Taming Lily

by Monica Murphy

  And my phone is everything to me. It’s password protected but if someone is determined, he could probably figure it out. I can’t risk it. At least my laptop is safe, hidden in the bungalow I’m staying in at the resort, in the deep, dark recesses of my closet, sitting on the top shelf. No one would find it there.

  I set my drink on the table next to me and rest my index finger against my lips, tapping them as I contemplate my next move. I don’t feel my watcher’s eyes on me and when I glance in his direction, I see that he’s gone. Even his towel isn’t there any longer, which means he’s moved on.

  Good. That’s for the best. I don’t need to worry about some weird guy staring at me. I have more important things to concentrate on.

  Stretching my legs out, I swing them to the side of the chair and stand, resting my hands on my hips as I first look left, then right. No watcher to be seen. Where could he have gone in that quick amount of time? I didn’t even hear him leave, so what is he? Stealth?

  I’m probably worrying for nothing. He’s just some player who liked the way I looked or whatever. I’m too paranoid after what happened. Hacking into someone else’s life and messing with her personal shit has a way of making me feel uneasy, yet that doesn’t seem to stop me. I’m doing something I shouldn’t, so I tend to think everyone else is up to no good as well.

  Shaking my head, I start for the water, the sand warm on the soles of my feet. A group of kids are to my right, splashing and playing along the shoreline, their hands full of colorful plastic buckets and shovels. A couple is standing waist deep in the water, the waves crashing against them, pushing them into each other’s arms, and they laugh.

  My heart pangs but I ignore it. I don’t believe in love or couples or dating or any of that crap. Love is for fools. Despite my sisters’ blissed-out lives, and their steadfast belief I can find the same, I know that’s not for me.

  No way would I allow anyone to get too close. Hand him the power to hurt me. And I refuse to give that up.

  I walk straight into the cold water, shivering as it hits my ankles. My calves. My knees. Despite the heat of the sun and the hot sand, the water is freezing, but I don’t care. I’m belly-button deep now and I bend my knees, dunking myself to my shoulders and giving a little yelp when the cold water wraps itself around me.

  The rhythmic waves push me out a little farther and I fall backwards into the water until I’m floating, the sun warming my face, the water swirling around my head. I can taste the salty tang of the ocean and I close my eyes, spread my arms out, and splash my fingers in the water. It feels good. Peaceful.

  Until a massive wave comes out of nowhere, sending me straight underwater and slamming me into the bottom. I reach out to try and brace my fall, my hands scraping along the rocky shore, and feel a particularly sharp rock slice across my palm. The pain is excruciating and I kick away from the ground, trying to push myself above water, but another wave slams into me, sending me rolling.

  Water shoots up my nose and into my mouth and I close my eyes, struggling against the waves. I want to call out. I want to throw my hands above the water and signal to someone, anyone, that I’m probably fucking drowning here, but it’s no use.

  I can’t do it.

  Another wave hits me, though this one isn’t as powerful, and it sucks me farther out to sea, making me roll and tumble like I’m a ball in the wind. I kick hard, my foot hitting the bottom of the ocean, and it gives me the leverage I need, propelling me forward. I open my eyes, I can see the water above me, the light shining down upon it from the sun, and I kick even harder, determination urging me on.

  Strong arms wrap around my middle, dragging me above water, and when my head pops out I take a deep breath, only to immediately start coughing. The arms are like steel bands around my stomach, firm but not too tight, as if my rescuer is aware if he squeezes me too much I’ll start coughing even more. I can feel his warm, hard chest against my back as he drags me back to shore, and I drop my arm against his, clutching onto him, afraid he’s going to let me go.

  “You all right, princess?” His voice rasps against my ear, deep and rumbly and with a hint of a Southern accent. Despite my fear, the exhaustion, the sudden and complete pain I feel radiating from the palm of my hand, my entire body tingles at the sound of his voice.

  I nod, my teeth chattering, the adrenaline and terror over what I’ve just experienced combining to send me possibly into shock. My rescuer readjusts his arm around my waist, his hand splayed across my bare stomach, and I glance down to study his thick, muscular forearm. His skin is golden, covered with a smattering of dark hair, and his hand … his hand is huge. It practically covers my entire belly, and I’m no skinny little twig.

  His fingers seem to caress my skin and the air whooshes out of my lungs, making me dizzy. I let go of his arm, holding my hand out, palm up, and that’s when I see it. The jagged cut open across my palm, the blood flowing freely from it.

  Oh crap. That’s bad.

  “You’re hurt.” He notices the cut, too, and that seems to spur him into action. He moves faster and I go limp, overwhelmed at the sight of the cut, the blood, the pain that radiates from my palm all the way up my arm. “We need to find you help.”

  “I—I thought you were my help.” My voice comes out a breathless rasp and I swallow hard, wincing at the pain that follows. I took in too much salt water and my throat aches, my nose burns.

  “Medical help,” he says gruffly as we emerge from the water.

  I turn my head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of my rescuer, but he’s so tall and my neck hurts. He glances down, his eyes going wide when he sees that I’m looking at him. Shock courses through me and I part my lips, the words that follow scratchy, making my throat ache.

  “It’s you.” Him. My watcher has turned into my rescuer.

  “Hey!” I look away from him to see a hotel employee running toward us, his expression one of pure panic, and my last thought before my body goes weak and my head blanks is that he doesn’t look like much help at all.

  chapter three

  Max

  HOLY HELL, she fainted on me.

  Of course, I can’t blame her. One minute she was fine—beyond fine if I’m being truthful—walking along the sand, her hips swaying in some sort of feminine magical way that had me entranced, her hands going to that perfect ass as she slipped her fingers beneath her bikini bottom and tugged, as if that could help the minuscule scrap of fabric cover all that bared skin.

  No, more like those fingers fueled all sorts of sordid fantasies that had my cock twitching. Of me being the one slipping my fingers beneath her bikini so I can touch nothing but warm, smooth skin. Moving a little bit farther and encountering nothing but hot, wet skin. Skin that would taste fucking unbelievable as I licked her from front to back …

  Yeah. Lily Fowler the non-party girl is like my every fantasy come to life. Who fucking knew? I watched her from where I switched locations, standing beneath a cluster of short palm trees, keeping an eye on her as she played in the water. Her hot-pink bikini doesn’t cover much and her hair is up in a sloppy bun, showing off her neck and shoulders. Her breasts strain against the tiny triangle top and I won’t even go on about her ass again, because I’m starting to sound like I’m obsessed.

  Which I am.

  Before I could blink, the waves pulled her under and she didn’t pop back up quick enough for my satisfaction. Breaking into a run, I headed straight for the ocean and dove in, catching sight of her bright bikini in seconds. She struggled and fought against the water, as did I, and when I finally caught up with her, she was almost above water. I just helped her along the rest of the way.

  This was the last thing I wanted to do. Rescue my subject. Make myself obvious. I didn’t want an encounter with her yet. It was too soon in the game and I couldn’t reveal myself.

  But I couldn’t let her die on my watch, either.

  Everything wore her down, though. Taking on too much water, the lack of oxygen, the cut o
n her hand. And now she’s sagging against me, unconscious. I lay her out on the sand carefully, the panicked hotel employee helping me before he grabs the radio clipped on the waistband of his shorts and calls in her location and injury.

  “Do you know her? Is she with you?” he asks as his gaze meets mine over Lily’s body.

  I slowly shake my head. “I don’t know who she is,” I lie easily. “But she was at that cabana right over there a few minutes ago.” I gesture toward the spot.

  The guy looks over his shoulder at the cabana before turning back to face me. “Looks like her stuff is in there.”

  “Good. Maybe she has ID, too.” I tilt my head to the side as I take her limp hand in mine and examine the cut across her palm. It’s deep. Might need stitches. I streak my thumb across her fingers, careful not to touch her injury. “Or you could look up the name of the guest who rented the cabana.”

  “Yeah. Right. Good idea,” the dumbass employee says as he blows out a harsh breath and stares out at the ocean. He looks like he doesn’t even want to deal with her, let alone touch her.

  So I do. I gently press my hand against the center of her chest, where I feel her steadily beating heart. My fingers brush the side of her breast and everything within me tightens. Her skin is chilled but soft, and so incredibly smooth. Her eyes are closed, long lashes resting against her skin like dark fans, and her full lips are parted as she breathes slow and steady. “Well, at least she’s breathing,” I say sarcastically as I reluctantly lift my hand away from her chest.

  “Help is on the way.” The guy sends me a sheepish look. “I’ve only worked here for a month. This is the first medical issue I’ve had to deal with. I’m not real good with this kind of thing.”

  No shit. “You got paramedics coming?”

  “Yeah.” He nods.

  I glance down at Lily, my other hand still beneath her shoulder, propping her up. Slowly I extract my hand from under her body and gently lower her to the ground, studying her as she lies there on the warm sand, still as stone. She’s fucking beautiful. Her breasts are full even though she’s lying down and her legs are long. She smells amazing, even with the lingering scent of salt water clinging to her, and I’m filled with the sudden urge to touch her again. Press my lips against her skin.

  I give myself a firm shake. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “She’s in good hands then,” I say as I leap to my feet. I need to get the hell out of here. The hotel kid stares up at me, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. “I gotta go.”

  “You can’t just leave her here with me,” he starts, but I cut him off with a look.

  “Isn’t this your job? Besides, I don’t know who she is,” I remind him. “I’m just a good citizen who happened to rescue a total stranger.”

  “You probably saved her life,” he points out. “She might want to thank you when she comes to.”

  I shrug. I need to be as good as gone when she comes to. She catches a glimpse of me and there will be questions. Questions I don’t want to answer. And I’ve blown it enough today, ogling her like I did. “If she asks, tell her I’m glad she’s okay.”

  “But I don’t know if she really is okay. That gash on her hand is pretty bad.”

  And this kid who’s supposedly on duty for the safety of hotel guests is also pretty bad. It’s just a cut on her hand. Not like she’s going to die. “It’s not a life-or-death situation.” I almost say the word asshole but restrain myself. I don’t need to piss this kid off. “She’ll be fine. A couple of stitches and she’s good to go.”

  I take off before he can say another word, needing to get the hell out of there. The kid calls after me but I don’t look back. Just keep my head bent and my feet moving, kicking up sand as I propel myself farther and farther away from the temptation that is Lily Fowler.

  I don’t even think she realizes who grabbed her out of the water. At least, I hope she doesn’t. And that’s how I need to keep it, because no way in hell do I want her to try and thank me or talk to me.

  Not yet.

  Bad enough I sat near her cabana earlier while I spied on her. I think she had me figured out after a while, so that’s why I left. I didn’t want to be too obvious, but damn it, I needed to get close.

  More like I wanted to get close.

  Swiping a hand across the back of my neck, I head for the hotel, practically stomping my feet in the hot sand. Never before have I let a woman affect me like this, especially on the job. I don’t know why I react to her so strongly. I usually know how to play it cool and calm. I don’t let anything get in the way of my job.

  But one glance of Lily sitting on that lounger, her skin glistening in the sun, those big designer sunglasses concealing most of her face, adding an air of mystery to the intriguing puzzle that she already is, and I wanted to get closer. Just once.

  You’re a fucking idiot.

  Yeah, can’t deny that. I’ve done enough things in my life to more than prove that description as accurate.

  My phone rings and I answer it, knowing exactly who it is on the other line.

  “Where is she?”

  I decide to offer up the truth. “Laid out on the sand, unconscious.”

  Loud laughter fills my ear and I pull my phone away so I don’t have to listen to the brunt of it. “What, you already knocked her to the ground? You work fast.”

  “I don’t abuse women,” I mutter.

  “That’s too bad. A good smack might do her wonders.”

  Jesus. My client is a world-class, top-grade asshole.

  “She almost drowned,” I stress, glancing around to make sure no one’s listening to me. This is a conversation best kept private, even one-sided.

  “Yeah, well she probably deserved it, the little witch.” More laughter. Disgust fills me. I don’t like this woman. She’s not nice. Not by a long shot. And I’m still confused over exactly why she wants me to follow freaking Lily Fowler around and grab that goddamned laptop, though my client claims it belongs to her. But I’m starting to wonder if that’s a lie. And I wonder if Lily doesn’t have something big on this woman.

  Interesting thought, and not what I would consider far-fetched, either.

  “Listen, it doesn’t help, you calling or texting me every couple of hours, checking up on my ass,” I mutter into the phone as I draw closer to the hotel grounds. I’m near the pool and it’s loud. A little chaotic, what with the Hawaiian music playing overhead and guests milling about everywhere. I need to get the hell out of here and back to my hotel room so I don’t have to deal with this shit. Lily Fowler will be laid up for at least a few hours, so I should probably try and grab a nap.

  “If I’m not checking up on you, who will? I paid you a lot of money to get this job done and done fast,” she reminds me. “It’s my right to call or text you whenever I want.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re messing with my strategy. I’ll report in once a day, got that?” I’m not going to let this woman boss me around. She may have paid me a fat chunk of change that made taking the challenging job more than worth it, but I’m still in charge of my own fucking business.

  “Not good enough,” she says with a dark finality that I can’t help but admire, at least momentarily. This woman has balls, I’ll give her that. “Twice a day. Once in the morning, once at night.”

  Hell. I scrub my hand across my face. “Deal,” I tell her. “Want your report now or later?”

  “Now.” She sounds eager. “Tell me how she ended up unconscious. I want every dirty detail.” She also sounds downright gleeful at the thought of Lily being hurt.

  So I give her everything as requested, from my watching Lily while she lazed around in her cabana and drank two alcoholic beverages before noon, right down to her fainting in my arms and me leaving her with the scared hotel employee while they waited for a medic to arrive.

  “So you just left her there?” she asks after I finish.

  “What was I supposed to do? Introduce myself and let her know I work for you?�
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  She gasps. “My God, no. That would be a disaster. Bad enough that she ruins everything she puts her filthy hands on.”

  I have no idea what she’s talking about and I don’t ask. “I’ll check in on her later. Ask around and make sure she’s all right.” Someone will tell me. I bet even the guy I left her with would let me know what’s up if I found him.

  “You do that,” she says distractedly, and I can tell she could give two shits whether Lily is all right or not. What a bitch.

  “I’ll call you later tonight and fill you in on what’s going on,” I continue, not wanting to but hell, I have to. She’s not giving me a choice.

  “May I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” I’m standing on the edge of the pool area with my back to it, facing the ocean. The sun is hot on my skin; my swim trunks are almost dry even though I’d dived into the ocean only a few minutes ago. I crave a beer and a burger to go along with it. I’m trapped in fucking paradise, waiting for some shrew to read me the riot act.

  And it sucks.

  “When exactly are you going to make your move?”

  I frown. “Make my move? What are you talking about?”

  “When are you going to get her laptop? That’s the entire reason for you being there, you know. I’m not paying you to have a nice little Hawaiian vacation. You have a job to do,” she reminds me ever so kindly.

  “I know I have a job to do,” I say, my voice tight. “And like I said only a couple of minutes ago, you need to trust me and let me do it. This isn’t a smash-and-grab job. I have to work my way up to it.” I’ll need to earn Lily’s trust. And then go in for the laptop. It’s the only way.

  “We’re running out of time, Mr. Coleman.” I really don’t like it when she calls me that and I think she knows it. “Every minute that passes is another minute wasted.”

  “Ma’am, we only just arrived yesterday. She hasn’t even been on this damn island for twenty-four hours yet,” I say, my voice firm. I’m not going to explain myself and she needs to realize that. “Let me do my fucking job.”