no security guards, they may come back.” Parallel lines stamped into the skin between his eyes. “Let’s keep running. I want to get around the island to check they’re gone, before it gets too hot.”
Sweat trickled down her cleavage. The air got hotter than this? He strode up and swung a hand at her. She flinched, shielding her head, her pulse racing.
Silence. The blow didn’t come.
She shut her eyes tight. Idiot. Of course it didn’t.
“I’m not going to hit you, princess, just help you up.”
“Oh, right.” She swallowed as she uncurled and took his outstretched hand, willing hers not to shake. The kiss had thrown her off balance, that was all. He lifted her, so effortlessly she felt weightless.
“For the record, I wouldn’t strike a woman, or force myself on one.” He didn’t release her hand right away, just held her there, her face inches from his collarbone, his breath grazing her hair. “That was a unique situation.”
She lifted her chin. Seize some control. It brought their faces awkwardly close, but she squared her focus on his eyes. His expression was so serious she was at risk of melting. She smiled, slyly, ignoring the dart of guilt over milking his concern. “I thought you couldn’t care less about returning me in one piece.”
He lowered his brow, glowering. “Depends how well you behave.”
And if she was playing him, why did that look make her heart skip like a stone across a pond?
* * *
They ran for another half hour, far enough around the island to satisfy Rafe that the pirates were gone, for now. He concentrated on following Laura’s stride, holding himself back as the track descended to their drop zone then looped toward the lagoon. You’re punishing yourself, she’d said. Maybe so. All he knew for sure was that he could lose himself in physical exertion, the same way he used to lose himself in sex.
Sex. Holding Laura against that tree, his body had begged to mutiny and seek that escape again. If the perfume she hawked in those ads was anything near as intoxicating as her own scent, the men of America were in trouble. What did she call it? Laura Hyland—Spark, or something.
“Pick up the pace, princess,” he said. This was the price of easy running—thoughts found a way in.
Laura stumbled on a root. He shot out a hand and grabbed her arm. She shook it off and kept running. He’d expected a far more fragile woman than this. She was way out of her comfort zone, with her life in danger, and yet strength radiated from her. It fed into every word she spoke, her every gesture—as if she expected the worst from life and knew how to twist it to her advantage. How did her breeding prepare her for that?
But she’d flinched when he’d gone to pull her up. He knew that instinct—as did everyone who’d known violence too well as a child.
His gaze wandered up her body, lithe and relaxed, the muscles in her legs clenching rhythmically with her easy stride. She’d known fear. At whose hands—Logan’s, her father’s or Jasper’s, whoever he was? Fear had created the tough shell around her. And what was underneath? Whenever she met his gaze, it was unflinching. Until that moment, she hadn’t let down her guard, her wit hadn’t wavered. A sharp brain inside a goddess’s body.
He forced his eyes away, focusing over her head onto the path in front. Too much time and energy to think, that was his problem. And his lack of backup was eating him up. For now, he had no choice but to go along with Gabriel’s plan. In the meantime, he’d figure out just what Laura’s game was, and what kind of threat it posed. Recon and surveillance. Not his preferred mission, but if it kept him out of a flag-draped box...
He sprinted the last fifty meters to the villa, passing Laura as she jogged to a halt. He brought them each a can of cola from the fridge.
Her cheeks were crimson and she clutched her side. Maybe he shouldn’t have forced someone who wasn’t used to hard running to go that far, in the heat. He could go again, twice.
She opened the can, took a swig and planted it on a picnic table on the lawn. “What I really need is a swim.” She slipped off her shoes, hopping, already heading to the water. “Coming? Or are you scared of sharks—or rock fish?” Her shorts and tank followed, leaving just her underwear, transparent from sweat. Lucky he only had her back to contend with.
“Stone fish,” he corrected, numbly. Oh yeah, he could do with a whole lot of cold water right now.
She walked in ahead of him, her curves swaying against the pull of the water, then dived, her round derrière popping up for an instant before it disappeared. He strode in up to his chest, before she could surface and see the effect she was having on his body. The run had charged him up, that was all—and one part of him in particular was refusing to forget their encounter on the cliff. He prided himself on professionalism, so what in hell was going on there?
She broke the clear film of water and stood, facing him. She might as well not be wearing a bra. He could use more of that cola, but no way could he get out now. She splashed him. “Loosen up, Capitaine.”
“You’re supposed to be afraid of me.”
She splashed him again. He half expected the water to sizzle as it hit his body. “Is that in the pirate rule book?” She stroked lazily past him, the water skimming her back, her hips, her ass, her legs. “Look, it’s obvious that for some reason you’re as happy to be here as I am. This battle isn’t between the two of us, is it? So relax.”
So that was it. She wasn’t afraid because she was waiting—expecting—to be bailed out. Was that what life with money and power was like—Daddy would bail you out of any situation, even a kidnapping? That accounted for her nonchalance, if not the other intriguing questions he wanted answers to. Okay, mademoiselle, I’ll play along. He splashed her back and she grinned, her eyes gleaming as blue as the water.
He dived, the cool hit a tonic for his edginess. As he surfaced his lip stung where she’d bitten it. He touched it. No more blood. It’d been torture to ram his body against hers for so long, to press his lips to hers, having already wondered what that would feel like.
“I gave you a pretty good fat lip,” she said, twisting and sliding around him like a seal. “I’d say sorry, but it’s kinda part of the deal.”
He shrugged. “It was a smart move.”
“It didn’t work.”
“Of course it didn’t.”
“Race you to the jetty.”
She duck-dived and pulled away with the same languid strokes he’d watched that morning. He was surprised she still had energy for it. He powered through the silky water. As he neared, she upped her stroke rate. He matched it, and put on a surge of his own, glad to stretch a different set of muscles. Tension dissolved from his chest for the first time in days. They sure looked like a couple of carefree newlyweds.
They reached the end of the jetty together. “Check out the fish,” she gasped, treading water.
A school of angel fish flitted under their feet, with parrot fish circling farther down. The water was clear as vodka right to the grains of sand far below, a break in the coral that bloomed and swayed around them. Yep, it was goddamn beautiful. She was goddamn beautiful.
