“Since none of us are sleeping together—yet—let’s have a drink and talk about sex.”

Poe cast a wicked look around the table. Sydney could feel the sexual tension hum amongst the group, but particularly between herself and Ray. And so she wasn’t surprised when Poe grinned and said, “Truth or Dare.”

Sydney leveled her gaze at Ray. “I’m game.” From what she could see smoldering in Ray’s eyes as they met hers, he understood her double meaning and was game, as well. For more than Truth or Dare.

Lauren downed a shot of whiskey. “Fine. I’m in, too.”

“All right,” Doug said, clapping his hands together. He high-fived Jess and Anton while Kinsey toasted the other women.

“Then sex it is.” Poe paused for effect. “Sydney. Truth or Dare? I’m curious to know if you orgasmed the first time you had sex.”

Heat began to spread down Sydney’s body at the memory of that long, hot night with Ray so many years ago. This was exactly what she needed to work out of her system—the unbelievable sex they’d had. The kind of sex she was sure they’d have again before they left this island….

Dear Reader,

Writing romance is a dream come true, a fantasy, if you will. Imagine living vicariously through fictional characters—dream jobs…dream vacations…dream lovers. It’s all there.

My gIRL-gEAR series for Harlequin Blaze has also been a dream to write. I have lived with these characters for months, their likenesses hanging on a bulletin board in my bedroom office. They have inhabited every aspect of my life, including a year’s worth of lunch hours. It’s going to be hard to say goodbye. The pictures will be coming down, much to my husband’s relief…but only until the next story’s characters go up to replace them. (Sorry, sweetie!)

And drop me a line at alison@alisonkent.com if the girls of gIRL-gEAR have made their way into your heart—the way best friends should do!

Best,

Alison Kent

P.S. Please stop by www.girl-gear.com and visit. Yes, it really does exist!

Bound to Happen
Alison Kent

www.millsandboon.co.uk

(Alphabetically—because it’s only fair!)

To Vicia Collins, Jennifer Harbour, Annette John,

Carolyn Taflinger. Thanks to your friendship,

I’ve survived the last 13 years….

But PLEASE don’t make me stay for 13 more!

There are so many things I could say, but I’ll only say one.

“I like your hair!”

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Prologue

The gIRLS behind gIRL-gEAR

by Samantha Venus for Urban Attitude Magazine

Here we are once again, dear reader, checking in on our gIRLS. (Excuse me, our women.) It seems your intrepid reporter is inches away from the bottom of what is going on with Lauren Hollister and that sexy Anton Neville. Could it be we are about to learn that love at first sight is a tad overrated?

And speaking of firsts, my sources tell me that gIRL-gEAR’s CEO, Sydney Ford, has spent her summer vacation with the object of her very first schoolgirl crush. (Who’s walking whose plank, anyway?) And isn’t that a romantic blast from the past!

Yes, friends, it would have been just that, had their vacation cruise not turned into a vacation disaster. (Though we here at Urban Attitude do not gET how anyone can call a week on a tropical island with a veritable menu of beefcake disastrous.) Oh, did we neglect to mention they sailed away on the Indiscreet?

Inside this issue you will find the complete scoopage on both Ms. Ford’s and Ms. Hollister’s tropical trysts and treats, as well as tips for the ultimate in nude sunbathing! See an exclusive excerpt available online at www.girlgear.com.

1

IN A PERFECT WORLD, thought Sydney Ford, she would plan the most magnificent summer vacation.

She would make her own travel arrangements. She loved the idea of seeing the country by train. She would book her own accommodations. She liked to be pampered, unapologetically so. She would choose her own traveling companion. She longed to share a relaxing week with one of her very best friends.

But the world was not perfect.

Her summer vacation was turning out to be less than magnificent. And she had no one to blame but herself.

Months ago, for some remarkably harebrained reason, she’d had the bright idea to offer a sailing trip on her father’s soon-to-be-sold yacht to the winner of the experimental scavenger hunt organized by gIRL-gEAR.com’s editor, Macy Webb. Knowing the Web site’s gIRL gAMES column would benefit from Macy’s test group’s enthusiasm, Sydney, as gIRL-gEAR CEO, had felt the high-stakes offer made for a savvy business proposition.

One of their mutual friends, Ray Coffey, had won.

And now here Sydney stood, stranded on a Caribbean island, well aware that complaining only served to give her situation a “poor little rich girl” sting.

What work-weary single career woman wouldn’t want to be stranded on a Caribbean island? A private island at that. With a tropical beachfront villa outfitted to sleep ten, a live-in staff and four servings of beefcake among her fellow castaways.

Me, me, me, Sydney wanted to shout. But she sighed, instead, and boosted a hip onto the foot-wide wooden railing of the villa’s first-floor wraparound veranda. A soft evening breeze sifted through her hair and she tucked loose strands behind her ear, inhaling the clean salty essence of the sea.

The sunset was spectacular. She’d never seen a sunset here that wasn’t. Tonight, wispy clouds floated on a palette of soft pastels, though Sydney knew well the intense beauty of sunsets born in fire. The beach was equally amazing—the sand eggshell white, the water the tropical green-tinged blue never found along the Texas Gulf coast.

But even better than the view of the sky and the surf was the view of the three men standing at the shoreline, ankle-deep in the water and staring out to sea. Actually, Sydney mused, they were more than likely staring at the catamaran sailing by several miles off the coast. But she was in a contemplative mood and, therefore, allowed to project.

Each man was similarly dressed. Doug Storey wore navy board shorts with a white-and-gray hibiscus print. Anton Neville’s trunks were of the same cut, but colored in turquoise and hot-island red. Both Doug and Anton were tall with lanky swimmers’ physiques. Anton’s blond hair was a riot of curls. Doug’s, a shade darker, was longer, looser, inviting the touch of a woman’s hands. But it was the last man, the third man, who commanded Sydney’s attention.

Ray Coffey was a big man and beautifully built. The trunks he wore hit him at the knee and were a bright beach yellow with a black piping trim. The vivid color was the perfect contrast for his olive-hued complexion. His brown hair was the color of espresso, rich and thick and cut to fall softly over his brow, his eyes a dark emerald-green. Even from here Sydney could see the way the ocean breeze threaded like a lover’s fingers through the strands. She wondered what time had made of the texture. She wondered what else about him time might have changed.

Sitting on the veranda, she drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins. Her brown-and-gold tribal-print sarong fell open, catching on the shrubbery tucked close to the villa and revealing her leg and hip and the edge of her butter-colored bikini bottoms. A softer hue than the yellow Ray wore. But still, yellow. Like Ray wore. The similarity struck her for some strange reason. Especially since she was too practical to believe in intangible, nebulous signs.

The light from the setting sun silhouetted his body, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and, when he turned to the side…Sydney’s breath caught. Not unexpectedly, but with a sharp visceral hitch that broke her rhythm. Yet, try as she might, she could find no logical explanation for her unusually fierce physical response to Ray. This overreaction had to be an aberration, the island casting a sensual spell. Nothing else came close to making sense.

She wasn’t a stranger to the male body. She wasn’t, in fact, a stranger to Ray’s. But eight years had passed since she’d known his touch. And eight years meant added definition to the muscles of his chest, a chiseled distinction to his abs. Eight years had also thickened the whorls of hair growing low on his belly as well as, no doubt, the nest of hair cushioning his sex.

His trunks rode low on his hips and, standing as he was in profile, Sydney’s gaze was drawn to his flat stomach, his waistband and the impressive bulge beneath. Her imagination followed her wandering eyes and she took a deep breath, unnerved by the way her heart beat like a bass drum in her chest. She stretched out her legs along the railing, crossed her ankles, letting her head fall back to rest against one of the veranda’s support beams.

A relentless tingle settled unmercifully in the core of her belly. She squeezed her legs together and smoothed her palms down the length of her thighs. Even the feel of her own hands caressing her limbs failed to calm her and did, in fact, heighten the sensations simmering beneath the surface of her skin.

Since Ray had reentered her life, unnerved was not an uncommon state in which to find her emotions, just as aroused was not an unusual condition in which to find her body. Neither were comfortable situations. Both she intended to address during the days of this vacation. She had to get him out of her system before they returned to the States.

This obsessive infatuation was beginning to take its toll; her daydreams had recently crossed the line into erotic fantasy, cutting into her concentration in such a way that she feared her work might suffer. She couldn’t allow any relationship, whether one of her imagination’s making or one from the past, to color the business decisions or personal choices she made.

Especially after having seen that very thing happen with her father. She refused to sink to his level of disloyalty—to her business, to her friends or to herself—and was willing to do anything, anything to make sure it didn’t happen. Ray Coffey was becoming the sort of consuming distraction her life didn’t need. Which meant it was time to prove to herself that he wasn’t the lover her memory declared him to be.

This trip had originally been planned to last just over a week and a half. With the Indiscreet docked in Belize City in preparation for its imminent sale, Ray had arranged with the two-person crew for the fifty-seven-foot yacht to circle the western Caribbean, slowly exploring the barrier reef along the coast of Belize before making stops in Jamaica and the Caymans on the return.

In addition to the travel plans, the vacation invitations had been left up to Ray. He’d asked both Anton and Doug to come along, as he was in negotiations with their architectural firm, Neville and Storey, and the trip made for good business, as well as a good time. He’d also asked Jess Morgan, another friend from his core circle of six, all of whom played together on the same adult soccer league.

And then he’d invited Sydney.

She’d been more than tempted—by the trip, yes. Until last year’s falling-out with her father, Nolan, she’d never turned him down when he’d asked her to go sailing. But she’d also been tempted by the prospect of being confined with Ray on the Indiscreet. An intimately innocent confinement, where running from their mutual attraction would mean a trip to the bottom of the sea.

So she’d given him a conditional yes and then invited her three conditions.

Because the six gIRL-gEAR partners were discussing a possible change to the firm’s corporate structure, Sydney had asked Annabel Lee to come along. Annabel, known around the office as Poe, had moved up rapidly through company ranks. She was currently under consideration to replace Chloe Zuniga as vice president of cosmetics and accessories once Chloe launched the new gUIDANCE gIRL mentoring program. Chloe had assured the others that Poe was not the fire-breathing dragon she seemed.

And getting to know Poe away from the office, woman-to-woman, was Sydney’s prime plan.

She’d also invited Lauren Hollister and had done so for two reasons—one obvious, one personal. The first was Ray’s invitation to Anton Neville. After a year in an exclusive relationship, Lauren and Anton had recently split, though it was clear to all their friends that the two were more miserable apart than they’d ever been together.

Matchmaking always had the potential to backfire, but in this case Sydney was willing to take the chance. Lauren was one of Sydney’s gIRL-gEAR partners and she had to consider the company’s well-being, as well as that of her friend. And lately Lauren had been coming to work in body only, leaving her enthusiasm and concentration behind.

But when it came to Lauren, Sydney had an additional consideration. And that was the friendship blossoming between her father and Lauren. The two had been seeing too much of one another for Sydney’s peace of mind. As angry as she was with Nolan, she did love him, and the last thing he needed in his life was another creative, volatile woman. Or an impulsive fling.

Finally, Sydney had coaxed Kinsey Gray into coming along. Kinsey had been a marketing major and had shared several of Sydney’s classes at University of Texas. Now the VP of the company’s sportswear and party-wear divisions, Kinsey had an innate intuition when it came to trends, an uncanny sense of fashion and a slightly offbeat way of looking at the world, which Sydney felt would be a welcome relief to the trip’s inevitable tension.

The tension had begun immediately.

The group of eight vacationers had never made it farther than twelve miles before the Indiscreet developed a problem with its hydraulics. Convenient, actually, that twelve miles, because, before the crew nursed the limping ketch back to Belize City for repairs, Sydney and the others had loaded their supplies into the onboard aluminum dinghy and moved their vacation from yacht to island. Specifically, Coconut Caye, the private twelve-acre island Sydney’s father owned.

Coconut Caye had always been the first planned stop on their itinerary. But it hadn’t been intended as their final—or only—destination. Again Sydney realized she had nothing to complain about. The island was the epitome of paradise. Looking ahead, she had several days to spend doing nothing more than swimming, snorkeling and sunbathing.

And now that she thought about it rationally, logically, instead of with the irritation she’d felt this morning when the Indiscreet had given up the ghost, the change of plans might work to her advantage. The island offered more privacy than she would ever have found on the yacht. And privacy would play nicely into her plans to seduce Ray Coffey. Suddenly, Sydney realized, this adventure held more promise than she’d originally thought when forced to relocate earlier today.

She turned her attention back to the beach, where the three men were now engaged in a round of extreme Frisbee among the coconut palms. She had a dozen other things she could be doing; beach Frisbee was not exactly a spectator sport. Yet, try as she might, she couldn’t tear her gaze from Ray.

He dived to catch Anton’s toss, and Sydney drank in the intoxicating visual. Ray’s long torso extended, delineating his rib cage and hair-dusted pectorals, emphasizing the length of his scar. His reaching arm stretched, beautifully elongating his biceps and forearms. She took in the spread of his fingers when he palmed the Frisbee down to the sand.

Blood surged through Sydney until her nerves hummed wildly from fingers to toes. She wanted him in ways she found surprising. Physical ways that had never been a part of her experience, yet lived vividly in her fantasies. Since his return to Houston late last year, Ray had made it more than clear that the attraction remained mutual, which made Sydney laugh. They’d been so young and innocent that first time….

Sensing movement at her side, she looked up to see she’d been joined on the veranda by Poe, wearing a pair of plain black sarong pants tied well below her waist. Her matching triangle bikini top left little of her porcelain curves to the imagination. She also wore a look of disgust that pulled Sydney’s attention from the beach. “Are you okay?”

“In what context?” Poe asked, dusting her hands together as if to rid them of something unpleasant. “Medically? Financially? Socially?”

Sydney couldn’t help appreciating her co-worker’s theatrical flair. Or her predicament. “In this situation? Socially, for sure.”

Poe rolled her eyes. Irises of near black and a slight almond slant to her lids emphasized her exotic Asian-American looks, as did the slashed angles and layers of hair framing her cheekbones. “Considering I was so looking forward to this trip, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…”

She ruffled both hands through her hair and lifted her chin. “I am thrilled beyond belief to be shipwrecked. We would no doubt have ended up at the bottom of the sea, anyway, once we factored in the weight of the eggshells.”

“Eggshells?” Sydney asked with a frown.

Poe’s elegant brows shot up archly. “To walk on? Don’t tell me you thought fifty-seven feet would be enough room for Lauren and Anton’s emotional baggage. From what I’ve seen so far, even your father’s twelve acres might be a tight fit.”

Sydney felt a sharp pang of guilt. She hadn’t thought the ex-lovers would start tossing verbal barbs the minute the group set sail. And the fact that Anton had been seeing Poe on a casual basis had never factored into Sydney’s decision to invite both women—which it apparently should have. Nothing serious was going on between the two, as everyone but Lauren seemed to know.

“Where is Lauren, anyway?” Sydney asked.

Poe gave a sideways tip of her head. “She’s in the kitchen with Kinsey and Jess. They’re working on…dinner.”

“Great. I’m starving.”

This time Poe took a moment to apparently weigh her appetite against the kitchen skills of the temporary help. “Tell me again what’s happening with the staff? I saw their boat leave earlier, but I was on the Indiscreet packing my things, so I never did hear for sure what was going on.”

Sydney nodded, then indulged in a private smile. Neither Poe nor any of the guests needed to worry about the quality of the meals after this evening’s. “The Duartes. Auralie and Menga. They weren’t expecting us to be here but for the one day and had only stocked limited provisions. When they found out we’d be staying, they had to make a trip to the mainland for supplies. They’ll be back tomorrow.”

Swinging her legs down from the railing, Sydney got to her feet, settling automatically into the role of hostess, which she’d acted here for Nolan so many times. “Wait until you see what Auralie can do with tomatoes, roasted chicken and black beans. Unbelievable.”

Poe cast a wistful glance at her audibly protesting stomach. “I was hoping to eat before tomorrow.”

“I don’t know about Lauren or Jess, but Kinsey’s a decent cook. And if we hurry, we can stop any disaster in the making.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon stay out of the kitchen.” Poe dug in her heels. “I’m afraid I’m on Lauren’s hit list, and I’ve learned to be picky about who I let shoot me down.”

Sydney threaded her hands through her hair and fluffed. This fiasco she’d created was rocketing out of control. The time had come to play peacemaker—though she had to admit that spending her vacation in mediation held zero appeal.

There were times she wished she’d inherited less of her father’s mind for negotiation and more of her mother’s in-your-face style. This was one of those times. “Well, then. We’ll just have to trust those three with dinner, won’t we? As scary a thought as that may be.”

“Scary isn’t the half of it,” Poe said with a huff.

“Dinner will be fine.” Sydney adjusted the knot of her sarong. “If not, we can dig into my stash of Rice Krispies treats.”

“And for the next ten days?”

“We’ll have to ration.”

Poe shook her head and moved her hands to her hips. “Not the food. The tension.”

Sydney studied the other woman’s wits-end demeanor, sympathizing with Poe’s uncomfortable plight. “You’re talking about the tension between Lauren and Anton.”

“Between Lauren and Anton. Between Lauren and me. I haven’t had a true, nonworking vacation in years. And I am not about to have this one ruined by this unresolved thing between those two.” Poe looked out toward the beach where the game of Frisbee was still going on.

Then she looked back at Sydney and shrugged. “Anton and I are friends, that’s it. But if I’m going to be tried and convicted of being more, then why shouldn’t I reap the obvious fruits of committing the crime? It’s not like he’s the least bit hard on the eyes.”

Anton was totally gorgeous, Sydney had to agree. But she was also quite sure Poe was perfectly capable of answering her own question. “I think we both know you don’t have it in you to hurt Lauren that way.”

Poe blew out an inelegant snort. “Too bad the reverse isn’t true.”

Sydney’s mouth twisted. “Lauren’s just overly sensitive when it comes to Anton. I doubt she has anything against you personally.”

“Well, either she wants to be with Anton or she doesn’t. She’s trying hard to have it both ways, and it’s hardly fair to the rest of us. I mean, look out there.” Poe lifted her chin, indicating the human scenery—three men whipping the Frisbee across the beach. “Tell me what you see.”

What Sydney saw was more than Poe could imagine. Images that even Sydney wasn’t sure were memories or the creative workings of her mind. And none of her thoughts were anything she wanted to explain or to share. Not with Poe. Not with anyone.

Ray was her fantasy, her mind-candy, as were her plans for his seduction. “Well, I see an absolutely gorgeous tropical sunset. I see a postcard-worthy scene of palm trees and rippling waves and a beach clean enough to eat off. But I have a feeling you’re talking about Anton, Doug and Ray.”

“Exactly.” Poe moved closer to the veranda railing, hitched one hip onto the edge. “Three very appealing possibilities for an exciting vacation fling.”

Sydney had already narrowed her own possibilities down to one. And she had matchmaking plans for a second. Which left Poe only two choices. “You’re forgetting about Jess.”

Poe shook her head. “Not really. I know Anton is off-limits. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I also accept that the fling possibilities will have to be shared.”

“How generous of you,” Sydney replied, working hard to keep a straight face.

“My generosity is limited, trust me. If Lauren blows this chance, I will take full advantage when we get back to the States.”

“Then we’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t blow anything, won’t we.”

“Taking matters into your own hands?” Poe asked, sliding a sly, sideways glance at Sydney.

Sydney lifted one shoulder and casually replied, “I’m thinking about it.”

“Well, while you’re thinking, I believe I will go ahead and give Lauren the wake-up call she needs.” Poe hopped back to her feet. “Unless you have an objection?”

Back home in Houston, with gIRL-gEAR business at stake, Sydney would have more reasons to possibly object. But here and now? Even an unearthly intervention would be welcome. “Will you do me the favor of warning me in advance?”

Poe chuckled. “Consider yourself warned.”

“Fair enough.” Sydney linked her arm through Poe’s. “Now let me show you the sundeck before it’s too dark to get the full effect. I’ve never found a better place to sunbathe.”

The fact that she sunbathed in the nude, Sydney kept to herself. It was a private indulgence she preferred not to share…though there was a man who’d once coaxed her to admit to the habit. She took one last look toward the beefcake on the beach and her hunger stirred. Dinner first. She’d get back to her plans for seducing Ray Coffey soon enough.

RAY TWIRLED the Frisbee on one index finger, listening with half an ear while Anton and Doug, standing three feet away, talked shop. Knowing full well that Sydney sat on the veranda watching the beach play, her long legs and a whole lot more of her gorgeous body exposed, made it difficult for him to keep his eye on the ball. Or, in this case, on the Frisbee.

When he’d won the sailing trip four months ago, he’d known immediately that he wanted Sydney along for the cruise. Hell, his fantasy had started the month before he’d won, when she’d first announced the use of her father’s yacht as the prize for sticking out that ridiculous scavenger hunt. He’d determined that night that he was going to win and spend the week at sea letting Sydney walk his plank.

The stakes had been sweetened when they’d actually been paired up for the hunt and he’d been assigned to discover a list of her deepest, darkest secrets. At that point, the game itself had become the prize, the cruise just a sweet little extra. He’d thought for a couple of months about keeping the guest list that simple. Him and Sydney. The two of them alone, but for the yacht’s minimal crew. Life at its absolute intimate finest.

And then he woke up.

Having Sydney all to himself was his fantasy, not hers. At least, he hadn’t had any vibes saying differently. Since he’d transferred to the Houston Fire Department, in fact, after five years working out of College Station with the Texas Task Force One on urban search and rescue, the only concentrated time they’d had together had been the give-and-take dinner dates devoted to the scavenger hunt.

Ray wasn’t complaining. At least not about that. For one thing, he’d learned enough about her by coaxing her into revealing the details he needed to know to win this trip. And even if their dates had been all about the hunt, they’d given him more one-on-one time with Sydney than he’d ever had—with his clothes on, anyway. No, his complaints were more about the things he hadn’t learned. Things he was bound and determined to find out before they returned home to Texas.

She’d been a year behind him in high school, in his brother Patrick’s class. Yet she’d always seemed years older than the girls his age, the girls he’d dated, even the girls who’d…taken him under their wing during his first year at Texas A&M. And he’d found himself making comparisons, which made no sense, because except for that one time, they’d known each other only casually.

Off to Ray’s side, Doug and Anton continued to discuss developmental possibilities for a new property they’d acquired. Ray continued to feign interest. The sun had reached the edge of the horizon, putting an end to their game and ringing his internal dinner bell. His hunger roused, he glanced again toward the villa, watching as Sydney moved from the veranda railing to her feet.

She was a tall woman, with long limbs that Ray knew fit nicely around his own larger body. Or had nicely fit eight years ago. He’d bulked up since then. And he wasn’t the only one with a body developed by time and working out. Sydney was slender, but not skinny, and had filled out beautifully since his hands had last explored the budding fullness of her curves. The strapless bandeau tube wrapped around her chest hugged her breasts like a soft yellow skin, and his palms itched to skate over the surface, to feel the taut press of her nipples.

When she lifted her arms to run her hands through her hair, exposing both her stomach’s smooth skin and the knot of her sarong riding low on her belly, he barely suppressed a rising groan. When she turned away, giving him a clear view of the strong lines of her back and her narrow waist easily spanned by his hands, he dug his toes into the sand. When she hooked her arm through Poe’s and started to walk away, the sarong snugged tight to her hips and caressing the tight swells of her backside, Ray dropped the Frisbee and looked down, working to catch his breath as hunger grabbed hard between his legs.

Their one night together had followed her high-school graduation and his first year of college, and it hadn’t lasted long enough to be called an affair. But Ray wasn’t sure it qualified as a one-night stand, either. If it had, surely those hours they’d spent tangled naked between the cheap sheets of an even cheaper motel-room bed wouldn’t still linger the way they did in his mind.

They’d been lingering more than usual today since this vacation had become landlocked and since, every time he’d turned around, Sydney had shed more of her clothes. Having looked forward to the sailing trip now for four months, he was surprised he didn’t feel more disappointment at the forced change of plans. He hadn’t been onboard the Indiscreet long enough even to think about getting his sea legs. Which proved he was more interested in the company than in the cruise.

Following Anton and Doug as they headed toward the villa in response to Lauren’s call to, “Come and get it!”, Ray knew he’d be a fool not to take advantage of an opportunity he’d never see again. Sydney had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nowhere to be for the next ten days, while he had the luxurious warmth of the sun, the seductive lure of the sea and the lush tropical nights in his favor.

He wasn’t looking for happily-ever-after. He was only looking for answers, and whatever good time they might mutually share. In his line of work, he saw too much tragedy, too many families torn apart by accidents and disaster, both natural and man-made. His own family was no exception, irreparably damaged by his brother’s still-unsolved disappearance three years ago in this very part of the world.

With the chances Ray took on the job, with the risky situations he encountered, he’d be stupid—and selfish—to consider any romantic involvement, to subject a partner to the very real possibility that he might lose his life on the job. He didn’t have it in him to give Sydney or any woman a long-term promise, for her sake, as well as his own. Not when life was so fragile. Not when the loss of Patrick had shown him the truth of personal suffering for those left behind.

And he sure didn’t have to involve his heart to enjoy his time here with Sydney. He knew that for certain. He’d been her first lover, a fact he hadn’t appreciated fully at the time. He’d had his hands too full of her body to question his luck or her decision. But before they returned to the States, he intended to get the answers he needed about that night. Like why she hadn’t returned his phone calls afterward. And why she’d haunted his memory ever since.

But most of all why, out of all the guys “Ice Queen” Sydney Ford had said no to, had she wrapped her arms around his neck and said yes.

DINNER THAT FIRST NIGHT at the villa on Coconut Caye was one of the more intense meals Ray remembered sitting through. The men, along with Poe and Kinsey, had carried the conversation, sharing tales of past vacations gone bad.

Among the six of them, they’d seen more than a few ports of call on more than a few continents and had faced lost luggage, mistaken identities and bungled reservations from car to hotel.

So far Lauren hadn’t said a thing. She’d never even met Anton’s gaze.

Sydney had talked, but not a lot, as if carefully weighing the import of what she had to say against the mystery of remaining silent. The mystery, of course, was all in Ray’s mind, driven by her refusal to hold his gaze when their eyes met. Every time he glanced her way, he caught her staring. He even caught her looking back before he’d turned away.

Her expression teased him, the way she slowly lowered her lashes, the way her nostrils seemed to flare. The way her chin came up and her lips lightly parted. Even the way she lounged so casually, invitingly, one elbow braced on the chair back, her head propped in her hand, her crossed leg swinging with a motion that lifted, then lowered the gap in her sarong.

Ray couldn’t decide if he was amused or intrigued. But he was definitely working on aroused, as he had been since they’d set sail this morning. Or, more accurately, as he had been every time they’d been in the same room since he’d introduced himself to her beneath the oak tree in Boom Daily’s backyard eight long years ago.

There was just something about Sydney Ford that Ray couldn’t get his mind around to figure out. The things he’d known about Sydney as a girl didn’t mesh at all with what he’d learned recently from her father. Or what he knew about her as the CEO of gIRL-gEAR.

He wasn’t sure the remaining days of this vacation would be enough time to reconcile his curiosity with the facts, but damned if he wouldn’t be giving it his best shot, he mused. He forced his gaze from Sydney and back to the others as, one at a time, they finished up the meal of grilled steak and tossed salad put together at the last minute by Kinsey and Lauren, with questionable help from Jess.

Kinsey, at least, had no trouble making or maintaining eye contact with anyone at the table. And Poe—Poe had upped the stakes and was making contact with her body, Ray realized, as she got up to clear the table and leaned over Doug’s shoulder to reach for an empty serving bowl.

Doug had pulled on a sleeveless shirt before sitting down to the impromptu dinner. Poe still wore her black bikini top. She brushed the barely covered swell of her breast against his barely covered shoulder. Ray couldn’t say the move was made on purpose, but she didn’t seem the least bit self-conscious about a touch that made Doug’s eyes bulge.

In fact, now hugging the salad bowl to her middle, her hip cocked to the side, Poe glanced around the room with one brow arched and a twist to her mouth that Ray could’ve sworn meant trouble in paradise. Leaning into the forearm he’d braced on the table, he toyed with his steak knife, swirling the pointed tip in the sauce on his plate, smiling as he waited to find out exactly what she was up to. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Is it just me,” she said, looking from one man, one woman to the next, her dark eyes sparkling with indescribable mischief, “or do the rest of you get a sense that there is an unhealthy level of sexual tension in the air?”

After several silent seconds, Doug burst out laughing. Anton followed suit, snickering behind his hand, which had Lauren fuming and Sydney crossing her arms beneath her bandeau top and fighting to keep a straight face. All Ray could do was sit back and enjoy the show.

“At least it appears to be sexual.” Poe gave a light shrug and started gathering up utensils. “I could be wrong, but I think the facts speak for themselves.”

“Uh, Poe, what facts are you talking about?” Kinsey asked, prodding Jess’s rib cage with her elbow and glaring when he leaned over and started breathing heavily into her ear. “Enough of that, mister. If I need heating up, I’ll let you know.”

Jess laughed. Sydney laughed. Even Poe laughed, this time leaning between Kinsey and Anton, giving Anton a dose of Doug’s medicine while stacking the used dinner plates.

“The facts as I see them are that we’re in the tropics, on a gorgeous island, surrounded by sand and surf, an incredible moonrise, a soft ocean breeze. And we’re staring at each other and a table of dirty dishes when we could be having a lot of extracurricular fun.”

With that, Poe headed for the kitchen—a huge open-air affair separated from the main dining area by a wide serving bar—leaving the others speechless, but only for a second or two, then everyone started talking at once.

“Extracurricular works for me,” Jess said, leaning in closer toward Kinsey again, nuzzling his face against her bare shoulder and making whimpering puppy-dog sounds.

Wearing a bright-red tank top with her khaki drawstring shorts, Kinsey patted his head accordingly. Then she threaded her fingers into his hair and used the hold to pull his head from her shoulder. Her smile was a show of bared teeth. “What part of ‘enough’ don’t you understand?”

Jess sighed and slumped in his chair. “Does that mean extracurricular is out of the question?”

Eyes rolling, Kinsey could only shake her head. “You’re hopeless and I give up.”

Doug, being a guy, was more in tune with Jess’s plight and told him so. “What it means, buddy, is that you’ll have to take matters into your own hands.”

A round of groans and cries of “Gross! Eww! Yuck!” went up from the women. Ray found himself chuckling under his breath. Then he found himself glancing at Sydney…and found her gaze focused on him. Not on Doug or on Kinsey or on Jess. Not even on Poe, whom Ray could hear rummaging around behind him in the kitchen cabinets.

No, Sydney was concentrating solely on him. And doing so with a look that wasn’t the least bit shy or evasive. He would’ve said she was flirting, but her expression was hardly that simple. What he saw in her eyes was more of an invitation, a sultry temptation to join her in sin. Her blue eyes sparkled, her wide mouth offered him a private smile that spoke of the intimacies they’d shared long ago.

He wanted to ask her what she wanted, what she was trying to say. He wanted to growl his frustration with this vacation that was becoming too crowded. But he had too much of an audience, and before he could get to his feet and pull Sydney along with him out onto the veranda, Poe returned from the kitchen.

Her rummaging had produced a serving tray bearing eight highball glasses, a decanter of bourbon, another of water and a bucket of ice. Standing behind the chair she’d occupied earlier, she set the tray in the center of the table.

“Now,” she said, continuing the conversation she’d dropped like a bomb. “Since none of us are sleeping together, let’s get drunk and talk about sex.”

2

“YOU HAVE GOT to be kidding.” Lauren pulled her feet up onto her chair and wrapped her arms around her knees defensively.

“Not at all, sweetie. In fact, I’m dead serious.” Poe tugged the stopper from the whiskey decanter and set it on the tray. And then she cast a wicked look around the table, teasing her dinner companions with a sinister gleam in her almond-shaped eyes.

Ever since Poe had made her observation of the room’s sexual tension, Sydney had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. After all, she’d been warned earlier out on the veranda—a warning left wide-open, giving Poe plenty of leeway and absolutely no boundaries.

And so Sydney wasn’t a bit surprised when Poe finally grinned and said, “Truth or dare.”

Stunned silence greeted Poe’s announcement. Sydney knew that, given another second, the gang would come around. But she wasn’t going to wait that long. She was more than ready to get started, more than ready for fun. And, so, with a mental Here goes nothing, she reached for a glass. “I’m game.”

Lauren gave an audible gasp. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can mean it. I do mean it.” Sydney tossed ice cubes into her glass and poured the bourbon. She looked down the length of the table, silently daring Lauren to say another word. “This is my vacation and I want to have fun.”

“Truth or dare is fun?” Lauren asked, anyway, a brow raised.

“The right mood, the right company.” Sydney lifted her shoulders, lifted her drink, glanced briefly at Ray as the fiery liquid slid over her tongue. The look in his eyes added to the burn, and it was all she could do to finish her reply. “Not to mention the right alcohol in the right quantity.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Poe said, and finally everyone relaxed enough to laugh. Everyone, that is, but Lauren.

Lauren looked around the table, meeting one gaze after another, lingering the longest on Anton, whose expression was impossible to read. He definitely had stoicism down to an art, Sydney thought, but whether the look in his eyes was anger, intrigue or true indifference, she couldn’t tell.

Lauren, obviously, wasn’t having the same trouble. What she saw when she looked at Anton seemed to be all she needed to make up her mind. Decision made, she reached for the decanter and splashed a double over the ice cubes she’d added to her glass.

With a quick shake of her head, she downed a quarter of the drink, whistled, shuddered, then thumped the crystal against the table. “Fine. I’m in.”

“All right,” Doug said, and clapped his hands together. “I think we might just have ourselves a party.”

At that, Anton grabbed his own glass and, not bothering with water or ice, downed the shot he poured. “Hell. If the subject is sex, count me in.”

“Then sex it is.” Poe pulled the stopper from the decanter of water and gave Sydney a quick wink. Sydney mentally crossed her fingers, hoping Poe hadn’t gone too far. The last thing she wanted was for this game to backfire.

What she wanted, in fact, was for this game to rid the room of inhibitions. To rid Ray, in particular, of any hang-ups he might have that would prevent him from being open to her advances. Judging by the look in his eyes, however, judging by the way his gaze fairly simmered with uninhibited invitation, hang-ups weren’t going to be a problem.

“So, Poe. Does your version of this game have rules? Or do we make it up as we go along?” Jess added two cubes of ice to two separate glasses, splashed both with bourbon and passed one to Kinsey. “I’ve got as good an imagination as the next guy but—”

“But like the next guy, you need direction. You just hate having to stop and ask.” Smiling brightly, Kinsey toasted the other women with her drink and a round of high fives.

The men sat back, glowered and glared. Sydney had a feeling they were only biding their time. She’d yet to know a single man who didn’t get a kick out of delivering a slam dunk comeuppance—especially to a woman.

“Hey, I asked. I asked.” Jess tossed up his hands in exaggerated exasperation. “And like the next guy, I can’t seem to get a straight answer, which is what I expected with a woman in charge.”

This time it was the men exchanging the loud whooping endorsement of Jess’s commentary on the female game plan. So, Poe did what any self-respecting woman would do when faced with a group of male chauvinists.

Leaning across the table, she beckoned him closer with the crook of one finger, running a fingertip over his lower lip when he met her halfway. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?”

Jess frowned, obviously confused by the switch in Poe’s gears. “I don’t get it.”

“Since you seem to think I don’t know what I’m doing, you figure out how this game should go down.” She eased back into her chair. “Unlike you men, we women don’t mind a bit when a man tells us what he wants us to do.”

“I agree with Poe. Having a man in charge makes things run so much more smoothly.” Kinsey scooted around in her chair and got comfy, having a whole lot of fun at Jess’s expense as she stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles in his lap. “I just don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Jess ignored the batting of Kinsey’s lashes, and smiling to herself, Sydney finally started to relax. Maybe a good time was about to be had by all. Poe’s leap into the center of the tension was certainly proving a lot more effective than the eggshell route. Even Lauren had a grin on her face.

Jess rubbed his hands together, then he rubbed them from Kinsey’s ankles to her knees. His brown eyes glittered and he lifted one dark brow. “Now this is more like it. Getting drunk, talking about sex, a man in charge and a woman in his lap. Doesn’t get any better, does it, boys?”

His enthusiasm earned him a cuff to the back of the head from Kinsey. “You’re forgetting one thing, mister. And that is paybacks are hell.”

Jess thrust out his chin, tapped it with one finger. “C’mon, then. Your best shot. Right here.”

Kinsey drew back a fist. Anton, sitting on her other side, caught her hand from behind. Sydney, in the chair next to Anton, leaned across and pried his fingers from Kinsey’s, and when he turned to protest, she stuck out her tongue.

At the other end of the table, Lauren poured herself another drink. “Enough, you people.” She used her glass as a gavel. “Let Jess explain his rules.”

“No kidding.” Doug refilled his own glass, going for more water than whiskey. “If I’m gonna get lucky tonight, I’m all for getting this show on the road.”

Poe lifted a brow. “Weren’t you the one talking earlier about taking matters into your own hands?”

Ray chuckled, shaking his head and reaching for his drink. He met Sydney’s gaze over the rim of the glass he lifted to his mouth. His eyes were bright, a beautiful green, his gaze sharp and intent in both focus and connection.

Shivering, Sydney raised her glass. This was exactly what she wanted. This anticipation, this attraction. This slow, simmering arousal that was beginning to sweeten the stakes of the evening. She sipped her drink. The whiskey burned and she lifted her chin as she swallowed.

The motion drew Ray’s attention. His eyes flashed and, as he lowered his glass to the table, he blew out a long, slow breath and briefly closed his eyes. Sydney blinked, but looked away as she lifted her lashes. As much as she wanted to hurry, she wanted to wait, to take her time and savor the seduction as much as she planned to savor plucking the forbidden fruit from the vine.

She turned her attention back to Jess, who’d dislodged Kinsey from his lap and gotten to his feet. He placed both hands flat on the table and glanced around, making eye contact with everyone. “Here’s how we play. Whoever I choose to go first will pick someone of the opposite sex and ask that person a question. That person then decides whether he—or she—wants to answer truthfully or go for the dare.”

“And we have to come up with the dares, too?” Lauren asked, and Jess nodded.

Anton, slumped back in his chair with arms crossed, looked as if he’d swallowed a nastier alcohol than was ever stocked in the liquor cabinet on Coconut Caye. “What if the person answers, but someone else at the table knows for a fact that they’re telling a lie?”

Sydney took a deep breath and held it, waiting for Lauren to jump down his throat. But it didn’t happen. Lauren only stared somberly at her drink. Her wounded expression tugged hard on Sydney’s girlfriend heartstrings. Why did relationships have to be so damned difficult?

Anton’s question appeared to leave Jess stumped. Then he smiled, his dimples and his eyes flashing in that bad-boy way he had of looking at the world. “Then that person calls them on it, and they have to take the dare, anyway.”

“Ouch. That’s cold,” Doug said.

Poe reached over and patted his shoulder. “All in the name of good, honest fun.”

“Hey.” Grabbing Poe’s hand where her fingers lightly gouged his muscles, Doug added, “I resent that remark.”

“More like you resemble that remark,” Ray corrected.

“Thanks for sticking by me, buddy.” At Doug’s grousing, Ray laughed.

“Yeah, dude. This is supposed to be a battle of the sexes.” Jess dropped back into his chair. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Ray splashed another shot of bourbon into his glass. “Let’s just say I’m doing all I can to keep my getting-lucky options open.”

The other three men razzed him with loudly voiced hoots and hisses and snickering laughter. All Sydney could do was stare at the liquid in her glass, knowing the smile on her face was bound to give her away. She wasn’t sure she wanted everyone at the table to know of her plans before she’d had a chance to share her intentions with Ray. Before she’d shown him exactly what a lucky guy he was and done so in a more intimate setting, without an audience.

Poe finally and effectively killed the locker-room atmosphere by drumming her hands on the table. “Yoo-hoo, Jess. I think we all understand your rules. Now are we going to play or what?”

Jess turned his attention to Poe. “Yes, we’re going to play. And since you started this mess and put me in charge, I’ve decided you get to go first.”

Shaking her head, Kinsey clucked her tongue in disappointment. “Put a man in charge and he still needs a woman to get things started.”

“I hate to break it to you, Kinsey,” Doug said, sitting between Lauren and Poe and ignoring the threatening glares from both women. “But not only can we get things started without a woman, we can finish things off the same way.”

Poe waved off his comeback. “Tell that to the centerfold sharing your special moment.”

Every man in the room squirmed.

“Imagination and touch are more important than visual stimulation to a woman,” Lauren added, directing a pointed glance at Doug. “Which is why we can start and finish with or without the help of a battery-operated boyfriend.”

“Good ol’ B.O.B.” Kinsey sighed. “A fresh supply of batteries and he never lets a girl down.”

Anton snorted and rolled his eyes before downing half his bourbon. Doug, on the other hand, stared at Kinsey in disbelief. “Are you telling me that you get off every time you, uh…take B.O.B. to bed?”

Kinsey only smiled sweetly, tossing back her long blond hair. “Why don’t you ask me that when it’s your turn to play?”

Doug shook his head and under his breath muttered, “Women. More trouble than they’re worth.”

Poe dug an elbow into his ribs to shut him up. “You can get back at Kinsey and all of womankind later, after I get through getting back at Jess.”

Jess groaned and thumped his forehead on the edge of the table before looking up and grimacing at Poe.

Poe crossed her arms on the edge of the table and leaned forward, sparing a glance for Ray at her left, Doug at her right, then Anton across the table, before she settled her sights on Jess. “Now, Jess. Since we’re discussing sexy toys, my question is this. Have you ever done it with an inanimate object and, if so, with what?”

Jess’s expression remained deadpan. “Such as?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A blowup doll. An apple pie. That sort of thing.”

“I think Poe has been watching a few too many movies,” Kinsey said, and Ray snickered. Then Doug snickered. Sydney couldn’t help herself and she snickered, too. Jess remained totally cool. She had to give him credit.

“Are you talking all the way back to puberty?” he asked, leaning over the table toward her. “Or during my recent sex sabbatical?”

Poe leaned even farther over the table, until her breasts threatened to spill out of her top. “I’m talking any time during your life, sweetie, though I’d really like to hear more about this sex sabbatical.”

Jess leaned forward, too. “Well, then, sweetie. I take the dare.”

Jess’s refusal to answer brought him everything from howls to sympathetic groans to hysterical laughter, the latter from Lauren, who Sydney was beginning to think had had too much to drink.

Sitting back with a smugly satisfied smile, Poe laced her hands behind her head. “Since you dug yourself in deep with that one, I’ll make it easy on you. You have to kiss one of your dinner companions. Girl or guy, it doesn’t matter. The only caveat is that you have to look like you mean it.”

“That’s it? That’s his dare?” Kinsey registered the complaint and Sydney followed with “That sounds more like a reward.”

“And a punishment for whoever he chooses,” Lauren added.

Jess scooted back his chair and got to his feet. “Tsk-tsk, ladies. I realize this is going to be hard on those of you who don’t get to experience my incredible expertise.”

Anton brought his fist to his mouth and coughed to cover up his exclamation of “Bullshit.”

“Yeah. What Anton said. You can just keep your tongue to yourself, mister,” Kinsey said.

Jess ignored the outburst and circled the table, passing each woman once before stopping behind Kinsey on his second trip around. With both hands on the back of her chair, he leaned down and ran the tip of his tongue around the shell of her ear, blowing softly until she shuddered.

Sydney’s own heart fluttered wildly, and one look at Lauren and Poe confirmed that neither of the other women remained unaffected. Even knowing Jess was all bark and no bite didn’t stop any of them from wanting to feel the nip of his teeth. Though, mused Sydney, not half as much as she wanted to be nipped by Ray.

“Now,” Jess said to Kinsey, breathing the words into her ear. “Don’t be giving me grief about my tongue when you obviously don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” And with that, he continued his second trip around the table.

Sydney held her breath as he passed behind her, and she caught Ray staring as she slowly let it go. She wanted to know what he was thinking, what it meant when his pulse ticked at his temple, when his jaw seemed to grind. She wanted to know if he possibly wanted her, and how she was going to sit through the rest of the evening until she could find out for sure.

No one at the table said a word when Jess came to a stop behind Poe’s chair. She still had her arms raised, her hands laced behind her head, and Jess settled his palms on her elbows. Her mouth quirked slightly, as if she’d never had a doubt she’d end up as his choice.

He ran his hands from her elbows down her triceps and back up to her forearms before pulling her to her feet, pushing her chair out of the way with his hip as he did. Then he turned her, wrapped her arms around his neck, settled his hands on her hipbones above the low-riding waistband of her pants and backed her into the table.

When he lowered his head, Sydney found herself once again holding her breath. Jess nuzzled his lips over Poe’s jaw and chin before moving his mouth to her mouth. He was tender and gentle and soft with his approach.

He wasn’t grinding his hips into hers and slipping his tongue into her mouth as Sydney was certain everyone was expecting him to do. No, he was taking things slow, the way a lover would take things slow, letting go of Poe’s hips and moving his hands up her body to hold her face, finally opening his mouth enough to coax Poe to do the same.

It was unbelievable, the way Sydney’s pulse raced, the way she found herself unable to pull in anything more than shallow breaths. She glanced at Lauren, then at Kinsey. Both women were equally transfixed. But this time Sydney could not bring herself to look at Ray, even though she hadn’t a doubt he was looking at her. The sensation of being caught in his gaze like a fly in a spider’s web was enough to keep her from glancing over. Or from looking again toward Jess and Poe.

The suggestion of intimacy stirred Sydney’s hunger unbearably, and she breathed a huge sigh of relief when the couple broke the embrace. She even joined in the applause that followed and finally felt able to come up for air once Jess had taken his bow and made his way back to his seat.

“Well, now,” Poe said, slightly out of breath as she settled back into her chair. “You almost convinced me that you meant it.”

“Then I guess I won that round,” Jess said, not entirely undisturbed himself.

“I don’t know.” Kinsey shook her head. “For some reason I feel like I won.”

Her comment brought the laughter the room seemed to need. That, and the whiskey that was obviously beginning to take effect. Sydney had purposefully sipped slowly and made sure to water down what booze she was drinking.

And a good thing, too, since Jess turned to her and said, “Sydney?”

She looked up, feeling a rush of nervous trepidation. “Yes?”

“Truth or dare. Since you have had a bit of an icy reputation in the past—” Jess paused, letting the implication sink in “—I’m curious to know if you had an orgasm the first time you had sex.”

Sydney didn’t even blink. Could Jess have possibly asked anything she would’ve wanted to answer less, considering the present company, who could call her on any lie she might try to get away with? The present company who had brought her off repeatedly through the hours of that long, hot, summer night all those years ago?

And so she sat back, crossed her arms, looked Jess straight in the eye and told him and the rest of the room the truth. “Actually, Jess, yes. I did.”

Anton snorted, obviously in disbelief. Doug sat slack-jawed. Jess stared from beneath two raised brows. The women were more vocal. Their responses ranged from “No way!” to “Go Sydney!” to “You lucky dog!”

And then the circle of reactions came back around to Anton and his skeptical suspicion. “Give her a dare, Jess. She’s lying through her teeth.”

Sydney turned a steely gaze on Anton. “What makes you think I’m lying?”

“It’s hard to believe any woman would come her first time. Half the time even women who know what they’re doing fake their orgasms.” Anton flinched as a half-melted ice cube pelted him in the center of his chest. He glared across the length of the table just as Lauren threw another.

“If she’s with the right man, a woman can have an orgasm every time. But since it’s hard to find a man willing to take the time to learn what a woman needs, it’s no wonder women end up faking.” Lauren popped a third ice cube into her mouth, sucked it free of whiskey.

Anton upended his glass and drained the remainder of his drink. “Let’s not forget that some women seem to be able to come at the drop of a hat. Sorta makes a man wonder why she keeps him around when she can obviously do her own thing as long as she’s got the batteries.”

“Hey, dude. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.” Jess glanced from one-half of the quarreling couple to the other and back. “Finding a woman uninhibited enough to come sure takes the pressure off.”

“Exactly!” Lauren exclaimed, then turned to Jess. “Thank you, Jess. It’s nice to know that a man can appreciate a woman’s sexuality without feeling threatened by it.”

Anton got to his feet and Sydney held her breath, waiting for what she knew would be an explosion. But Anton surprised her by calmly grabbing the decanter of bourbon from the center of the table and not saying another word. And then he left the room.

For several moments no one made a comment, as if talking behind Anton’s back was as bad as talking in front of Lauren. Finally Poe split the difference with a mumbled, “Well, since I managed to so beautifully blow that, I think I’ll console myself with a quick and painless death by drowning. Or at least a long walk along the beach.”

“Oh, Poe. You didn’t blow anything.” Kinsey reached across the table and took hold of the other woman’s hands. “If you’re in the mood for company, I’d love to come along. My head could use the fresh air.”

Poe got to her feet, her gaze lingering on Jess as she asked, “Anyone else care to join us in walking off dinner and drinks and the rest of the evening’s disaster?”

“I’m going to take a shower.” Lauren stood, stared at the table’s surface as if getting her balance or her bearings, then headed for the circular staircase separating the dining area from the villa’s main room.

Once Lauren was gone, Doug slapped his hands on the table, jarring the room from its pensive mood. “I’m all for a walk.”

“Me, too,” Jess said, taking Kinsey by the hand and dragging her off toward the villa’s front entrance. He stopped halfway there, looked back and held out his other hand for Poe. “Doug, Ray? Sydney? Let’s go.”

Doug rose and headed for the group.

Sydney stayed seated and shook her head, running a finger around the rim of her near-empty glass. “You all go on. I’m going to finish cleaning the kitchen, then head for the shower once Lauren is through.”

“Ray? You coming?” Kinsey asked as she followed the others across the room and out the front door.

Ray glanced from Sydney to the departing group and back again. His brows drew down over clearly indecisive eyes. His lips pressed together uncertainly. He stepped closer to Sydney’s chair and stared down, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “You want some help?”

Sydney rubbed her cheek against his lingering hand, then looked from her glass up to Ray and, smiling, said, “Help with the kitchen or with the shower?”

Ray’s breath hitched and he stared down at her, his expression having darkened, the tic in his jaw a hard echo of the pulse throbbing in the hollow of his throat. “Don’t give me a choice you don’t want me to make.”

For a moment, just for a moment, Sydney closed her eyes. It would be so easy to say yes, to drag him into the shower off the first-floor bedroom suite that no one but her father ever used. But as much as she wanted him, she wanted to wait, to let the tension build, to keep their liaison a private affair.

And right now there were too many people waiting for him to join them on the beach. So what she did was get to her feet, reach across the table and gather up as many of the highball glasses as she could manage with two hands. Then she turned to face him.

“Truth or dare?” she asked, and as she did, Ray’s mouth quirked upward. “Would you rather I accept your help when we’re liable to be interrupted any minute, or would you rather wait until we have time alone?”

“The truth? I’d rather wait.” He looked off toward the door as if even now he expected to be interrupted. Then he looked back at Sydney, his eyes flashing, his smile a silent promise of seduction he intended to keep. “The dare? You find us the time.”

“I DON’T KNOW why I ever agreed to this trip.” Lauren pummeled the pink, satin-cased pillow, then crossed her arms and hugged it close. “I knew this was a mistake the minute I found out Anton was going to be here.”

“So why’d you come?” Sitting on the corner of Lauren’s bed and wearing nothing but a lemon-yellow silk chemise, Sydney rubbed lotion into her freshly shaved legs, intending to ferret out Lauren’s feelings for Anton in a private one-on-one, since Poe’s more dramatic efforts had sent the two lovers off in opposite directions.

Kinsey was actually the one bunking with Lauren, as Sydney had chosen to share a double room with Poe down the hall. The other two women hadn’t yet returned from the moonlit stroll they’d taken along the beach with three of the four men.

Anton hadn’t left the room he was sharing with Doug since taking the decanter of bourbon and calling it a night. Sydney doubted he was in any condition to put one foot in front of the other, moonlight or not.

Lauren’s condition wasn’t much better. Unable to sit still, she bounced this way and that, crossed her legs, then stretched them out and flexed her toes. Finally she tucked two pillows behind her, kept the one in front, leaned back against the headboard and collapsed.

Unfazed and possessing the patience of a saint, Sydney snapped the squirt cap of the lotion bottle and repeated her question. “Why did you come if you thought it was a mistake?”

Lauren finally accepted that Sydney wasn’t going away and heaved a huge sigh. “I know he’s been seeing Poe. And I knew she’d be here.”

“And you couldn’t stand a week at the office without her so you decided to come along?” Sydney asked wryly.

“Very funny.” Lauren glared, then sulked. “The truth is, I couldn’t stand thinking of the two of them here together.”

“So do you plan to stalk any woman Anton goes out with? Or tag along on all his dates?” Sydney asked, having a hard time keeping a straight face.

Lauren massaged both temples, then rubbed the heels of her palms over her eyes. “I know, I know. I regretted moving in with him. Now I regret moving out. I don’t want him dating anyone else, but I’m not sure how I feel about him. Or how he feels about me.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to find out?” Sydney wrapped her fingers around one of Lauren’s feet and playfully, teasingly squeezed. “Don’t you think being here together gives the two of you the perfect opportunity to see where exactly you stand with each other?”

“It might.” Lauren’s expression conveyed her irritation as sarcastically as did her tone of voice. “Of course we’d have a better chance if certain other people weren’t here stirring up trouble. I mean, c’mon. What was that business with the way Poe cleared off the table, anyway? Rubbing all over Anton and Doug. And truth or dare? Give me a break.”

Sydney shrugged, walking a fine neutral line between her friendships with the two women. “I think she was trying to break the ice. You have to admit it worked. Too bad Macy wasn’t here to take notes for gIRL gAMES.”

Lauren blew out an inelegant snort. “What I want to know is where Poe gets off thinking it’s her place to break the ice?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Poe said, walking uninvited and unexpected into Lauren’s room and plopping on the end of the bed opposite Sydney. “I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping. I came back for my suit—” she dangled the black bottoms to the top she’d been wearing all day “—and to ask if either of you wanted to join us in the hot tub on the sundeck. But now that I’m here, I’m more than happy to clear any air that needs clearing.”

“All right.” Lauren cocked her head to one side and considered the other woman and her offer. “This isn’t exactly a tropical reality show, Poe. We don’t need a cruise director. We’re all adults. We know how to get along and how to entertain ourselves, thank you very much.”

Poe shrugged carelessly. “Maybe so. But it’s obvious that certain tensions exist between some of us that will ruin this vacation for others if not dealt with.”

Lauren pulled up her knees and pressed them into the pillow she held tightly to her chest. “You’re talking about me and Anton.”

“That, yes.” Poe inclined her head, lifting both brows in a visual challenge. “And your feelings toward me.”

“What about my feelings toward you?”

“Obviously they are hardly charitable. And obviously they are rooted in the fact that Anton has taken me out a couple of times since the two of you broke up.”

“Well, then, what else is there to say?” Lauren asked, clearly believing she held the upper hand.

Sydney glanced from Lauren to Poe, who easily yanked away Lauren’s hold by replying, “You mean, besides the fact that you can’t have it both ways?”

Frowning, Lauren asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Either you want to be with Anton or you don’t.” Poe got to her feet, begin untying the knots holding her sarong pants in place. “You can’t dangle your feelings like bait, hoping he’ll bite. That’s hardly fair to him. It’s certainly not fair to me. But most of all, it’s unfair to yourself.”

“And how do you figure that?” Lauren asked, watching along with Sydney as Poe’s pants and barely there bikini panties hit the floor.

Poe slipped one foot, then the other into the swimsuit bottoms and pulled them on. “Are you dating anyone else?”

“I’ve been seeing someone, yes,” Lauren answered, then, avoiding Sydney’s gaze, hurried to add, “It’s not serious, though. We’re just very close friends.”

“Are you happy just being very close friends? Or do you miss being in a committed relationship?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Poe snagged her pants from the floor, tossed them over one shoulder and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Sydney suddenly knew that Poe was about to breathe the fire by which she’d earned her dragonlady reputation.

“C’mon, Lauren. If you want Anton, go for it. If you love him, fight for him. Fight with him, if you have to. Because I can tell you right now that he won’t be unattached for long. He’s intelligent and successful. He’s kind and he’s funny and he’s sexy as hell.

“If you’re sitting around waiting for him to come crawling back on his knees, it’s not going to happen.” And then Poe’s voice softened. “But you know that, don’t you? You know exactly what he’s worth. And exactly what you’re missing, now that you don’t have him in your life.”

As Sydney watched, tears filled Lauren’s eyes. She reached for Lauren’s foot, wrapped a comforting hand around her ankle. But before Sydney could soothe her friend with heartfelt words, Poe said, “Don’t cry, Lauren. Get tough. Get mean. Stand up to him. Stand up for what you want from him. There are so few men worth fighting for. And you’ve found one.

“Don’t let him go, because if you do, I guarantee he’ll be snatched up before you can blink. And I can’t say that I won’t be the first woman in line.”

3

WRAPPING AN ARM around a beam supporting the second-floor balcony, Sydney stared out across the stretch of white beach and over the rippling water.

The moon was high and full, and the light thrown across the sea and the sand was easily bright enough to see by. The view was almost no different at midnight than it had been at sunset, except the sky was now a velvet cape of star-studded indigo and the Caribbean a darkly mysterious surface of sinuous, white-capped waves.

She couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t sure if it was being in a strange bed or being in strange company. This group would try the patience of the pope. At least Lauren and Poe seemed to be headed toward an understanding, if not a complete truce. And though Sydney had never before considered enlisting outside help in her initiative to get Lauren out of her funk, Poe’s direct approach had certainly given Lauren food for thought. And given Sydney a lot to consider, as well.

She supposed it wasn’t easy for Lauren to see Anton in the company of any woman with their relationship so newly ended. But there was something about Poe as the other woman that might even have given Sydney pause. Poe made no effort to suppress her sexuality. She made no apologies for her candor. And she had the potential to make for tough competition as a business adversary or as a rival for the attention of a man.

Lauren certainly had Sydney’s sympathy. She wasn’t sure how she’d react if Poe was to take a sudden interest in pursuing Ray while here on Coconut Caye. Sydney supposed that after she’d worked him out of her system and out of her fantasies, after they were all back in Houston, he’d be fair game. Poe would be welcome to go after him, if she had a mind to, and Sydney would have no reason to object.

So why did the picture of Poe, or any other woman, in the arms of Ray Coffey suddenly have Sydney’s claws flexing?

It had to be the bourbon, she decided, frowning, even while recognizing the explanation of “too much alcohol” as not making a whole lot of sense. She’d barely sipped enough of her father’s stock to get a buzz. Too much of a lightweight to overindulge, she’d wanted to stay sober. The alcohol she had consumed had only served to loosen her inhibitions, allowing her to seize the moment and boldly make a move on Ray.

The come-on she’d made once the room had cleared had been more than effective, judging by Ray’s effort to steady his ragged inhalation of breath. Standing there beside the dining table and looking up into his eyes, Sydney had been struck by the suppressed passion she saw simmering there. Her own breathing had been rattled, her chest constricted, her throat so tight she’d found it impossible to speak in a level tone.

And that was totally unlike her, responding in an overtly physical fashion when attracted to a man. She’d always prided herself on being cool, being in control, which had, unfortunately, served to further her Ice Queen image, no matter that she was anything but cold.

For most of the evening, she’d watched Ray covertly, not wanting him to catch her staring or to sense any of what she had on her mind. While the others had been caught up in the flirtatious rules of the game, Ray had, for the most part, sat silently. He’d thrown in two or three smart remarks as guys, being guys, were prone to do.

But he’d been distracted, which Sydney could tell by the way he’d studied his plate, smiling at random comments, toying with his glass but never really doing much damage to his drink. He’d remained as sober as she had and then he’d left the villa with the others. She wondered if he’d had much to say while in the hot tub, or if his thoughts had been as consumed as hers by their parting conversation. He’d dared her to find time for them to be together. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do more. This vacation was taking a promising turn.

As if on cosmic cue, footsteps to her left brought Sydney’s head around to that side. The sight that greeted her brought her train of thought to a skidding halt, brought her body heat to the point of fever. She’d thought her breathing labored earlier this evening, but that struggle for calm was nothing compared to the way that now as she looked at Ray as he approached, desire stole the air from her lungs.

He was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only a pair of long denim shorts that hit the bend of his knees. His hands were shoved in the front pockets and dragged his waistband down his abdomen. The light the moon threw across the veranda cast his body in uneven shadows. The scar on his chest stood out like a long, white scimitar, curving over his breastbone, cutting a slice through the dark whorls of hair.

Even from this distance, thirty feet, twenty, fifteen, ten, Sydney could smell his clean skin and just-washed hair. And now that he’d drawn closer, drawn close enough to touch, she could see the still-damp ends brushed back from his face. But his eyes told the tale of his wakeful state of mind. His thoughts were as unsettled as hers.

“Trouble sleeping?” he asked, reaching the beam closest to the one she held on to and, facing her, leaning his shoulder against the support.

“I always have trouble the first night away from home.” Hands curled around either side of the beam, she gave a small shrug. “Strange noises. Though, in this case, the lack of noise may be the culprit.”

“Yeah,” Ray said, working to keep a straight face. “Hard to relax with all those waves breaking onshore. Not to mention the breeze blowing through the palm fronds. Pretty damn noisy, if you ask me.”

The moon’s gentle glow softened Sydney’s view of Ray’s left side, keeping his right half in shadow. His entire body, in fact, was a contrast of moonlit skin and blue denim and shiny clean hair, and a rich silhouette.

Which meant he was seeing her the same way.

Sydney took a step back into the full shade of the covered veranda. She wore nothing but her lemon-colored silk chemise, with nothing but thin spaghetti straps holding the low-cut, slip-style garment in place.

She was clothed, covered, but still she felt vulnerable, with her face scrubbed clean and her feet bare. She’d wanted to be at her seductive best when dealing privately with Ray. Not looking as if she was ready to crawl into bed….

Facing the villa’s second story, the view of the tropical night at her back, she leaned her head against the support beam and smiled, tucking her laced hands behind her. “It’s hard because I’m enjoying the peace and quiet. I feel like if I relax, I’ll miss something grand. I’m always that way my first night here. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“You’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”

“Me? Are you kidding?” She glanced at Ray, glanced back, then let her gaze roam. He was too gorgeous not to give in to the visual pleasure. “I run on adrenaline half the time, anyway. Relaxing is harder to get used to.”

Ray pulled his hands from his pockets, crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his fingers into his armpits. His pectoral muscles bunched and flexed. Mouth awry, he gave an amused shake of his head. “You haven’t changed much, have you. You never were the stop-and-smell-the-roses type, even in high school. Always so serious. All the time.”

Sydney crinkled her nose, afraid he was right and that her personality had retained too much of the restrictive qualities she’d worked so hard to loosen, certain she’d never be the free spirit her mother had chided her to be. “I suppose I should do more to relax.”

“You’re right. You should.” His smile was broad and compelling. “What good is a vacation if you’re too wound up to have a good time?”

“Oh, I won’t have a bit of trouble having a good time,” she answered, even while wondering what Ray considered a good time and if he’d find her notion of one boring. Extreme cost analysis wasn’t quite the same game as extreme Frisbee. Of course, this time, this vacation, she was thinking more along the lines of extreme sex. “I always enjoy myself when I set my mind to it.”

He studied her for several long moments. She felt exposed under the intense scrutiny and couldn’t help but be aware of her complete nudity under her chemise. Was Ray looking at the way the silk draped her body? Or was he looking deeper, searching beneath her reserve for the reasons she’d never learned, except for their one time together, to spontaneously let go?

She wasn’t even sure she could put a name to the cause of her self-restraint. And her actions even on the night they’d made love hadn’t been as spontaneous as they had been calculated. That was one thing she wasn’t sure she should ever let him know.

Finally he said, “Why do you have to work so hard at having fun? Fun should be what happens when you’re not working.”

She understood where he was coming from, but still…“You don’t think working can be fun?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Satisfying, sure. Exciting, you bet. And, yeah, I enjoy what I do. Probably more than a lot of guys. But I wouldn’t call it fun. Never fun.”

Sydney turned first her head, then her entire body to face him…and was immediately struck silent by both the heroic fire and heat of loss burning in his eyes.

Here she’d been casually flirting, waiting for Ray to offer to show her how to relax, to help her have a good time. She’d been thinking about the fulfilling nature of her own work. She hadn’t been thinking at all about what it was he did for a living. About the suffering and devastation he had to encounter in his efforts to minimize disaster and save human life.

Funny how cosmetics and accessories suddenly seemed such a shallow pursuit. And at the same time, how gIRL-gEAR’s new teen-mentoring program took on a new significance.

The effort was one of which Sydney was proud. Of which Ray could be proud. Of which even her flamboyantly unorthodox mother would have to be proud.

Still, Sydney felt compelled to reach out and offer a sympathetic shoulder, even though she had a feeling that Ray’s needs, if any, would be less about a shoulder and more about a willing ear. Or even a friend, though she doubted he opened up more than rarely. She could almost see the words waiting to tumble free.

She gave him an encouraging smile. “I guess your line of work wouldn’t be. Fun, that is. Though it has to be dozens of times more rewarding than running a fashion empire.”

Ray avoided her efforts to draw him into the conversation about himself. “Would that make you an empress?”

“No,” she said, determined to try again later. “Just your garden variety CEO.”

His mouth quirked into a lopsided grin as he shook his head. “Nothing about you has ever been garden variety, Sydney Ford. I knew that the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“When was the first time you saw me?” She knew precisely the first time she’d seen him.

“My senior year,” he said, moving to brace both hands on the balcony railing and leaning forward. He looked out to sea as he spoke. “You would’ve been a junior. You came into the computer lab where we were working on the school paper. You were with Isabel Leighton. She was dropping off a disk with one of her infamous last-minute stories.”

He leaned farther forward, his forearms supporting his body weight as he laced his hands together. “You stood just inside the doorway with your arms wrapped around a stack of books. You were wearing pinstriped dress pants and a lacy white blouse in a school where the girls who wore anything that covered their legs wore jeans. Nobody wore dress pants. But then I found out who you were and it all made sense. Pinstripes and lace were exactly what the Ice Queen would wear.”

He turned his head. His brows drew together in a thoughtful frown even as he smiled. “What I never could figure out was why you went to public school. No one understood why you weren’t enrolled in some private, rich-girl academy.”

“My mother,” Sydney admitted, realizing that, though the resentment had faded, the ramifications of her mother’s decision remained. Her school years hadn’t been particularly happy, even though they’d proved to be a strong foundation from which she’d learned to stand up for herself, to concentrate on taking care of Sydney Ford.

“My mother didn’t want me to get a big head, thinking I was better than anyone else because I had money.” Sydney hugged herself. “I don’t think she got it that I stood out more at public school, that I never quite fit in. Even the other kids who had money labeled me a snob.”

“Because you had so much more.”

She’d often wondered how different her life would’ve been without money. Even now, her falling-out with her father was a betrayal rooted in the financial choices he’d made. Still, it wasn’t about money as much as it was about broken promises….

“Nolan made his first million before he was thirty, did you know that? And my mother wasn’t exactly a pauper. She came from money, yes, but her abstract oil paintings struck a chord with collectors. Her gallery showings sold out every time. She never depended on my father for monetary support.” Though, to Sydney’s chagrin and, more so, to her heartache, things had apparently changed.

Ray nodded, as if digesting the information. “And you’re following in the family footsteps. Making a lot of money and doing it your way. Not depending on anyone but yourself.”

Sydney wasn’t sure whether to frown or smile, but finally went with the latter. “I’m going to take that as a compliment, even though I’m not sure if that’s how you meant it. Yes, I grew up with the advantages of wealth. I never had to worry about how I was going to pay for my education. And Nolan did seed gIRL-gEAR.

“But I wouldn’t have gotten the money from any venture capitalist if I hadn’t known what I was doing. Trust me. Nolan’s not that altruistic.” Or at least, she mused with more than a touch of resentment, he didn’t used to be.

Ray glanced over, hair falling over his forehead. His expression conveyed an unwavering understanding. “You don’t have to justify your family’s wealth to me, Sydney.”

She took a deep breath, blew it out slowly. Why did she let herself get so worked up over money? “Is that what I’m doing?”

He shrugged, then looked back out to sea. “Sure sounds like it to me.”

She stuck out her tongue, anyway. “Then it’s all your fault for reminding me of feeling like I had to justify it to everyone in high school.”

“Everyone except Isabel Leighton.”

Sydney took a deep breath. Ray couldn’t have known of her latest connection to the one friend from school who’d kept her sane, who’d put so many things into perspective, who’d given her support and a shoulder when she’d needed both more than she’d needed food and water. It was just a coincidence that he’d brought up the one name that, considering recent circumstances, gave her heart a jolt.

“Izzy was the best,” Sydney said, working to relax. “She’s still the best and has done amazing things with her life. But as far as high school went, you’re right. She couldn’t have cared less where I came from. She was that way with all her friends. I had other friends, too. Good friends. Just not as many as Izzy had.”

“And not as many as you might’ve had at private school,” he stated, standing up to face her.

“True,” Sydney admitted, knowing it wouldn’t help her cause to leave Ray with the wrong impression about her own schooling preferences. And so she gave in to the smile tugging at her mouth. “But the private schools Nolan was interested in weren’t coed. Even if I didn’t date, I still enjoyed going to school with boys.”

Obviously curious, Ray asked, “Why didn’t you date?”

“You’re asking me that question? You’d get a better answer from any of the boys I graduated with. I think you know what they thought of me.” She definitely knew what they’d thought.

But knowing hadn’t helped her understand why none of them had bothered to get to know her. She might’ve appeared aloof and she’d definitely been shy. But nothing about her was cold. Her Ice Queen reputation had been grossly exaggerated. As Ray had found out.

“Yeah, I know what they thought. But you gotta realize boys that age don’t have the ability to tell the difference between frigid and shy. They’ll look for any scapegoat if it’ll save their own hot-shit reputation. You made a good one.” He shook his head, returned his hands to his pockets. “It’s not very hard to figure out.”

Sydney mentally backtracked to the middle of his explanation and frowned. How had he known she was shy? She was sure she’d never told him. She wanted to ask him more, wanted to hear who he thought she was. Wanted to hear in his own words why he’d wanted her to share his vacation.

Wanted to begin to understand her own attraction to him so she could begin to work her way beyond the allure. He wasn’t even close to being the compatible and civilized man she’d envisioned sharing her life with one day. Yet lust, she was discovering, defied logic and unanswered questions.

So she simply stared, wide-eyed and mute, as he moved closer, near enough that she could feel the heat from his large and half-bare body.

She could smell his deliciously masculine scent, clean and sweetly spiced. The bath soap stocked in the villa, made by a woman on the mainland, was a blend of natural ingredients, including native grasses and herbs.

Ray wore the fragrance well, and Sydney could only imagine the thrill of nuzzling her nose into his skin. She’d always been enchanted with the contrast of a man’s soft skin over his hard muscles. And she knew without a doubt that Ray would feel the same as he had in the past, while still feeling like a man she’d never known.

He stepped directly in front of her then so that the shadow from the support beam fell across the center of his body. He lifted one hand and touched an index finger to her cheek, trailing his touch back toward her ear.

“Talk to me, Sydney Ford. Help me figure you out.”

Sydney’s heart pounded. “You know who I am.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I know the woman you want me to know. But there’s a whole lot more to you than what you’ve let me see.”

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