her attention reluctantly from his chest and met his gaze. He ran a hand over his dark hair, wet from snorkeling.
“This is getting embarrassing. You rescuing me all the time.” Cate tried to sound playful but instead just sounded grumpy. “I really am not usually this accident prone.”
“Really?” Tack made a disgruntled sound in his throat to show her how little he believed that. “Let me look.” He gently peeled her hand away, assessing her forehead for damage. “You’re going to have a serious knot there, by the looks of things. But...” He trailed off, meeting her eyes once more. How did he get so close to her? There was an intensity there in his gaze, so powerful that she felt the need to break the stare, but then realized her mistake. Now she was focused on his lips, slightly parted, almost as if asking her to kiss him as he knelt in front of her.
And then, her brain simply shut off. She forgot to be anxious or worried, or overthink anything. She forgot why it was she avoided men, why she worked so hard all the time to keep herself carefully removed from anyone who might find out her dark secret. In that moment, instinct took over. She inched a little closer, their lips nearly touching.
She paused suddenly, right before they touched, suddenly frozen by second thoughts. What am I doing? Am I really going to kiss this man? But before she could back away, retreat, his lips covered hers, and she felt the rest of the world melt away. She could taste the salty sea and felt the gentle exploration of his mouth on hers. It had been a long time since she’d kissed anyone, and yet her mouth remembered exactly what to do.
He began gently, a tentative touch, his expert lips on hers in a perfect dance. She’d forgotten how intimate a kiss was, how amazing it could be, closing her eyes and letting the warm, delicious sensation overtake her. She pressed her lips against his, wrapping her hands around the back of his strong neck. Want ran through her body, hot and searing, as the kiss turned deeper. Her lips parted as she felt the delicious warm wetness of his tongue. She felt like a switch had been thrown, and her body came alive, wanting more, ever more.
He pulled her down to him, and she went, their chests pressing against one another as they knelt together on the boat. Wet from the water, his muscled chest slid against hers. She felt desire rise in her, a strong need she hadn’t felt in months. All she wanted to do was devour him, inch by inch.
Suddenly, a loud blast of a horn sounded, wrecking the moment. Cate pulled back, a little dazed, her eyes blinking back the bright sun. The horn sounded again, and she saw it came from a huge, white boat, blaring music and crowded with tourists, that had inched up to them, parking nearly right next to her smaller boat. She could hear the eighties hairband music blasting across the water.
Tack glared at the intrusion. Cate groaned.
“Great,” she murmured.
“You know that boat?”
“Unfortunately, I do.” Reluctantly, Cate pulled herself to her feet. Tack did the same. “Terry Blake owns that boat.”
His tour excursion service had beaten out hers—and many others—to deal exclusively with two of the major cruise lines. He was also probably the most obnoxious and full of himself man on the island. Terry, with his sleek bald head, ample gut and furry gray chest, didn’t care about anything but having a good time—and making sure all of his guests were usually hammered. He’d nearly clipped her boat more than once in these narrow coves. He was reckless and dangerous.
Then, she realized, he planned to block her in—putting his boat in between her and the sea, leaving her stuck between the shallow reef and the beach.
“He’s going to block us in.” She shouted Terry’s name, but there was no way the captain could hear her over the blare of the music. He saw her and waved, not bothering to try to listen as he let out three more obnoxiously loud blasts of the horn right in their ears.
Cate laid on her own horn multiple times, but the boat kept coming. It almost looked as if he’d collide with her, but at the last minute it cruised to a stop. With about six inches between the two boats now, Terry dropped anchor and about thirty loud, and most certainly already drunk, tourists half fell, half jumped off the boat.
“Terry! You need to move!” Cate shouted when the boat lurched to a stop.
He put his hand to his ear and gestured to the blaring music. He was shirtless, his big furry chest visible, as was the bright gold chain around his neck. Terry was a walking stereotype. “Can’t hear you, sweetheart,” he called.
Tack’s face flushed red with anger as he glared at the offending boat.
“I’ll handle this.” Tack climbed to the other boat with an easy long stride. Cate scrambled after him, not sure if she wanted Tack to clock Terry or if she should try to keep the peace.
Once on board, the smell of cheap mixed drinks hit her like a wave. The floor was also sticky with spilled mai tais.
“Cate!” Terry called, ignoring Tack. “Looks like you’re finally getting some—” he paused in a vulgar way to let his meaning be perfectly clear “—R and R.”
Cate decided to ignore that. “You’ve blocked us in, Terry. You have to move.”
“What? No introduction?” Terry looked offended. He also looked drunk. And it was just eleven in the morning. Did the man get up early to drink?
Tack frowned. “Tack,” he said, reaching out his hand. “And you are?”
“Terry.” He reached out a beefy hand and shook Tack’s, all the while assessing the man’s stature. “You’re tall.”
“I get that a lot.”
“Terry. Move your boat.” Cate felt the anger rising in her throat.
“What’s the rush? Why not stay awhile and have a drink.” Terry offered her a plastic pitcher filled with a dubious red liquid.
“No, thanks. I don’t drink while I’m working.” Cate took in Terry’s puffy, red face and bloodshot eyes. Definitely drunk.
“Didn’t look like you were working. I saw how you two were sucking face.” Terry leered at Cate, making her want to punch him in the face. He gave her a slow once-over, too, making Cate wish she’d thrown on a T-shirt to cover her bikini before she’d climbed on board his ship.
“I’m working. This is a guest at the resort.”
“Oh, I see. Is that how you’re luring guests to that ramshackle hut of yours? A little bit of sweet side action?”
Cate balled her fists at her sides, wanting to actually attack the man, but it was Tack who reached out and put his hand on Terry’s furry shoulder.
“That’s not very nice. I suggest you apologize,” he growled, his meaning and the threat clear. He squeezed the shoulder harder than he should have, and Terry blanched.
“Hey! I was just joking. Come on. It’s a joke. Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Sheesh.” Terry put up his hands and backed away from Tack, who let him go.
Cate had never seen Terry so quick to comply, but then again he’d probably never faced 195 pounds of muscled ex-marine, either.
Tack grinned, all easiness once more. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind,
