Lusting after the enemy

Former SEAL Jackson Duchane has spent almost a decade hunting down the wreck of the Chimera, a Civil War–era ship rumored to be filled with gold. Now he’s agonizingly close to the biggest discovery of his life. With a rival diving team hot on his tail, Jackson is determined to get there first, but he didn’t bargain on a sexy distraction...

Heading up a diving team is Loralei Lancaster’s nautical nightmare. Fortunately, nothing distracts a girl from her water phobia like a gloriously ripped surf god. And Jackson is hot enough to make Loralei forget everything—including the fact that he’s an arrogant jerk! And when heated words lead to steamy nights, Loralei finds herself caught between the devil and the deep blue sea!

Yummy on a stick...

Loralei’s mouth went dry when she saw the man from the docks. Tall and muscular. The kind of guy whose mere presence commanded attention.

Bringing her glass to her lips, she gulped down a huge swallow to relieve the pressure. It didn’t quite work... Especially when she realized the blond surf god was heading straight for her.

Leaning down, he brushed his lips against hers, warm and soft.

Her mouth dropped open—she wasn’t sure if the gesture was an invitation for him to kiss her again or because she knew she should say something, like Who the hell are you?

Before she could decide, his solid body was pressing against her, urging her to slide over into the corner of the booth. And she did, which left her a little miffed and seriously bewildered.

The heat of him seeped into her flesh. The hem of her shorts had ridden up her thigh at some point and she could feel the rub of his skin against hers, smooth to hair-roughened.

She found her voice enough to ask, “Who are you?”

“Jack,” he said, dipping his head and brushing the single word across the sensitive shell of her ear. Then he pulled back and smiled down at her, managing to fill his expression with kindness, sensuality and predatory promise.

Oh, this guy was trouble. The kind of man who got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it...

Dear Reader,

I’m so excited to finally see the first of my SEALs of Fortune series in print. This is a project I’ve been working on for a very long time and it’s so great to see the hard work come to life. Under the Surface kicks off the series pitting Jackson Duchane, part-owner in Trident Diving, against Loralei Lancaster, reluctant owner of Lancaster Diving and Salvage.

From their first meeting it’s obvious that strong emotions seethe between these two. They cross swords time and again. And hunting for the same treasure doesn’t help—especially when they both think the other is playing dirty. They might not like each other, but that doesn’t stop them from wanting each other, and the passion between them burns too hot to resist!

Under the Surface is about looking beyond what you see and trusting your instincts...and your heart. I hope you enjoy Jackson and Loralei’s story! And don’t forget to come back to visit with the crew from Trident Diving in July with Holding Her Breath.

I’d love to hear from you at kirasinclair.com, or come chat with me on Twitter @kirasinclair.

Best wishes,

Kira

Under the Surface

Kira Sinclair

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KIRA SINCLAIR is an award-winning author who writes emotional, passionate contemporary romances. Double winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, her first foray into writing fiction was for a high school English assignment. Nothing could dampen her enthusiasm...not even being forced to read the love story aloud to the class. However, it definitely made her blush. Writing about striking, sexy heroes and passionate, determined women has always excited her. She lives with her two beautiful daughters in North Alabama. Kira loves to hear from readers at kirasinclair.com.

This book is dedicated to Tammy Henderson. For sweating with me, challenging me to do more and be better, listening to me vent, and being there when I needed you most. I couldn’t have gotten through the last few months without you! Thanks for being you...and for sharing my book obsession.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

THEY NEEDED MONEY. Desperately. But was it worth risking his life?

The moment Jackson Duchane had seen Lancaster Diving’s battered, outdated equipment piled on the docks in Mobile, Alabama, that nasty sensation of impending doom had begun to crawl across his shoulders.

An oil company had hired the Lancaster team to blast away a thick layer of rock blocking access to a new line they wanted to drill in the Gulf. Easy enough. Or it should have been.

This was what he got for subcontracting to a diving company he’d never worked with before.

But Trident Diving couldn’t afford to be picky right now. The company was new and business was slow. Opening Trident in his hometown of Jacksonville, Florida had been a dream years in the making for him and his partners Asher Reynolds and Knox McLemore. Their friendship had been forged in the heat of battle. All of them were ex-Navy SEALs. There was nothing quite like sharing miserable conditions or crawling through a hail of bullets together to make you appreciate someone else’s strengths and how they shored up your weaknesses.

Jackson couldn’t imagine being in business with anyone else. Including his sister, Kennedy, who ran the Trident offices while she finished college, the four of them made an awesome team.

He’d wanted to turn down this job, had even mentioned his concerns to Knox and Asher. There’d been something off about James Lancaster and his offer. Something Jackson hadn’t been able to put his finger on. But Kennedy had quoted their pitiful bank balance to convince him.

He should have gone with his gut.

Now, a hundred feet below the surface of the water, it was too late to listen to instinct. And it was entirely possible that decision was going to cost him his damn life.

Where the hell had they found their explosives guy? And why wasn’t anyone else freaking that he was setting the charges completely wrong?

Jesus Christ! Jackson was going to kill someone when they got back to the surface—assuming he lived that long.

Signaling frantically, he tried to get the attention of one of the other divers, but everyone was ignoring him. Typical. They’d been less than welcoming. Considering he’d stepped in at the last minute to replace someone, that had already pissed him off. James had made it sound as if the injured diver had been hurt on dry land, but Jackson was beginning to wonder.

The problem with the explosives wasn’t the first safety violation he’d seen since coming aboard Emily’s Fortune.

Screw it. He wasn’t about to stick around and let himself or someone else get killed. He’d seen enough death and destruction during his years with the SEALs to last him a lifetime.

He, Knox and Asher could have handled the job, and a hell of a lot more efficiently. Not to mention safely.

And non-compete clause or not, after this he was going to be talking to the client about what he’d seen and making a promise that his company could perform any future work better, safer and cheaper.

Streamlining his body, Jackson streaked toward the rocky outcropping where Brian, the explosives guy, was working and pushed him out of the way. Brian was propelled sideways several feet, enough for Jackson to take his place in front of the charges.

The response he got was expected, an angry glare and an answering shove. He ignored both. Within minutes he had the charges set correctly.

Wrapping a hand around Brian’s arm, Jackson towed him back toward the surface, knowing they needed to get out of blast range. He gave the signal and everyone else on the team followed.

They rose up, blue sky slowly appearing above the waterline.

Jackson broke free, his body bursting up and then sinking back down. He spat the regulator out of his mouth, and was already yelling when the rest of the team surfaced beside him.

After climbing aboard the ship that bobbed several feet away, Jackson shed his equipment piece by piece, heading straight for James Lancaster, the owner and head of their team. He and James had gone a round or two already, so Jackson was fully prepared for this to become heated.

“What the hell happened down there, Duchane?”

“Damn hotshot SEAL thinks he knows every goddamn thing,” Brian hollered from behind him.

Jackson balled his hands into fists in an attempt to keep them by his sides instead of planted in the asshole’s face and growled, “Your idiot demo guy was about to blow every one of us to hell and back. He’d bypassed the trigger so the minute he set the charge it was going to blow.”

He watched James’ eyes widen. Finally.

“That’s bullshit,” Brian sputtered.

The other guys, who up to this point had been silent and watchful, muttered, shifting uncomfortably behind him.

“He just wanted to get his hands on some explosives,” Brian continued.

Jackson took a single menacing step forward. He was quickly losing the slippery hold on his temper. But before he could act, James stepped between them, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Son,” he started with a calming voice Jackson was so not in the mood to heed. “I think it would be better if we parted ways.”

1

Eight Months Later

LORALEI LANCASTER FORCED back the lump of fear clogging her throat and walked out on the dock.

The damn thing moved beneath her feet, swaying with the gentle lap of the water. Only to her it felt like a tidal wave preparing to swamp her, sweep her over the side and down into the bright blue water.

For most people a trip to Turks and Caicos was a prime vacation. For her it was pure hell. She was surrounded by water. And not just standing out here on the dock. Every window she looked through seemed to have an ocean view.

Suck it up, buttercup.

She could hear her dad’s voice, low and gruff in her head. It wasn’t any more soothing now than it had been when he was alive. Not that she’d heard it very often.

In fact, growing up, she’d gone months without hearing from him at all. And seeing him...that had happened maybe once or twice a year, if she was lucky. Or maybe it had been lucky that he hadn’t tried to drag her into the transient—and water-centric—life he’d led.

Maybe they both had been happier, although that didn’t quite negate Loralei’s resentment. After her mother had died in a freak diving accident, her father had dumped her on the mainland and let his in-laws raise his daughter.

“Loralei!” Brian hollered from a ship that was tied several feet down the dock. To her it felt like a mile.

She’d taken barely a handful of steps onto the dock before her body had frozen. Now her feet refused to move. There weren’t any railings for her to cling to for safety and support. Why weren’t there railings to keep people from falling in to the water?

Some masochistic part of her brain urged her to look. To turn her head and glance down. But she didn’t. She knew that would be too much.

Suddenly, Brian was standing in front of her, wrapping his arms around her stiff body. He didn’t seem to notice that she was stuck. Which was good. Maybe no one would notice her fear of the water.

She’d worked so hard to keep the weakness a secret.

Logically, she knew it was silly. Hundreds of thousands of people got in the water each day and they didn’t drown. But logic hadn’t helped her over the years. The few times she’d attempted to dip her toe in a pool as a teenager hadn’t gone well. And here she was, the brand-new owner of Lancaster Diving and Salvage. What the hell was she supposed to do with a diving company?

Especially one in such dire financial straits.

Loralei pulled up the same pep talk that had gotten her butt on the plane in Chicago. She just needed to get through the next few weeks. She could do this. She had to.

Her father, along with making her the sole beneficiary of a company she really didn’t want, also had left her with the means to make the company profitable enough to at least be tempting to potential buyers. He had been hot on the trail of a legendary shipwreck, the Chimera.

History suggested the ship had sailed from the Virgin Islands toward New Orleans and the Confederate States to deliver supplies and munitions.

But many believed that hadn’t been the only thing in the hold when a hurricane had set upon the ship and sunk it somewhere between Haiti and Turks and Caicos. According to legend, there was gold. Lots of it.

What Loralei had found historically interesting was that, if the rumors of gold were true, and if the ship had reached port as planned, the Chimera’s cargo could have changed the outcome of the war.

Of course, that was pure speculation. But a secret stash of gold provided by Caribbean plantation owners, who’d had a stake in the issues the Confederacy was fighting for...

As a historian, Loralei’s interest had been piqued the moment she’d begun reading her father’s research on the Chimera. But the story itself wasn’t the only surprise. Until she’d found the documentation on the Chimera, she’d never known her father had been interested in history at all. She’d grown up thinking that her driving need to uncover the past and discover how people thought, loved, hated and lived had come out of nowhere.

Why had it taken her father’s death to learn that they actually had something in common?

That, more than anything, haunted Loralei. And it was the biggest reason she’d pushed herself to come here, despite the damn water, and finish what he’d started.

According to the records she’d found, her dad had thought he’d narrowed down the potential resting places for the Chimera.

Finding the missing ship could make the difference between a debt-laden burden and a company that would be a nice boost to her bank account and allow her to focus on her academic and research career.

The problem was she couldn’t afford to hire anyone to oversee the operation. She was already afraid she wouldn’t be able to pay the divers’ salaries. But she’d worry about that if and when it became a reality.

Brian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and propelled her forward.

Loralie almost told him thank you before she realized he wouldn’t understand her meaning and bit back the words.

Her body was wooden, but at least it was heading in the right direction again.

She’d known this man most of her life, even if she could count on her hands and feet the number of times they’d actually been face-to-face. Brian had joined her dad’s team when he was fifteen. It had been a logical jump from summers and holidays to working full time once he was out of high school.

When she was younger, Loralei could admit to being a little jealous at how much time her dad spent with this man instead of his own daughter. Now, she was just grateful to have someone who was knowledgeable about what was going on and could help her through the next few weeks.

Grasping her around the waist, Brian lifted her up the ladder and onto the deck of their ship, Emily’s Fortune.

Seeing her mom’s name painted along the side in peeling, faded red letters sent an unexpected jolt of pain through her chest.

Somehow she managed to push that down, too.

To her relief, Brian led her into the belly of the ship. She could still feel the gentle sway as waves rocked against the hull, but at least she didn’t have to look at the water anymore. If she closed her eyes maybe she could convince herself she was on a train or a plane or something.

Although, the scent of salt in the air and the sound of sea birds pretty much killed that fantasy.

“The team from Trident is already here.”

Dropping onto the bench running along the wall behind a table in the galley, Lorelei rubbed a hand over her temple. “What?”

“Trident. You know, the diving company I was telling you about over the phone.”

“The one that’s been stealing clients from us for the last eight months?”

“Yeah, that one. They’re here.”

Dropping her hand, Lorelei looked up at Brian. He was about nine years older than she was, although when he smiled he looked even older. All his time in the sea and sun had etched extra lines at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. His skin was a deep, dark brown—a few shades darker than the natural caramel color she’d inherited from her Latin mother—and leathery.

“Why?”

Brian frowned, the line between his brows angling into a deep groove.

“I have no idea, but it makes me uneasy.”

Yeah, it didn’t exactly thrill her, either.

If Brian was telling her the truth—and she had no reason to doubt him—Trident had been a thorn in her dad’s side for months.

It couldn’t be coincidence that they’d shown up here now, could it?

No, her life didn’t work that way.

“Damn, this means we have competition, doesn’t it?”

“Probably.”

* * *

JACKSON BLENDED INTO the bustling activity of the marina and watched.

He’d never seen the woman Brian greeted with a hug and a deep smile, but he supposed it wasn’t a leap to assume she was Lancaster’s daughter.

He’d heard James had died from a heart attack three months ago. Damn shame, but not surprising. He hadn’t looked healthy the last time they’d spoken. Of course, the man had been red-faced and screaming at him.

It hadn’t taken James long to realize Trident—and Jackson specifically—was poaching his clients. The man had made it damn easy to do. But James had been livid, storming into the Trident offices to throw his weight around and threaten him with that non-compete clause he’d originally signed.

By then Jackson had discovered just how much financial trouble Lancaster was in, so he’d told the man to go ahead and hire a lawyer—he’d known James couldn’t afford one.

And he hadn’t felt a single twinge of guilt. Not when people’s lives and safety were involved.

That potential mishap with the explosives was how shit like oil rigs exploding and millions of gallons of crude spilling into pristine waters happened.

Several weeks later their front door had been smashed in and their offices ransacked. All the expensive dive equipment and computers had been left untouched, nothing of value missing.

It had taken Asher, Knox, Kennedy and himself several days to deal with the mess. There was no way to prove the burglars had paid an inordinate amount of attention to his research on the Chimera, or that the person behind the theft was James Lancaster, but his gut had told him that’s what had happened.

He’d had plenty of experience trusting his gut. On dangerous missions those hunches often had been the difference between life and death.

And now his gut was telling him Lancaster Diving’s presence in Turks and Caicos wasn’t a coincidence. Loralei Lancaster disappeared below deck, Brian right behind her, his hand hovering at the small of her back without actually touching. The diving community was small and he’d made it his business to know everything he could about Lancaster Diving...including the woman who’d inherited the mess James had left behind.

Jackson almost felt sorry for her. But not enough to stop his campaign to put them out of business. Which was secondary to keeping them away from the Chimera. He’d been researching the shipwreck for the past ten years. There was no way he’d let the Lancaster team find her first. Especially using his own damn work.

There was no denying Loralei was beautiful. Exotic. Her skin was a deep, sun-kissed brown. The shorts she wore hugged the curves of her hips, leaving plenty of long, delicious leg on display. Her lightweight shirt fluttered loosely against her body, making her look tropical and carefree.

Based on the information he’d been able to gather, he’d expected her to be bold and unabashed as she’d walked across the dock toward Emily’s Fortune. But she’d kept her gaze focused straight ahead, every movement of her body stiff.

Why?

He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to care. But the soldier in him couldn’t help but catalogue and consider.

Part of him wanted to stomp down the dock, storm onto her ship and confront her.

But that wouldn’t lead him anywhere. No doubt she’d simply lie just as her father, Brian, and everyone else attached to Lancaster Diving had.

So, he had a better plan.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jackson leaned against a low railing and settled in to wait. This was something he was comfortable with, trained to withstand the kind of boredom that could drive most men crazy.

He watched the ships coming and going from the marina so that anyone who noticed him would just assume he was a tourist taking in the native color. But he never lost sight of Lancaster’s ship.

Luckily, his wait wasn’t very long. An hour later Loralei emerged, Brian still glued to her side.

She kept her head high and her focus squarely in front of her. Brian’s mouth moved, but Jackson couldn’t hear what the man said. Not that it particularly mattered. Loralei was either bored or unimpressed because she didn’t bother responding. Her mouth was pulled into a tight line and her body strung with tension.

Her long black hair swirled in the soft breeze blowing off the water. For some reason he’d expected her eyes to be deep brown, but as she drew nearer Jackson realized they were actually a pale green. Like her father’s.

It was about the only resemblance he found between the bear of a man with red-tinged skin permanently burned from too many years in the sun and harsh sea air, and the woman striding ever closer.

Jackson didn’t bother moving as they drew even. Both of them were absorbed. Brian didn’t notice him at all.

Loralei’s gaze, though, brushed over him. And lingered. Not on his face, but on his body. He knew what she saw. He’d spent years honing his form into the weapon he needed it to be. He depended on strength and mobility to get the job done.

He was used to women noticing him. And he had to admit, the danger and secrecy of being a SEAL helped build a reputation many women found appealing. Over the years Jackson had been happy to take advantage of that job perk.

It had been months since he’d had the time to indulge, though. All his focus and energy had been going into opening Trident, building a reputation and client list, and gathering the research and capital to fund this search for the Chimera.

It irritated him that Loralei Lancaster stirred to life the first hint of awareness he’d felt in eighteen months.

Apparently, his dick didn’t feel like being picky. Good thing his brain had better sense.

Her perusal only lasted a few moments, enough time for her to walk past him and then it was gone. But the sensation she’d awakened lingered, an unwanted buzz beneath his skin.

Clamping his fingers around the railing, Jackson forced himself not to turn and watch her walk away. There was no point. He knew exactly where to find her.

* * *

LORALEI NEEDED A DRINK. Or several. Yep, definitely several of those pretty orange and pink things every restaurant and bar seemed to offer. Fruity concoctions with enough alcohol to help her forget that tomorrow she would be on a ship surrounded by nothing but ocean.

God, she wished Melody was here. Her best friend had offered to come, but she couldn’t get the time off. Melody was about the only person who knew of Loralei’s phobia. She supposed it wasn’t that important to keep it a secret, but she didn’t like weakness—especially in herself. And it was difficult to look at her fear as anything but that. Over the years she’d tried to logic herself out of the irrational reaction, but nothing seemed to work.

Melody had discovered the truth by accident several years into their friendship. Even then, Loralei had been reluctant to admit the extent of her phobia until her friend had backed her into a corner, unwilling to accept her lies.

She didn’t bother changing clothes before heading down to the bar attached to the hotel. She wasn’t in the market to get picked up so she didn’t care if her makeup was smudged and her clothes wrinkled after a long day of traveling.

She honestly didn’t care about anything aside from settling her nerves.

Walking across the plush carpet, she let the dim light and soft sounds wash over her. If not for the calypso music and beach-chic decor, she might have been able to convince herself she was home in Chicago, which is where she’d much rather be, instead of on a Caribbean island.

Sliding into a booth in the far corner, she placed her order and then drilled her fingers into the table while she waited for it to be delivered. She should probably order food, too, but she didn’t. Maybe in a bit, when her stomach stopped churning.

Her waitress dropped a heavy margarita glass onto a tiny white napkin and then slipped away. Loralei brought the drink to her lips and sipped, closing her eyes in pleasure as the fruity taste of it exploded across her tongue. Pineapple, strawberries, possibly mango.

When she opened her eyes again a man stood at the end of her table watching her. She started. The slushy contents of her glass rocked over the edge, sliding thickly down the angled curve to pool on her fingers.

With a frown, Loralei switched hands, brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked.

The man groaned low in his throat. Uneasiness crawled up to settle right between her shoulder blades.

“Do you mind if I sit?” he asked, folding his body in half before he’d finished the question.

“Yes, I do mind. Nothing personal, but I’m not looking for company.”

His body stalled, shock crossing his face for the briefest moment before it was gone again. She supposed he was the kind of guy who didn’t hear the word no often. He was handsome enough in a professional kind of way. Probably on vacation. Possibly with a wife upstairs.

A smarmy smile replaced his startled expression, as if he expected she would change her mind at any moment.

Something about this guy made her seriously uncomfortable. And that was saying something considering the emotional turmoil she’d already been struggling with.

At least he straightened, keeping his rear from occupying the seat opposite her. “Let me buy you another drink.”

“Nope, I just got this one and I plan on nursing it for a while.”

She hadn’t been, but what was a little white lie in the grand scheme of things? Nothing if it kept his guy away from her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Loralei watched a man she’d noticed on the docks stalk across the bar. Over her admirer’s shoulder, she saw him walking in their direction.

Now he was gorgeous in a blond-surf-god kind of way. Tall, if she had to guess, several inches over six feet. Being five-ten she was used to looking most men in the eye. But not him.

If she’d been here to pick up someone, he definitely would have been on her list of prospects. Tall and muscular. The kind of guy whose mere presence commanded attention.

Yummy on a stick, as Melody would say.

He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts with about a million pockets sewn up and down the thighs. A pale blue polo stretched taut across his broad chest, the soft material doing little to conceal the swell of pecks and dip of abs. He hadn’t bothered to fasten the three tiny buttons, and she could see a dusting of pale blond hair that swept across his chest.

The color perfectly matched the honey-toned, tousled hair on his head, which looked as if he, the wind or some red-lipped siren had just been ruffling through it.

Loralei’s mouth went dry. Bringing the glass she still held to her lips, she gulped down a huge swallow of the slushy goodness to try to relieve the pressure. It didn’t quite work.

Especially when she realized the bronzed god was heading straight for her and not to one of the nearby tables.

She barely had time for a full breath before he was pushing the guy she’d completely forgotten out of the way.

“Excuse me,” he said, drawing close to her.

Leaning down, he brushed his mouth against hers, warm and soft. All Loralei could do was sit there and stare up at him.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” he murmured, the low timber of his voice making every muscle in her body melt. She was pretty sure he’d also liquefied the frozen drink in her glass.

Somehow she managed to murmur something that obviously passed as appropriate because he smiled down at her, his unbelievably blue eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief.

Loralei’s mouth dropped open—she wasn’t sure if the gesture was an invitation for him to kiss her again or because she knew she should say something like, Who the hell are you?

Before she could decide, his solid body was pressing against her, urging her to slide over into the corner of the booth.

And she did, which left her a little miffed and seriously bewildered.

The guy still standing at the end of the table sputtered. “I thought you weren’t looking for company.”

“She isn’t. She already has me.”

The guy frowned. Anger flared deep in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here with someone?”

Because she wasn’t. Although, she was coherent enough to realize it wouldn’t be smart to say that out loud right now. So, she simply offered a shrug and an apologetic half smile.

With a labored huff, the guy finally walked away, apparently realizing arguing with her wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Especially with the wall of masculinity sitting between them. The guy would have been mental to take on the man currently pressed against her body from shoulder to hip.

The heat of him seeped into her flesh. Maybe she should have changed clothes, put on longer shorts. The hem had ridden up her thigh at some point and she could feel the rub of his skin against hers, smooth to hair-roughened.

She found her voice enough to ask, “Who are you?” She kept the words pitched low so only he could hear them.

Draping an arm across the back of the booth, he squeezed in closer. A few seconds ago she would have thought that physically impossible. She was obviously wrong.

“Jack,” he said, dipping his head and brushing the single word across the sensitive shell of her ear.

“Nice to meet you,” she answered without thought or intent.

Pulling back, he smiled down at her. A shiver snaked through her stomach. Somehow he managed to fill his expression with kindness, sensuality and predatory promise. Apparently a deadly combination to her libido.

Loralei shifted in her seat. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, his entire ribcage lifting and sliding against her. “Rescuing you. I would have thought that was obvious.”

“Well, yes, but why?”

His smile changed, going a little dangerous around the edges. “Because I wanted to.”

Oh, this guy was trouble. Clearly. The kind of man who got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it.

Too bad. Tonight he was going to be disappointed, because he couldn’t have her.

2

JACKSON WATCHED LORALEI LANCASTER’S eyes narrow. Part of him wanted to laugh. The rest wanted to pull her harder against his body.

From a distance she was beautiful. Up close...she was gorgeous. Even in the low bar light, her skin was luminous. Like sunlight filtering through the bright blue surface of the water in the last few moments of a great dive.

He had the same sensation sitting next to her that he’d felt when he’d finally narrowed down the Chimera’s location: reverence, triumph, pleasure.

He wasn’t supposed to feel anything but anger and a desire for retribution around her.

Reminding himself of his reason for coming in the bar after her tonight, Jackson tried to fight temptation. It didn’t help much since he could still feel her smooth, warm skin pressed against his thigh.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told him,” she began, tilting her head toward the guy who’d already moved on to his next target across the bar. “I’m not interested.”

“Hmm,” he purred low in his throat. Some imp inside urged him to prove the lie in her words. He’d felt her response to the kiss he’d given her. And if he was honest, he wanted to feel it again.

Dipping his head, he breathed deep, pulling the sweet vanilla scent of her into his lungs. And then he brushed his mouth across hers.

She gasped, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her entire body swayed toward him.

He couldn’t ignore the unexpected invitation. Even if he’d only meant to prove a point. Licking across her parted lips, he dipped inside. She tasted even sweeter than she smelled.

Moving his palm to the back of her neck, he cupped her head and brought her closer. A strangled sound vibrated from her throat.

Slowly, Jackson pulled away, relishing the glazed expression in her striking eyes.

“You sure about that?” he breathed into her ear.

She stared up at him, the far-away glimmer disappearing only to be replaced with a sharp glint that had the blood in his veins whooshing faster. Her mouth pulled into the hard curve of a frown. And Jackson braced for the backlash he knew was coming, even with his fingers still tangled in the soft strands of her hair.

Loralei reached for the glass sitting on the table in front of her. It didn’t take a genius to see where this was headed, but he did nothing to actually stop her. Would she go through with it?

Tipping the glass, she let the cold, half-melted contents slide out over his head.

Apparently, she would.

Her pale green eyes flashed with fire. Air gushed in and out of her lungs, forcing her breasts tight against the thin barrier of her shirt.

God, could she get any more beautiful?

Or treacherous?

That’s what he had to remember, though his body was begging him to give her another outlet for all that pent-up passion. He couldn’t trust her. Or anyone attached to Lancaster.

Jackson didn’t move, not even to wipe away the sunset-colored concoction sliding over his ears, into his collar and down the back of his neck.

He grinned at her, a cocky half smile that only made her growl long and low.

“Let me go.”

“Not until we discuss why you’re on this island, Loralei.”

She stilled, her entire body going taut with attention. “I didn’t tell you my name.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“So how do you know it?”

“I know a lot of things, including what you’re here to search for. Let me promise that you won’t find the Chimera. You can’t. Your dad didn’t manage to steal enough information to actually find the wreckage. You’re going to waste time and money, and my team will get there first.”

She blinked up at him, but it wasn’t a deer-in-the-headlights expression. Nope, she was thinking. The wheels in her brain moving at lightning speed. It was intoxicating to watch.

He’d always been drawn to intelligent women. He wanted more than a beautiful face and rocking body. He needed someone who could challenge him. Thrill him.

Which was why he stuck to inviting the uncomplicated ones to his bed. No fear of getting attached with them. Until recently, his life hadn’t been conducive to long-term anything. Hell, he’d barely been willing to sign more than a one-month lease. He never knew how long he’d be in any one place, especially when assignments could last months at a time.

Since joining the Navy at eighteen, the past year and a half had been one of the longest stretches he’d spent in one place. And he’d been too damn busy to think about anything aside from a quick release of tension.

If Loralei Lancaster hadn’t been part of the team that had stolen his research, both his body and brain definitely would be interested. So maybe it was better they were adversaries. He didn’t need any distractions right now.

“Trident,” was the first word she uttered.

“Brilliant deduction, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby.”

Jackson shrugged.

“Which one of the assholes are you?”

“Assholes?” He took offense at that. Especially considering she was the one throwing the term around so blithely.

“Assholes, owners—same difference.”

Jackson laughed bitterly. “I hardly think so, princess. Ask your good friend Brian all about assholes. He came about thirty seconds away from blowing me and everyone else on your father’s team sky high eight months ago.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Suit yourself. Either way, you’re wasting your time here in paradise. Go back home to Chicago where you belong.”

Her arms crossed over her chest, Loralei glared at him. “If that was true you wouldn’t be bothering to tell me. You’d just laugh at me from the deck of your ship like the world-class prick you are. What do you have against me?”

“You personally? Nothing.” Yet. “But your dad and his crew? Plenty. They nearly got me killed, fired me and then stole from me.”

“They stole from you? According to Brian you’ve been stealing our clients for months.”

“It isn’t stealing, princess, if they want to leave. And I promise, taking them was so damn easy. I didn’t even have to undercut your price by very much. Most of the clients were more impressed with our professional, experienced and safety-conscious company.”

Her mouth worked for several moments, no doubt holding back the stream of words she wanted to fling at him. He had to give her credit for controlling her reaction.

“But let’s go back to the stealing issue. Where do you think your father got his research on the Chimera? I can promise you it wasn’t by spending every spare moment over the last decade tracking ocean currents, researching historical records and meticulously plotting out potential courses for the ship.”

Loralei shook her head. He could see the denial clouding her eyes. She didn’t want to believe what he was saying, not about her father.

He understood. There was a time in his life, long ago, when he hadn’t wanted to believe his own mother was capable of abandoning him without a second thought or glance back.

Sometimes reality wasn’t fun. That didn’t make it any less true. And everyone had to learn to deal with the dirty truth. He certainly had. Loralei would survive learning that her old man wasn’t who she thought he’d been.

Or she’d reveal that she was just like him.

Either way, he’d at least know where he stood with Lancaster Diving and could plan his next move accordingly.

“Leave,” she said finally, her lips barely moving on the low, menacing word.

Pushing slowly out of the booth, Jackson did as she’d asked. He watched her take a deep, calming breath as the space between them grew. He understood the instinct, felt the urge to clear her from his own lungs so that he could think again.

Instead, he stood at the end of her table and stared down at her.

“Think about what I said, Loralei. Your dad didn’t get all my research, so the chances are you won’t be looking in the right location. You’re wasting time and money. And if my information is correct, you can’t afford either right now.”

* * *

LORALEI WATCHED THE brute of a man walk away from her. Her mind spun drunkenly, as if she’d had several of those damn drinks instead of a few measly sips before wasting good alcohol to soak his head.

She assumed Jack was short for Jackson Duchane, one of the owners of Trident. Brian had told her something about each of them. If she’d been paying attention and not trying to drown her neuroses in alcohol she might have clued in to who he was before giving him the chance to humiliate her.

Just remembering the way her body had reacted to him sent a wave of embarrassment across her skin. Great. Just what she needed.

The things he’d said about her dad... They’d hurt.

Could they be true? She’d always thought of her father as a big, distant, honorable guy. On the few occasions he’d come inland and spent time with her, he’d always admonished her to be a good girl. A good person. Stay away from drugs. Don’t let boys pressure you into doing anything stupid. Follow the Ten Commandments. Listen to your grandparents.

What part of those rules allowed him to steal from Jackson Duchane and his partners?

None of them.

But she was old enough to realize parents sometimes said one thing and did another. She’d just never gotten that impression with her own father. Not that he’d been around enough for her to really know.

And that was the damn kicker.

She couldn’t look Jackson in the eye and call him a liar because she didn’t know.

Her gut told her it was possible. Lancaster Diving was in serious financial trouble. And, according to Brian, her dad had blamed Trident for that situation. If that was the case, would he have felt justified in bending the rules?

Possibly. Probably.

Damn it!

So, what the hell was she going to do? She’d put all of her eggs in this one basket. This salvage was her salvation. Their salvation. All the guys who’d spent their lives following her father around the world, taking jobs wherever they had to in order to make a living.

She couldn’t ask Brian if what Jackson said was true. He’d probably just lie to her.

Or maybe it wouldn’t be a lie.

If her father had stolen from them, why hadn’t Trident pressed charges?

Because they couldn’t prove it.

Sitting there alone in the booth, Loralei came to a stunning realization. The asshole was playing mind games. He knew they were after the same treasure, and he was trying to cut her off at the pass. Convince her to walk away before the fight had started.

What irked her even more was that he’d used his beautiful body, dangerous charm and sex appeal to do it. He hadn’t hesitated to crowd into her personal space, kiss the hell out of her and get her all flustered before dropping his verbal bomb.

Dirty, nasty fighting.

And she’d fallen for it.

But she wouldn’t again. Nope. Next time she’d be prepared for Jackson Duchane. Maybe she’d turn the tables, give him a dose of his own medicine.

She smiled gleefully. This was going to be fun.

More fun than she’d ever expected when she’d boarded the plane for a damn island.

* * *

JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH, what had she been thinking?

Loralei crept across the deck of Jackson Duchane’s ship. She hadn’t intended to board the ship when she’d come to the marina but...

Honestly, she had no idea what she’d intended. Opportunity had presented itself. She’d been watching the ship, trying to get a feel for Jackson’s setup and crew. One thing was for sure, his equipment was better than theirs.

Loralei tamped down a brief spurt of jealousy mixed with anger. Of course his equipment was better. He was taking all of their work and money.

As she’d loitered, the entire crew had left the ship. She wasn’t certain where they were going at twenty minutes before midnight, but she honestly didn’t care.

The ship was empty.

And it was a chance she couldn’t pass up.

So she was standing on Jackson’s ship, the deck rolling beneath her feet as she attempted to gain control of the panic welling up in her chest.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Loralei pulled her gaze from the water. Her legs were stiff, knees refusing to bend as she shuffled toward the doorway that led down into even more darkness.

But at least she was inside.

The ship was huge, much bigger than hers. Amphitrite had been painted along the side in bold, curling letters. The boat clearly had been named for the Greek goddess of the sea and wife of Poseidon. She was definitely more modern, though, with a high-tech bridge and sonar system.

Since Loralei didn’t know enough about either, she steered clear of both, creeping farther down the darkened hallway. She passed several closed doors, paused to open a few. They appeared to be sleeping berths. The last room opened to an office of sorts.

Papers were spread across a large table that was bolted to the floor. Moving forward, Loralei sifted through them. It took her several moments to realize they were maps of islands. Not Turks and Caicos, but possibly the smaller islands dotting the water around?

She flipped through several, unsure what she was looking at. For the first time, she wished she’d paid more attention when her dad had tried to teach her about some of this stuff. But considering her phobia, it had seemed a waste of time.

And Loralei hated wasting time.

The small room was too dark for her to make out the tiny lettering. And she didn’t want to risk turning on a light and catching someone’s attention.

Grabbing a handful, she moved toward the porthole cut high on the wall. Moonlight filtered through, giving her something to see by.

Holding the papers higher, she read the name of an inlet that she recognized. Her crew was heading there first thing in the morning. There was some speculation that the Chimera had sought shelter there before the storm hit. But, according to statements gathered from another ship that had been close, the ship’s anchors had snapped in the high winds and it had been dragged out to open sea.

Which made the inlet a good place to start.

Apparently, Jackson Duchane had the same intention.

Unease and guilt crept up Loralei’s spine. What was she doing? She shouldn’t be here. This felt wrong.

Dropping the papers back on the table, she tried to remember how they’d been arranged. Probably something she should have paid attention to before touching them. Dammit, she couldn’t even break and enter without screwing up something.

Above her, a sound rang through the ship.

Loralei instinctively dropped into a crouch.

Gripping the edge of a chair, she shook her head. Probably just some rigging clanging with the sway of the ship. No one was onboard. But her frantic heartbeat urged her to go. Deciding to listen, Loralei cracked open the door and slipped back into the dark hallway.

The doorway was three feet away when she heard the low murmur of a voice.

“No, having you and Knox here wouldn’t be helpful just yet. Let me and the crew handle the preliminary dives. We need you on the Prescott job right now, and someone has to stay at the office to run things.”

Loralei froze. Even the breath in her lungs stilled. A shadow drifted across a rectangle of light in the hallway a few feet away. Every muscle in her body tensed to fight or run, but the shadow passed. The low murmur of Jackson’s voice faded and her lungs released the breath she’d been holding in a shaky stream.

It would not look good for Jackson to find her here right now. Maybe she should have thought of that before creeping on board.

Based on his shadow and sound, Jackson had gone left. So it should be safe for her to go right, which was also the fastest route off this rocking torture chamber.

Loralei carefully poked her head out and swept her gaze across what little of the ship she could see. The coast appeared to be clear. It was now or never.

She kept low and stuck to the shadows as much as possible. She was out of the hold and nearly home free when her shoulder collided with something. A metallic clank echoed into the night.

Her stomach rolled. The ship pitched. She stared at the midnight blue expanse of water spread out beneath her.

Bile rose into her throat, burning a path and stinging her nose.

God, she was going to throw up.

3

“WHAT THE HELL was that?”

Jackson spun on his heel and looked toward the stern.

“What was what?” Asher asked in his ear.

“I have to call you back. I think someone’s on the ship.”

“God, I hope so, Jack. We have several crew.”

“I sent them in to town for a last hurrah before I crack the whip.”

“So, one of the guys struck out and came back early.”

“Maybe.” But something was off. Jackson’s senses were tingling. He hadn’t heard anyone approach.

“You’re not in a war zone anymore, man. Time to let that shit go.”

He wanted to argue the point, but Jackson had bigger things to deal with, so let his friend’s comment slide.

Asher might be a prick on occasion, but there was no one Jackson would rather have at his back in a shit storm. They’d been assigned to the same platoon when he’d first come out of BUD/S training with the SEALs. Asher had taken a bullet for him. That was a debt not easily or quickly repaid.

“Whatever. I’ll check in tomorrow.” Jackson didn’t bother saying goodbye before ending the call and pocketing his cell.

He was already striding across the deck on feet that didn’t make a single sound. His body was tense, prepared for whatever might spring out at him.

What he wasn’t prepared for was finding Loralei Lancaster crouched down beside the railing, her fingers gripping the metal so hard the veins across the back of her hands threatened to pop through the skin.

He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was.

Arms crossed over his chest, Jackson changed his stride, no longer concerned with concealing his approach. The soles of his shoes squeaked across the deck, but she didn’t flinch. Her gaze, trained on the water, never wavered.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She didn’t respond.

Her breath was quick and shallow, probably a reaction to being caught in the act.

Reaching down, he grasped her arms and hauled her up. Her fingers released the railing and clamped on him, digging into his chest. Finally, she looked up at him. Shadows melted across her face, shielding her eyes and preventing him from reading her expression.

“Why are you on my ship, Loralei?”

She shook her head, moving it back and forth as if in slow motion.

“Hoping to get your hands on the information your daddy missed? Well, too bad, princess. I’ve been more careful in the last few months. There’s nothing useful for you to find.”

A spark kindled in her eyes. He watched her chest rise and hold on a deep breath that she finally released with a whoosh of words. “Let me go.”

“Why should I do that? I think contacting the authorities is a better option.”

Her spine snapped straight. “And tell them what? You found me on the deck of your ship? I came here looking for you so I could talk. Clear up whatever misunderstanding you’re laboring beneath.”

He scoffed. “Why were you huddled in the shadows, then? Sell the lie to someone who might believe it.”

Her gaze slipped sideways before quickly jerking back to his. “I dropped something.”

“What? The hammer you were hoping to brain me with? Or maybe you’re a knife kind of girl, look straight into someone’s eyes as you slip the blade between their ribs.”

She gasped, her eyes going wide before narrowing down to slits.

“What the hell are you talking about? I have no desire to hurt you.”

“Sure, that’s what they all say. I’ve seen plenty of bloodthirsty people in my life—women included—perfectly capable of killing with whatever was handy. Bomb, gun, bare hands. When you’ve watched a ten-year-old boy blow himself up because someone told him to, you learn not to underestimate anyone’s capacity to cause physical harm.”

She blinked at him, her mouth going slack for several moments.

“That’s...awful.”

“Tell me about it.”

Her fingers, which were still dug deep into his chest, uncurled, but she didn’t remove them. Instead, she spread them wide, pressing the warmth of her palm hard against him.

“I’m sorry.” Her words were soft. For the briefest moment, he wanted to believe them.

And then he remembered who she was and why she was standing on the deck of his ship.

The anger he’d been suppressing for months—ever since realizing her father had broken in and stolen his work—roared to life.

Bending, he swept her into his arms.

She was lighter than she looked. Not that she appeared heavy, but she was tall.

“What are you doing?”

“Providing you a quick exit. I hope you aren’t particularly attached to those shoes, princess.”

Turning, Jackson swept the water below them to make sure there was nothing she could hurt herself on. He was happy to provide a quick dunking as a lesson, but he didn’t want her to get injured.

He knew the moment she realized just what he intended because suddenly she grew about three extra arms.

She began squealing, begging, yelling. Her claws dug into his chest again. He managed to pry off one and then the other, holding both wrists tight in a single hand.

“Stop struggling and take your punishment like a good little thief.”

“Jackson, seriously,” she panted. “This is barbaric.”

“Nothing wrong with a little hazing, princess. We’ll call this immersion therapy so maybe the next time you’ll think twice about breaking and entering.”

Holding her out from his body, Jackson let her hover above the water. Her gaze darted beneath her. She sucked in a hard breath. And then she looked at him with imploring eyes.

“I can’t swim.”

Something in her gaze almost made him believe her. Or maybe that was just his dick trying to influence him— Mr. Happy wanted her pressed against his body again.

Either way... “Lies aren’t going to save you this time, princess.”

* * *

GOD, SHE WAS going to drown. She’d always known it. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she’d known this was her destiny.

Just like it had been her mother’s.

Although, unlike her, her mom had loved the water. Had resented giving up her transient life on a ship to take care of a daughter she’d never really wanted.

What irony that on one of the few chances she’d had to go back to it, the water had killed her.

And now it was going to take Loralei.

She stared into Jackson’s eyes. They reminded her of the sky at home, bright and blue after a strong summer storm.

But it was clear he didn’t believe her. Thought she was lying to save herself a dunking. Well, it wouldn’t take him long to realize she was telling the truth. Unfortunately, it would probably be too late.

Jackson swung her body, counted to three as if they were at some frat pool party, and let her go. Air rushed up beside her, the roar filling her ears.

She sucked in a huge breath. The action was automatic. Her eyes clamped closed. It pissed her off that the image tattooed on the back of her lids was of Jackson as he’d sat next to her at the table earlier, looking at her with lust in his eyes and a wicked grin curling his lips.

She was now regretting not letting him take her upstairs and follow through on the promise there.

What kind of screwed up, mixed emotions was she harboring for her murderer?

Her body hit the water ass first, her arms and legs folding up with the pressure of impact. Part of her expected the water to be cold, but it wasn’t. It was pleasantly warm, almost soothing.

Her limbs flailed as she sank. Her lungs heaved, bubbles escaping through her nose to drift upward with her descent.

She watched the hull of the ship slip past, just out of reach. Darkness and water closed around her, narrowing her world to the few feet right in front of her.

How long had she been under? It didn’t matter.

Her butt hit something solid. Sand clouded up around her, obstructing her vision even more.

Her body lurched. Her lungs burned with the demand to breathe, but somehow she managed to quell the instinct that would have allowed water to fill her lungs.

Dark spots dotted her vision, followed by bright bursts of color.

Something swam in front of her. It would be her luck if it was a shark looking for a quick dinner. Would it be worse to die from drowning or being ripped apart by sharp teeth?

A face appeared in front of her. Jackson. His soft blond hair floated up in a riot, like a lion’s mane. His gaze bored into her. He was trying to tell her something, but she didn’t have the mental capacity to worry about what it was. A heavy peace settled over her. For the first time she realized just how quiet it was beneath the water. Nothing else mattered.

Was this what her mom had felt right before the end?

She hoped so. So much better than the nightmares she’d been plagued with for years, images of her mom desperate, fighting and in pain.

Something hard wrapped around her chest and she started moving. The darkness began to fade. In some dim corner of her mind, Loralei realized Jackson was towing her to the surface.

Unfortunately, she was afraid it was too late.

Unable to resist the compulsion to breathe any longer, she opened her mouth, searching for air and finding nothing but water.

* * *

HOLY HELL, she hadn’t been lying.

What on God’s green earth was she doing heading up a dive team if she couldn’t swim?

Jackson was used to compartmentalizing responses in order to tackle the priorities in front of him. Getting her out of the water was his first point of action. Making sure she was still breathing his second. After that he could decide whether or not to verbally take a strip from her hide.

Later, someone else could take the pound of flesh from his ass for what he’d done.

It had taken him about thirty seconds to realize she wasn’t coming up. A few more to convince himself she wasn’t playing him for a fool. Another thirty to rocket down to her, snatch her around the waist and start hauling her up to the surface.

Plenty of time. She would be fine.

Because he couldn’t live with himself if she actually drowned.

The minx was a thorn in his side, but she didn’t deserve to die for that.

Breaking the surface, Jackson shoved her up onto the dock. It was not a good sign that her limbs flopped around uselessly. If she’d passed out, water was definitely in her lungs.

Hauling himself up after her, Jackson rolled her head sideways to clear the water from her mouth and nose. Then he sealed his lips to hers and started mouth-to-mouth. Within a few breaths her chest heaved and she started coughing, water sputtering out. Jackson rolled her, pounded on her back to help get out whatever was left in her lungs.

Her body convulsed with the force of her need to expel the seawater. After several moments, she quieted. Her forehead rested on the rough surface of the dock. Her hand spread out beside her head, hair tangled through her fingers. Her legs were twisted together, as if she didn’t have the energy to move a single muscle.

Jackson stopped pounding on her back, instead rubbing up and down in a slow, soothing gesture. He wanted to offer her comfort. But he also kept touching her to reassure himself that she was really breathing.

Finally, Loralei glanced over her shoulder at him. He expected her to yell. He deserved it. Wanted it, so he could find an outlet for the guilt filling his own chest.

What he wasn’t prepared for was her sea-roughened voice whispering, “Thank you.”

Shit.

“I nearly killed you and you’re thanking me?”

“You saved me.”

“I threw you in.”

Her lips twisted in a half grimace, half smile. “Okay, screw you, asshole. And thanks for saving my life. Feel better now?”

Not particularly. But for some reason he couldn’t tell her that. Instead, he lifted her into his arms, heedless of the water that streamed off both of them.

Striding down the dock, he carried her back onto his ship. She stirred, murmured what he knew was going to be the start of a protest, but he cut her off before it could begin.

“Don’t bother. You need a shower to warm up. There’s still a chance you could go into shock. And I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know you’re not going to develop complications from having your lungs full of water.”

He probably should take her to the hospital, but for some reason what he’d said was the truth. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight long enough to let anyone else tend to her.

He felt responsible; that was all.

He’d had plenty of experience with water and a few close calls with drowning. If he hadn’t felt equipped to recognize a potential problem soon enough to call in reinforcements, he wouldn’t be walking her onto his ship.

Apparently, she recognized his resolve because her mouth snapped shut without uttering a single sound.

Carrying her to his stateroom, Jackson moved straight for the tiny attached bathroom. Several of the guys shared one, but as owner, he rated the best room complete with a private bath. Not that it was much. Just a toilet, sink and shower barely big enough to fit his shoulders through.

Shifting her, Jackson let her body slide down his until her feet touched the floor. Water pooled beneath them, but he ignored it.

With one arm still around her waist to steady her, Jackson reached inside the shower and flipped on the faucet to let the water warm.

Drawing back, he stared into her upturned face. Her pale green eyes were a little wary, a little grateful and a lot scared.

Why hadn’t he seen that before?

Because he hadn’t wanted to believe her.

After pushing back the tangle of black hair from her face, Jackson found himself saying, “I’m sorry,” in a gruff voice he barely recognized.

“So am I. I shouldn’t have been here. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I didn’t intend to sneak aboard. Really.”

Guilt and uncertainty mixed together in his blood. He wanted to believe her. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not even after almost drowning her.

She’d been telling the truth about not being able to swim, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t lie about anything else.

Why did the thought of her doing that hurt?

It shouldn’t matter.

This woman was nothing to him. Nothing more than a business rival and the daughter of a man who’d done everything he could to hurt Jackson and his business.

The only thing he could do was shake his head. “It doesn’t matter. At least not right now.”

Loralei dropped her gaze to the floor between their feet. Her shoulders rose and fell on a deep sigh that he felt more than heard.

She took a half step backward—about as much room as she could force between them—and dropped her hands from their resting place against his chest.

Steam began to fill the tiny room, billowing out around the glass shower enclosure. It turned the air around them muggy and heavy.

Without raising her gaze, Loralei reached for the buttons on her shirt. Until that moment he hadn’t noticed just how thin and clingy it was. Earlier, it had looked big and breezy, swirling around her body and hiding the curves he’d instinctively known were beneath it.

Now, those curves were seriously on display. The gauzy material was plastered to her body and practically see-through.

“Go away, Jackson, so I can take my shower, get off this boat and back to my hotel.”

She popped a single button, but he didn’t move.

“Ship. She’s a ship.”

Another one went. “Whatever.”

It wasn’t as if she was revealing anything he couldn’t already almost see. But Jackson couldn’t tear away his gaze as she slowly, meticulously revealed each inch of golden skin. He stayed where he was until she reached her breasts, which swelled round and inviting over the edge of white lace.

Spinning on his heel, Jackson bolted for the bedroom, his own lungs heaving as if he’d been the one to cough up a gallon of seawater.

He raked his fingers through his hair, shook off the water that still clung to him, not caring what got wet in the process. Behind him, the bathroom door closed with a quiet click.

The barrier didn’t help. He could hear her moving around in the small space. Imagine her standing in his shower, using his shampoo and running her soap-covered hands over her naked body.

After yanking off his own wet clothes, he donned dry ones and pulled out an old T-shirt and gym shorts for her.

He wanted to escape above deck before he did something stupid. Such as tear the bathroom door off its hinges so he could help her rinse away the suds. He even started to leave, but he couldn’t make himself go. Not until he knew she was actually okay.

So instead he began to prowl the small space, an uncomfortable sensation tingling at the back of his neck. The longer Loralei stayed in that room, the worse it became. He started worrying, remembering how she’d looked lying on the dock, eerily still and lifeless.

Break in the door or wait?

He’d never been one for indecision, but tonight he couldn’t make up his mind.

Which only frustrated him more.

4

LORALEI WRAPPED HER arms around her body and held on tight. Despite the warm water rushing over her, she shivered.

Closing her eyes, she let her head drop against the fiberglass wall in front of her. Then she just stood there with a jumble of thoughts and pictures running in an endless loop through her brain. She’d almost died. Drowned. The helpless sensation she’d felt as she’d looked up through the water and realized she couldn’t do anything to save herself... It had sucked.

What was wrong with her? She was an adult. She shouldn’t be ruled by her fear like a child afraid of the dark.

It sucked even worse that Jackson Duchane had been the one to rescue her.

God, her lips still tingled where he’d pressed his mouth to hers and breathed life back into her lungs. Every nerve ending in her body was alive from the sensation of being carried by him. That chest. Those shoulders. She’d gotten a front-and-center introduction to the hard body hidden beneath his clothes.

And she wanted more.

Seriously, what was wrong with her?

Realizing the trembling had finally stopped, Loralei quickly picked up the single bottle sitting on the shelf and dumped a huge dollop of shampoo into her hand. A clean, crisp scent melted into the small space around her. Without thinking, she pulled in a deep breath. She already associated the salt and sandalwood combination with the man who’d saved her life.

Part of her wanted to curl into a ball in the corner of his shower, give in to the black pit of fear that was threatening at the edges of her consciousness. But she refused to succumb to the temptation.

Rinsing the residue of saltwater from her skin, she finally stepped from the comfort of the steam-filled space. She grabbed a towel and swiped it across her dripping hair several times before wrapping it around her body.

Glancing around, she realized she had nothing to put on.

Great.

It wasn’t bad enough that she had to face him, now she was going to have to do it wearing nothing but a scrap of terrycloth that barely covered her from chest to hip.

After sucking in a deep, calming breath, Loralei straightened her shoulders and reached for the door handle.

One step into the attached bedroom her bravado failed her and she froze.

Jackson was stalking around the small space. Tension radiated off his tight body. His hands were threaded together at the base of his neck, his back and shoulder muscles rippled against a T-shirt that looked well-worn and soft enough to wrap a newborn baby in.

Jesus. No man should look like that. Loralei’s heart slammed into her throat before dropping to her toes. Her stomach rolled, not from fear or the rocking ship, but from a burst of lust that nearly knocked her on her ass.

And that was before he turned around and raked her with those summer-blue eyes. Oh, shit. The intensity in his gaze had her swaying on her feet. Her body tingled, jumped to life. Beneath the thin layer of cotton, her nipples tightened into aching points, reminding her just how naked and vulnerable she was.

Before she could attempt to get a grip on her runaway libido, he was standing beside her. How had he moved so quickly?

The heat of his huge hand settled on her arm, steadying her.

“Easy,” he murmured. His voice, deep and rough, scraped across her senses.

“I was about to bust in there. You were taking a long time.”

Loralei stared up at him, surprised to see genuine concern swirling together with guilt. And lust. Dammit, that wasn’t helping her runaway hormones. Especially when the vision of him slipping into that tiny shower with her ghosted across her thoughts.

Shaking away temptation, Loralei licked her lips and said, “I’m fine.”

Was that really her voice? All scratchy and fragile?

His gorgeous mouth pulled down at the edges in a frown. Why did she suddenly have the urge to reach out and run the pad of her finger across his lips? Would they be as hard as the rest of him, or soft and yielding?

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Seriously.” She had to get a grip...on something other than him. Stepping away, Loralei watched his hand drop to his side. Already, she missed the comforting warmth that had spread through her from where he’d touched. “Hand me some clothes so I can head back to my hotel room.”

Jackson twisted and grabbed a pile from the small table beside the bed. Instead of holding them out to her, he pressed them against his chest and folded his arms over them. The veins running along his biceps pulsed.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

His words were the catalyst she needed to drag her gaze back to his stony expression.

“Of course I am. I need to get back to my crew.”

“What you need to do is rest.”

“Exactly. And the sooner you give me those the sooner I can get out of your hair.” Loralei held out her hand hoping he’d plop the clothes against her palm. He didn’t, but she kept her arm out anyway.

His expression turned harsh, those amazing eyes going as sharp as cut glass. She could see the argument coming and felt her own body respond, adrenaline surging into her already spinning system.

But before she could say anything, his entire body changed. All the tension bled out of him. His mouth softened. Tiny lines crinkled the edges of his eyes, which had melted into pools of heat.

Tossing the clothes back onto the bed behind him, he took a single step forward and filled her personal space. But he didn’t touch her. Was it wrong that she wished he had?

Instead, he laced his fingers behind his neck again.

“Loralei, you nearly drowned.”

Just those few simple words had the ghost of her panic welling inside her again.

“I know,” she whispered.

“I have to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t have any complications. There are plenty of reports of people dying hours after a near drowning.”

Loralei swallowed. That wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear right now, but she’d deal with that unpleasant thought later. Right now she had to convince this man to step back and let her go.

Or she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep herself from reaching out and running her hands over his wide chest and shoulders.

“My crew can keep an eye on me. Tell me what to look for.”

She barely got out the words before he was shaking his head. “I threw you in. Even after you told me you couldn’t swim. You’re my responsibility.”

One thing made her hesitate. If she went back to her room she’d have to explain to Brian what had happened and why he had to keep an eye on her to make sure she was okay. He’d find out her secret.

It was bad enough Jackson knew she couldn’t swim. She really didn’t need any of her crew finding out. She was already the outsider, with little knowledge about how a diving ship operated.

Loralei pulled her lower lip into her mouth and worried it with her teeth as indecision twisted through her gut. She hated not knowing what to do.

Using his thumb, Jackson eased her lip away from the self-inflicted torture.

“You’re safe here, Loralei. I promise you.”

Maybe she was safe from him. Her mouth was tingling where he’d touched her. Waves of sensation radiated from the single, innocuous spot.

But who was going to protect her from herself?

* * *

HE REALLY HAD to get some clothes on the woman. He’d never noticed that his towel was particularly small, but the knot she’d twisted it into between her breasts was unraveling centimeter by centimeter, giving him a bigger glimpse of her smooth, tanned skin.

Her black hair curled damply around her shoulders in a riot of tangles that made him want to bury his hands in it and use it to pull her face closer so he could taste her lips again.

What the hell?

He seriously needed to get a grip.

Turning away, he snatched up the shorts and shirt he’d tossed onto the bed for her. He whipped back around and collided with her.

Her hands landed on his chest. Her body crashed against him. Pressed tight between them, he felt the towel’s knot finally give way. Just as his control was doing. In a desperate attempt to save them both, Jackson grabbed for the towel as it slid down her back. The instinctive move backfired. Big time.

His fingers brushed across her naked skin. She gasped and arched into him. The soft curve of her breasts flattened against the hard plane of his body even as the towel was caught between them.

God, he wanted more.

They both stilled, locked in the precarious position and certain one wrong move could bring disaster crashing down on them both.

Unfortunately, Jackson wasn’t sure which would be the disaster: letting her go or not letting her go. The waters definitely had been muddied.

Slowly, Loralei tipped her head back and dragged her gaze up to meet his.

Damn, her eyes were deep. Deep enough he could dive inside and get lost. And the way she was staring at him made his stomach knot and his cock throb.

She licked her lips, parted them as if she was going to say something, but nothing came out. She inhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling against the edge of the towel that flirted with the sharp peaks of her nipples.

Jackson had to close his eyes at the sensation of her body moving against his. He was only human.

“Loralei,” he murmured, keeping his eyes shut tight. “Step back. Now.”

If he was strong enough, he’d be the one to turn away. But he had only a slippery hold on his control right now, and if he moved Jackson was seriously afraid it would be in the wrong direction. This was his last-ditch effort at doing the right thing, because in about five seconds he wasn’t going to be able to curb his response to her anymore.

But she didn’t move.

“Seriously,” he growled.

Every muscle in his body was tight with the effort to hold himself in check. He felt...brittle. On the edge of exploding.

And he wasn’t particularly enamored with the sensation.

Jackson prided himself on his self-control. He’d fought hard for the ability to withstand the harshest conditions without cracking.

But sixty seconds with this woman pressed tight against him and every hard-won victory had disappeared like so much smoke.

“What if I don’t want to move?” she finally whispered.

Jackson groaned. His eyes popped open as his fingers, which were pressed against her back, flexed in preparation for digging in and taking more.

He stared at her, searching her expression for some sign that she meant what she’d just said.

Rising onto the tips of her toes, she wrapped her hands around his neck and urged him toward her. Just before her lips touched his she whispered, “Remind me that I’m alive.”

The minute their mouths collided it was over. He’d have to worry about the aftermath later, because he was too preoccupied to give a damn about anything but the taste and feel of her.

His hands slipped into her hair, angled her head so he could have better access to her hot mouth.

The moment was complete combustion. Their tongues tangled. She bounced on her toes, as if trying to get more of him. Without breaking their connection, Jackson wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her higher.

They both forgot about the towel. It snagged, hanging between them unnoticed. Jackson ran his palms across the slope of her back. Her skin was still damp from her shower. So smooth and soft. He could spend hours just touching her.

Even as his mouth devoured hers, his hands studied and learned. The way her body arched into his touch when he skimmed the sensitive dip right above her rear. Or the tiny catch in her breath that he drank in as he caressed between her shoulder blades.

He wanted to take a step back and appreciate the view, but she wouldn’t let him. Her hands were everywhere. Her rush to consume him only managed to fuel his own raging need.

Loralei broke the kiss, but only long enough to run her mouth over the skin of his neck, taking teasing licks before sucking gently. The tug of her lips arrowed straight down to where his cock leaped against the fly of the jeans he’d thrown on.

Why had he bothered? He couldn’t remember anymore.

Twisting, he pressed her up against the first available surface, which just happened to be the edge of the dresser. Reaching blindly behind her, Loralei managed to swipe her hand over the top, clearing the few random things that were scattered there. They pinged against the floor, but he didn’t care. They weren’t important anyway.

Jackson pulled back, relishing her broken little pants as she tried to catch her breath. The towel was draped across her body, tucked between her legs. In the mirror behind her, he could see the hard swell of her ass. Her skin glowed.

She watched him out of eyes glazed with desire. He wanted that, liked knowing he could make her feel that way. “Jackson, please.”

But her fractured words also had a spike of ice arrowing straight through him. What had she said?

Remind me I’m alive.

He wanted to do just that. Remind them both. But he shouldn’t. Taking a step away from her, Jackson tried to regain his sanity. Make his brain re-engage.

“What are you doing?”

He shook his head, hating the way her eyes slowly refocused on the here and now instead of the pleasure he’d been giving her moments ago.

“You...” Jackson balled his hands into fists. “This isn’t what you need right now.”

Loralei’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I dare what?”

Reaching out, Loralei balled her fists into his T-shirt, using the leverage to haul him closer.

“Walk away from me again tonight.”

Every pulse point in his body throbbed. Jackson stared down at her upturned face, trying desperately not to notice her half-naked body before him.

Gently, he reached up and unwrapped her fingers, one by one, from his shirt.

Placing her hand on the dresser beside her hip, he wrapped her fingers over the edge, holding her hand in place...and away from him.

“Goddamn you,” she breathed.

Her eyes sparked and beneath that smooth caramel color her skin flushed red.

Before he could react, her other hand flashed out, cupping his obvious reaction to what they’d just been doing.

“You want this as much as I do.”

Of course he wanted her. She was beautiful. Just as he was certain the apple offered by the serpent in the Garden of Eden had been beautiful. “Yeah, I want you.”

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