rel="nofollow" href="#udf12e24c-752b-5a1d-acc2-31a847373016">5
DISCOVERY ISLAND CAME with its own resident Adonis. That particular plus had definitely not been in the travel brochures Laurel, Mia Brandt’s cousin and the bride-to-be, had waved enthusiastically when proposing a four day bachelorette cruise from San Francisco to Cabo San Lucas. The woman was a travel agent; she should have known the man candy would be even more of a draw than discounted cabins.
Fifty yards away from Mia’s perch in the beachside bar, the hottie masterfully coaxed a boat motor to life while she stared. He might have been working in the shallow water with his back to Mia’s group, but the sheer size and power of him demanded a second look, as did the effortless way he dominated his surroundings. In a firefight, she would have taken him out first, because everything about him screamed trouble.
As soon as the hostess had shown Mia to her seat, she’d spotted him at two o’clock. Cataloging her surroundings was second nature, the end result of two tours of duty in Afghanistan. After her time in the sandbox, she’d marked her exits and searched for anything out of the ordinary. Not that she recognized ordinary anymore, but she’d made it her personal goal to rediscover that quality, and she’d set herself a deadline of Christmas. With only three months remaining to accomplish her particular mission, scoping out potential dates—rather than potential hostiles—over bad margaritas had seemed an excellent step in the right direction. The normal direction.
This guy was worth a second look for many reasons, although the only threat he posed right now was to her libido. An ancient gray T-shirt stretched tightly over his shoulders as he wielded his wrench, clearly still dissatisfied with the boat’s performance despite the motor’s obedient purr. He’d rolled up his faded jeans, the worn denim cupping his butt in the best possible way as he bent over, fiddling with some new mechanical bit. His dark hair was buzzed short with military precision, and his forearms were a rich, sun-browned color. When he pulled a screwdriver out of the toolbox beside him, Mia’s group of gals heaved a collective sigh.
Hooyah. Definitely spectacular.
“You think he’s single?” One of the bridesmaids leaned into Mia, her attention firmly fixed on the hottie working the engine. Laurel had assembled a bridal party from all walks of life. In addition to Mia, she’d invited two girlfriends from college, her husband-to-be’s baby sister, a gal from her office and a woman she’d met on a cruise to Jamaica. Two Jenns, an Olivia, a Lily and a Chloe. Mia’s other mission was keeping the names straight.
The guy’s dating status, however, wasn’t the actual issue. She shifted back—she still didn’t like casual touching—and plucked the veil off her head. Her cousin had brought faux bridal veils for everyone, but there was only so far Mia would go for family. Being a former aviation pilot and officer in the US Army and only six months back from her final tour, pink tulle far exceeded that distance. Far. “That’s not the right question.”
The bridesmaid—Mia was almost certain she was one of the Jenns—absently inhaled her margarita, her gaze never wavering from the man in the boat. “No?”
A guy like him clearly didn’t know the meaning of the word no. His T-shirt rode up as he reached over the engine block, revealing a sun-darkened expanse of golden brown skin and the navy blue edge of his boxers. The straight line of his spine just begged to be traced by her fingers. Or her mouth. Her tongue...
At ease, soldier.
She’d seen gorgeous men before. Slept with them, too. Just because sailor boy was the sexiest sight she’d laid eyes on in weeks didn’t give her hormones license to rampage unchecked. Her ship sailed in hours, and she wasn’t looking for quick fun. She also didn’t need to leave behind yet another guy who would decide he was done waiting without telling her.
Even now, she could hear her ex’s voice as he explained how her last deployment was his license to cheat on her because, honestly, did she expect him to wait forever? Eighteen months hadn’t qualified as forever in Mia’s book, but then honesty apparently hadn’t been part of her ex’s vocabulary, either. She wouldn’t make that mistake again, and the sailor in the boat had mistake written all over his very sexy self.
Might-be-Jenn slurped, drawing Mia’s attention back to the problem at hand. “The question is—is he single right now?”
The man braced his legs as he twisted something on the engine block, and one of the other bridesmaids started fanning herself with a stack of bar napkins. Right on cue, a bikini-clad tourist hopped up onto the edge of the boat. The guy’s fetching new visitor leaned in and said something to him.
“Scooped.” Mia’s neighbor polished off the remainder of her margarita. She didn’t sound particularly forlorn. “I need another round.”
It was hard to imagine needing more tequila and salt, but Mia signaled for the waiter anyhow. Her role on this cruise appeared to be that of designated party planner, probably because she wasn’t any good at having fun herself, or so she suspected. Checking the waiter out visually for suspicious bulges and concealed weapons when he came over to take their order for refills was a case in point.
“Is he taken?” Bridesmaid number two—so much for keeping her vow to learn their names before the cruise ship reached international waters tomorrow—scooted closer and looked hopefully toward the water’s edge.
“We could send him a drink.”
“Two.”
“Or bring the drinks ourselves.”
“A
