Call To Redemption
Tawny Weber
The Poseidon team are hard-bodied, fiercely competitive Navy SEALs. But when a sensitive mission goes disastrously wrong, three of the team’s finest will have to trust their hearts and instincts to uncover the truth…No strings. No questions. Just pleasure. For a few blissful days, Lieutenant Commander Nic Savino is enjoying a wild fling with the sexiest stranger he’s ever laid eyes—or any other body part—on. It’s almost enough to make the stalwart SEAL let his guard down for once. Until he learns that Assistant US Attorney Darby Raye—his Darby—is heading an investigation designed to destroy him…and Poseidon.The gorgeous eyes that Darby spent her nights gazing into are now glaring at her across a courtroom. This case could build her career, but if Nic’s not a traitor, then he’s being framed by forces powerful enough to eliminate every obstacle in their way. And the tentative trust she and Nic are rebuilding—and their very lives—could all become collateral damage…
The Poseidon team are hard-bodied, fiercely competitive Navy SEALs. But when a sensitive mission goes disastrously wrong, three of the team’s finest will have to trust their hearts and instincts to uncover the truth...
No strings. No questions. Just pleasure. For a few blissful days, Lieutenant Commander Nic Savino is enjoying a wild fling with the sexiest stranger he’s ever laid eyes—or any other body part—on. It’s almost enough to make the stalwart SEAL let down his guard for once. Until he learns that assistant US attorney Darby Raye—his Darby—is heading an investigation designed to destroy him...and Poseidon.
The gorgeous eyes that Darby spent her nights gazing into are now glaring at her across a courtroom. This case could build her career, but if Nic’s not a traitor, then he’s being framed by forces powerful enough to eliminate every obstacle in their way. And the tentative trust she and Nic are rebuilding—as well as their very lives—could become collateral damage...
Praise for New York Times bestselling author Tawny Weber
“A sexy, hot SEAL undercover in more ways than one.... Tawny Weber nails this steamy suspense.”
—New York Times bestselling author Cristin Harber
“This hot and sexy adventure takes readers on a thrilling ride of romance, secrets and SEALs.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Wow...a fantastic series by Ms. Weber. This amazing story line manages to make you cry, make you smile and make your heart turn inside out.... Get it, read it, love it.”
—Harlequin Junkie
“Tawny Weber...has created the perfect hero for our time and a sizzling page-turner! What an awesome start to her Team Poseidon series.”
—New York Times bestselling author
Vicki Lewis Thompson
“I love a good SEAL romance and Tawny Weber knocked this one out of the park. Don’t miss it!”
—USA TODAY bestselling author Karen Fenech
“Reminiscent of Suzanne Brockmann’s Troubleshooters series, Weber’s latest will appeal to her fans as well as other military-romance readers...a good read with an engaging heroine and child.”
—Booklist
“Call to Honor is a tightly plotted story with a few startling turns of events, the characters are all credible and...the pace never falters.”
—Fresh Fiction
Call to Redemption
Tawny Weber
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Birgit, with thanks.
Contents
Cover (#u97773fd4-92cb-5153-895e-686354e4726b)
Back Cover Text (#u21496d5a-aae3-50d2-abe3-e5825f60bedd)
Praise (#ub9d4178c-caff-5b76-8b73-217b2cb35b18)
Title Page (#u9f034c69-354a-584b-8368-05b5b90a1540)
Dedication (#u308a2da6-31ac-5c31-9b76-539357bd0c6b)
PROLOGUE (#uf277f861-9613-53ae-8e2d-830a6d5ba5ec)
CHAPTER ONE (#uac69deee-7076-500b-a226-61df85bda5db)
CHAPTER TWO (#u67e9af29-a13a-5f8e-96f5-d16185229aa4)
CHAPTER THREE (#u61a315ce-e328-5664-8121-ce0b46fa2dcd)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u474d8089-442d-5737-9184-a5d9cd70b574)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u8ceac0e6-a1d4-52fe-a3f6-9a291e92cbef)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ufc3e9651-3795-5276-9e20-1e4fb91cb28a)
“LIEUTENANT COMMANDER DOMINIC SAVINO, you stand accused of conduct unbecoming of an officer, disobeying orders and conspiracy to commit treason.”
The voice boomed like a cannon, its roar a vivid contrast to the courtroom’s silence. As he stood at attention on the stand, the sound ricocheted down Nic’s spine like a piece of shrapnel, ripping and tearing.
“Commander, do you understand these charges?”
Understand? Nic had a solid understanding of the fact that he’d been framed, that he was the fall guy for some treasonous son of a bitch. Someone in power with a network of Navy personnel was focused on lining their bank account at the expense of their country.
Yeah.
He understood that.
That, and everything that came with the charges leveled against him. Court-martial. Prison time. The end of his career. The loss of his freedom. The destruction of his team. Fury rose, rolling like waves that crested higher with each heartbeat.
But none of that was evident on his face. Neither awareness nor fury was allowed to show.
“Affirmative.”
“How do you plead?”
Nic’s gaze didn’t shift left, didn’t move right. His dead-eye stare was aimed straight ahead, focused on the rippling glory of the American flag hanging over the courtroom’s double doors.
He replayed the accusation. He thought back over the previous year’s events.
An operation gone horribly wrong that’d resulted in life-threatening injuries to one team member and the supposed death of another.
The realization that a SEAL, a man sworn to serve his country, would steal classified information to sell to the highest bidder, put his teammates lives in peril and fake his own death—all for money. That shocking acceptance that the same man would target a young child and a defenseless woman, and kill a fellow SEAL.
And now the emotional train wreck of watching his team targeted by an asshole with an agenda who was determined to ignore the fact that Poseidon was being framed by a traitorous sociopath with psychotic tendencies.
It’d all been coming down to this.
The moment of truth.
After fourteen years of service protecting the safety and freedom of his country, it wasn’t Nic’s life on the line this time. This time, it was his team. His career. His reputation. His own freedom.
Ignoring the tight knot in his gut, he shifted his gaze infinitesimally to the right. He gave Lieutenant Thomas a look cold enough to freeze the man’s innards and, in a clear voice, stated, “Not guilty.”
Thomas’s eyes narrowed, his lips tightened. Why the man would flash frustration was baffling. Any first-year JAG would have expected that exact plea. Nic filed away the expression to decipher later.
For now, he simply let his stare intimidate until the Lieutenant turned away. But not before Nic caught the line between his brows twitching.
For the first time since he’d walked into the courtroom that morning, the tension tying his intestines in knots loosened.
He was innocent.
Poseidon was clean.
No matter what information the Lieutenant and his team thought they’d bring to the table over the course of this trial, Nic knew that neither he, nor any of his men, had done anything illegal, against orders or in any way traitorous.
But knowing that didn’t ensure he’d walk away from this trial. Not with his freedom. Quite possibly not with his career and reputation intact. The odds of keeping his command, of holding together an elite Special Ops team after being brought up on such charges, were slim.
But now?
Nic watched as Thomas exchanged frowns with the Lieutenant Commander seated at the prosecutors’ table.
Now? He had hope. More, he had faith that he’d not only be vindicated, but that he’d also keep his command, his team and, dammit, that they’d nail the real traitor before this was over.
It was then and only then that he allowed his gaze to shift. For a millisecond, he glanced toward the gallery.
His team spanned the first row. Ten men in uniform, each one wearing a look of implacable determination. Each one radiating strength and dedication. And yes, each one looking equally pissed at the insult they knew they’d been served.
Nic’s gaze shifted to the right, toward the woman sitting just behind the prosecution.
Beneath an edgy fringe of bangs, a pair of huge gold eyes stared back at him. In those molten depths he saw two things. Strength and challenge.
How had he gotten this far in life without her?
And what the hell was he going to do now that he’d found her?
Nic had spent his adult life training, leading, fighting for his country. Without hesitation, he’d put his life, his guts and his reputation on the line time and time again. But today, his innocence wasn’t the only thing at stake.
Nor was this a simple matter of justice.
He was a Lieutenant Commander in the United States Navy.
He was a multidecorated Navy SEAL.
He was a SEAL team platoon leader, he commanded over a hundred military and civilian personnel.
He’d fought in wars. He’d led missions. He’d orchestrated clandestine operations. He’d conceptualized, created, evaluated and nurtured the elite force of Team Poseidon. He’d honed his skills in leadership, combat and procedure.
In the last six months, he’d lost a man. He’d killed another. He’d had a building explode around him. He’d been betrayed and brought to trial to face the accusation of the very crimes he’d fought to end.
And for the first time in thirty-three years, Nic risked something that many people—including himself—had come to believe didn’t exist.
His heart.
Lost it to the woman who could easily destroy his life.
CHAPTER ONE (#ufc3e9651-3795-5276-9e20-1e4fb91cb28a)
Two Months Earlier
OH, MY.
She’d been told the views in Hanalei were impressive, but she’d had no idea just how impressive.
Darby Raye ran her tongue over her bottom lip, planted her elbows on the balcony railing and leaned out farther to get a clearer view. Not of the beach, although the pristine surf churning over the sand of Hanalei was unquestionably worth a second—and third—look. And she wasn’t sighing over the indigo-streaked cerulean sky, although there was no denying that it deserved a few deep breaths of appreciation.
Nope, what had snagged her attention on her first night of the first vacation she’d taken in years was the unbelievably gorgeous man seated at the beachside bar below.
There was something familiar about him, but whether it was the double Scotch she’d already knocked back or the glare of the sun off the ocean, she couldn’t quite figure it out. Eyes narrowed, she leaned out just a little farther.
Dark hair was cut short enough to frame a face made more powerful by the contrast of angles and curves. Sharp cheekbones were emphasized by a goatee that ran along his chiseled jaw while full lips and lush lashes hinted at softness. She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes from here, but they looked dark. A worn blue T-shirt was draped over broad shoulders, cupped biceps impressive enough to bench-press a Harley and lay flat against abs that didn’t appear to even have a concept of the meaning of the word flab.
But how was his ass? Great abs were all well and good, but the true measure of a man was how fine of an ass he had.
She craned her neck to the side, squinting a little behind the amber lenses of her shades. But the angle was wrong. She shifted a couple of steps to the right and tilted her head a little, brushing at the swath of hair skimming her chin. Still nothing.
“Can I get you anything, Ms. Raye?”
Darby gave brief consideration to embarrassment, but this was a vacation. A time to let loose and have fun. Besides, embarrassment simply wasn’t one of her key personality traits.
“Hey, Tito,” she greeted, giving the waiter a friendly smile. “Just checking out the view and debating whether to head to the downstairs lanai for dinner instead of staying here.”
“The band will be setting up on the lower lanai soon. Much better choice for a lovely single woman to meet a dance partner.” Dark eyes dancing, the cocoa-skinned waiter waved one husky arm toward the circular stairs leading down the side of the hotel. “Please, go downstairs. I will bring your pupu platter beachside to enjoy.”
That sounded crowded.
Like embarrassment, spending her first night of relaxation around a bunch of people wasn’t high on Darby’s list of things to do.
“I think I’ll stay here.”
“No, no, you should go. Enjoy the music and have some fun. To start you on your way, here is a haupia.” He offered the tray with a half bow, delivering the frothy snowfall in a martini glass. A glistening raspberry nestled against a delicate pink orchid while a hint of pink sugar dusted the edge of the glass. “Ms. Nulty called and ordered it for you. Please, enjoy.”
Uh-huh.
Wondering if she’d ever seen anything more girlie, Darby eyed the drink. She was tempted to refuse.
But her secretary, Grace, would undoubtedly do a follow-up.
And, hey, vacation.
Darby was under strict orders to do it up right, and those orders had come from the Deputy Director of the US Attorney’s office. He was the man who, being the soul of trust, had assigned Grace as a guard dog to make sure she complied.
So Darby took the drink.
Then, just in case her boss had enlisted spies in addition to the guard dog—federal prosecutors really did have major trust issues—she took a cautious sip.
“Mmm.”
“Most delicious, isn’t it?”
“Mmm,” she repeated, sucking down another taste of the creamy rum and coconut. It actually wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Scotch.
“Now go, down to the lanai. Enjoy the haupia and the beach while making new friends.”
Did she have to?
Darby didn’t consider herself an introvert—she didn’t have a shy bone in her body—yet she definitely wasn’t a people person. But she’d come on this vacation to someplace she’d never been, telling herself to try things she’d never done. Vacation was time to shake up life, to step outside the box.
“The lanai sounds great,” she agreed. Adding a smile to her thanks, Darby headed for the stairs, sipping more of the frothy drink.
She’d only made a few steps when her cell phone chimed.
“AUSA Darby Raye,” she answered automatically.
“I thought you said this was going to be a totally relaxed, one-hundred-percent-committed-to-only-having-fun vacation. Shouldn’t that include leaving your phone in your room, partying too loudly to hear a ringtone or relaxing enough to forget your job title.” The accusation came with just enough laughter to make Darby roll her eyes.
“Hey, I’m in Hawaii wearing a flower in my hair and drinking pink froth at sunset. That says real vacation to me. Besides, it’s my first night. I’ve been here a total of two hours and am wearing flat sandals. Flat. Sandals. What’s that if not relaxed?”
Darby glanced down at one of the sandals, angling her left foot this way and that. Flats definitely weren’t as flattering as heels. But maybe the copper beadwork rescued the look.
Maybe.
“Holy crap! You, Darby Raye, Assistant United States Attorney, ferocious federal prosecutor and general all-around hard-ass? Instead of mile-high sexy stilettos, you’re wearing flats?” The sound of Grace’s finger snap came through loud and clear over the robust sound of her laugh. “Send a photo. This I have to see.”
“Nope. It’s your fault that me and my sandal-clad feet are even on vacation. Well, yours and the HR department. No photos. Not unless you want to trade places.”
“I’d laugh, except I know you’re not kidding. You’d actually rather be here, slogging through another eighty-hour week instead of hanging ten on a surfboard or being pampered in a spa.” Grace’s sigh came through loud and clear.
Of course she’d rather be working. She loved her career. Her job was her life, and she was damn good at it. Good enough that she was fast-tracking it to be one of the top attorneys in the Southern California office. Or she was, until Grace had mentioned to her lunch buddy in HR that Darby hadn’t taken a single vacation since she’d started with the US Attorney’s office in Virginia two years ago. She’d learned from the best that work was life and life was work. Since the tender age of twelve, she’d lived by that oft-quoted motto of her father’s. They were the last words he’d spoken to her on one of the rare times he’d availed himself of his custody visits.
Darby puffed out a breath with enough force to flutter her bangs, but refrained from reminding her friend of that. Not because she wanted to avoid the argument. She was an attorney. She loved to argue. But the key to a good argument was knowing when a loss was inevitable. So Darby had easily recognized the uselessness of arguing with Grace when she’d pointed out that this vacation was Darby’s best shot at the upcoming slot on the National Security Division that was rumored to be opening in a few months.
Darby wanted that spot. It’d be a big shiny feather in her cap, to say nothing of a smooth jump over a few rungs on the success ladder.
She was good enough. She had a solid rep, an impressive case-closure rate in cybercrimes and human trafficking. And she had the support of a number of influential higher-ups. But her age, her lack of experience arguing terrorism cases and the new head of Human Resources’ fixation on a healthy work-life balance were working against her.
She couldn’t do anything about her age, but thought her work on the Antiterrorism Advisory Council helped offset her lack of trial experience in matters of national security. Which left that work-life-balance crap. Darby grimaced.
Hence, Grace’s answer... Vacation.
As if reading her mind, Grace said, “Office pool puts you at three days, fourteen hours before you give up and hop a flight home.”
“Any idea if Jenkins is in on that pool?” she asked, referring to the new head of Human Resources.
“You know the bets are confidential,” Grace chided.
“So?”
“He puts you at two days.”
Darby smiled—leave it to Grace. That ability to ferret out the tiniest of details was one of the woman’s best traits. Between that, enough tenacity to do a bulldog proud and a personality that blended like butter with anyone anywhere, the woman made a stellar legal secretary.
A fact for which Darby was forever grateful.
She’d gone through four secretaries in her first two weeks at the Southern California office and had been well on her way to cementing her reputation as a hard-ass with an attitude. That part she hadn’t minded, but the changeover and lack of decent help had put a serious crimp in her plans toward career stardom. That, and having to remember the names of the parade of secretaries had worn on her last nerve. When Grace Nulty had walked in the door looking like someone’s favorite aunt, she hadn’t bothered adding the redhead’s name to her cheat sheet.
Within five weeks, the cheat sheet was trashed and Darby was satisfactorily tracking her way toward career stardom again. Not only did Grace keep up with Darby’s breakneck pace, but she also anticipated, intuited and, when necessary, argued.
All awesome things.
Until she’d turned them on Darby herself.
First it’d been her relentless pursuit of friendship. Darby was perfectly content—happy, even—to be friendless in the workplace. As far as she was concerned, office-based friendships only led to trouble. Especially in a job as competitive and cutthroat as hers.
She still wasn’t sure how the other woman had outflanked her, but somehow, they’d become friends. But not even Darby, a woman who argued for a living, had been strong enough to win against Grace’s relentless cheer and focused determination.
She’d used that same cheer and determination to convince Darby that a week of luaus and lying on the beach would help her career.
Damn the woman.
It wasn’t that Darby had moral or religious objections to vacations...
She just didn’t see the point.
Oh, sure, maybe she should have taken a big celebratory vacation last year when she’d become a federal prosecutor. A lot of people had said making Assistant US Attorney by the time she was twenty-seven was an amazing accomplishment. Others had muttered about nepotism, citing Darby’s late father’s reputation with the federal prosecutor’s office for her foot up onto the fast track.
But Darby had learned young to ignore what people said. As always, she’d aimed her focus on work. On finding the quickest climb up the ladder her father had chosen for her when she was ten. And nowhere on that ladder was there room for vacations. Work, education, networking. That was her focus. Her only focus.
She’d have happily continued her vacationless lifestyle if Grace hadn’t ferreted out that the HR exec was reluctant to recommend Darby for the new position. The woman was a stickler for that wimpy work-life balance she was always lecturing Darby on.
“I’ll make the entire eight days,” Darby vowed in answer to Grace’s comment about the office pool. Not just for the shot at the promotion, but because she was hardwired to prove that she could do whatever anyone said she couldn’t.
“I have every faith that you will. But do it right, okay? Treat it like a vacation, not a point of pride. Prove that you can have a life outside of work.”
“My career is my life,” she said with a sassy smile. But her sass turned into a sigh as soon as the words were out.
That catchphrase had been her personal mantra since graduating law school. A mantra she loved epitomizing because it made her feel powerful, and dammit, kept her on the fast track to success.
A mantra that had, quite recently, been thrown in her face along with a whole lot of other accusations that were probably just as true.
“Don’t start doubting yourself,” Grace responded, obviously reading her mind. The mothering tone came over the line like a finger shake with a hug on the side.
“Why would I doubt myself?”
Just because the guy she’d dated for eight months had accused her of caring about nothing except her career, to say nothing of being coldhearted, narrow-minded and obsessive.
“Exactly. Why would you?” Grace responded. “You’re a powerhouse. Darby Raye, Assistant US Attorney. Powerhouse federal prosecutor. Ballbuster, crime fighter, law wielder. You take no crap from anyone on your fast flight up the ladder of success. If a guy can’t handle that, too bad.”
“Exactly,” Darby agreed with a laugh. And she did agree. She’d never made a secret of her ambitions or her priorities.
But maybe Paul had had a few points. It’d been her obsessive focus on her career that had kept her from noticing the telltale warning signs that he saw their relationship as something much more serious than she did.
Darby had dated the man for almost four months while she was still living in Virginia. The JAG attorney had thought it was romantic to transfer from Little Creek to the San Diego naval base. She, on the other hand, thought it was creepy.
But knowing the value of well-placed bridges, influential circles and tiptoeing around fragile male egos, it’d taken her three months of letting him down gently to break it off.
And another one to convince him that it was actually over.
She should have skipped worrying about bridges and circles and tramped his damn ego as soon as he’d shown up on her doorstep in San Diego, Darby thought with a grimace.
Still, she had considered Paul Thomas a convenience. The guy had looked good on her arm, could handle the schmoozing through the social events she saw as a necessary component of a successful climb up the career ladder. His own commitments as a lawyer in the Navy Judge Advocate General’s office meant he was as busy as her, meaning he wasn’t around much. He was an entertaining dinner date, an undemanding sex partner and an interesting conversationalist.
And that relationship had given Darby the comforting, if false, belief that her life was well-rounded enough to not worry about eighty-hour work weeks and no interests outside of her career.
Now look what happened, she thought as she maneuvered the twisting, shell-encrusted steps.
The guy got emotionally grabby and demanding, she dumped him and here she was, stuck on a gorgeous island paradise, forced to prove she was well-rounded and obsession-free.
“This sucks,” Darby muttered, unconsciously pausing halfway down the stairs to stare out at the bleeding colors of the sun as it dripped into the ocean.
“This vacation is vital for your well-being,” Grace insisted with a sniff. “Weren’t you listening during that safety lecture last month on the necessity of a good work-life balance to avoid health issues and burnout?”
“I must have been in court that day.”
“You’re always in court on lecture days.”
“Funny how that works out,” Darby observed with a laugh as she continued down. “Have I mentioned how much I appreciate you putting those safety lectures on my calendar?”
“Things like that are the reason why you need this break.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do with myself on this break?” Darby blurted out. Even as the words escaped, she wanted them back. She hated admitting that she didn’t know what to do, no matter what the situation. But since the confession was out there, she might as well score some advice. “Work relaxes me, Grace. Reading case law makes me happy. Climbing the ladder of success is my idea of staying healthy. Now I’m stuck here on a spit of sand, surrounded by water and strangers. No cases to argue, no work to do, not even a single law book to read.”
“Read the resort’s brochure. Avail yourself of all of those inclusive amenities. Do all the things you don’t normally do. Sleep late, indulge, sightsee. Lie on the beach, read a steamy romance novel, be friendly with strangers.”
Grace sighed at Darby’s grunt.
“You’re at an exclusive resort on one of the prettiest islands in the world,” the woman decreed, her frown coming over the phone line loud and clear. “If those brochures Jenkins shared are anything to go by, there’s a lot to do there. And keep in mind that since you took her recommendation on where to vacation, she’s very likely to ask you questions about your trip when you get back.”
“Like a pop quiz,” Darby muttered.
“The quiz is coming no matter what you do. So why not have a little fun. Let loose. Get wild.” Grace’s voice lowered, her words husky with laughter. “Have a vacation fling.”
“A man is what got me into this situation,” Darby pointed out as she continued her descent to the lanai. A man who’d accused her of being so uptight and controlling that she was incapable of handling a relationship of any kind.
“One of the reasons you’re on vacation is to forget about that loser, Paul. So start forgetting and start relaxing. Otherwise I’ll be forced to take steps,” Grace warned.
“Are you threatening an officer of the court?” Darby asked with a laugh.
“If that’s what it takes, sure.”
“Fine. I promise. By the time I get back in the office, I’ll be so relaxed you won’t recognize me.”
“Will it include a hot guy and orgasm options?”
“You think about sex too much,” Darby said dismissively.
“You never think about it because it doesn’t exist in your world. How long has it been?”
Since she’d had sex? Nine months, nineteen days and—Darby glanced at her watch and calculated the time difference—eight hours.
Since she’d had good sex? Tack on another three years to that tally.
Not that she was counting.
“A man isn’t necessary for happiness or success,” she pointed out instead of answering.
“You’re young, gorgeous and single,” Grace argued. “If you don’t get some soon, people are going to start giving weight to Paul Thomas’s whining.”
“Okay. That’s a valid counterargument.”
Darby pursed her lips as she reached the lower lanai and found a seat. Despite the cliché touches of bamboo and palm fronds, it managed to be elegant and welcoming at the same time. A dozen cozy tables with shells under the glass were scattered over the glossy wood floor. Two sides were flanked by unlit torches, with the ocean claiming the third and a well-appointed bar the last.
Heat fluttered in her belly when she noticed the man she’d seen earlier was still seated at that bar.
Gorgeous. He looked even better from here than he had from a distance. Tall, a few inches over six feet she gauged, noting the length of toned legs in khaki cargo shorts. His dark hair was fashionably short and a sculpted goatee emphasized sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. And sexy in a take-charge, man-of-power kind of way that made her tingle.
Talk about a change. She was definitely thinking about sex now.
“Call coming in,” Grace warned, her tone shifting to all business. “I’ll touch base later and expect a progress report.”
“I’ll spend my time availing myself of every possible option for fun and relaxation in order to prepare for my pending quiz,” she promised with a laugh.
Not a bad closing statement, she decided as she watched the man toss a handful of macadamia nuts in his mouth. Solid hand-to-mouth coordination could be a good thing, she noted with a smile.
Suddenly, Grace’s plan held a certain appeal.
Darby missed sex. At least, she missed good sex, which was something she hadn’t had in at least three years. Since focusing on her career wasn’t going to cut it as an excuse for the next eight days, she might as well explore her options.
Maybe. Darby leaned back in the cushioned chair, the soft evening air dancing over her skin. The setting sun glinted gold off the man’s profile as he checked his cell phone.
She skimmed her fingers over the rim of her glass as she watched the man tip back his beer. Who knew swallowing could look so damn sexy?
He turned on the stool to take a quick scan of the lanai.
Wow. The full-on face view was even hotter. His impatient frown didn’t put her off. She was practically made of impatience. But the hint of vulnerability in his eyes? Caution signs triggered in her mind. Then he blinked and power replaced pain.
Enough power to make her breath lock in her throat.
The tingles in her stomach turned to heat, flaming hot and high. High enough to burn caution to cinders. Darby shifted in her chair, arched her back and breathed in the warm ocean air.
Oh, yeah. She’d found the perfect way to get through this vacation. The only question was, where did a hot guy like that land on the quiz? Because as she looked him over, she had to admit that relaxation didn’t seen to be the word that popped into her mind.
* * *
“ANOTHER BEER, MR. SAVINO?”
It took Nic a moment to realize the waiter was talking to him. He was so used to being addressed by his rank that the civilian term threw him.
“Yeah. Another one, please.” Normally, he’d stop at two. As a Lieutenant Commander in the US Navy, he could be called to duty at a moment’s notice. As the leader of Team Poseidon, a select Special Ops group within the Navy SEALs, he had a reputation for always maintaining control. And as a man who valued the ability to clearly see his way through whatever was thrown his way, he rarely let anything fog that vision.
But as soon as it was set in front of him, Nic tilted the bottle, letting the icy beer wash away the dregs of bitterness coating his throat.
Because Mr. Savino was on mandatory leave. So Mr. Savino didn’t have to worry about being called to duty, holding true to his reputation or clear insights.
Mr. Savino didn’t have a team of men depending on him, trusting his judgment. He didn’t have to face those men when his judgment failed. When, for the first time in his career, he wondered if their trust was misplaced.
His knuckles whitened as his fist clenched tight around the beer bottle.
Mr. Savino didn’t have a damn thing to do but relax and enjoy the forced vacation his Admiral decided he needed. But it was hard to relax when tension was spiking down his spine like a harpoon gun.
He hitched up one hip and snagged his cell out of his back pocket.
“Yo, Lansky here,” greeted the voice on the other end.
“It’s Savino,” Nic said, since even on vacation, his cell transmission was scrambled and wouldn’t show a name or location. “Status report.”
“Aren’t you on leave?” A heartbeat later, he added, “Sir?”
“When was the last time I was on leave?”
Nic took a couple swallows of his beer while he waited for his Lieutenant to figure that out. When he’d downed half of it, he put the guy out of his misery.
“Four years,” he said, answering his own question. “That’d be four years ago, when you and I, Torres, Danby and Powers went to Spain to take those bulls for a jog.”
“We ran with bulls. Danby missed out because he was holed up with that pretty Spanish dancer,” Lansky reminisced with a laugh. “Time before that was when six of us did the Everest climb. Before that was Brazil for Carnival.”
The tension in Nic’s spine slowly disappeared as he listened to Lansky recite their various trips over the last decade. Each trip was accompanied by the memory of one of the team’s adventures with the opposite sex. By the time the man got to the Vegas trip the twelve of them had taken to celebrate earning their tridents, Nic had found his place in the zone again.
“Now that we’ve had that little trip down memory lane, how about that status report,” Nic said with a laugh. His tone was light. But the command was clear.
“Reporting, sir. Ward, Torres and Danby are due back from Yemen in two days. Word on base is that their training mission went well. They had three platoons doing night maneuvers to the tune of Maroon 5’s ‘Don’t Wanna Know’ and adding ketchup to their field rations.”
“Nice,” Nic replied with a laugh.
“Prescott and his lady are still debating whether to do the wedding thing the second time around or just hit up a justice of the peace. Ava’s trying to be practical with the no-fuss angle, but you know Rembrandt. He’s all about the romance. He’ll have her decked out in a fancy dress, carting pretty posies while they say their second ‘I do.’”
Lansky paused to crunch into what sounded like an apple before continuing. “On your orders, Louden, Rengel and Kane are retracing Ramsey’s contacts, talking to everyone in the Navy they can find who knew him. They’ve tracked down some interesting stories. You want the deets?”
“I’ll debrief them when I get back. Anything else?”
Nic finished his beer while Lansky filled him in on the rest of the team, base gossip and the status of his own relationship. Damn if the man didn’t scope gossip better than a granny at a church social. That, combined with the man’s way of charming information out of men and women alike and his sick tech skills, made him a force to be reckoned with when it came to intel. Which was why Nic had called him instead of one of his commanding officers. The Admiral? The Captain? They supported Nic’s team, but their first loyalty was to command. Lansky, like the rest of Nic’s handpicked team, had one purpose. To serve Poseidon.
So when Lansky ran out of gossip, Nic didn’t hesitate to ask the question that had followed him to Hawaii. “What’s the status of the investigation?”
“According to Captain Jarrett, it’s currently lollygagging in red tape. They’re holding Ramsey in the brig but he’s got a hotshot rep who, while not denying the assault charges, insists his scumbag of a client isn’t guilty of murder or treason.”
No more than Nic had expected.
“Jarrett said they’re still digging, but so far his men haven’t discovered any leads on Ramsey’s partner or, more likely, partners. Jarrett doesn’t deny there are others,” Lansky added quickly when Nic gave a low growl. “He simply doesn’t have a clue who they are.”
Nic exchanged his empty beer for a full one, rubbing the cold bottle against his forehead. He respected Jarrett’s skills, and had faith the guy had Poseidon’s best interest in mind. Hell, the Captain had almost been one of the team. If they hadn’t decided to stick with BUD/S graduates only, they’d quite likely have brought their first-phase instructor in with them. He’d been damn awesome at motivating and pulling them together as a team. But while Nic had been all for it, the others had elected him leader and mandated they close the team at the twelve of them.
But the guy should have more intel by now. Hell, he should have shut down Navel Intelligence’s investigation of Team Poseidon from the get-go. That he hadn’t was giving Nic a serious knot in his gut.
“I shouldn’t be on leave,” he muttered. His scowl faded a little as he watched a sexy brunette sashay across the patio, her little sundress highlighting one hell of a figure. But all it took was a blink to put her out of his mind. Because nothing interfered with his focus when it came to doing his job.
“You couldn’t ignore a direct order,” Lansky pointed out. “Word is Admiral Cree wanted you out of the way until the... How did he put it? Oh, yeah, the shit storm died down.”
Shit storm. The murder of one of his men in a mission to clear their name and take down a traitor, leaving Team Poseidon framed to take the blame for the entire treasonous network.
Yeah. Shit storm was a good description.
“I’m back in six days. Storm or no.”
“Good. I’ll have something for you then.”
And just like that, the knot in Nic’s belly loosened.
“You’re close?”
“Damn close,” Lansky promised. “I hacked deeper into Ramsey’s computer history. I just need to dig through some layers, pull out a few more bytes. I’ll have it cleaned up by the time you get back.”
“Good. I’m ready to end this.”
With that and a few instructions, Nic ended the call with his Lieutenant.
And wished like hell he was still on duty, doing his damn job. Leave was all well and good when he could roll it into a team-building excursion, or even the occasional family obligation. But this vacation while his men were under fire?
It was a fuckup.
He’d have argued against it—the timing was wrong, his team needed him, instincts told him to stay alert and ready for the next hit to strike. But none of his arguments could counter the simple fact that he’d taken a hit. A hard one. It’d left him vulnerable. And his men knew Nic Savino for many things, but vulnerability wasn’t one of them.
Orders were orders, and Nic prided himself in making the best of any order.
You’re on leave, Savino. Take a break. Get away. Clear your head, shed the baggage and relax, for God’s sake. The Admiral’s order echoed like a bell through his mind, a loud reminder of why he was here. Or rather, why he wasn’t in Coronado, where he belonged.
Nic pressed his fingers to his eyes, trying to relieve some of the pressure beating behind them like steel drums. He could have pushed against the Admiral’s suggestion. But he couldn’t ignore the lack of sleep, the headaches or the feeling that he was losing hold of the fraying thread of the control he so prized.
So he’d finally had to admit it. He needed the break. He needed to get away, before he put them at any further risk.
So here he was.
On Kauai, where he’d always come as a child to renew. At his uncle’s resort, where he could kill two birds with one stone. Family obligation and relaxation, all rolled into one.
He angled his jaw left, then right, and turned in his seat to scan the patio. Tiki-style right down to the totem-pole bar and palm-frond overhang, the area boasted a dozen small bamboo tables set up to provide cozy beachside relaxation.
To his right was a seashell-shaped dais sporting yet more palm fronds. Since it was too early in the evening for the band, music drifted down from cleverly hidden speakers.
To his left was his life’s blood. His one true love.
The ocean.
The Pacific, to be exact. Oh, he loved the Atlantic, the Indian and the Arctic just as truly. But he’d first lost his heart to the Pacific here. Right here on Hanalei, actually, twenty-five years ago when his uncle had opened his first resort. He’d sat in the soft sand, pail in one hand, shovel in the other, and stared in fascination at the endless waves of blue.
In the years since, Keola Hanalei had become one of the premier luxury destinations in Hawaii and Nic had continued his love affair with the sea. He managed to make it back here every few years for a little downtime.
Not just downtime, he admitted as he absently took another swallow of beer. Renewal. There was something about this particular view that always reminded him of where he’d come from—and why he’d ended up where he was.
He didn’t mind that the reminder came with 400-count sheets, island entertainment and gourmet food. It made for a pretty sweet setup.
His gaze, always watchful, shifted again.
Because the sexy powerhouse at the third table was pretty sweet, too. The woman he’d watched sweep down the circular staircase ten minutes before.
Vivacious was the word she brought to mind.
Not in a bubbly, sparkling way. She looked like the type to kick a guy in the head before she’d giggle.
No. She looked alive. Powerful, intense and intriguing.
He didn’t know if it was his body’s reaction to the woman—hot, intense interest that reached deep into his gut and demanded attention—or if it was simply the idea of having something to focus on other than the emotionally exhausting thoughts that kept circling his mind like a vulture waiting to pick his soul clean.
Whatever it was, he was grateful.
Because like Lansky said, if he was going to be forced to take leave, he might as well enjoy himself.
And he’d just found a way to do exactly that.
All he had to do was convince the pixie to join him.
CHAPTER TWO (#ufc3e9651-3795-5276-9e20-1e4fb91cb28a)
AS DISTRACTIONS WENT, Nic had to admit this one was pretty damn compelling.
Short black hair framed her face with sharp lines and spiked edges, the glossy style reminding him of a jagged piece of obsidian. The late-afternoon sun glinted gold off a face worthy of a second, third and even fourth look. Slashing cheekbones aimed toward her lush mouth and strong brows arched over her wide-framed sunglasses.
There was nothing overtly sexy about her simple green sundress. Wide straps and a squared-off neckline didn’t show a lot of skin. The loose fabric fluttered and settled, but didn’t hug tight enough to show the curves beneath. And while the skirt hit her knees, he’d gotten a good enough look at those legs on her trip down the stairs to know they were prime.
She looked like a sexy anime figure or a sassy fairy. Not the sugary sweet kind, though. The kind that could kick serious ass and stir up all manner of mischief. It was an interesting contrast to the back-off vibe she exuded.
He probably could have ignored her sultry intensity, or the hint of wildness. But all of that and the challenge of breaking through her shield of indifference? That was almost impossible to resist.
Nic tipped back his beer and watched her scan her cell phone. After a quick check, she set it facedown on the table. Tapped her fingers on the case while staring out at the ocean. Lifted the phone and checked again. This time when she set it down, she slid it behind her drink.
He started the countdown in his head.
Ten seconds.
He could practically see her vibrating her way through them before she reached for the phone again.
Not used to relaxing, he deduced.
He could relate.
It’d taken him years to learn to shut it off and be in the moment. Especially if the moment demanded relaxation.
His gaze roamed her face again, with its impression of sharp energy contrasting with her sensual beauty.
Maybe he could give her a few tips.
Nic leaned against the bar and considered.
Not since his college days had Nic had to pick up a woman. Since he’d joined the Navy, especially since becoming a SEAL, the women usually made the initial move. From a time-management standpoint, he appreciated that. It meant he simply accepted or deflected, depending on the circumstances.
Not that he was a dog about it. But like Flipper always said, there was something about being a SEAL that turned any man into a total chick magnet.
A rock-hard knot of pain hit him in the gut at the thought of Flipper, as the team had dubbed Chief Warrant Officer Mason Powers over a decade ago. Nic swallowed against the misery in his throat, trying to shrug off the heavy weight of what he knew a Navy shrink would term depression.
Another reason he’d agreed to take leave—to avoid the threatened psych eval the Admiral’s assistant kept muttering about.
So instead of delving into his reasonable grief in search of underlying issues, or parsing the text of his remorse over the lack of power in an untenable situation, he’d opted for the beach.
Now he had the choice to sit and brood in his beer over things that couldn’t be changed. Or to make the most of the moment.
A man trained to respect that moment rarely lasted long, Nic didn’t have to debate that choice. Instead, he stood and, beer in hand, headed across the patio.
“Hello,” Nic greeted, and sat down opposite the sexy pixie.
She was even better looking up close, he noted, his gaze skimming the fullness of her lower lip and the tiny sprinkle of freckles scattered over her shoulders.
“Hello,” she returned in a voice just as sexy as her appearance. The sound was low and hinting at husky—the underlying strength spoke of confident assurance.
She didn’t act surprised or attempt coyness. She simply gave the slightest tilt of her chin and waited.
“Are you here alone?”
“Why? Are you looking for a threesome?”
Whoa. Nic blinked. He didn’t know if it was the image flashing through his mind—both women looking exactly like the one in front of him—or the bold declaration. But damn, he got hot.
It’d been a long time since his squid days if a comment like that could make him blank on a response. But shore leave was like riding a bicycle. Hop back on, take a second to balance, then ride it for all it was worth.
“I’ll be honest. I’ve never had to go looking,” he admitted with a rueful smile. “How about you? If I stay in this seat, is it going to be an issue for someone joining you?”
She seemed to consider that question for a long moment before her smile widened. Reaching up, she slipped those oversize glasses off so the dark lenses no longer shielded her eyes.
Nic could only stare.
Damn.
He’d taken a hit to the head once when blocks of an exploding building bounced off his helmet. It’d left him stunned, staring and stupid.
Kind of like now.
The woman was hot, no question about it. But those eyes? Those eyes were amazing.
Huge, so big they almost overwhelmed her face. Round, with just the slightest tilt at the corners, her molten-gold gaze was lushly lashed and oddly erotic.
Before he could say anything stupid—before he could even think of anything stupid to say—a movement caught the corner of his eye.
Shit.
Nothing put the skids on a successful pickup than a gregarious relative with a million stories to tell and family pride oozing from his veins.
Before he could signal his uncle to stay back, the older man strode over with a wide smile and slapped Nic on the back.
“Dominic, there you are. And with such a lovely companion. Welcome to Keola Hanalei, madam,” the large man greeted, lifting the brunette’s hand to his lips. Nic watched her face, noting her surprise at the move, but he was glad to see there was no insult or disdain on her face.
“Your resort is lovely, Mr. Keola.”
“Michael. Any friend of Dominic’s must call me Michael.”
Nic sat back, silently watching as his uncle deployed his legendary charm and asked the brunette if she’d ever visited Hawaii before, then suggested sights to see, things to do. More, he watched her reaction. Respect, a hint of flattery and sincere interest as Michael covered topics ranging from his favorite meals to try to the best places to buy souvenirs.
“It’s not often that my nephew is here to visit, but he knows the island and its delights as well as anyone. You’re in good hands. But if there is anything you need, you’ve only to ask.”
With that and another of those old-world hand kisses that Nic figured only his uncle could pull off, the man left them to greet more guests.
And the woman simply stared, those anime eyes assessing for a long moment before she smiled.
“So, Dominic? What do you recommend?”
He started to correct her. He was only Dominic to a few stubborn holdouts in his family. Everyone else had called him Nic since he was ten. But there was something about the way she said his name, the syllables rolling off her tongue, that stayed his words.
“Are you a fan of fluffy drinks?” he asked instead.
“Only inasmuch as I can now say I’ve had one,” she responded with a laugh.
“Then I recommend we get to know each other better over a real drink.”
“Define real.”
Nic’s smile widened. He leaned back in the chair and prepared to enjoy himself. As he did, he noted that the band was setting up. Within twenty minutes of tuning up, the lanai would be crowded with bodies boogying to the island beat.
“Real, as in not decorated with flowers. If you’re hungry, the food down here is good. Simple, upscale from the usual bar choices.” He tapped the menu she’d yet to check out. “I can recommend the taco platter. The chef has a way with pork and pineapple.”
“Mmm.” She drew one long finger over the menu but didn’t pull it closer or try to open it. “Any other recommendations?”
A few came to mind, but it seemed a little early in the evening to suggest naked dancing. Yeah. His gaze swept over her curves. He’d bet she’d look damn good at it.
But he had no clue if she could dance.
He should find that out, first.
That, and her name.
“The band is solid and you’ve got a good seat for the show. But if you were more interested in a quiet dinner watching the sun set over the ocean, you might want to try the third-floor restaurant.” He indicated the spiral staircase she’d descended earlier. “The view is worth the climb.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is. Call it my public service announcement for the evening.”
That teased a hint of a smile out of her. One she quickly hid by sipping her drink.
“Do you do that often? Serve the public and help them avoid overly loud dinners?”
“You could say I’ve made a career of it.”
“Do tell.” Her body language was subtly flirtatious, but even with those huge eyes locked on his face, he couldn’t read her well enough to know if that was a green light or a cautious yellow.
Nic didn’t brag about what he did, but he didn’t hide it, either. Simply put, there was nothing relaxing about talking about his work. Not right now. Not when just thinking about it felt like a blow to the chest, leaving him breathless and empty.
So he sidestepped.
“Let’s just say I’m gifted at seeing my way around any variety of obstacles while engineering the successful outcome that serves people of all walks of life.”
Check him, he thought, grinning. He could have a future in politics. Or with the Navy brass, which was sometimes the same thing.
“Well, that’s intriguingly vague,” she said with a laugh.
“Intriguing enough to tempt you to have dinner with me?”
Narrowing those eyes in a cautious way that made him want to know all of her secrets, she gave him a considering look before offering the smallest of shrugs.
“I’d hate to let your public service announcement go to waste. And this will give you time to tell me all about how you serve people with engineered outcomes.”
Instead of answering, he held out his hand to help her to her feet. As soon as her slender fingers were tucked in his, he changed the subject. Walking up the stairs to the restaurant, he shared the family story of how his uncle and father had collected every single shell that was embedded in the airy spiral staircase.
He wasn’t going to talk about his career.
He was on leave, and for the first time in his life, he was focusing on his wants. His needs. And right now, he needed to simply be a man.
One evening wouldn’t hurt, he told himself, ignoring the stabbing sense of disloyalty.
Not if that one evening brought him even an iota of solace against the pain.
* * *
SO...
This was romance.
Darby released a long, surreptitious breath as she stared across the table, crystal shimmering in the moonlight, silver gleaming in the glow of three fat candles flaming in their abalone bowls. The ocean hummed a gentle symphony in the background, the waves cresting white while rich purple blossoms scented the air with sweet seduction.
Even as she settled into the plush chair cushion, she could feel her muscle fibers twitching against the need to get up and run.
She shouldn’t be here.
She wasn’t cut out for romance.
Hell, she didn’t even believe in the concept.
But as Dominic slid into his chair, all those thoughts faded in a haze of lust.
God, the man was gorgeous.
Her muscles twitched again, this time with the need to slide her hands over the breadth of those shoulders. Just to see if they were as rock-solid as they looked.
But she was pretty sure once she had her hands on that body, she’d be hard-pressed to keep her exploration to just his shoulders.
Desire tingled over her skin. Tingled, for Christ’s sake. She, the woman who’d laugh if anyone else said that, was tingling.
“Before we order, there are two things I need to tell you,” he said, his tone as serious as his eyes were hypnotic.
She could lose herself in those dark depths, she thought before playing his words back.
Darby’s smile faded. Tell her things? Well, that was never good.
“First, I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. You remind me of a sexy pixie.”
“I knew I should have worn heels,” Darby murmured, trying not to be too charmed by the image his words invoked. But dammit, she’d taken a lot of hits about her stature over the years—this was the first that made her want to embrace it.
“It’s more about your look than your height. You’ve got that sharp, edgy, too-gorgeous-to-be-real thing going on.” His smile quirked, one brow arching in amusement. “Add in a hint of sass and a look that says you have a way with wicked, and there you go. Sexy pixie.”
“Mmm, I can do wicked,” Darby agreed, relaxing enough to reach across the table and slide her fingers over the back of his hand. “Or is that naughty? I have trouble telling the difference between the two.”
Ahh, there it was. Heat. Her pulse picked up a beat as she watched it flare in his eyes.
She might owe Grace a thank-you gift for putting sex in her head.
“You said two things,” she reminded him.
“Damn. Looking at you made me lose my train of thought.”
He shook his head as if trying to clear the fog. She liked that. Appreciated that he didn’t try to play cool or pretend he wasn’t affected. Who knew how sexy honesty could be?
“Okay, second thing.” He took a quick drink of his ice water before continuing. “I’m here for vacation. But when I’m not on, um, vacation, my career is intense. It demands all of my time, every ounce of my attention. I’m the kind of guy who makes workaholics look like slackers.”
“Your career is your life,” she murmured.
His arched brow said, “Exactly.”
Oh. Darby felt the tingle all the way down to her toes. See, she thought. Her mantra was sexy.
“You sound proud,” she said, appreciating every word. She’d heard plenty of people claim their career was priority. She’d come across quite a few workaholics, especially in her line of work.
But this was the first time she’d seen the same passion, the same at-the-cost-of-anything zeal in someone’s eyes that also drove her.
Oh, yeah. So sexy.
“I am proud,” he admitted. “Dedication is vital in my world. Because of mine, I’m damn good at what I do.”
His smile faded, something that looked like pain flashing in his eyes for a moment before his expression cleared. “Yeah. Damn good. But that doesn’t leave room in my life for anything else.”
And there it was, she realized as she felt a tiny ping in her heart. It was as if he knew the exact words to dissolve every single smidgen of her resistance.
Now, resistance-free, she felt a little giddy. And ready to dive into her first romantic vacation fling. With that in mind, Darby flashed a sassy smile then pursed her lips.
“Oh, no.” She heaved a deep sigh. “Does this mean you’re not planning to ask me to run off after dessert to get married so we can open a cute little bed-and-breakfast on the beach, where you’ll cook, and homeschool our eight children?”
“What are you doing while I’m slaving over stove and chalkboard?”
“Eight children,” she reminded him, her smile masking her bafflement at the idea of how much work that must be. Eight. Did anyone have that much love? Her mother hadn’t even had enough for two. But this was a game, she reminded herself. “Which means that I, of course, will be splitting my time between mommy duties and making sure I look hot and sexy in order to lure you into bed to work on number nine.”
“Does that lure include hot-oil body rubs, see-through nighties and the occasional role-playing game?”
“Of course.”
“Sounds tempting,” he decided with a long, slow smile so sexy that Darby felt its impact deep in her belly.
“Only one problem,” he confessed. “I’m a lousy cook.”
“Me, too.” She shrugged. “I guess there goes that dream.”
“It’s a good thing we found out now, before we got in too deep.”
Mmm, deep. God, a part of her wanted to give herself a good forehead smack to shake those sexy thoughts out of her mind. It wasn’t as if she was frigid—no matter what Paul said—but still, she’d never been one of those sex-obsessed women focused on the varied and satisfying ways to get off.
Yes, sitting here with Dominic, thoughts of sex were filling her mind. Sexual innuendos. Sexual positions, sexual pleasure. Oh, yeah. Pleasure.
“So now that we know we’re not destined for happy-ever-after?” she ventured, wanting to get herself back on track along with the conversation.
“Now I do the gentlemanly thing and tell you that as attracted as I am to you, all I can offer is this week.”
Darby’s pulse leaped with delight.
Talk about perfect. If she had ever thought there was anything to magic or intuition, Dominic’s words would have cemented her belief. But she was a pragmatist through and through.
So she took it as a sign, instead.
Paul thought she was too much of a control freak to ever let go, to ever just enjoy the moment without having to know every single detail. Well, look at her now. Here she was, proving exactly how wrong he was.
“Just this week? As in, no commitment, no expectation of more than a little vacation fun?” She leaned forward with narrowed eyes, angled her chin and arched one brow. “So basically, all you want is sex? A little vacation fling? Some naughty nooky with nothing on the side?”
“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, tipping back a chug of Scotch.
Both brows rose now. She’d made seasoned defense attorneys cry with that tone, but Dominic didn’t even blink.
“Actually, it’s an excellent thing,” Darby decided, sipping her own drink and wishing the froth was something stronger. “My life, my real life, gets intense. My career demands a lot of my attention, most of my focus. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
She bit her lip, wishing that last sentence hadn’t sounded so defensive. Another reason to dive into this vacation fling, she decided. She would rock the hell out of work-life balance.
“You won’t hear any argument from me. I’m a big believer in giving one hundred ten, even one hundred twenty percent, to your career. As long as you’re happy and fulfilled, it’s all good.” His smile slipped a bit. “Barring anything that breaks the national, state or city laws, of course.”
“Well, that’s specific,” Darby said with a laugh. Not just the law, but all shades of the law.
“I believe in covering all contingencies.”
“I like that in a man.”
“Excellent.” He gestured for the waiter to pour the wine, waiting until the man left before lifting his glass. “Here’s to vacation mysteries and pleasurable fantasies.”
“I think I can drink to that,” she agreed, a little thrilled to realize that she could not only drink to it, but she also actually welcomed it.
“So what do you do when you’re not sipping frothy pink drinks in Hanalei?” he asked after they’d clicked and sipped.
“You had your two things, here are mine.” Mind made up, she leaned forward with a smile hopefully tempting enough to lure him into agreement. “First off, you’re a gorgeous man who is filling my head with thoughts and fantasies so detailed and erotic that I’m surprised I’m not blushing.”
“Is that a fact?” When he turned his wrist so their hands were palm-to-palm and gently rubbed his thumb over her pulse, even those thoughts blurred. Darby had to take a couple of deep breaths to pull them back into focus.
“Mmm, yes. That is a fact. So thing one is to assure you that despite bursting my beachside B-and-B bubble, the attraction is very mutual.”
“That’s good to know.” His smile shifted, his dark eyes narrowing with desire. “Since I plan on finding out a lot more about those fantasies of yours so we can play them out in exquisite detail.”
Oh, boy. She wanted a sip of ice water to cool her throat—or a gulp of wine to steady her nerves. But she forced herself to continue without either.
“Which brings me to the second thing.”
Talk about wicked. His smile shifted, sparking a curl of hot desire deep in her belly. The kind that made Darby want to press her thighs tight together to intensify, to build until the pleasure exploded.
“The second thing is that we agree that whether our time together is limited to dinner, to the night, or the entire week, that it’s only about here and now.” Afraid she was sounding like some goofy romantic in a sappy movie, Darby cleared her throat and continued. “Whatever time we spend together will be focused on the matter at hand with no sharing of personal details. Topics such as careers, job demands, educational specifics or anything work-related is off-limits.”
“Interesting.” He arched one brow. “Are you involved in anything illegal?”
Tempted to laugh, Darby shook her head.
“Immoral? Illicit?”
Immoral? Thinking of the thousands of lawyer jokes she’d heard over the years, Darby’s lips twitched again.
“There is nothing about my vocation that the United States government would frown on,” she said primly.
“So that’s it? No sharing home addresses or phone numbers, and no job talk?”
“Not even a hint.”
Considering, he leaned back in his seat while the waiter set salads lush with leafy greens, spears of fruit and a dusting of fried plantains in front of them.
“Any other personal details off-limits?” he asked as soon as the man was out of earshot.
“Last names,” she added, just for fun. She knew all it’d take was a visit to the front desk—probably even less for him—to get that information. But it added to that the mystery. “We stick with Darby and Dominic. Which would have been a great name for that B and B, by the way.”
“I can see the carved driftwood sign hanging over the door,” he agreed. “But since you’ve put the kibosh on that particular fantasy, I guess we’ll settle for the other one. A week of vacation pleasure. We’ll live in the moment, with no pressures and no expectations on either side. Except for pleasure. I have a lot of expectations when it comes to pleasure with you, Darby of no last name.”
His expression was easy, the look in his eyes promising that the pleasure he offered was more than anything she’d ever imagined. But there was something else there, Darby realized. She’d seen hints of it already, an intensity and guarded pain, that made her realize that while this little escape into fantasy was something she wanted, it was actually something Dominic needed.
A tickle in her belly joined the sexual tingles teasing her skin. Darby wasn’t sure what it meant. She recognized the attraction—the guy was gorgeous, after all. But there was something deeper pulling at her, tugging her heartstrings. Making her want to cuddle the man close and smooth away any pain. To give him a safe haven against the miseries she saw in his eyes.
Whoa.
Freak-out alert. Darby could feel her brain scrambling back from the concept of emotional anything.
Emotions led to feelings. Feelings led to pain. Pain led to debilitation. The kind that slayed hearts, destroyed families, ruined lives.
No can do.
No way.
No thanks.
Darby drew in a slow, deep breath, feeling as if she’d just backed away from a mental cliff on a windy day.
Emotions didn’t come into this, she assured herself. This thing, this week, it was all about the physical. Or, better yet, the fantasy.
“That’s exactly what I want,” she told Dominic, leaning forward take his hands in hers. “I want the fantasy. I want to lose myself in the pleasure of this gorgeous resort, this beautiful island and each other. I’d like to see what life is like outside of the world I usually live in.”
Dominic lifted both her hands to his lips, brushing a warm kiss over the knuckles of one, then the other. He smiled, his mouth still warming her skin.
“If it’s a fantasy you want, darling, it’s a fantasy I’ll give you. One you’ll never forget.”
Uh-oh.
Darby knew trouble when it was kissing her hand.
But this was vacation.
Her chance to prove that she had a life outside of work. A way to relax that she could actually enjoy.
So what if the guy was trouble?
Nobody was going to be hurt by this. They were both single, both free to enjoy themselves. And both interested, with a solid finish line already spelled out.
It was perfect.
For the first time in her life, she was ready to simply live in the moment. To grab on with both hands and ride it like a wild stallion, wringing every drop of pleasure there was to be had from it.
Talk about work-life balance.
Who knew it could feel so delicious.
CHAPTER THREE (#ufc3e9651-3795-5276-9e20-1e4fb91cb28a)
BY THE END of dinner, Nic was mentally writing a thank-you note to whatever universal being had sent Darby his way. Fate, his guardian angel—and no way a man saw what he did and lived through it all without believing there was an angel watching over his ass—or, in his case, the god Poseidon, whom he’d pledged service to when he’d earned his trident.
Whoever, whatever, there was no question that they were looking out for him. Darby wasn’t just stunning, she was intriguing. There was an edgy sophistication in her demeanor that pricked at his curiosity and engaged his mind. As easy to talk to as she was to look at, she had a husky laugh, a wicked sense of humor and an easy sexuality that spelled interesting things for this week of living a fantasy.
Nic watched her lick the last smear of caramel from her spoon, liking the way she seemed to give her entire focus to enjoying experiences. Food. Drink. Flirting. So far, the woman seemed to embrace every sensual moment of them.
“The band is good,” she observed as the music drifted up from the lanai.
“They’ve got a solid reputation,” he agreed. Then, after a long moment, he asked, “Would you like to dance?”
His hesitance didn’t stem from reluctance to hit the dance floor. It was simply a matter of not bursting the fantasy bubble before they’d even got naked. The lead singer of the band currently rocking out an island version of “Welcome to the Jungle” was his cousin. If they went downstairs, there was no way his identity—or rather, his career, which was one and the same—would stay secret.
“Do you not like to dance?” Darby asked, resting her elbows on the table and leaning toward him with a teasing smile. “Are you self-conscious about your moves? Oh, I know. Maybe you’re one of those awkward, flailing dancers? Or do you give Frankenstein a run for his money?”
She added a jerky, stiff-armed shimmy that made him laugh.
“My moves are solid,” he assured her as he mimicked her stance to watch the candlelight dance highlights over her face. “And I promise, there’s nothing awkward about my body when I use it.”
Her mouth rounded in an O, even as her eyes narrowed as if she was imagining just how that’d feel.
Then, her hypnotic eyes locked on his, she arched one brow, pursed her lips and said, “Prove it.”
For all the fantasy talk, he’d figured it’d take them a few days to build to a climax...so to speak. He hadn’t thought he’d be proving anything tonight. He’d left his rack-’em-and-stack-’em days behind a decade ago. But, dammit, he’d never been able to resist a dare.
So, planning it out with the same quick thinking and detailed focus as he would any operation, Nic stood, holding out his hand to her.
“Shall we?”
“You’re going to show me your moves?”
“They’ll leave you begging for more,” he promised.
“I’ve got to warn you, I don’t usually dance with a partner.”
“You have something against moving against a partner?”
She gave a tut-tutting sigh even as she slipped her hand into his.
“Sadly, I’ve yet to find a partner who has the right rhythm to match my moves.”
Nic shot her a doubtful look and asked, “Are your moves really that awkward?”
Appreciation and humor danced in those big whiskey eyes for a moment before challenge took their place. With her head tilted to the side, she locked her eyes on his and, taking a minute step forward, rose.
Just close enough to hint at their bodies brushing against each other. His body tightened, heat kindling. The look in her eyes said she knew she had his interest, and she was deciding just exactly what she wanted to do about it.
Nic liked that.
He liked that a lot.
It wasn’t just the appeal of a woman who could laugh at herself that turned him on—although that was sexy as hell.
For a man whose entire life was built on overcoming challenges, was there any sexier allure than a woman whose expression promised that she was up to meeting any challenge he tossed her way with absolute assurance and confidence?
As he drew her toward the railing, where they could better hear the music, the distraction he’d been searching for took on a whole new light.
“Here?” Looking self-conscious for the first time, she glanced at the other diners. There were only four tables on the balcony, but they’d be the only ones dancing.
“Here. Under the moonlight, away from the crowd. It’s all about the fantasy,” he assured her.
Then, because it was, he drew her into his arms. Nic had never narrowed his interest to only one type of woman, but he realized as he pulled Darby close, that he’d never gone for petite. If he’d ever thought about it, he’d have figured the foot difference in their height would make dancing awkward.
He’d have been wrong.
As his hands skimmed down her back, sliding over the gentle curves of her butt, he realized just how wrong.
She was the perfect fit.
* * *
OH, YEAH.
Darby’s heart stuttered a little, almost tripping over itself in the shock of feeling Dominic’s body wrapped around hers.
Music drifted up from the beach, the band’s rendition of “Iris” wrapping around them like a soft breeze off the moonlit ocean. A lesser woman might have called it romantic, especially with the heady scent of plumeria and candle wax filling the air.
But Darby Raye was a hard-ass. Everyone said so.
So she knew this wasn’t about romance.
Nope, like Dominic had said, it was all about the fantasy.
And the fantasy was sex.
Sex, and, she could admit only to herself, a chance to simply let go. To enjoy herself without worrying about stepping on a man’s ego. To make her own demands.
It was a heady feeling, she thought as she let her body ease against Dominic’s and, eyes closed, rested her head on his shoulder and let herself enjoy it.
From the breadth of his rock-hard chest to the strength of his thighs to the gentle power of the arms wrapped around her waist, the man felt amazing.
Mmm, it’d feel so good to snuggle in, to tuck her head beneath that firm jaw and sigh her pleasure.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, Darby slapped it right back out again. Snuggling was romantic, like cuddling. It was soft and trusting and sweet.
She was so not the snuggling type.
But as her dress pressed between her thighs, the fabric rustling as it brushed his legs with every easy step, she had to admit that she just might be the sex-at-first-sight type.
She’d never met a guy before who’d made her want to strip him naked and lick caramel sauce off his body. Maybe it was time to give it a try.
“You’ve got some sweet moves.”
Lifting her head to stare into his dark eyes, she debated pointing out that Dominic was the one with the moves. She was only following along.
Before she could, he lowered his head, just those few inches, and rubbed his lips over hers.
Soft, a mere whisper.
Her knees went to water, her body flashing hot and needy in response to the instant inferno that touch set off.
God, was all she could think.
Then, still swaying to the beat of the music, he did it again.
Like grabbing for a lifeline, Darby’s hands linked behind his neck, her fingers delving into the short, thick strands of silky hair.
She tried to swallow her soft breathy moan of pleasure. No point making him think that all it took was a simple kiss and she was his for the taking. Why fool the man into thinking anything about her was that easy?
But, oh, baby. Darby melted. She actually felt herself melting into a puddle of lust.
She knew she should take a step back and think this through. Consider the consequences, weigh her options and devise the most logical scenario to work this situation in her favor.
Then his tongue swept over her lower lip, and she was done. She simply couldn’t think. And she didn’t care that her brain wouldn’t function. Not while she was reveling in her lusty puddle.
When he lifted his head to stare into her eyes with that midnight gaze of his, she was ready. The agreement was poised on the tip of her tongue, just waiting for the question.
“Would you like to take a walk?”
Not her hotel room? Darby’s tongue almost tripped over itself adjusting.
“A what?”
“Walk.” He tilted his head toward the spiral staircase. “On the beach.”
Was his bed on the beach? Because hers was only two floors up. Before she could point that out, he shifted away. Stepped back. Gave her space, she realized. Space and plenty of time to decide what she wanted. Something Paul had never liked, probably because what she wanted rarely coincided with what he wanted.
But Dominic seemed perfectly content to let her decide.
So she considered the options.
Upstairs, where they could immediately quench the heat stirring and blowing through her. Or a walk on the beach, letting the heat build, hotter and stronger.
She wanted him. Wanted to see if the feelings he stirred were just a tease, a fluke, or the simple result of celibacy.
But he wanted to walk on the beach.
Before the bitter taste of insult could overwhelm the delicious flavor of his kiss, she looked into his eyes again. And realized this wasn’t disinterest. Oh, he was plenty interested and not hesitant to let it show.
He was simply being a gentleman.
God, that was sweet.
But she wanted sex, not sweetness. And the sooner they found privacy, aka her hotel room, the sooner she figured she’d get him naked.
Then he smiled. A flash of white against dusky cheeks.
And her heart yearned.
“I’d like to walk,” she heard herself say.
“Perfect.” Still holding her hand, he lifted it to his mouth, brushing a soft kiss over her knuckles before leading her toward the spiral staircase. She saw him signal to the waiter, settling the dinner bill with a simple head tilt and nod.
Why that should be almost as sexy as kissing her hand, she couldn’t say. But it got her even hotter.
They silently walked hand in hand down the shell-encrusted path bisecting the sand. To the left was a row of bungalows, each one set farther away from each other than the last. To the right was the ocean, the waves dancing in time to the beat of the band’s cover of Poison’s “Something to Believe In.”
He bypassed the as-advertised crowded lanai filled with celebratory sounds and gyrating dancers. The path he chose was well lit, with tall tiki torches spearing from the ground every ten feet and strings of twinkling fairy lights strung between. The juxtaposition of the primitive and the whimsical only added to the fantasy feel.
About halfway down the beach, far enough that the resort crowd was shadowed specks, he stopped.
Stepping off the path, he pulled her into his arms. His gaze held hers as he lowered his mouth, the kiss a soft whisper that filled her with a heady need even as it asked, and waited.
Still the gentleman, she realized.
She bit his lower lip, sucking the flesh between her teeth to lave it with her tongue.
He gave a low growl of approval and, obviously reading her answer correctly, took the kiss from sweet to incendiary. Tongues thrusted, teeth scraped, lips melded in a hot dance of intense pleasure.
She skimmed her hand under the hem of his T-shirt, her palm smoothing the hot planes of his abs. The rock-hard muscles were a vivid contrast against the soft fabric of his shirt as her fingers climbed higher, smoothing and circling their way up to his chest.
God.
There had to be another exclamation that would do justice to his awesomeness. But she couldn’t think of it. Bottom line, the man had the body of a god.
“I have to say, this fantasy is even better than I’d expected.”
“Darling, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Dominic promised.
That cocky assurance was almost as much a turn-on as the feel of his bare chest beneath her fingers. She shivered a little as desire grabbed hard and strong.
He untied the straps of her dress, stepping back so the fabric fell, unimpeded, to her waist. Darby stood in the moonlight, shoulders, back and chest bare, as turned on by the look on his face as she’d ever been by anything else in her life.
His eyes caressed, his expression admired.
Then he touched.
And she damn near came.
His fingers swirled, skimmed, teased her nipples into new heights of aching pleasure. She dug her hands into his shoulders, wanting more, needing everything.
“Privacy?”
“That’s my bungalow,” he murmured. His mouth slid soft kisses over the aching curve of her breast.
“Inside?”
“I will be.”
Darby’s laugh was a breathless puff of air.
The logical, analytical, cautious voice in her head that was usually in charge of her every choice screamed at her to stop. This was insane. She didn’t even know the guy’s last name, had met him less than four hours ago, and was getting naked on the beach when there were perfectly private walls to get naked behind only a few feet away.
She needed to stop.
She gasped when his fingers skimmed inside the elastic band of her thong, sliding over the throbbing wet heat between her legs.
Or at least slow down. Yeah, slow down long enough to eliminate one of those issues from the list. The last name. Or knowing each other longer. Or even walls.
Walls were good.
“Here?”
“Now.”
Her breath coming in pants, Darby knew very little oxygen was making it to her brain. But there was enough—just barely enough—to spur her to ask... “Sand?”
A little rough stuff could be fun. Exciting, even. But she didn’t think sex and exfoliation should go hand in hand. Or, in this case, thigh-to-thigh.
“Leave it to me,” he promised, the words hot and moist against her flesh as he slid nibbling kisses over her throat.
He lowered them both to the sand, shifting so she was sitting on his lap. His hands moved faster now, racing over her bare flesh, teasing and tempting. As she tugged off his T-shirt, he sent her dress flying.
Clothes disappeared, bodies heated. His hands were everywhere, his mouth hot and wet as he lifted her high over his body. His fingers delved deep into her wet heat, stirring her hotter and higher as she poised above him.
He took care of protection in a swift, easy move before pulling her back into his arms, then positioned her over the impressive power of his erection.
“Give yourself to me,” he demanded, his husky words melding with the sound of the surf.
Watching his face, reveling in the appreciative pleasure she saw there, Darby slowly took him inside her. Her breath shuddered out, body quaking with the first orgasm as he filled her.
He let her set the pace, watched her like a hawk to gauge her pleasure, taking his own as he intensified the moves that she liked best.
Need tightened, coiling hot and hard.
He reached between their bodies, his fingers sliding over her wet, throbbing folds.
She exploded.
The roar of pleasure surged through her, ripping her to pieces. The feel of his climax, the grip of his hands on her hips, only sent her flying higher.
Holy freaking hell, was all she could think as she tried to reconnect her mind and her body.
Darby didn’t know how long it was before she melted into his arms, the sound of the ocean’s waves playing a soft backdrop to the feel of her body slowly floating down from passion’s crest.
Damn, she thought as she tucked her head under Dominic’s chin.
This fantasy thing was amazing.
* * *
NIC WAS GOOD. Damn good.
He’d never had to think much about it. He considered that a simple reality. And given the amount of verification he’d had over the years, he’d never had reason to doubt that reality.
But with Darby, damn...
He’d met his match.
He’d figured she was hot. He wouldn’t have introduced himself to her otherwise. He’d felt a connection—he wouldn’t have hit on her otherwise. He’d figured they’d rock the sex. But he hadn’t expected her to make him pant with need, then blow his mind. For a man known for his skill in seeing probable outcomes, it was one hell of a nice surprise.
They’d hit it on the beach, then they’d followed up with round two on his bungalow floor. He was pretty sure she’d have slipped out the minute they found their clothes again, so he’d snagged her underwear and carried her into his bed.
He called that strategy.
He called their third round of hot sex incredible.
Now, his body hummed with bone-deep satisfaction, the kind that could only be had from mind-blowingly intense sex. He counted the beats of his heart, waiting for it to return to normal. But even as Darby’s breath warmed his chest, his body stirred for another round. She burrowed closer as the night air drifted over their entangled bodies, her thigh sliding over his already hardening erection. Desire shot through him like an electric current, energizing even as it demanded satisfaction.
Figuring she needed sleep—or at least a little time to recover from that last sweaty bout of passion, Nic carefully slid out of her arms. Snagging the comforter from where they’d kicked it to the floor, he carefully draped it over her, tucking the ends to keep in the warmth.
For a second, a long delicious second, he watched her sleep. She didn’t look any less wicked with her eyes closed, and now that he knew what her body was capable of? He’d never think of her as cute again. Nope, this woman was all heat. All power. All temptation.
Nic turned away before he could give in to the lure.
He crossed the bedroom, his steps silent on the sisal rug. Pushing aside one section of the wall’s sheer panels, he pulled open the glass door and stepped onto the patio. The wooden slats ran the length of the bungalow, a low railing open at one end for easy access to the beach.
Nic ignored the deeply cushioned chairs, instead hooking one knee over the rail as he breathed in the damp, salty air.
He stared out over the black waves, letting the power of the ocean fill him, wishing it would soothe the unrelenting pain lodged in his heart.
But now that the sex was done, the memories that haunted him every night flooded back in.
His team was under attack.
He was one man down.
And he couldn’t even see the enemy. He’d tried. He’d put his best man—himself—on it, but while he’d identified the frontline attack, whoever was masterminding the operation was still off his radar.
Team Poseidon was good. Damn good.
That’s why they’d formed. Because they were the best.
Although Nic had known a few of them since his petty officer days, the twelve men had become a team in BUD/S training. It’d been over a decade, but all he had to do was close his eyes and he was right back there in the Grinder. They’d bonded over the challenge, over the pain, over the intense demands on their bodies. One minute they were competing for the best time in the thousand-meter swim, the next they were working together to cart a 150-pound log down the beach. The records they’d set still hadn’t been surpassed. They’d worked together as a team, each one pushing the other to be the best, then better than the best.
So impressed with the way the twelve of them had come together, had teamed up and had balanced each other in those six months, Admiral Cree had wondered just how good they could be.
Under his auspices, Poseidon was born. In return for their promise to pursue his mandate, he’d guaranteed they’d deploy and serve together.
In the decade since Team Poseidon was created, they had become the best. Their reputation was on par with SEAL Team Six. Except unlike SEAL Team Six, whose members switched out regularly, Team Poseidon was exclusive. Each man on the team trained in multiple ratings, each man served under a variety of officers and each one was sent on the most dangerous missions. Together and apart, they upheld the reputation of Poseidon, the god of the sea.
Nic dropped his head back against the wall of his bungalow and stared at the sky. The stars had guided sailors for centuries. He wished like hell they’d guide him now.
Because his team was under attack. His team, and his reputation.
Maybe it hadn’t started as an attack against Poseidon. They’d simply become a convenient scapegoat after Operation: Hammerhead, when an attempt to sell the formula for a stolen chemical formula had gone bad. In the process of clearing his men of the fallout from that foiled operation, Nic had discovered the crime went a lot deeper. And had been going on for a lot longer than just one mission.
If there was ever an enemy Poseidon had to beat, it was this one. But they couldn’t win until they determined the exact identity of that enemy, established his position and assessed his power.
Nic just had to figure out how. But so far, he was failing.
He sighed as he watched a star streak across the sky, its light a blur against the inky black backdrop.
Maybe it was time to revisit the reason why they’d formed the team, what drove them. To do that, he had to start with himself.
The last couple of years, he’d spent more time riding a desk than seeing any action. Sure, he still showed for daily PT, he still trained with the SEAL team. He participated in all of the training maneuvers. But he spent more time administrating than fighting.
He frowned, realizing that it’d been over fourteen months since he’d last had boots on the ground on a mission. And that was way too long. It was time to get back to basics.
That’d help him reconnect to his roots, and help shore up any flagging morale among the team. They’d up their training, too. Time to intensify a few things, including their skills in cryptology.
Lansky was his best tech guy, but the rest of the team needed to up their expertise. Poseidon operated under the belief that every man should be able to do every job, no matter what his rating. So they’d all bone up on their computer skills.
Torres, Rengel and Powers had the most training in intelligence. Given the investigation, it was unlikely that anyone in the intelligence community would offer the rest of the team training. But Nic could tap those three to give the rest of them a refresher.
Except he didn’t have three, he reminded himself as his heart gave a heavy thud in chest. He was down to two. Just as the team was down to eleven.
Because they’d lost Powers.
Rubbing his hand over his suddenly aching eyes, Nic tried to push aside the emotion. The minute he returned to duty, the team was embarking on the biggest mission of their careers. The one to save their reputations and take down a covert enemy. He couldn’t lead that mission if he was wallowing in grief.
And maybe a few of them should take some additional law courses. Louden, for sure, maybe Danby and Prescott, too. They had the analytical skill set to see the nuances that could help if this all went south.
Trouble was coming.
Trouble that could take down the team. That could destroy a decade of hard work. It’d damage the reputations of good men who’d devoted their lives to their country. If they failed, a treasonous mastermind would continue undeterred in their destruction of everything men like Nic and his team fought to protect.
Which meant they couldn’t lose.
He never lost.
With one last glance at the moon riding over the sea, Nic rubbed his hand over his vacation goatee and headed back inside.
Damn.
Looked like he had the beginning of a solid battle plan.
As usual, Cree was right. All Nic needed was a little time, a little distance, and he’d get his head together. He’d use the rest of this week to map out his strategy, to think through the steps and to consider every obstacle and counterstrategy.
As Nic crossed to the bed, he noted the woman sprawled over his sheets. Her dark hair spiked around her face, the sharp angles softened in sleep. The sapphire comforter covered but didn’t disguise her petite curves, her lush breasts rising temptingly over the crisp linen. Even as his body stirred, he wondered how much credit she deserved for his mental breakthrough.
A gorgeous woman, intriguing conversation and the hottest sex he’d ever had in his life. Yeah, that might be the perfect combination for a sweet breakthrough.
Which meant he’d need to put all of his energies this week into ensuring it happened again and again. And again.
Nic grinned, wondering if someday he’d look back and credit sex with Darby as a key turning point in saving his career. He slid back between the sheets, wrapping himself around her soft warmth. As she curled into him, her scent surrounding him like a sensual fog, he finally felt sleep beckon.
Before he drifted off, he thought of what was at stake. Of the years of work, of focus and, dammit, yes, of brilliance that’d made Poseidon the best. The god of the sea.
He’d be damned if anything was going to tear that down. As long as one man was still devoted to Team Poseidon, Nic knew he’d be right there, leading the charge.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ufc3e9651-3795-5276-9e20-1e4fb91cb28a)
DARBY FELT AS if she’d dropped into some sort of alternate universe. The kind where mornings started with alcohol-infused frozen drinks, fresh fruit and malasadas.
Where breakfast was served on the patio of a cozy bungalow overlooking the ocean, with the sun already warming her skin, which was bare but for a vivid purple bikini and a wrap in the bleeding colors of sunset.
Where her body still buzzed from a night of amazing sex, aching in places she hadn’t realized could ache. Her thighs still quivered whenever she moved her legs, inciting a tingling sort of heat.
“You okay?”
“Of course,” Darby said, her smile fluttering. “Just enjoying breakfast.”
And the view.
Although she didn’t mean the white sands and blue water, although they were stunning in the morning light. Nope, what fascinated her was the gorgeous man sitting across the table.
His hypnotic eyes were shielded by dark sunglasses, and the sun glinted off the inky black of his hair, casting a gilded glow over the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Like her, he was dressed for swimming in navy trunks and a matching T-shirt that molded itself over tempting muscles.
Muscles she’d explored, enjoyed, embraced over and over last night. Biceps almost as thick as her thigh and ripped shoulders broad enough to hold on to no matter how wild the ride. And his skin. Hot silk over rigid strength.
Grabbing her frozen breakfast cocktail, Darby sucked up a long drink of juice to wet her suddenly dry mouth. But the icy drink did nothing to cool the fire in her belly. Her body still tingled from the remnants of their shower sex-induced orgasms, and all she wanted was to go again.
How could she be this obsessed?
She’d only known the man for twelve hours.
It was just sex, she assured herself. Desire.
That wasn’t anything to worry about.
“Another malasada?”
“I should say no,” Darby said even as she reached for another sugar-coated ball of fried dough. “But I can’t. These are delicious. Better than any donut holes I’ve had before.”
“They’re my favorites,” Dominic admitted, studying one before popping it into his mouth. “When I was a kid, Avo Celia used to make malasadas whenever I’d visit because she knew I loved them. Just like this, covered in cinnamon sugar. My uncle gave the chef his mom’s recipe, so it’s always a little bit of nostalgia when I’m here.”
“It must be great to have that sort of family tradition,” she said, liking how his face softened as he talked about them.
What was that like, having a treat-making grandmother? Darby’s mom’s parents had died before she was born, and her dad’s hadn’t had much interest in their son, let alone his progeny. Both were only children, which meant there hadn’t been any aunts or uncles to fill that family role. No family, no family treats. Something Darby had never regretted until just now. Because, damn, it would have been amazing to grow up with a family tradition of delicious fried dough balls.
“Did you have a favorite meal growing up? You know, like a birthday dinner or holiday brunch?” Dominic asked, looking like he actually cared.
The idea sent a thrill of delight through her, making Darby wish she could say yes.
“I forgot about my last birthday until it was two days passed,” Darby admitted with a self-deprecating sort of laugh. “But when I remembered, I hit Starbucks for an iced smoked butterscotch latte. It wasn’t a tradition but it was damn good.”
“You forgot about your birthday? As in, you were so deep in work that you didn’t realize what day it was and skipped right by it?” Dominic popped a slice of mango into his mouth and shook his head. “I’ve been away, on...on jobs, traveling, that kind of thing, on my birthday, but I always make damn sure I at least knock back a Scotch to toast another year.”
“Every year?” Not sure why that impressed her, Darby ran her fingers through her still-damp-from-the-shower hair, widening her eyes as it fell in spikes around her face. “Do you do that blowing-out-the-candle thing, too?”
“You’re telling me you don’t even blow out candles?”
“So?” The look on his face made Darby want to squirm. “My family was never big on the whole party or candles thing. I think the last time was maybe my seventeenth birthday when my brother got me a cupcake.”
“A single cupcake?”
“The frosting had a flower on it,” Darby said, wondering why she felt the need to apologize.
“And the rest of your family?”
“I don’t have much of a family. No aunts or uncles, my grandparents died before I was born.” She rolled the remaining malasada around on her plate. No delicious family recipes handed down, no real traditions. She dusted the sugar from her fingers and shrugged. “My parents divorced when I was five, then my dad died. So mostly it was just my mom, brother and I.”
“Were you close?”
“No.”
Sure, her mom and brother had been close. So close that her mom hadn’t had much room—or need—for her. But with five years between her and Danny, he’d had his own life. His own interests. Still, he’d cared enough to make a fuss about her birthday once. But he’d left her. He’d joined the Navy, decided he had something stupid to prove. And died.
Her mouth trembled as she tried to keep her smile in place. Not because she was upset or hurting. Hell, no. She’d spent almost a decade teaching herself not to wallow in grief. But she’d forgotten how nice it’d always been when Danny fussed about her birthday.
“Seriously.” Darby shrugged off the dragging sadness and returned to their earlier topic. “Don’t you think candles are on par with kids beating on piñatas or scary clowns making balloon dogs?”
“I think every year we mark off should be noted in a special way. You think we should stop celebrating life when we hit a certain age?”
“You make it sound as if you like getting older.”
“Don’t you think it beats the hell out of the alternative?” Dominic considered another malasada, rolling it between his fingers a few times before tossing it into his mouth. “I like to think that someday, I’ll be blowing out eighty or ninety candles on a big ol’ cake covered in chocolate frosting.”
“Chocolate?”
“I do love me some chocolate.”
“Mmm, chocolate,” she murmured. Darby didn’t know if it was the way he said it or if it was her oversexed imagination, but she had the sudden image of Dominic laid out on the bed covered in frosting so she could nibble and lick her way up his body, then back down again. “I have a sudden craving for a taste.”
“Maybe I’ll ask the chef to whip up a bowl of my favorite,” he suggested in a husky tone.
Darby knew what he was asking.
This was supposed to be a friendly morning-after breakfast. A friendly, mature way to end a very intense night of hot sex so it didn’t seem like a cheap one-night stand.
The way it was now, Darby could get up, grab the bag she’d brought back after a quick trip to her hotel room between bouts five and six and, with a friendly kiss on the cheek, end her vacation fling.
The door was wide-open, a neon sign flashing overhead a guarantee of no regrets or recriminations on either side. But only if she walked through that door in the next half hour.
If she stayed, if she agreed to chocolate frosting, she was making a commitment. The kind that said, yes, she’d be spending more of her vacation with this man. That instead of enjoying her next seven days at the resort alone, wallowing in doing anything and everything she wanted by herself, she’d spend at least some of that time with him.
The only commitment Darby was willing to make in life was to her career. That was the only thing she had control of, the only place she had any guarantee that her hard work, devotion and emotional investment would give any sort of return.
Unlike relationships, her career didn’t make unreasonable demands. Unlike friendships, her career didn’t let her down. Unlike family, her career didn’t break her heart.
Yet, as she stared at his compelling face across the breakfast table, she was tempted. And, hey, this was vacation. In normal life, she didn’t have random sex. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of gal.
Yet, here she was, having a vacation fling.
Sitting across the table from the man she’d had random sex with, contemplating the wisdom of extending one wild night into a weeklong frosting fest.
All she could do was shake her head.
“Well, I have to say this sure beats my normal morning routine.” She scooped up a spoonful of fruit, reveling in the burst of flavor from the fresh pineapple. “Why not see if we can beat my usual evening routine by enjoying a little chocolate frosting. Maybe you could pull some strings and get cupcakes to go with that frosting.”
“You want cupcakes, I’m your man. What’s your favorite flavor?” His smile flashed, and was so damn sexy that Darby almost squirmed in her seat. “We’ll combine mine and yours.”
Oh, how many images that brought to mind. Darby pressed her hand against the butterflies doing the tango in her belly. When had she become totally obsessed with sex?
She wanted to think all she felt for him was a physical attraction. Sure, maybe there was an energy between them, and she liked the way he talked. And yes, she liked the way he seemed to appreciate her strength, how he seemed to admire individuality. And there was something powerful about the intensity that seemed as much a part of him as his sexy smile.
Her gaze scanned the man across from her, noting the way the sun glinted of his muscles, how his smile seemed to reflect that light.
And suddenly she didn’t care. It didn’t matter why. She wasn’t worried about where it was going or what she was feeling.
She was on vacation.
She was simply going to enjoy it. Every delicious second of it.
“Chocolate,” Darby admitted. “Chocolate goes great with chocolate.”
* * *
“CHOCOLATE-CHOCOLATE, HMM? That sounds delicious.”
Intrigued, Nic watched the play of emotions chasing each other across Darby’s face. The woman was a study of conflicting emotions. Sweet one second, edgy the next. She spoke of that birthday cupcake with a hint of joy, then dismissed it with a voice that spoke of heartbreak. She enjoyed the meal with gusto, from fried dough to champagne-laced fruit juice, yet seemed satisfied to celebrate her belated birthday with a generic latte.
“Tell me more about these birthdays of yours.”
“What’s to tell? A year passes, age increases. Sometimes increase brings privileges, sometimes it brings wrinkles. And every once in a while, it includes candles, wishes and presents.”
From her tone, it was just that matter-of-fact. Nic wondered what had happened to make her that way. Was it simply a lack of sentiment or was it something more?
“What about holidays? Do you have a favorite?”
“Holidays?” Her eyes widened behind the big round lenses of her sunglasses. “You want to know my favorite holiday?”
“Sure. C’mon. We’ve put jobs, careers and personal-life details off-limits, right? So let’s talk generics. What’s your favorite holiday?”
“President’s Day.”
“Seriously?” Nic grinned.
“Seriously. It’s the one time of year that everyone in the country is equally enthusiastic about anything to do with political figures.”
Now that was a great point. Well argued, clever and devoid of any partisan inflection. Nic’s brows arched as he tucked away that fact.
“Favorite vacation spot?”
Darby waved her hand to indicate the beach.
Hanalei was his favorite, too, so Nic couldn’t fault her taste.
“Favorite pastime?”
“Work.”
“Work is your favorite pastime?”
“What can I say? I love my job.” She shrugged, the move making her breasts shift temptingly in that snug purple swimsuit. Yeah, beachside vacations in Hanalei were definitely his favorite.
“Me, too,” he admitted, totally feeling her. What he did, his career as a SEAL, as a team leader, a Navy Lieutenant Commander? That’s who he was. “I suppose it’s important to love what you do, to do what you love.”
“Even if it takes over your life to the point that you forget your birthday until two days later?” she teased.
Sure. But as involved as Nic was in his career, he’d never missed a birthday. Or rather, his friends—his team, his family—had never missed it. One year on a mission deep in the mountains of Afghanistan, he’d hunkered down in a cave, blowing out a match stuck in a MRE while the men of Poseidon sang an X-rated birthday ditty.
Did that speak to his ties to his team being too tight? Nic pondered that for the brief second it deserved, then dismissed it as ridiculous. Which left Darby’s ties being, well, nonexistent? Didn’t she have family? Friends who remembered? Who celebrated with her? For her?
A part of him—a part he barely recognized—was tempted to reach over and pull her into his arms for a hug. A hug?
What the hell? Nic mentally cringed.
Time to lighten things up, he decided.
“Favorite song?”
“‘All Summer Long.’”
“Kid Rock’s mash-up of Warren Zevon and Lynyrd Skynyrd.” He nodded when Darby inclined her head. “Nice.”
“How about you?” she asked, sipping the last of her drink with a slurp. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“The Hurt Locker.”
“Hmm, intense military flick starring hottie Jeremy Renner. Nice,” she returned with a smile, pushing her cleaned breakfast dish aside and leaning her elbows on the table to lean toward him. “Favorite color?”
“Purple.”
Obviously picking up the humor in his tone, Darby arched her brows. But to her credit, she didn’t ask. Instead, she kept the game going. “How about your favorite treat?”
You.
But just in case his taste for her was a fluke, he went with his second favorite since he’d enjoyed it a lot more often.
“Snickers.”
“Mmm, nuts, nougat and caramel. Great choice.” Darby flashed a wicked smile. “Favorite position?”
“Now that’s a tough question.” His smile was slow and appreciative. “I was pretty into the ones we tried out last night. The standing in the shower this morning was pretty sweet, too.”
“But?”
Tempting, but Nic refrained from going smart-ass and went with honesty instead.
“But I think in some things, I simply don’t have a favorite. I’m willing to give it some time, to experiment with a variety of positions and compare notes. You know, see if we can find a mutual favorite.”
“I like that,” she said, sounding delighted. “It shows an open mind and a willingness to experiment.”
“Babe, when it comes to experimentation, I’m all for doing it until I’ve got it right.”
Darby’s laugh danced over the sound of the surf, filling Nic with an easy pleasure. Damn if he wasn’t actually looking forward to the next few days of leave now, with her here to enjoy it with.
“So. Last question,” she promised as she stood. Her fingers made quick work of the fabric knotted at her waist. The watercolor hues slid off the temptation of her hips, leaving her standing in a bikini the color of crushed grapes. As bikinis went, it wasn’t exactly skimpy. The bottom rose high in the sides and came nearly to her belly button, while the halter-style top showed a delicious view of her cleavage, but mostly covered those lush breasts.
Damn.
His brain went blank as the blood drained south.
“So.” Nic cleared his threat. “What’s your question?”
“I’m just wondering what are your plans for the rest of the morning?”
“I’m supposed to meet my cousin, catch a few waves,” Nic said absently, watching as she looked up the beach one way, then down the other. “But I can blow that off.”
“Are you sure?” she asked as she reached behind her neck with one hand, behind her back with the other. The move made her breasts thrust out, and put his body on full alert.
He tried to clear his head when Darby tilted her head to one side as if waiting for his answer. Really wanting to see what she’d do next, he hurried to give it to her.
“Yep. Sure. Definitely.” He sat up a little straighter. “I’m positive.”
With that and a flick of her fingers, the top of her bikini dropped away. Leaving her standing there, the sun glinting off those cherry-tipped breasts and making his mouth water.
“Why don’t we try a few of those positions and see if we can make up your mind.”
* * *
MMM, YEAH. DARBY stretched her body out on the padded beach recliner, her flesh tingling as her toes dug into the warm sand and the sun drenched her supersensitized body with soothing rays. Her skin slathered with SPF 40 and her sunglasses shielding half her face, she stared out at the ocean in fascination.
Hours ago, she’d ridden Dominic’s body the way he was riding those ocean waves. With the same enthusiasm, the same verve and—she tilted her head to the side—hopefully with the same skill.
She was going to go with a yes to that last part since he’d seemed to enjoy himself.
Almost as much as she had. And why not. The man’s body was like sculpted gold glittered with diamond-like sparkles of the ocean’s spray. Darby spent a good five minutes watching Nic surf, wondering how the guy’s muscles were impressive even from this distance. Not quite as impressive as they were up close and personal, but it was still enough to make her mouth a little dry.
Was it that body, though? Or was it his personality that had her so hooked? She’d never met a guy who challenged her brain, made her laugh and turned her on all at the same time.
It was a little scary how much she’d liked it.
Desperate for distraction, she grabbed her ever-present cell phone and auto-dialed. It only took five minutes for her to wish she’d found a different distraction.
“Let me get this straight,” Grace said, dragging the words out in her surprise. “You, Darby Raye, ballbuster extraordinaire, woman who no man can con into anything, a chick with a deep mistrust of anything even approaching the emotional level, is having an affair with a stranger.”
Cringing, Darby pressed the phone closer to her ear, then realized it was stupid to worry about the people around her on the beach overhearing that she was doing the naked mambo on vacation. Smarter would be to wonder what she was doing making such a huge confession by phone with her secretary. She was so not the touchy-feely sharesy type.
But she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“He’s not a stranger.”
“You met the guy last night,” Grace argued.
“Have you ever met someone and felt an instant connection. Not some soul-mate romantic drivel connection,” Darby quipped before Grace could finish the aww sound she’d started. “Just a connection. Like, you understood them. Even without all those random details, you feel as if you know them well enough to relax and be yourself.”
Leaning back in the lounge chair, Darby slurped up a deep sip of her smoothie to the sound of silence.
“Go ahead,” she finally said, figuring Grace would grind the enamel off her teeth trying to bite back her opinion. “Say it.”
“First, I want to know that you’re really Darby Raye and that you’re not responding under duress. So answer these questions three. First, what color is your desk chair? Second, what was the last thing we ate together? And third, who irritates you the most in the office?”
This time it was Darby who went aww, although she kept the comment in her mind. There was something seriously sweet about having someone care enough to ask silly questions that most stalkers wouldn’t have a clue the answers to, just to be sure that Darby wasn’t being forced into multiple beachside vacation orgasms against her will. Especially since Darby knew that if she answered any one of them with anything but Grace’s expected response, the other woman would be on the phone to the authorities, pulling every legal string and connection she could to ensure Darby’s safety.
It was the first time that Darby could remember anyone caring that much about her, and it was kind of touching.
“My desk chair is aubergine, and don’t try to say that it’s purple because we both know I won that argument when I showed you the receipt. The last meal we had together was some weird tofu stir-fry thing you insisted I try, but you know perfectly well I threw my portion in the trash as soon as you left the room.” Darby waited for Grace’s relieved laughter to fade before answering the last part. “And third, I’d say that giggly brunette with the huge teeth in research irritates me the most, but I think this is a trick question.”
“Since you nailed the first two, I’ll give you a pass on the trick question,” Grace replied. “Just tell me you’re being careful.”
“Are you asking if I’m having safe sex?”
“Darby!” Grace’s gasp was half giggles.
“C’mon, remember to whom you’re talking,” Darby reminded her with a laugh. “You said it yourself. I’m made of mistrust. Added to that, I’m trained to read people. To understand body language, and to take care of myself. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing? You don’t know his last name. You don’t know where he works or what he does for a living. You don’t even know if he lives in the United States. None of that merits a little worry?”
Darby grimaced. She was already regretting mentioning Dominic in any way, let alone confessing her trip into sexual nirvana. Since she hadn’t kept her mouth shut, she shifted to damage control.
“I know his first name. The owner of the resort, an upstanding citizen who, according to the framed photos in the lobby, is on a first-name basis with numerous elected officials, as well as three Navy Admirals, is his uncle. I know that whatever he does for a living involves using his body—and given the quality of said body, he’s damn good at what he does.”
She waited while Grace made a low humming noise, then asked, “So when you get back, are you going to fill me in on the details of what he does with that body?”
“Isn’t that a little tacky?” Darby said as she leaned her head back on the thick lounge cushion and tried to keep from laughing. “I’ll plead the Fifth on that.”
“Appropriate.”
This time Darby didn’t try to hide her laugh. But she did try to reassure her friend.
“Grace, I’m good at taking care of myself. I promise, I’m not in danger.”
“Okay, but please check in every once in a while, just so I don’t worry.”
Darby wanted to roll her eyes. She was a grown woman. She couldn’t remember a single time any of her family had asked her to check in, let alone shown any worry for her. She wanted to tell Grace to quit being such a worrywart and chill out.
“I promise,” she said instead. Then, because feeling all gooey inside made her uncomfortable, she changed the subject. “So how’s everything in the office? Any exciting new cases?”
“Um, yeah. About that. I don’t want to put a pall on your wild vacation fling or anything, but you should probably know that a certain ex has been in and out of the offices more than once this week.”
Darby’s smile fell away as she pictured Paul Thomas. She didn’t shift from her lounging position, but her body tensed all the same. She tried to ignore the guilt trickling down the back of her throat.
“Did you tell him I was away?” Darby resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. She wouldn’t put it past Paul to follow her on vacation.
“Please,” Grace sniffed. “You know perfectly well that I wouldn’t tell him anything. But I never got a chance to show off my discretion because he never actually stopped by your office. Word is he did stop by Carson’s office, though.”
Why was Paul chatting up the Deputy Director of the US Attorney’s office?
Her unseeing gaze locked on the waves, Darby’s mind raced. He was up to something. But what? He couldn’t get her fired for dumping him, and besides, that wasn’t his style. She could easily imagine him romancing another woman in the office to make her jealous. But she couldn’t see him risking his own reputation by involving her boss in some scheme to get her attention.
She adjusted her sunglasses and blew out a long breath.
Odds were, he was simply playing it up to get her to call. He was playing her. It was totally his style.
She squirmed a little in her chair, shifting her weight from the right to the left and back again. Curiosity was so damn hard to ignore.
“Is he actually spending time with Carson? It could be completely legit. Maybe he’s there to talk about a case for the Judge Advocate General’s office.”
Her fingers tapping a rhythm on her bare knee, Darby considered that possibility. She wouldn’t put it past Paul to make it look as if he had some big case to try to get her attention. She wouldn’t put anything past him, actually. The man had followed her across the country, for God’s sake.
On the other hand, working with the JAG office would not only be the perfect feather in her cap, but it was also quite likely the type of case that would snag her that spot in the National Security Division.
She wanted that spot. But how tangled were the strings going to be if she paired up with Paul to get it?
“I’ve only caught a couple of his visits, and they were short. Like, ten-minutes-or-less short. But I heard he’s been in other times.” Before worry could dig its teeth too deep in Darby’s gut, Grace continued, “I’m going to lunch with Carson’s secretary tomorrow, though. She won’t gossip, but Susan likes me. I’ll find out as much as I can.”
And that, Darby realized, was just one more reason why Grace was the perfect secretary. The woman had her back whether she was in the office or not.
“You’ll keep me in the loop?”
“Guaranteed. Oops, there’s the other line. Gotta go.” With that, and a quick goodbye, Grace hung up.
And Darby was left trying to shake off the feeling that she needed to get her ass back to San Diego. But she was under orders to take her vacation time. Going back—going into the office—would ruin the whole facade that she cared about work-life balance, and likely jeopardize her shot at a promotion. She was better off toeing the line, sticking with the vacation plan and letting Grace do her stealthy thing.
She knew that was smart thinking. She knew it was the right choice. But she still wondered how much was justification. Because an equal truth was that she was having a great time enjoying this little fantasy she and Dominic had going.
For the first time in as far back as she could remember, she’d found something more intriguing, more inspiring, more demanding than her career.
Call it passion.
Call it lust.
Call it fascination.
Hell, call it work-life balance.
Darby pressed a hand against her belly to try to quiet the dancing butterflies.
Whatever she called it, she knew it wasn’t for her career that she was staying in Hawaii for the rest of the week.
No.
It was for Dominic, pure and simple.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ufc3e9651-3795-5276-9e20-1e4fb91cb28a)
EVEN AS SHE tried to tell herself her fascination with Dominic was purely physical, a million questions ran through her mind about him.
She knew he was single, but did that mean he never did relationships? Or that he simply hadn’t found the right woman yet?
She knew he was dedicated to his career, that he loved his family and that he threw himself wholeheartedly into everything he did. But what drove him? Was he simply an all-out kind of guy? Or, like her, was there someone in his past who’d inspired his drive?
So many questions ran through her mind, questions she knew she couldn’t ask. At least, she couldn’t ask Dominic.
Her attention sharpening in the warm sun, Darby straightened in her chair just a little.
And there he was. The perfect man to satisfy her curiosity.
Darby watched Dominic’s uncle cross the sand looking every inch the wealthy, respectable hotelier, despite the fact that there were eye-searing pink flowers dancing over his short-sleeved turquoise shirt. Paired with slacks so white they reflected light, Darby was glad she was wearing her sunglasses.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Raye. I hope you’re enjoying your stay.”
At Michael Keola’s friendly greeting, Darby lifted one hand to shade her eyes and, even as she returned his smile, did a quick scan of the ocean to make sure Dominic was still surfing.
It wasn’t as if her last name was a state secret, but she was having fun playing this fantasy game to the hilt. Maybe not quite as much fun as it had been playing the ice-cube game in bed last night, but still fun.
“Hello, Mr. Keola,” she returned, gesturing to the empty seat next to her. “Please, join me.”
“Call me Michael and I’d be delighted to.” He sat like a king on his throne, his avuncular gaze surveying the beach, where it wrapped like a frilly skirt around the haven that was his resort. “Today is a good day to relax, yes?”
“I can’t imagine a more beautiful place to relax,” she agreed. “Everyone seems to be enjoying it, too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many happy people as I do here.”
“As it should be.” His nod held a hint of the same arrogant power she’d seen so often in his nephew. “And speaking of, can I offer you anything? Another drink? Would you like to reserve a rooftop table for dinner? Or perhaps a seat at tonight’s luau?”
Darby was momentarily tempted by the idea of traditional island entertainment. But a luau meant people, and right now she had a feeling she’d rather keep her evening private. Except for Dominic, of course.
“I’m fine, thank you, Michael.” She bit her lip to keep the words from jumping out, but couldn’t hold them all back. “It must be nice having your nephew here to visit.”
“Family is a pleasure, yes?” His dark eyes danced beneath the wide brim of his white hat. “Especially when one’s family is small, the time together is all the more welcome.”
Uh-huh. Sure it was.
Thankfully, he continued before the cynicism made the trip from her head to her lips.
“I have only one sister, and she only one son. Sadly, we’ve both lost our life mates. So we value each other’s children all the more.”
“I’m so sorry,” Darby said, briefly laying her hand over the back of his in sympathy. “I know how difficult it is to lose a loved one.”
“A heart that’s known love is never empty.” He gave her hand a pat in return, then shrugged fatalistically. “My time with my wife was short but we lived a wonderful lifetime in the dozen years we had together. And I see her always in our son, Luc. He travels from time to time to share his music, but he always come back. He and his band play here and draw a great crowd. Perhaps you noticed?”
A light wind danced over them, a gentle contrast to the warming sun dancing over Darby, and lifted the edges of the sarong she wore over her swimsuit.
“The band we heard last night?” She blinked in surprise, absently tucking the filmy fabric back under her thigh. “They were fabulous. It’s not too many bands that can cover everything from Clapton to Guns n’ Roses to Alison Krauss. I was impressed.”
Especially since the band had provided a great soundtrack for her first night of vacation fantasy.
“Luc, he has talent. Like his cousin, he’s found his path in life.” Michael’s eyes scanned the water, his face creasing into a smile when he pinpointed his nephew. “Ahh, the surf is good today, yes? Look at Dominic. He takes to the water like a seal.”
A seal? Not a fish? Raising her brows at the interesting twist on an old saying, Darby glanced out at the water in question. Shades of sapphire melted into turquoise and were tipped with white—it was unquestionably gorgeous.
“There is a dive scheduled tomorrow. You could go out, try your hand. Dominic is quite good, he’d be an excellent guide to teach you.”
“No, thanks.” Darby didn’t dive. No way, no how. Flashes of the nightmares that’d haunted her for years danced into her head to do a quick boogie before she shoved them right back out again. Looking at the water might give her a nice feeling of inspired peace—much as looking at a work of art would—but the idea of being in it any deeper than her toes? That sent a nasty shiver right down her spine.
“You don’t dive? Instead, you are lounging and relaxing.” He nodded his thanks to one of the white-shirted waiters as the man set two drinks on the small table, each garnished with a pineapple spear. Not one for alcohol in the afternoon, even on vacation, Darby ignored hers. As soon as Michael had taken a long sip through his straw, he gave her an assessing look. Not the pervy older-man kind, but more a sizing up.
“You seem athletic. Fit, yes?”
“Not fit enough for diving,” she said, heading off that idea.
“No, no diving. You don’t want to spend time with certification to dive when you could be relaxing instead. Hiking, though. You could hike, yes? If nothing else, you should visit the Hanalei Valley Lookout. The view? Exquisite.” Just as Darby’s shoulders started to relax, he waved his hand toward the half-dozen bodies riding the waves. “Or perhaps surfing? Surfing is an adventure. One every person should experience and you do look like an adventurous soul.”
“Not that adventurous,” she said, putting on her best lying-in-court face. The one that convinced judges and juries that she spoke the absolute truth. “You had it right with relaxation. That’s my entire focus this vacation. To lie on the beach and soak up sunshine.”
Then, because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings and it actually had sounded good, she added, “But I do want to visit the Lookout. And the waterfalls.”
“Excellent. I’ll arrange a car for later today.” Before she could protest, he got to his feet. “And soon, you try parasailing. It can be your adventure.”
Parasailing?
Like, on a surfboard with a sail on the ocean?
Even as Darby gave Michael a noncommittal smile, she thought, no. No, no, a million times no. Dominic might have seduced her into any number of wild sexual delights, but there was no way in hell he’d convince her to straddle a stick of wood attached to a flap of fabric and ride the waves like some kind of water-skimming daredevil.
“Perhaps you’ll try tandem parasailing. Dominic is skilled, he can teach you,” Michael said, giving her one last smile before moving off to greet another guest.
Dominic certainly was skilled. Lips pursed, her gaze shifted to the ocean again.
Tandem?
Hmm...
* * *
IT TURNED OUT that Darby loved parasailing.
Who knew?
Two days later, she realized that she apparently also enjoyed moonlit sails, beach volleyball and hiking through Namolokama Falls.
Of course, the common denominator in all of that was Dominic. The sexy, intriguing, entertaining Dominic.
Darby grinned as she juggled her overstuffed beach bag to use her key card to open the hotel room door.
Dominic, who challenged her to try new things. To revel in new experiences. Every minute with him was alive. Enticing, exciting, invigorating.
Darby stared out the floor-to-ceiling window for a long second, basking in the view of the ocean.
Who knew?
There was life outside of work.
And she was enjoying every second of it.
As if mocking her thoughts, her cell phone rang out, loud and demanding.
For three long, glorious seconds she debated ignoring the call. She was on vacation. She had a date to get ready for. She could call back later.
But duty, as ingrained as her ambition, won out.
“Hello,” she answered with the swipe of her thumb.
“Darby?”
“Mother,” she greeted as she dumped her beach bag on the overstuffed chair just inside the door. She automatically ran her fingers through her windblown hair, trying to push it into place, then fluffing the ends. “How are you doing?”
“Not well, actually. Dr. Sternberg said it’s nothing, but he’s running tests for an ulcer. Which says it all, doesn’t it?”
It said that Laura Raye and her ongoing affair with hypochondria was a force to be reckoned with. Sometimes when Darby was feeling generous, she thought her mom needed a hobby. Something to distract her from swimming in the deep well of worry she’d gotten so used to. In her less generous moments, she figured the woman had dived so deep into grief in the years after Danny died that she was addicted to the misery. And like any addict, after she’d sucked the sympathy dry over the loss of her son, she’d had to go looking elsewhere for her fix.
Darby wasn’t sure what it said about her that her generous moments were few and far between. So maybe it was guilt over her lack of sympathy—or she was simply riding the feel-good wave of her vacation—that had her digging deep for compassion.
“Tests are smart. It’s always good to know what’s going on,” she said, trying to sound encouraging. “You’ll feel better once you know what you’re dealing with.”
Or she’d decide the doctor was conspiring to hide her actual test results for some reason or another.
There was always one reason or another.
Before she’d even finished the thought, her mother was off and running with her litany of reasons why the doctor hadn’t taken her seriously enough to offer a true diagnosis. He should have done more tests, his nurse had taken an unfair dislike to her, her insurance wasn’t good enough to demand better testing...
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