She started to say no when she realized dinner might be the very best thing she could do. She’d been invited, and an invitation could lead to information.
“Sure. I would love to,” she said as she reined in a grin. She fixed on a straight ruler mouth, though inside she wanted to punch the air. She was the inside woman with inside access now. This would be a slam dunk to learn the truth of the missing money.
“Fantastic. Isla is having some friends over, too,” he said as he took a drink of his mimosa.
“Oh,” she said, her ebullience fading. That didn’t sound like the ideal occasion for intel gathering. Not with a gaggle of friends.
“Come at seven. My home is gorgeous. I can’t wait for you to see it.”
OK, maybe this could work.
“I can’t wait to see it, either,” she said.
And to explore it.
As Jake headed up the steps to Tristan’s, ready to do a little digging into what his target was up to, he did a double take. He spotted a man who looked like Eli standing up at a table on the terrace. A blonde in a jean skirt walked away from him, and those legs looked awfully familiar.
He froze like a statue.
What the hell?
Why would his Ariel be dining with Eli?
He had no answer.
He blinked, then unfroze. No time to linger. Time to act. He grabbed his phone to snap a photo of her from behind. As he walked out of her line of sight, he sent it to Andrew and inquired about any pretty blondes in Eli’s life, leaving out the little detail that Jake had already acquainted himself with her lips yesterday evening. Nope. That nugget was tucked in his brain, and it was his alone for safekeeping.
When he glanced back, she was gone.
Time to make himself scarce, too.
CHAPTER TEN
Bubbles rose up in the crystal-blue water. A pair of turtles paddled through the shallow reef. The underwater creatures skimmed by her, the front leg of one sweeping along her skin.
Boy, had she missed these guys fiercely in the last year.
The big turtles with their wise faces and kind eyes had always seemed like kindred spirits when she was growing up in Miami, exploring the beaches and shallow waters off the coast of Florida. Gentle giants who wouldn’t harm a fly. Swimming with the turtles had brought her a sense of serenity after her dad died. While she didn’t remember him at all, she knew how his death had affected her mom and how sad her mom had been in the years that followed. Steph had been too young to understand her own emotional response, but now, years later, she saw that she’d turned to the ocean for comfort. Now, as she glided along the shallow bottom of Happy Turtle Cove, peace flowed through her veins once more. A natural Prozac, she’d called it during many of the guided dives she oversaw here in the early days of her business.
When Duke had lashed out at her, lobbing underhanded jabs and hooks, he’d hit the Caymans first, knowing her love of this land. He posted fake review after fake review under new names across all the online review sites, simply because she’d had the gall to leave him.
So cruel. So punishing.
Especially since no one had cheated, no one had strayed.
After three years together, their relationship had gone stale. Duke had been lazy, and aimless, and hadn’t found a job in more than a year, but he also hadn’t looked hard for one. He’d been content to live off Steph and the money she’d generated then from her business.
If she was going to take away his free ride, he was going to bring it down with him, so he’d hit her where it hurt. Her chest pinched with the unpleasant memories, then she reminded herself to live for the moment, to enjoy this peace and calm in the ocean with her favorite creatures.
In a few days, she’d be showing a group of tourists from Texas this very spot, introducing them to the world under the ocean and the array of marine life here.
Maybe these two turtles would return. That prospect of seeing them again made the past slink away and had the halo effect of pushing the odd encounter with Eli to the background. Spending time with him was like living in a fun house, with swaying floors and seesawing ramps. His odd sweetness, mixed with his utter cluelessness, topped with his misplaced generosity, turned her insides topsy-turvy.
After brunch, she’d dropped off the diamond at her hotel, locking it in her safe to keep it out of harm’s way. Then, she headed here for some underwater therapy. Being below the sea reset her mind. As she swam, she let go of the morning encounter and focused on what was ahead. In a few minutes, if fate were on her side, she might see that handsome man again from last night. Anticipation skittered through her veins, along with that crazy thing known as hope. She had no idea if Jake would show. True, Marie had texted her last night letting her know she’d passed along the napkin message. But whether the fisherman would follow it was entirely unknown.
Steph kicked her finned feet and glided closer to shore, pushing up to the surface as she neared the sand.
Adjusting quickly to her land legs, she stood in the shallow waters, pushed her goggles onto her forehead, and took the snorkel out of her mouth. When she reached the sand, she dried off and tucked the snorkel gear in its bag. She grabbed a short cotton sundress and started to tug it over her head, then thought better of it. She’d pull it on once her bikini dried more.
She crossed her fingers and waited, hoping the sexy man would show up at Happy Turtle Cove at 1:23 p.m.
Right on time, he walked across the beach.
No fair. It was no fucking fair for her to be that hot.
He was going to call the Council of Hotness and ask for her membership to be revoked.
Because . . . that bikini.
He stood no chance. It was so damn revealing, what with being a bikini and all, and showcased all her assets. Those legs. That flat stomach. Those gorgeous breasts.
Wave the flag. Call the troops. Surrender was upon him.
“You deciphered my code,” she said with an approving grin as he walked to her, his ankles digging into the white, sugary sand.
“One, I like codes. Two, I like challenges, and three, even without the punctuation between the numbers, I figured out you meant the time,” he said, wishing it wasn’t so damn easy to slide back into banter with her. Her smile was a lasso tossed around his waist that brought him to his knees.
“And you are incredibly punctual, too. Not gonna lie, Jake. Punctuality is super sexy,” she said with a smile.
How on earth could a smile like that live on a liar?
Well, he didn’t technically know if she was a liar.
All he knew was she’d had brunch with his target. Given Rosalinda’s fake plays, that was enough to raise Jake’s hackles. But he didn’t have any hard-and-fast answers because Andrew was in a meeting, and Jake was still waiting to hear from his client on who this lovely woman was.
For now, he’d have to get to the bottom of this on his own, and figure out if he was being played by the woman with the starfish belly ring. He wasn’t going to let last night’s kiss cloud his focus. He wasn’t going to let that blue bikini that hugged her hips, and had the good fortune to snuggle up to her breasts, distract him. Absolutely not.
“I’m glad you made it. I thought you’d get a kick out of Happy Turtle Cove, since you named me Happy Turtle,” she said, then dropped her voice to a faux whisper. “But it’s really a cove for turtles. I was just swimming with them.”
Stop. Just stop.
Swimming with turtles was too adorable. Especially when her nose crinkled. A constellation of freckles was splashed across her nose. He hadn’t noticed them yesterday. Briefly, he wondered where else she might be hiding freckles that he’d uncover on a proper and thorough investigation of her fantastic body. Preferably with his tongue, across every inch of her skin. “You were actually swimming with turtles?”
She tapped the mesh bag on her shoulder. “My snorkel gear is in here.” She gestured to her body. “Sorry, I’m still in my bathing suit. I’ll put on a sundress as soon as this is dry.”
>
“Or just remove the bikini entirely so it’ll dry faster. It’s not ever necessary to put on a dress on my account. I’m completely OK with the bikini as a sole item of clothing on a woman like you,” he said, then nearly smacked himself. He had to stop thinking with his dick. He had to use that head on his goddamn shoulders.
Cover up that body. Put a paper bag over your face. Stop being so damn sexy and sweet. Stop making me think about taking you back to my hotel room and peeling off that bikini and tasting how sweet your sun-kissed skin is.
“I’m glad to know that both nudity and skimpy bathing suits have your sartorial approval. But I actually hope to look somewhat decent when you take me to the Coconut Iguana. My friend Sandy runs it.”
He arched an eyebrow in question.
She tapped her wrist, even though it was bare. She didn’t strike him as a watch wearer. “Lunch time. I’m hungry. So I decided to let you take me out to lunch as a reward for your showing up and following my napkin instructions. Plus, they have the best fish tacos on the Islands, and absolutely amazing coconut drinks,” she said, stepping closer and bumping her hip against him.
A groan rumbled in his chest. Why was the universe torturing him?
He forced his brain to take over. To focus on facts, not lust. Because it made no sense why she’d be hungry, since he’d seen her at a restaurant two hours ago, and she didn’t look like she noshed around the clock. This was another sign that she might be working for the enemy.
“I’m hungry, too. Let’s head to the Coconut Iguana.” He held out a hand, telling himself that lunch was the perfect opportunity to get to the heart of who this woman was. Since she knew Eli, she might be a valuable asset. And if this woman was playing him, he could play her.
He was a pro.
He had skills.
He knew what he was doing.
She took his hand, and in a second all thoughts were erased when her lips crushed his. All skills and strategy and plans were swept to sea. Out of the blue, she went for it, sealing her delicious mouth to his and kissing him like she’d been reliving last evening’s kiss, too. Like he had. That first kiss had made him want so much more.
This second kiss reminded him of why.
She wasn’t tentative; she wasn’t testing the waters. She was a determined woman—determined to consume him and devour all his will, all his reason, every last ounce of logic that was quickly slipping away in a kiss that fried his brain.
Ask him his name, he could barely remember.
Ask where he was, and he couldn’t say.
All he knew was the taste of her lips and the feel of her warm body. He looped his arms around her nearly naked frame and yanked her close, taking the reins and kissing her like a hungry man. His hands lingered on her lower back for the briefest of seconds, traveling across her skin that was warm from the sun blazing brightly overhead. He trailed his fingertips lower, dropping one hand to her ass and squeezing a round, firm cheek. He groaned. A deep, hungry sound. He wanted this woman with a fierceness he hadn’t felt in ages. He didn’t even know her name.
Right now, nothing mattered but how fantastic she felt.
She pressed her lush body to his, lining up her belly against his hard-on and rubbing lightly against him. There might very well be families around. There might be legions of people watching them as she sighed sexily in his mouth and pressed into him. He didn’t care. This was not an innocent kiss. It was a hot, dirty one. It was a prelude that demanded clothing be stripped off and bodies be tangled together. She curled her hands into his hair and practically clawed at his skull. In the ferocity of her grip, his restraint was reduced to a thread.
He broke the kiss for a split second and spoke in a ragged voice, full of lust. “I want to do bad things to you.”
Her eyes lit up. “I like bad things. I want bad things.”
She grabbed him and they kissed more. Harder. Rougher.
He pictured her in bed. Scratching his back. Digging her nails into his flesh. Holding on hard as he took her and fucked her through multiple toe-curling orgasms before he even allowed one for himself. He wanted to see her spread out, flush with desire, sated with the pleasure that he’d given her. He craved hearing her orgasmic cries and watching her come undone, over and over. He wanted to back her up against that palm tree right now, strip off those bikini bottoms, and explore her legs, taste her sweetness, feel her heat.
But he wanted to know her goddamn name, too. Not just how she felt coming undone.
Somehow, he managed to untangle himself from her. They were both panting. Her eyes were glossy with desire. He was sure his hair was a wild mess from her hands in it. He was equally sure he liked her hands in his hair.
He exhaled deeply and rubbed a hand across his jaw, trying to reset his mind. He clasped his hands together. “So now that I’ve nearly ripped off your clothes on the beach and had my tongue down your throat in a bar, perhaps you could tell me your real name.”
“You don’t think it’s Ariel?” she asked coyly, her lips curving into a naughty grin.
“No,” he said as she bent down for her dress and tugged it over her head. Turned out covering up didn’t do much for his desire to have his hands all over her body. He still wanted her just as badly. Against his better judgment. “I’m pretty sure it’s not Ariel. I’d love to know what it really is.”
Or what new fake name you’ll give me.
“Well, it does seem you’ve passed enough tests now to earn the name.”
“Ah, so you have been testing me?”
She laughed and nodded. “I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman living in a world where anyone gets burned online. You’re a man with one name only who I met on an island. I’m not stupid. I’m also not Ariel, but my business is actually called Ariel’s Island Eco-Adventure Tours. I run a tour business in the Caribbean,” she said, and something about her job sounded vaguely familiar. It tickled his brain, nagging away at him. “I studied marine biology in college so I could lead dives and snorkel trips. I live in Miami, but I’ve been rebuilding my business here and in other places. I’m Steph Anderson and it is a pleasure to officially meet you.”
He nearly stumbled. His jaw almost dropped. His eyes practically popped out of his head. But he fought back all those natural reactions because he didn’t want to let on that he knew the name Steph, since he’d looked up the names of Eli’s family before he arrived.
Including his stepchildren.
She stared at him. Then made a rolling gesture with her hand. “Your turn.”
“Jake Harlowe,” he said, and his voice sounded funny to him. Rougher than usual, etched with surprise that he needed to cover up. He spoke quickly. “Former army intelligence. Now I run a recovery business in Key Largo.”
She grinned widely. “You’re not far away from me.”
“No. I’m not at all,” he said crisply. He didn’t want to get into the implications of hometown proximity. “Let’s get you lunch.”
“What’s a recovery business?” she asked as they walked across the sand to the winding path along the beach. “Like information recovery? With computers?”
“Sort of. My job’s woefully dull,” he said, though that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Tell me more about marine biology. That’s fascinating. I’ve never met a marine biologist. That’s the profession career counselors use when they go to schools and give gung-ho pep talks about all the vast possibilities of future jobs. When they cite interesting, cool, or unusual careers, marine biologist is up there with archaeologist.”
“That’s a conspiracy, actually, among marine biologists and archaeologists. To make sure we all seem super cool.”
He laughed, wishing he didn’t enjoy her company so much. He reminded himself that this lunch date wasn’t a date. It was a mission. He was infiltrating the target.
That was all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A gull squawked as it swooped past the outside of the Coconut Iguana, hunting for leftovers.
/> The bird wouldn’t find many at Steph’s table. Only one tortilla was left on her plate and Jake had finished his tacos, declaring them some of the best he’d ever had. The meal had been fantastic, the view of the water even better, but the company was the best part. After that searing kiss—a full-body kiss if there ever was one—they’d settled into a late lunch and good conversation.
“See! I told you the fish tacos were yummy. My friend Sandy manages this place, and she told me the reason they taste so good is because of the coconut.”
“Coconut in the fish tacos?” he said, and he clucked his tongue and nodded. “Come to think of it, they did taste like coconut. And hey, better than coconut water.”
“Isn’t it weird that coconuts can be so delish but coconut water isn’t? And truth be told, I didn’t eat much this morning when I went out because I knew I wanted you to take me here.”
“So you saved your appetite for me,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“I did. Do you feel special?”
He laughed. “A little.”
“Then I need to confess something.”
He sat up straighter. His expression turned serious, his mouth now approximating a ruler. “What is it?” he asked, sounding breathless with anticipation.
“Look. I feel this is important that you know,” she said, stopping to pause, then took a deep breath, preparing to drop a bomb on him. She lowered her eyes, as if embarrassed, then raised them, cupping her hand over the side of her mouth. “I’m not actually a marine biologist.”
She frowned and adopted her best sad puppy dog eyes.
He flung his napkin on the table and pushed back in his chair. “That’s it. I’m leaving,” he huffed.
She stretched across the table and patted his chair. “But wait. I need you to know the full truth. I’m actually an archaeologist.”
“Ah, that makes perfect sense,” he said, his green eyes lighting up with laughter. “I take it you’re on a hunt for a long-lost city buried under the sand?”
“Actually, there are some great wrecks here. In the water. Do you dive?”
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