One Night to Risk it All. Maisey Yates

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      “Yes, really. I really do.”

      “So...I should just go talk to him? Want to bet he curses me out in Greek and then goes back to work?”

      Alana laughed. “Yeah, that won’t happen, Rach.”

      “How do you know? Maybe he doesn’t like blondes.”

      “He’ll like you because you’re the kind of woman who drives men crazy.”

      “Not so much anymore.” Flirting, toying and teasing had ended badly for her eleven years ago, and Ajax had certainly never acted as if she’d driven him crazy.

      “Lies,” Alana said, waving her hand. “Live dangerously for a minute, babe. Before you stop living altogether.”

      Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off him, not even to shoot her friend the evil eye, which is what she should really be doing. “Did you read that on a fortune cookie?”

      “Ever had an orgasm with an actual man? ’Cause I have. So...”

      At the mention of orgasms, Rachel’s cheeks burned. No, no she hadn’t. She’d given them a few times, yes, but never received. “Fine. I’ll go talk to him,” she said. “Talk to. Not orgasm with. Lower that suggestive eyebrow of yours.”

      “Okay. And I’ll be close. So if you...you know, need anything, text.”

      “Also I have mace,” Rachel said. “Ajax insisted.”

      She winced as she mentioned her fiancé’s name. But she wasn’t going to do anything, not really. She was just going to go talk to Shirtless Sailor Stud. She wasn’t going to do anything inappropriate.

      It was all about having a moment. Just a moment. To be brave and reckless, and not so much like the Rachel she’d been this past decade. To know what it was like to chase a moment that wasn’t bound up in the expectations of other people.

      Just a moment. To talk to a guy because she thought he was cute. Nothing more.

      She took a breath and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Wish me...well, not luck exactly.”

      Alana winked. “Get lucky.”

      “No. I’m not cheating on Jax.”

      “Okay,” Alana said.

      “I’m not.” The very idea was laughable. There were people who were like that. Bold people who went around carpe-ing diems all over the place. But that wasn’t her. Not anymore. She wasn’t sure that had ever been her. Her rebellious years had been just that. Rebellion. Not just a desire for freedom, but a desire to push against the bonds that had always held her in place. Until she’d realized just how much that behavior affected other people. Just how much it could affect her. Not just her present, but her entire future.

      But just saying hi wasn’t so bad. There was no harm in giving herself a moment to bask in the heat that this stranger gave off.

      “Riiiight,” Alana said.

      “Shush.” Rachel turned and walked toward the dock, her hands shaking, her body rebelling in every way against what she was about to do. Sweaty palms, heart beating so fast she was pretty sure she was going to faint, mouth watering with sickness. Yep, the signs to run and preserve herself were all there.

      But she ignored them.

      She looked back at Alana one more time, who was standing at the wall still, watching. Then she turned back to her target.

      She would just say hi. And maybe flirt. Just a little harmless flirting. She half remembered how that went. She’d been a master of the tease back in the day. Batting her eyes and touching a guy’s shoulder, all while never intending to do anything more than use his interest to boost her ego. It had been a game then. Fun.

      Why not revisit it? This was her last hurrah before her marriage. A chance to hang and shop with Alana. A little time to decompress, loll by the beach, watch chick flicks in her hotel room, then enjoy a charity gala. All without her family or Ajax around.

      This was just a part of that. A little time off from being Rachel Holt, beloved media figure. Rachel Holt, who was doing her best to represent her family, to do what was right.

      She needed some time to just be Rachel. Not New Rachel. Not Old Rachel, either. Just Rachel.

      She stopped in front of the yacht and took a deep breath that was choked off.

      Then she looked up, and her gaze crashed into the most electric blue eyes she’d ever seen. Followed by a slow, wicked smile, a flash of bright white teeth on dark skin. He was even more beautiful up close. Utterly arresting. He pushed dark curls out of his eyes and the motion made his muscles flex. A show just for her. And her hormones stood and applauded. And cheered for an encore.

      Stupid hormones.

      “Are you lost?” he asked, his English heavily accented. The same accent as Ajax’s. Greek. And yet it didn’t sound the same. It wasn’t as refined. It had a rough edge that abraded against something deep inside her. Struck against the hard, dry places inside of her and set off a shower of sparks that sat smoldering, building.

      And all that over three words. She was doomed if she did anything other than walk away.

      But she didn’t. She stayed rooted to the spot.

      “Um...I was...I was just there,” she gestured back to the wall where she’d been standing with Alana, who was now absent. “And I saw you.”

      “You saw me?”

      “Yes.”

      “Was there a problem?”

      “I...” she said, stumbling over her words. “Not a problem, no. I just noticed you.”

      “Is that all?”

      He put his foot up on the metal railing that surrounded the deck then jumped down onto the dock, the motion fluid, shocking and...darn hot.

      “Yes,” she said. “That’s all.”

      “Your name?”

      “Rachel Holt.”

      She waited. For recognition to flash through his eyes. For him to get excited at being in front of someone who had a certain level of media fame. Or for him to turn away. People did one of those two things. Rarely anything else.

      But there was no recognition. Nothing.

      “Well, Rachel,” he said, that voice a rush of liquid that pooled low in her body, “what is it you noticed about me?”

      “That, um...you were hot,” she said. She’d never been so forward with a man in her life. Though, honestly, she wasn’t sure if she was being forward or being an idiot. She was good with people. The consummate hostess. Everyone, even the vicious press, liked her. A reputation that had been carefully cultivated—and fiercely guarded.

      But she was a lot more experienced

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