to the snap of her denim shorts and in two seconds flat, she was standing in the wavering boat wearing nothing more concealing than a thong bikini, still seemingly unaware of his presence.
Scott held his breath. He shouldn’t have been so impressed. For hell’s sake, women strutted the beaches of Key West in thongs every day of the week. Many of them moving straight from sand to asphalt without a cover-up for the famed Duval Street Crawl. Key West was free and easy. Residents and tourists alike came here to let it all hang out. He should not have been slack-jawed.
But he was and he had no idea why.
Sure you do. You’re six months backed up and she’s a nearly naked water nymph.
So he should mind his own damn business and head back. Smart. So why was he still drifting here, his gaze glued to her backside?
Don’t be a tool, fool. Go.
His skin sweated against the kayak oar, his fingers curled so tightly that his short nails bit into his palms. He caressed her with his eyes from the top of her caramel-colored hair pulled back into a ponytail that just grazed the strap of her bikini top, to the nip of her waist, to the flare of her hips.
Then she gave a graceful little hop and dived headfirst into the murky water. The muted splash echoed softly down the channel.
She disappeared from view and the last he saw of her were cute toes painted pearly peach flipping gracefully as a dolphin’s fin. He waited, and his temples started to pound. He realized he was holding his breath.
Exhaling, he glanced at his sports watch. She’d been down there for over a full minute. Just when he was getting worried, she came up on the side of the boat closest to him. Talk about superior lung capacity.
Water glistened on her high cheekbones, rolled off her full lips. Her hair lay plastered against her skin. She looked like a beguiling mermaid.
Splash, Splash. Catch of the day.
Scott ran a palm across his mouth, tasted the saltiness of desire on the back of his tongue. It was too early in the morning for thoughts like this.
Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She tossed her head, sent water flying over him, her legs gently threading water.
Then her indigo eyes opened.
She did not startle. In fact, she seemed utterly self-possessed. As if she’d known all along that he was watching her. Who was this woman?
Their gazes locked.
A swell of thundering heat rolled through his veins, rushed straight to his groin.
She did not smile. Did not speak. She didn’t have to. He could feel her disdain.
His head spun and a burst of adrenaline sent his pulse skipping. What the hell was this? Some kind of extreme horniness he’d never felt before?
He’d come over here to warn her off boating alone. Cockily portraying the protector. Donning his Coast Guard mien. Preparing to show off his knowledge. But one look into that enigmatic face and something shifted.
Tilted.
Suddenly, Scott couldn’t help feeling that he was the one in danger.
DOCTORAL STUDENT Jacqueline Birchard blinked water from her eyes. She was so wrapped up in her research project that she barely even registered the man floating in the kayak, her mind whirling with thoughts of the endangered Key blenny.
Everything was ready to go. A Kevlar cable laced with monitoring instruments lay anchored to a metal platform that extended from the floor of the estuary to just below the surface—that’s what she’d just dived down to check on. She had a lab set up in the waterfront apartment she rented in town for the summer and she was receiving constant satellite feed from the underwater equipment. She had minimized all her obligations for complete immersion into this independent research project for her doctorial dissertation.
This was it. The time had come at last.
Jackie hovered on the verge of making her mark as a marine biologist and proving to her father, once and for all, that she was worthy of the name Birchard. Her success hinged on finding the elusive Key blenny.
The man with movie star good looks cleared his throat.
Jackie slid her hand over her face, dispersing the water. She had never much liked handsome men. By and large they cared too much about what people thought of them. Got too caught up in appearances. She had no patience for vanity or idle chitchat. Life was too precious to waste on the insubstantial. The planet was in trouble. Mother Earth in pain. Global warming threatened the oceans. Mankind was rapidly working to do itself in.
She was on a mission to save the world, and with it, her relationship with her father. She had no time for pleasantries. This guy was in her way.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Scott Everly.”
Annoyed at being interrupted, Jackie glowered. Ugh. It was just her bad luck to stumble across some idiotic tourist at seven o’clock in the morning. If he asked her a stupid question, she might have to hurt him. “Bully for you.”
Instead of putting him off as she intended, her curt comment brought an enigmatic smile to his lips. Good God, was he trying to charm her? Seriously?
“What are you doing?” he asked, earnest as a golden retriever.
Oh, she was going to ignore that. Ignore him. This was not Oceanography 101. She had no obligation to tell him anything. She turned and swam toward her boat.
“There are bull sharks in the mangrove channels.”
“Uh-huh,” she said absentmindedly, her thoughts already back on the Key blenny.
“That doesn’t scare you?”
Go away. “Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Incidents of shark attacks are actually quite low,” she said. “If you look at statistics, in Florida you’re ten times more likely to be hit by lightning.”
“But bull sharks are one of the most aggressive species, right behind great white and tiger sharks.”
“Been watching a lot of shark week on the Discovery Channel, have you?”
He grinned. It was the kind of charismatic, come-hither grin that would have weakened the knees of most women, but not Jackie. “What if I have?”
“I’d say, don’t believe everything you hear on TV.”
He gave a fake gasp. “No?”
“Bull sharks are declining in number in Key West.”
“Really?”
She shrugged. “People fish them for their meat, hides and oils.”
“Are you a vegan?”
“No.”
He
