much later that the pilot had been circling and circling, searching for the missing swimmer until there’d been no more fuel and therefore no more time.
“Surgery followed by eight weeks of rehab back in Japan, then shipped stateside. I’ll be fine by the end of summer. Strong again.”
“And then you go back.”
“Yeah. I think so.” No, he was certain. The rest of his team was waiting for him and, as soon as he could pull his own weight, he’d be there. Right now, though, he was a liability. He hated that truth, but he couldn’t shake it. He wouldn’t be helpful to anyone in the field, not with his leg the way it was. And never mind his head.
He was done examining his head, he decided, and what had gone wrong that day. The expression on Dani’s face was all caring. He didn’t want her pity.
He swept her up into his arms and dashed for the water.
“If you don’t want ice cream, you should at least have that swim you came here for.”
He tossed her gently, and all that control and sleek elegance vanished as she broke the surface of the water and then shot back up with a loud shriek, arms flailing. He let her call out while he dived in and got his arms around her, steadying her. Yeah. This was a lot better than pity.
She quickly shoved away from him, slogging toward the shore.
“Next time,” she hollered back, “I’ll opt for the ice cream.”
Her use of next time was good, but at heart she was still a play-it-safe girl, while he—well, he wanted to get this going. See where their attraction could take them.
“You’re sitting on the sidelines and thinking the water might be cold,” he called. “Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. But you’re never going to know until you’re all in. Testing the water won’t help, not really. That’s not enough to tell you anything at all.”
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