by Lucy Ryder
She flung an arm over her eyes and sighed. Okay, so maybe the deck wasn’t hers but since she was paying the monthly docking fees she guessed it was—temporarily, at least. Her landlord—a friend’s brother—was currently living in a fancy penthouse in downtown Vancouver, because his current girlfriend hated the inconvenience of the marina and the neighborhood of floating homes.
At the time Dani had moved in she hadn’t been able to afford to be choosy. And Cole let her stay free as long as she paid the berth rates—which was way cheaper than any apartment within the city limits.
Now she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
Besides, she still had a ton of student loans to pay off and she’d left her marriage with nothing. Not any of the fancy clothes Richard had paid for and none of the jewelry—except her engagement and wedding rings, which she’d sold to buy a car and pay off some of the loans. She hadn’t wanted anything that would remind her of how gullible and stupid she’d been.
Her lawyer had said she was entitled to a settlement but Dani had refused. The relief of being out of that vipers’ pit had been settlement enough. The fact that she still had her student loans was her cross to bear and no one else’s. A cross she gladly carried because it meant she was free and independent.
Shoving aside memories best left in the past, she rolled to the edge of the bed, wondering what the heck was going on outside. She tossed the comforter aside and sat up, scowling as the early-morning sun—and she meant early—streamed through the French doors that opened onto the upper deck.
A dozen seagulls wheeled noisily in the air, while even more lifted off and then landed on the deck railing like restless spectators at a hockey match. Shoving the wild tangle of hair out of her eyes, Dani marched across the room. She’d always liked the sound of seagulls in the morning but this was ridiculous.
The instant she unlocked and pushed open the door, the air exploded with panicked squawks, beating wings and flying feathers as the birds took to the air. Stepping out, she padded over to the railing to peer down, unsurprised to see her neighbor’s cat sitting statue-still, guarding something.
Axel had a habit of treating her deck like his personal hunting ground—which accounted for the regular remains of his meals. He often left gifts in front of the upper and lower French doors or, if she was careless and left a window open, either on or at the foot of her bed.
Once he’d even left a mangled lizard in her shoe. He probably thought she was a bad hunter and was providing her with food.
“Axel, shoo!”
Except for the barest tail-twitch, the black cat ignored her, his bright green eyes locked on a nearby seagull. Probably he was waiting for the birdbrain to venture closer so he could pounce.
She gave a couple of sharp claps with her hands but the bird was in a stare-down with the hefty feline, ignoring the fact that he was about to become kitty chow.
Dani took a closer look at what he was guarding and winced when she recognized a lump of downy feathers. “Dammit, Axel!” she cried, running down the stairs and across the deck.
Her sudden move caused the remaining seagulls to take flight, their raucous complaints filling the early morning. Ignoring them, she dropped to her knees and gently nudged the cat aside. He rose fluidly and head-butted her arm with rare affection, as though to say Look what I brought you.
“I thought I told you no more gifts?” she muttered but he turned to rub his body against her, playfully batting her hand with one heavy paw. “You’re going to explode if you eat any more,” she groused, gagging when she saw the pile of fuzz. “What the heck am I supposed to do with—?” She sucked in a sharp breath. “No, no, no. You brought me a baby seagull? How could you?”
His ears twitched but he continued to wash himself, studiously ignoring her.
“Fine—ignore me,” she muttered, throwing up her hands. “You’re just like every other male in my life anyway.”
Behind her she heard a low chuckle that had her rising and spinning around at the same time—because, one, it was coming from a neighboring floating home that was supposedly empty, two, she was standing there in an oversized T-shirt and panties and, three, it sounded awfully like—
Pain lanced through her foot as it snagged on a broken plank, throwing her off balance. She caught a fleeting glimpse of bare masculine feet, long legs encased in faded denim, a set of ripped tanned abs, sculpted pecs and rounded biceps before she lost her footing and, with a shriek, made a graceless splash into the icy water behind her.
Just before the water closed over her head she saw a black streak disappearing around the side of her houseboat—of course Axel had left. Then the frigid temperature stole her thoughts as well as her breath and she gasped, getting a lungful of icy bay water. For a moment she panicked but the next thing she was breaking the surface, spluttering and coughing up water.
She tried to suck in sweet early-morning air and got a mouthful of hair instead. Treading water and shoving wet hanks out of her mouth while coughing up a lung seemed too much for her sleep-befuddled brain to handle and she found herself going under again. This time she had the presence of mind to close her mouth.
She broke the surface a second time to find those long denim-clad legs a couple of feet away...on her deck.
“You okay?”
Coughing, she peered up—way up—and, blinking water out of her eyes, wondered if she was seeing things or if her sleep-starved mind had conjured up the star of her most recent fantasies.
Her bleary gaze rose up those long muscular columns to the large bulge beneath a half-buttoned fly—as though he’d pulled the jeans on in a hurry—and up a happy trail to his innie, smack-dab in the middle of a taut, tanned belly.
Yum.
He dropped to his haunches. “Need a hand?”
The amusement in that deep bedroom voice had her nipples tightening into little buds of aching need that—Oh, wait! That was surely because she was up to her neck in freezing water. Maybe...no, definitely.
Dani stared blankly up into his darkly handsome face, scarcely aware that she was gaping at him as if he’d stripped naked and was doing the hula. A little voice in her head snickered, You wish, and her voice when it emerged was a panicked squawk. “What—what are you doing here?”
After a long moment he jerked his head, indicating the supposedly empty houseboat behind him. The one she was meant to be keeping an eye on because its owner was somewhere in Africa.
The sliding doors were open and the deck furniture was on display. A kayak rested on a stand along with a paddle board and oars. Several colorful towels were draped over deckchairs beside a wetsuit and a white T-shirt.
She blinked at the sight of all those guy toys, wondering when the heck they’d appeared. Her voice was a shocked splutter. “You live...here...there?”
For a long moment he silently contemplated her question, finally asking mildly, “Is that a problem, Dr. Stevens?”
She swallowed the news like a mouthful of ground glass. How had she not been aware of it until now?
“You’re C-Cole’s friend? The one who’s been in Africa f-for two years?”
One dark brow rose up his forehead at the dismay she hadn’t successfully hidden. With a chiding look he rose to his feet and shoved a hand through his hair, leaving the overlong strands sticking up and giving him a sexy rumpled look. She was simply not going to mention all that rippling anatomy displayed like eye-candy.
She gave a mental eek and tried to look away, because she was imagining her fingers running through those dark silky strands while she licked his abs right down to his open jeans.
“Why haven’t I seen you?” she demanded, treading water, completely forgetting about the cold. “I mean, we share a dock. My bedroom faces out onto your deck and—”
Why hadn’t she known he lived right next door? Surely she should have...felt something?
&nbs
p; “I didn’t know the owner was back. I’ve been keeping an eye on things.”
His arched brow said she hadn’t been doing a very good job if she hadn’t noticed someone had been living there for the past few weeks.
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” he said, studying her with amused green eyes. “The best that I can come up with is that I work days and you work nights. By the time I leave the hospital you’re already at work, and when you come home I’m gone.”
She thought about that for a moment and decided it made sense—especially as she’d worked the past four weekends and hadn’t been home much. But that didn’t mean she wanted him on her doorstep. Avoiding him at the hospital hadn’t been all that difficult but with him living right next door... Well, her chances of avoiding him—and ignoring him—had just got a whole lot worse.
With his arms folded across his wide muscular chest and his legs planted apart as if he was on the deck of a rolling ship, Dylan St. James looked like a modern-day pirate...or maybe as if he belonged on the cover of a raunchy romance novel.
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud until his eyes filled with amusement and he tilted his head to study her. “Raunchy romance novel?” he drawled.
A tidal wave of embarrassment banished the hypothermia creeping up on her and she groaned, briefly considering drowning herself. But, since her problems couldn’t be solved so easily, she swam the short distance to the deck and planted her hands on the wooden planks.
Before she could pull herself up, long masculine fingers wrapped around her wrists and hauled her out of the water. Surprise had her stumbling against him, her hands coming up against warm tanned skin to steady herself. And staying there when he sucked in a sharp breath because it was his fault she’d taken an early-morning swim.
She considered plastering her icy body against the front of him, then decided it would be safer—much safer—to beat a hasty and dignified retreat.
Before she could, he shifted his big hands to her upper arms and eased her away from him, a grin of pure masculine appreciation lighting his handsome features when he looked her over.
Realizing she looked like something Axel had dragged in from the bay, she shoved him back and instantly missed his heat.
“Shut it,” she growled, squeezing water out of her hair. “I know I look like a drowned rat.” Her tone dared him to disagree. He lifted a hand to scratch his jaw and she knew by the amused gleam in his green eyes that he was fighting a smile.
Then his eyes slid over her and his smile became positively wicked. “Not really.”
Dani looked down at herself and saw what had caused the scorching look. She gave a frantic yelp and wrapped her arms around her body to hide the way the sheer white material of her T-shirt had been suctioned against her skin like cling wrap and now exposed—well, everything.
Forget the wet T-shirt look—it was as if she was naked.
“Ohmigod! Stop looking!”
One dark brow rose. “Babe...” he drawled, his bedroom baritone sending heat prickling beneath her icy skin. After a moment of heated silence he shook his head and swallowed, his voice dropping to a deep rasp like the rustle of velvet against intimate skin. “I’m a man, not a saint.”
Dani’s body reacted as if she’d inhaled a giant cloud of pheromones. Her head swam, her heart pounded, her ears buzzed and her skin felt as if she’d been zapped by a hundred thousand watts. She wondered if steam was rising off her skin in a cloud of vapor.
Yikes.
“This is your fault,” she said, and scowled, attempting to pull the material away from her skin, hoping it would allow some much needed air back into her lungs—or turn the fabric opaque.
His eyes flickered and darkened even more. With her knees wobbling alarmingly, she took a step backwards, crying out as pain shot up through her foot like a bolt of lightning.
The next thing, she was yanked against a hard body.
“What’s wrong? Jeez, woman, you’re like ice,” he cursed, his arm an iron band at her back.
“Th—that’s wh-what happens when you s-swim before the sun is even up,” she stuttered, wondering why her foot was throbbing like an open wound.
Her left hand slid low on his abdomen while her right gripped the waistband of his jeans, low on his hips, to help with her balance. It was only when his belly clenched beneath her icy palm that she realized exactly where her hand was. She gulped and tried to put a little distance between them but he tightened his arm and craned his neck as though he was trying to see her butt.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked, trying to wriggle away. “Keep your eyes off my backside.”
“Stop squirming or I’ll be seeing a lot more than damp pink panties.”
She froze, her eyes wide as she recalled she was practically naked.
He dropped to his haunches, one hand sliding down her leg to her ankle. “Lift your foot.”
She tried to wriggle away but his grip tightened.
“Lift.”
“What? No—I—Ouch!” She sucked in a sharp breath and tried to twist around to see. “Damn, that hurts.”
With a muttered curse, Dylan rose fluidly and swung her into his arms before she could utter a surprised squeak.
Shocked by the lack of warning—and the ease with which he’d lifted her against his chest—Dani immediately wrapped an arm around his neck and demanded, “What—what are you doing? P-put me down!”
His grunt sounded a little disgruntled, as if she’d insulted his manhood or something, and without even so much as a glance her way, he strode across the deck. Not toward her houseboat but his.
“Hey! Where—?” When he didn’t slow down, she gasped. “No!”
Her eyes widened as she realized that he was going to jump the distance between the decks.
Stiffening, she yelped, “Are you crazy?” just as he leapt across the distance.
She tightened her stranglehold and pressed her face into his neck, giving a panicked squawk when he landed and pretended to stumble.
She rewarded the laugh rumbling through him with a punch as he strode through the open sliding doors into his sitting room. Instead of putting her down, he headed for the stairs with confident strides.
Realizing where he was going, she widened her eyes even more and stiffened again in his arms. “Dylan—”
“Relax.” His growl stirred the drying curls at her temple. “I promise not to ravish you. Unless you beg me to.”
“Wha—?” She whacked him again. “For God’s sake, Dylan. Put me down.”
He deposited her on the bathroom counter and reached behind him to grab a towel from heated rods. He wrapped her in its fluffy warmth.
“I need to check that foot.”
Reminded of the throbbing pain, Dani pulled the thick terrycloth closer and looked down, surprised to see blood dripping onto the pristine tiles. She followed the trail across the floor and through the door into his bedroom...and beyond.
“I’m sorry.” She winced apologetically. “I’ll clean it up later.”
His brief look said she was an idiot, and then he transferred his attention back to her foot. “You’ve cut yourself,” he murmured, wrapping long fingers around her ankle in a way that had a shiver working its way up the back of her leg into forbidden territory.
Dani sucked in a sharp breath, and when he looked up she winced, hoping he’d mistake her shiver for pain and not—oh, boy.
“There’s something inside...” he murmured as he probed the area gently. “I’ll have to remove it.” His grip gentled even as his eyes sharpened on her face. “How bad is the pain?”
She bit her lip to prevent a whimper, because it wasn’t pain she was feeling. Or rather not just pain, she admitted, avoiding his gaze to frown down at her foot. With him so close it was hard to remember that she’d given up men. So close she could see the f
ine lines at the corners of his eyes and each individual eyelash. So close she got a little dizzy recalling the graphic dreams she’d had since the day she’d all but swooned at his feet.
“About a...a f-four.”
His gaze traveled up her long bare legs and lingered for one heart-stopping instant at the apex of her thighs before he abruptly straightened and yanked another towel off the rail behind him, practically tossing it in her face.
Shocked by the abruptness of his action, Dani widened her eyes, her fascinated gaze locked on to the muscle twitching in his jaw. “What?” she asked, and then a little more testily, “What?” when his only reply was a grunt that she had no way of interpreting as he reached for her foot again.
Annoyed, she pulled away and narrowed her eyes, tempted to kick him for being annoyingly male.
“What?”
He just looked at her, his gaze heavy-lidded and unreadable. After a long silence his poet’s mouth began to curl in a smile so wicked her breath backed up in her throat and sweat broke out behind her knees.
“Dylan—” Yikes. She’d never experienced a look that could make the backs of her knees sweat.
“I’m a little...uh...distracted.” That was what she thought he murmured but it was difficult to hear anything over the thundering of her pulse.
Her fingers tightened spasmodically on the towel. “B-by what?”
For long moments he stared at her, then he stepped back and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Nothing,” he said, clearly deciding a change of subject was needed. “Back to your foot. Do you have any allergies I need to know about?”
Feeling off-balance, Dani shook her head and twisted to examine the jagged cut. She pressed the area around the injury, promptly inhaling at the sharp pain.
“Stop that,” he ordered, his body moving closer and blocking out the light.
She stilled, the breath catching in her throat as she waited for his next move. Just when she thought he’d kiss her he reached up to rummage in the cabinet behind her.