by Meghan March
A shiver of fear creeps up my spine, and goose bumps rise on my skin. “What could be out there?”
I’m not sure why I think Dane is the authority on ocean baddies, but I guarantee he knows more about it than I do, given his love of snorkeling and diving.
He shoves open the door and flips on the light inside. I follow him in as he shuts the door.
“The worst of the bunch would probably be the hammerheads, blacktips, bulls, and tigers.”
“Sharks?” I spin around and pin him with what has to be my oh my God, tell me I’ve got this all wrong look.
“How can that surprise you?”
Intellectually, I know sharks live in the ocean and swim around and eat things, but on all of our myriad vacations where we were in the ocean, I never once considered that the ones I’ve seen on Shark Week would be so freaking close. I picture nurse sharks. Harmless ones like we’ve swam with. It’s not like I signed on to jump in and swim with the great whites.
“Does this mean you don’t want to snorkel or dive?”
There’s humor and a note of challenge in Dane’s words, and I have to admit I’m probably being ridiculous, but still. Sharks.
“Am I going to die?”
Dane reaches out and cups my chin. “Not a chance.” After a moment’s hesitation, he adds, “You’re too fucking stubborn to let anything take you out before you’re ready.”
I’m not sure whether that’s supposed to be a compliment or not, but I decide to take it as one.
“Damn right,” I whisper.
Dane’s hand lifts again, skims along my cheek, and slides into my hair. His head tilts right before his lips take mine.
God, how long has it been since he kissed me? Long enough that I’ve forgotten how much I love it. How much I’ve missed it.
Dane’s other hand closes around my hip as he deepens the kiss and pulls me against his body.
Then a jiggling of the door handle interrupts us, and we break apart.
“What the fuck?” Dane steps around me to grab the inside knob and unlock it before pulling the door open. “Can I help you?” he asks, but his tone doesn’t sound remotely helpful in the least.
“Oh, shit. Sorry, man. Thought this was our room. Guess we had a few too many drinks today. Simple mistake.”
The words carry a hint of a British accent, and I try to look around Dane to get a better view, but his wide shoulders block the doorway. Absently, I wonder if that’s on purpose and he’s being protective.
It has to be the other people from the restaurant, especially if we’re the only two couples on the island, so I can’t imagine they’re any kind of threat.
“Definitely not your room. Don’t know which one is, so I can’t help you.”
A woman giggles, and my assumption is confirmed. I worked hard to block her out at dinner, but wasn’t completely successful.
“Sir, miss. Do you need some assistance?” Another voice comes from outside, but farther away. Maybe one of the workers on the island?
“You got a flashlight? We can’t seem to locate our villa,” the man calls.
“Of course. Please come with me, sir. Watch your step.”
“Sorry. Hopefully we didn’t interrupt anything important.” The man shifts, and I finally catch a glimpse of his face over Dane’s shoulder. Icy blue eyes lock on me. “My apologies.”
Dane nods before shutting the door. A little rude, but so is trying to get into our bungalow, thinking it’s theirs. After locking the door again and checking the handle, Dane turns back around to face me.
“They really need to put some lights in or something so people can find their rooms. Or hand out flashlights when you check in.”
“Something,” Dane says.
A yawn works its way up from the depths of my soul, and I cover my mouth with my hand. I don’t even know what time it is, but I just hit the wall, and I’m sure the alcohol didn’t help.
Dane picks up a bottle of water from the dresser and hands it to me. “You need to hydrate, and then you need some sleep.”
I take the bottle from him, knowing he’s right. But with the clock ticking down on us, the last thing I want is to give in to the urge to sleep. Time feels more precious now than it has since my mom passed away.
Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
“We only have nine days left.”
Dane meets my gaze, understanding the meaning behind my words well. “We won’t waste them.”
Chapter 15
Kat
I wake up the same way I fell asleep—in an empty bed. Dane showered again after dinner, and I tried to stay awake, thinking I could salvage day one of ten by reminding him how good we are when we’re naked. But alcohol and exhaustion got the better of me, and I passed out moments after the water came on.
I told myself it wasn’t a big deal because I was going to wake him up in a way he wouldn’t forget and start the day off right, but apparently he woke up before me, which screws up my plans.
Tossing the coverlet off, I roll over and pause. The room is quiet but for the sound of the wind and the ocean outside. Where could he have gone?
If there’s a gym on this island, he’d definitely find it, but I don’t remember him mentioning that.
With a swing of my legs off the bed, my feet hit the floor and I rise. As I stretch my arms over my head, more questions start filtering in.
What the hell time is it, anyway?
Where is my phone?
Why didn’t he wake me up?
Shoving my hair out of my face, I make my way to the bathroom to take care of business and attempt to look human after sleeping like the dead.
But we made progress last night. At least, I think we did.
I cross to my suitcase and select a coral sundress that’s mostly unwrinkled, as well as cute and fun, so I can go in search of Dane and coffee. I slide my feet into a pair of gold Havaianas, adjust the straps of the dress, and find my sunglasses before I unlock the door to the cabana and step outside.
Brilliant white light hits my eyes first, and I shove my shades into place.
Holy shit.
Outside, there’s nothing but blue ocean, and with the sun sparkling off the surface, it practically glitters. It’s blindingly bright, but I stand in awe for a few minutes, watching birds dive into the water and resurface before I remember I’m on a mission.
Stepping carefully down the pier, I make my way to solid ground and step off the path into the sand, drawn to the lure of the beach at sunrise.
It seems my feet know which way to carry me to Dane, even if I don’t realize it. Much like the first time I laid eyes on him, he strides out of the ocean, pulling his mask off his face.
And just like the first time I saw him, the word mine flashes through my brain.
He lifts his other hand into the air, holding two things I can’t identify. One is a pole with a hook at the end, and the other is . . . a lobster? No freaking way.
“I win that bet,” he calls as he comes toward me.
“What the hell did you do?” I ask, kicking off my flip-flops and leaving them behind as I jog down to the water’s edge.
“I caught you a lobster.” He holds it by the long antennae.
He cannot be fucking serious.
“Oh my God!”
“Wanna see if we can get the kitchen to make you a lobster omelet for breakfast?”
Dane comes toward me, swinging the creature, and I scream. If I thought the crabs last night were creepy, I’m not sure I want to get up close and personal with this guy. Just because I like to eat them doesn’t mean I want to give them a chance to pinch me.
“Watch the claws! Isn’t he going to try to get me?”
Dane shakes his head. “Caribbean lobsters don’t have claws like Atlantic lobsters. He can’t get you.” He holds it out by the antennae like he expects me to take it from him.
“Are you insane?”
“Not even a little. Take it up to the restaurant, order
a mimosa, and ask them to start cooking it for you for breakfast. I’ll shower and meet you there.”
His suggestion that I order a mimosa comes as a surprise. “Did you really just tell me to get a drink for breakfast?”
He nods. “You’re on vacation, so act like it.” He notices the one accessory I’m missing. “Maybe you already are. No phone. Good girl.”
I laugh. “Like it would do any good here.”
“True. I gotta go rinse. Meet you there?”
“What can I order you?”
“Scrambled eggs and bacon, if they have it. You know what I like.”
The way he says it fills me with a rush of warmth that rivals the heat of the sun beating down on us both. Like we haven’t lost the familiarity between us. It gives me hope.
“Okay.”
Dane leans in and brushes a kiss across my lips. When he backs away, he takes my fingers and wraps them around the lobster antennae. “Go see if you can shock the kitchen by bringing your own lobster. I’ll see you in a few, babe.”
He steps back to head for the cabana and I slide my flip-flops back on, holding my arm out straight as I carefully carry a freaking live lobster to the restaurant.
* * *
Eduardo laughs his ass off when I walk in, fresh catch in hand, but doesn’t have a problem asking the kitchen to prepare lobster omelets. I take a seat at the same table we chose last night, and within a few minutes, I’m sipping delicious coffee.
It’s almost like I can feel the stress melting away in waves. I’m lost in the serene setting and the peacefulness of the moment, so I don’t notice the man standing behind me until Eduardo crosses the room.
“Sir, is there anything I can do for you?”
I jerk my head around, thankful I’ve almost emptied my cup because I probably would have sloshed coffee over the side with my abrupt action.
It’s the man from last night, the one at dinner and later at our room mistakenly. His gaze stays on mine, even when he speaks to Eduardo.
“I’ll have what she’s having. It looks divine.”
“Of course, sir.”
Eduardo steps away, and the man comes around the table to stand with a hand on the back of Dane’s chair. He reaches out to me with the other.
“Vander Iman.”
The British accent I thought I detected last night is definitely there, but mixed with something else. Years of being polite to strangers in the name of business kicks in, and I extend my hand to shake his.
“Katerina Cross.” When I try to pull back, he holds on for a beat too long.
“You seem to be missing your companion this morning.”
I smile, but it feels tight and fake on my face. “He’s on his way.”
“I wouldn’t leave you alone long either. Some opportunistic gentleman might come and try to charm you away.” Vander’s tone is flirtatious and sets me on edge.
Where the hell is his girlfriend or wife or whatever?
“He has no reason to be worried.” I turn the conversation back on him, hoping to kill the borderline inappropriate vibe I’m getting. “Are you here on your honeymoon?”
He laughs. “No. No. Nothing like that.”
Thankfully, before I have to think of something else to say, a giggle announces the arrival of Vander’s companion. My gaze cuts to the entrance, and the rush of relief I feel swiftly changes when I see the brunette clinging like a limpet to Dane’s arm.
“Thank you so much. I’m so clumsy. I guess these heels aren’t meant to be worn here.”
You could say that again. She’s wearing five-inch stilettos you’re more likely to see at the Victoria’s Secret fashion show—or a stripper pole—and not on an island with no solid, flat surfaces. In fact, given her perfect figure, towering height, and hair to die for, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has walked a runway. Or worked a pole.
“Might want to trade those in for flip-flops,” Dane comments.
“Anya, did you have some kind of mishap?” Vander releases his hold on Dane’s chair.
Anya. What is it with exotic-sounding A names lately?
“She almost broke an ankle coming inside,” Dane says, his gaze zeroing in on Vander.
And of course he rescued her. Because that’s what Dane does.
Where is this jealousy coming from? I shove it down and lock it away.
“Thank you for your assistance, Dane. I appreciate it.”
Her familiar use of his name and overly friendly smile would have caused another flare of jealousy, but Dane is frowning at Vander. Is he feeling the same thing?
Vander adjusts his watch on his wrist, moving away from the table and holding out his hand to Dane.
“Thank you for your assistance, sir. I’m sure you understand what it’s like to try to reason with a woman who packs an entire suitcase full of shoes, even for a weekend away.”
Anya rolls her eyes playfully. “Says the man with the foot fetish who loves that I bring all the shoes. Don’t let him fool you. Vander might grouse, but I wouldn’t have so many shoes had he not bought them for me.”
What the hell? Foot fetish? Did he look at my feet?
Wow, Kat. Calm down.
Dane shakes his hand.
“Vander Iman. Thank you so much for looking after Anya. I’ve been keeping your beautiful wife company.”
“Dane Cross.” His voice is gruffer than normal.
Maybe he is jealous.
The men take each other’s measure. Dane’s dark hair is a contrast to Vander’s dirty blond. Dane’s tattoos make him appear more dangerous than the Brit with the boat shoes and fancy watch.
They release each other’s hands, and Vander steps back. “Enjoy your breakfast with your wife.”
Dane nods. “Likewise.”
This is definitely making the list as one of the most awkward moments on this trip.
Eduardo breaks the tension, taking drink orders. Vander and Anya settle at their own table as Dane takes the seat across from me.
“Everything okay?” he asks, his gaze darting over my shoulder, no doubt to the other couple.
“Fine.”
Anya’s obnoxious laugh fills the room again, grating on my nerves, even though I try to ignore it.
“So you’re catching lobsters and rescuing strange women this morning?”
“She tripped out front, stepping off the boardwalk onto the cement.” He keeps his voice low when he adds, “I’m glad you didn’t pack shit like that. There’s a time and a place, but it’s not here or now.”
I know we’re both thinking about the comment she made. Foot fetish.
With a cough, I cover my own amusement and reach for my napkin. “I’m glad you’re not . . . into feet.”
A small smile stretches Dane’s lips, and he chuckles. “I’m not saying I don’t like your feet, but there are other parts of you I like a hell of a lot better.” His gaze dips meaningfully to the V in the neckline of my sundress, and a warm flush prickles over my skin. All thoughts of Vander and Victoria’s Secret Barbie disappear.
I’m deciding how to reply when Eduardo returns with our drinks. “We’re supposed to impress you with catching breakfast, Mr. Cross, instead of the other way around.”
Dane reaches for his Bloody Mary. “Sometimes a man has to fend for himself just to prove he can.”
“I suppose you’re right. Would you like to do some more fishing today? We’re happy to cook your fresh catch.”
Dane glances out the window and points to the catamaran moored about thirty feet from the beach. “Do you take people out for day trips on that?”
Eduardo nods. “We certainly do. If you like, we can arrange for you to go today.”
Dane looks to me.
“That would be great,” I reply.
“Excellent. I’ll check with the captain to make certain, and will have a confirmation for you before you finish breakfast.”
“Thank you, Eduardo.” As soon as the man leaves, Dane gives me a measured look. “You’re one
hundred percent sure you’re good with sailing?”
My eyes roll so hard, they’re in danger of plopping out of my head. “First, I already said yes. And second, you swore you would never bring that up again. Besides, I still contend it was all your fault.”
The deep rumble of Dane’s laughter fills the restaurant, and I can’t help but smile.
* * *
Two years ago
I didn’t see the catamaran’s boom swinging toward me, but I felt it as soon as it connected with my skull. A flash of pain burst through the haze created by Coco Loco.
“Fuck, Kat. Watch out!”
Dane’s warning came too late because my drink was already flying through the air. The frozen coconut concoction splashed me in the face as I went airborne and over the side.
Oh shit!
My body hit the ocean like I’d attempted the least graceful cannonball of the century. Saltwater invaded my mouth, driving away the rum and coconut as I sputtered and clawed my way to the surface.
Before I could get there, an arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me up. I gasped for air and swiped the hair from my eyes and mouth so I could breathe.
“Jesus Christ, babe. Are you okay? How’s your head?” Dane checked my temple with one hand as he treaded water, keeping us both afloat.
“I’m okay.” The words came out as one, and not in the most convincing fashion.
“Hold on to me. I got you.”
I got you. Why those words sounded so romantic at this moment, I didn’t know. Probably because we were eloping here in Costa Rica. Or maybe it was the head injury. Either way, Dane’s quick rescue wiped out most of the trauma from going overboard.
“You’re going to have one hell of a headache later. Shit, I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you, but I didn’t see it until—”
I squeezed Dane’s shoulder with one hand. “It’s okay. My fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”
He pressed his lips against my head just before a life ring landed beside us, sending another blast of water into my face.
“I got her. She’s okay.”
Dane bypassed the life ring to swim us both to the ladder hanging over the side. “Wrap your arms around my neck. I’m climbing us both up.”
“What? Wait—”