One Scorching Summer: Book 1
The glare of the rising sun caught Scott squarely in the face. He squinted, and wished he’d worn sunglasses as his gaze fixed on the woman in the dinghy. He turned his kayak away from the sun, hungry for a second look.
She straightened in silhouette, a lithe figure in the splendid dawn. The denim shorts she wore were cutoffs with unraveling threads. One side was higher than the other as if she’d just grabbed a pair of scissors and whacked away without measuring.
Scott didn’t mind. The shorter side revealed a glimpse of where her firmed thigh rounded into her buttock. He had an overwhelming urge to press his mouth to that sweet spot and nibble.
A shiver went through him and sweat popped out on his forehead. Look away. Paddle away.
Get out of here.
He didn’t move.
She reached for the hem of her T-shirt and in one quick swoop tugged it over her head, revealing a red bikini top that matched her bottoms. Although she was not overly endowed, she curved in all the right places.
Her hands went to the snap of her denim shorts and in two seconds flat, she was standing in the wavering boat wearing nothing more concealing than a thong bikini, still seemingly unaware of his presence.
Scott held his breath. He shouldn’t have been so impressed. For hell’s sake, women strutted the beaches of Key West in thongs every day of the week. Many of them moving straight from sand to asphalt without a cover-up for the famed Duval Street Crawl. Key West was free and easy. Residents and tourists alike came here to let it all hang out. He should not have been slack jawed.
But he was and he had no idea why.
Sure, you do.
He should mind his own damn business and head back. Smart. So why was he still drifting here, his gaze glued to her backside?
His skin sweated against the kayak oar and his fingers curled so tightly that his short nails bit into his palms. He caressed her with his eyes from the top of her caramel-colored hair pulled back into a ponytail that just grazed the strap of her bikini top, to the nip of her waist, to the flare of her hips.
Then she gave a graceful little hop and dived headfirst into the murky water. The muted splash echoed softly down the channel.
She disappeared from view and the last he’d seen of her were cute toes painted pearly peach flipping gracefully as a dolphin’s fin. He waited, and his temples started to pound. He realized he was holding his breath.
Exhaling, he glanced at his sports watch. She’d been down there for over a full minute. Just when he was getting worried, she came up on the side of the boat closest to him. Talk about superior lung capacity.
Water glistened on her high cheekbones, rolled off her full lips. Her hair lay plastered against her skin. She looked like a beguiling mermaid.
Splash, Splash. Catch of the day.
Scott ran a palm across his mouth, tasted the saltiness of desire on the back of his tongue. It was too early in the morning for thoughts like this.
Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She tossed her head, sent water flying over him, her legs gently threading water.
Then her indigo eyes opened.
She did not startle. In fact, she seemed utterly self-possessed. As if she’d known all along that he was watching her. Who was this woman?
Their gazes locked.
A swell of thundering heat rolled through his veins, rushed straight to his groin.
She did not smile. Did not speak. She didn’t have to. He could feel her disdain.
His head spun and a burst of adrenaline sent his pulse skipping. What the hell was this? extreme desire he’d never felt before. He’d come over here to warn her off boating alone, cockily portraying the protector and donning his Coast Guard mien. Preparing to show off his knowledge, but one look into that enigmatic face and something shifted.
And suddenly, Scott couldn’t help feeling that he was the one in danger.