of good men who’d devoted their lives to their country. If they failed, a treasonous mastermind would continue undeterred in their destruction of everything men like Nic and his team fought to protect.
Which meant they couldn’t lose.
He never lost.
With one last glance at the moon riding over the sea, Nic rubbed his hand over his vacation goatee and headed back inside.
Damn.
Looked like he had the beginning of a solid battle plan.
As usual, Cree was right. All Nic needed was a little time, a little distance, and he’d get his head together. He’d use the rest of this week to map out his strategy, to think through the steps and to consider every obstacle and counterstrategy.
As Nic crossed to the bed, he noted the woman sprawled over his sheets. Her dark hair spiked around her face, the sharp angles softened in sleep. The sapphire comforter covered but didn’t disguise her petite curves, her lush breasts rising temptingly over the crisp linen. Even as his body stirred, he wondered how much credit she deserved for his mental breakthrough.
A gorgeous woman, intriguing conversation and the hottest sex he’d ever had in his life. Yeah, that might be the perfect combination for a sweet breakthrough.
Which meant he’d need to put all of his energies this week into ensuring it happened again and again. And again.
Nic grinned, wondering if someday he’d look back and credit sex with Darby as a key turning point in saving his career. He slid back between the sheets, wrapping himself around her soft warmth. As she curled into him, her scent surrounding him like a sensual fog, he finally felt sleep beckon.
Before he drifted off, he thought of what was at stake. Of the years of work, of focus and, dammit, yes, of brilliance that’d made Poseidon the best. The god of the sea.
He’d be damned if anything was going to tear that down. As long as one man was still devoted to Team Poseidon, Nic knew he’d be right there, leading the charge.
DARBY FELT AS if she’d dropped into some sort of alternate universe. The kind where mornings started with alcohol-infused frozen drinks, fresh fruit and malasadas.
Where breakfast was served on the patio of a cozy bungalow overlooking the ocean, with the sun already warming her skin, which was bare but for a vivid purple bikini and a wrap in the bleeding colors of sunset.
Where her body still buzzed from a night of amazing sex, aching in places she hadn’t realized could ache. Her thighs still quivered whenever she moved her legs, inciting a tingling sort of heat.
“You okay?”
“Of course,” Darby said, her smile fluttering. “Just enjoying breakfast.”
And the view.
Although she didn’t mean the white sands and blue water, although they were stunning in the morning light. Nope, what fascinated her was the gorgeous man sitting across the table.
His hypnotic eyes were shielded by dark sunglasses, and the sun glinted off the inky black of his hair, casting a gilded glow over the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Like her, he was dressed for swimming in navy trunks and a matching T-shirt that molded itself over tempting muscles.
Muscles she’d explored, enjoyed, embraced over and over last night. Biceps almost as thick as her thigh and ripped shoulders broad enough to hold on to no matter how wild the ride. And his skin. Hot silk over rigid strength.
Grabbing her frozen breakfast cocktail, Darby sucked up a long drink of juice to wet her suddenly dry mouth. But the icy drink did nothing to cool the fire in her belly. Her body still tingled from the remnants of their shower sex-induced orgasms, and all she wanted was to go again.
How could she be this obsessed?
She’d only known the man for twelve hours.
It was just sex, she assured herself. Desire.
That wasn’t anything to worry about.
“Another malasada?”
“I should say no,” Darby said even as she reached for another sugar-coated ball of fried dough. “But I can’t. These are delicious. Better than any donut holes I’ve had before.”
“They’re my favorites,” Dominic admitted, studying one before popping it into his mouth. “When I was a kid, Avo Celia used to make malasadas whenever I’d visit because she knew I loved them. Just like this, covered in cinnamon sugar. My uncle gave the chef his mom’s recipe, so it’s always a little bit of nostalgia when I’m here.”
“It must be great to have that sort of family tradition,” she said, liking how his face softened as he talked about them.
What was that like, having a treat-making grandmother? Darby’s mom’s parents had died before she was born, and her dad’s hadn’t had much interest in their son, let alone his progeny. Both were only children, which meant there hadn’t been any aunts or uncles to fill that family role. No family, no family treats. Something Darby had never regretted until just now. Because, damn, it would have been amazing to grow up with a family tradition of delicious fried dough balls.
“Did you have a favorite meal growing up? You know, like a birthday dinner or holiday brunch?” Dominic asked, looking like he actually cared.
The idea sent a thrill of delight through her, making Darby wish she could say yes.
“I forgot about my last birthday until it was two days passed,” Darby admitted with a self-deprecating sort of laugh. “But when I remembered, I hit Starbucks for an iced smoked butterscotch latte. It wasn’t a tradition but it was damn good.”
“You forgot about your birthday? As in, you were so deep in work that you didn’t realize what day it was and skipped right by it?” Dominic popped a slice of mango into his mouth and shook his head. “I’ve been away, on...on jobs, traveling, that kind of thing, on my birthday, but I always make damn sure I at least knock back a Scotch to toast another year.”
“Every year?” Not sure why that impressed her, Darby ran her fingers through her still-damp-from-the-shower hair, widening her eyes as it fell in spikes around her face. “Do you do that blowing-out-the-candle thing, too?”
“You’re telling me you don’t even blow out candles?”
“So?” The look on his face made Darby want to squirm. “My family was never big on the whole party or candles thing. I think the last time was maybe my seventeenth birthday when my brother got me a cupcake.”
“A single cupcake?”
“The frosting had a flower on it,” Darby said, wondering why she felt the need to apologize.
“And the rest of your family?”
“I don’t have much of a family. No aunts or uncles, my grandparents died before I was born.” She rolled the remaining malasada
