Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel)

by Tiffinie Helmer

  “I assume you tracked me down for a reason.” His voice was fast and breezy, and if that wasn’t sexy enough, he started to strip out of his dry suit. Smooth, tanned, ripped muscle was revealed as he peeled the tight fabric from his upper body.

  Sonya swallowed as she took in every inch of power he uncovered. The need to touch him became a hunger. She’d been skipping this kind of treat for a while.

  He must have caught the look she couldn’t hide, for he slowed his striptease. The cold, blustery wind seemed to heat around them.

  “Sonya,” he said her name on a groan. Her eyes flicked to his. The amusement was gone, and in its place was fire. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you want to eat me up.”

  If he didn’t look so damn delicious, it would be an easier feat to accomplish. He stared at her like he hadn’t treated himself in a while, either. The air sizzled and snapped with suppressed appetite.

  She needed to be careful here, remind herself of what he was. It was a lot harder with him out of uniform.

  “I’d like nothing better than to do exactly that,” she heard herself say. “But I’m not an animal driven by my baser urges. I can control myself.”

  He stalked closer, the top of his dry suit lying loose at his waist. “We’re all animals, Sonya, when you strip us bare. Repressing your natural desires can interfere with your biology.”

  “I happen to fancy black raspberry chip ice cream, but I can stop eating it before I make myself sick.”

  He cocked a brow as though in a dare. “Afraid too much of me will make you sick?”

  “No, not afraid. I know what’s good for me and what isn’t. You definitely aren’t.”

  “I could be real good for you,” he said in a rough tone, taking another step toward her.

  She swallowed again.

  Damn, this was the hottest foreplay she’d ever engaged in, and they were only talking. Conversations like this invariably lead to something else. She ought to end it here and now. Say what she’d come to say and leave.

  “Have you ever lived in the moment, Sonya? Experienced what life has to offer, without thinking of tomorrow?” He took another step closer, towering over her. She was above average height for a woman at five eight, but he still loomed over her with his six-foot-plus frame.

  “No, I’ve never had that luxury.” She’d been fifteen when she’d lost her parents and her sister, Sasha. Peter had been only two. He’d been a big, though welcome, surprise to her parents in their later years. The load of responsibility Sonya had taken on, at that young age, prevented her from doing just what Garrett tempted.

  “Want to give it a try?” he asked. “Forget who you are. Forget who I am. Could you do that?” His voice lowered to a seductive level and stroked dark fantasies to life.

  Her fingers itched to trace each line of muscle in front of her that beckoned.

  Could she?

  What the hell was he doing?

  Garrett knew he had no business goading Sonya into taking a bite of what he offered. He was a trooper. She was a fisherman. If they got physical, it would definitely be something he’d have to deal with “tomorrow.” Besides, he doubted very much, that he could walk away from this woman after one night. It’d take at least a couple.

  The cold water must have dulled his senses. It had definitely soothed his foul mood. The one she’d been largely responsible for putting him in.

  Surfing the Bering Sea had been stimulating, cutting loose and riding a wave that at any moment could have ridden him. There was no way to describe it. Then he’d walked out of that water and seen Sonya standing there under the shelter of the abandoned dock, a log piling at her back, and he’d wanted to take her while the wind screamed around them.

  He wanted to make her scream for him.

  Garrett watched emotions skitter across her face. Her cheeks blushed from the biting wind, eyes dark and direct as they met his. Was she actually going to pick up the gauntlet he’d tossed her way? It was his turn to swallow as she stepped toward him, her hand pressed against his thudding heart.

  “I don’t ever forget who I am. When I give myself to a man, we both remember.” Her hand took a journey down his chest to his abs, which he couldn’t help sucking in. “You wouldn’t be able to forget me tomorrow, Garrett. Even if you wanted to.”

  Christ. Her other hand joined in her exploration of his chest. His breathing was suddenly heavier than when he’d pulled himself out of that freezing ocean. He wasn’t chilled now. Far from it. If possible he felt even more exhilarated.

  She broke eye contact and stared at her hands, petting him, as though she wanted to venture over every inch of his skin. He was more than willing to let that happen.

  “I didn’t come here to engage in the physical,” she said. “I wanted to thank you for giving us a heads-up today on that hydraulic line.” She paused as though forgetting her train of thought, her fingers caressing his abs, the light, exploring touch sending signals to his lower half he knew he shouldn’t entertain. She took a deep breath, as if needing strength, and stepped back. He felt the loss of her heat like an extinguished flame.

  Meeting his eyes, she added, “I also came to warn you. I don’t want you as my protector. You need to treat me like every other fisherman out there on that water.”

  He captured her elbows and brought her into full contact with his body. “You aren’t the same as the others, Sonya. I can’t help but differentiate.”

  “You’ll have to.” She attempted to pull out of his arms, but he only tightened his hold.

  “We might be on different sides of the line, but you enjoyed tying me in knots today.” He caught the twitch of her lips.

  “Who’s tying who up?” she asked. “You just don’t like me giving as good as I get.”

  Damn right he didn’t.

  “Remember when I told you that I don’t play games?” She waited for his nod. “Just because I don’t like to play them, doesn’t mean I’m not good at them.” She smiled, obviously enjoying teasing him.

  She also confused the hell out of him. He’d never been confused by a woman before and he didn’t like it. Back to those knots. There was one thing he wasn’t confused about. She wanted him, and he wanted her.

  “This is no game.” He leaned down and kissed her, sealed their mouths and tried to forget who they were, while passion and fire flooded his system.

  She was right. He was never going to forget her. He felt it in every rapid beat of his heart. He should catch and release right now. Instead, he backed her up against a piling, anchored her to it with his thigh pressed between hers and let his hands roam. Any finesse he usually showed was gone. Sonya brought the animal out in him, and he wanted to feast. She didn’t help, with her demanding moan and the arching of her body, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  She smelled good. Fresh, like citrus and something sweet. Honey maybe, but she tasted better. Like the rarest of fruits. He wanted to peel her naked like a mangosteen. Right down to her pearly white flesh.

  “Garrett, we can’t do this.” Sonya belied her words with a kitten-like sound as he pressed his thigh higher between hers and bit the side of her neck. “Seriously…we must…stop.”

  She pushed against his chest, her hands losing their intent as they journeyed down his sides. It was enough of a resistance that he shook his head, trying to clear the sexual fog, and focus on her.

  “I’m not having sex with you on this beach,” she said, her voice raspy and seductive as hell. “No matter how it’s portrayed in the movies, sand is not romantic. It gets in places.”

  “There’s the Jeep,” he was quick to suggest.

  “Well, hell. There’s my 4-wheeler, too, but I’m not having sex on it, either.”

  He chuckled. The reality of their situation caught up to his oversexed, oxygen-starved brain. “I lose my head when I’m around you.”

  “Believe me, I’ve figured that out. Your actions out on that wat
er today proved it.” She pushed at his chest. “I really need you to let me go.”

  He breathed deep, inhaling that fervent combination of her, mixing with the smell of rain on the wind. “All right, but I’m going to have to take it slow.” His body didn’t want to let her go. Come to think about it, neither did his head. She’d said stop. He wasn’t so far gone that he’d ignore that road sign. He moved his leg pinning her to the log piling. She closed her eyes and groaned as he brushed against that hot private area of hers, which had him rethinking of releasing her. She was having as much trouble resisting him as he was her. The knowledge was powerful and intoxicating, and he wondered briefly if she’d give in if he pushed?

  What the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t that kind of man. At least, he’d never thought he was. Sonya had brought more emotions out in him in the last forty-eight hours than he’d experienced with a woman in his lifetime.

  He stepped back, releasing her. Immediately, he felt the cold. The only covering he had was the remnants of his dry suit clinging to his lower half. The wind blasted him, and he shivered.

  “Might want to get some clothes on,” she pointed out, her eyes never leaving his exposed skin.

  Now it was his turn to tell her to stop. “Keep looking at me that way and I’ll carry you inside this abandoned cannery and pick up where we left off.”

  She raised her gaze above her as though considering doing just that. Then she shook her head. “There’s bound to be spiders in there.”

  It didn’t go unnoticed that she hadn’t objected to sex, just to the possibility of spiders. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

  Her lips parted on a grin. “I don’t like it to get around, but spiders—” she shuddered “—really creep me out.”

  Good to see that she had some girly issues. Since he’d met her, she seemed as much of a brute as any guy he knew, and he’d known some brutes. She followed him to the Jeep where he grabbed a t-shirt and yanked it over his head.

  “So we good here?” she asked. The breeze caught her hair and whipped a few more strands lose from her ponytail.

  “How do you mean?” He figured he’d better ask for clarification, because he wasn’t in a good place where she was concerned. Not by a long shot.

  “I don’t want you intervening in my business like you did today.”

  “I’ll intervene in any situation that I deem necessary. That’s my job.”

  “You took your job personally.”

  “I always take it personally. If I have to take you off the water in order to protect you, that is exactly what I’ll do.”

  “B-but—” she sputtered.

  He could see her temper heating up again. So he distracted her with a question. “Answer me one thing, Sonya. Why the Double Dippin’? Couldn’t you have come up with a less controversial name?”

  “It’s what I’m doing. Why not call it what it is? I don’t have a set of balls like you men to carry around. Might as well plaster what I do have for all to see.”

  “Do you intentionally try to piss people off, or is it a personality flaw?”

  “The same could be said about you.”

  “We aren’t talking about me.”

  “I think you have a problem with strong-willed women. So why don’t you work on that, and then we’ll see where we end up.”

  He growled deep in his chest. He did not have a problem with strong-willed women. He’d just ended a relationship with one of the strongest-willed women he’d ever met until now. Sonya seemed to be wondering if she’d finally pushed him too far. He took a step closer until his chest almost brushed hers. “We already know where we’re going to end up, Sonya. It’s just a matter of when and where.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. I don’t jump into bed with just anyone. You have a lot working against you. Humility comes to mind.”

  “You don’t know when to stop baiting, do you?”

  “Why bother, when you’re still biting?”

  He crooked a smile, going from hunter to charmer. He couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun bantering with a woman. “Want to catch dinner? See if we have any subjects in common besides chemistry?”

  “The last person I can afford to be seen with is you. Those fishermen already have it in for me. They see me cavorting with a fish cop, and I’m sunk.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Aidan motored his skiff, with Lana in the bow, toward their set net site in the river. Sonya hadn’t returned to camp last night and he hoped he’d get a chance to talk to her today. He slowed his boat as he noticed the Albatross, squatting at where his running line should have been.

  “Yo, Harte,” Chuck Kendrick hollered from the deck of the Albatross. “Top of the morning to ya, asshole.” Kendrick gave Aidan a satanic smile as he drifted by.

  The man had cut his running line.

  “Kendrick, you son of a bitch!” Aidan hollered.

  “I’ll let Ma know you inquired about her.” Kendrick cackled. “Have a nice day.”

  He was screwed. Fishing was to start any minute, and he had no running line to attach his net to. Where were the fucking fish cops when you needed them?

  “Aidan?” Lana’s anxious voice came from the bow of the skiff where she sat bundled up in chest waders and raingear. She seemed more a little girl than a woman grown.

  Earl pulled alongside in his skiff, his uncle Roland smoking the butt of a cigarette as he reclined in the bow. “We fishing or what?”

  “Give me your gun,” Aidan demanded, reaching his hand out for the firearm he knew Earl never went anywhere without.

  “What the hell for?”

  “Are we shootin’ people?” Roland sat up, the sound of glee in his voice, as he took an interest in more than sucking on his cigarette.

  “Kendrick just cut my running line.” Aidan reached his hand out. “Now give me the damn gun.”

  “Aidan—” Lana’s voice wobbled with fear, but Aidan ignored her.

  All he saw was red.

  “Why the hell didn’t you say so?” Earl tossed the Glock underhanded between the two skiffs.

  Aidan caught it, cocked it, pointed, and fired three quick shots across the Albatross’s bow.

  Earl’s mouth curled in disgust. “You missed.”

  “I could have hit that boat with my eyes closed,” Roland said, turning to Earl. “Didn’t you teach this kid how to shoot?”

  “I didn’t want to hit him,” Aidan said. “Just wanted to warn him.”

  “Give me that gun.” Earl shook his head. “You shoot at someone, plan on hittin’ ‘em.” He huffed a breath and curled his upper lip. “You’re useless.”

  “Watch it, old man.” Aidan’s hand tightened over the butt of the gun he still held.

  “Watch what? Watch you sit back and draw your little cartoons—”

  “They’re graphic novels.”

  “Whatever. You’re still drawing what you don’t have the guts to do yourself.”

  “Would you just shut the hell up!” Aidan wanted to silence the old man for good. Holding the gun in his hand was becoming too much of a temptation.

  “Somebody’s got to tell you how to be a man.”

  Aidan gritted his teeth, counted to ten and did what he did best, tuned out his father. He’d been doing it all his life. Sometimes he wondered if the money he made fishing every summer was worth the aggravation of having to tolerate the man. He placed the gun in the dry hold of the stern. If he handed the Glock back to Earl, it was bound to go off “accidentally.” He engaged the outboard engine and got back to the business of fishing.

  “Lana, hook that running line.” Aidan maneuvered the skiff to where the line floated free.

  “What are you going to do, Aidan?” Lana’s voice shook. She grabbed the boat hook and moved into position at the side of the skiff, careful not to step on the net roped into the bottom of the boat.

  Her scared and worried expression tugged at Aidan’s temper, and he suddenly felt ashamed
over his actions. He shouldn’t have shot at the Albatross. What if he had actually hit someone? If he wanted to pick a fight with Kendrick, he should do it when Lana wasn’t around. There had been a major absence of thinking on his part this morning.

  “We’re going to tie a Bruce Anchor to the end of the line so we can fish today. Later, when the tide goes out, we’ll replace the running line.” It would shorten the length of line the Fish and Game allowed the set netters to fish, but he’d be able to fish this tide instead of waiting it out and miss catching anything.

  They hooked the line, and working together, attached an anchor to the line and then their net. Then it was a matter of waiting to pick what fish swam into it.

  A few hundred feet down the beach he heard Sonya laugh. The musical sound carried easily over the water. Aidan glanced over to see Sonya and Peter joking it up as they laughed and picked fish from their net. The Double Dippin’ lay anchored at the end of their running line like it was sleeping the afternoon away. She and Peter were picking fish from one of their four sites with their skiff. He didn’t see Wes or Nikolai, but knew they’d be showing up soon, probably with a big lunch that Margaret had lovingly packed for all of them. All Aidan had grabbed was a package of jerky and some fruit snacks for him and Lana to share later.

  The Savonskis had the best sites on the beach, lying right at the mouth of the river. They raked in the biggest catch as the salmon swam along the shoreline into the river to spawn, while the Hartes always seemed to pick seconds of what their nets caught.

  Soon that was all going to change.

  One way or another, Sonya would be his. He’d make sure Kendrick got what was coming to him too.

  “Aidan’s not having a good day,” Peter said, resting against the side of the skiff, and wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Shouldn’t we offer to help?”

  Sonya dropped the salmon she’d just picked out of the net into one of the brailer bags. She glanced over at Aidan and assessed his situation.