Swept Away by Toni Blake

from her, no way—she was getting the truth out of him if she had to beat it out. No more weak, flimsy, lusty Kat.
    His grin faded as he released a long sigh. Looked like he was ready to start taking her questions seriously—and it was about time.
    “All right, kitten.” He met her gaze as a salty breeze wafted over them. “I didn’t want to tell you this, not only because I’m not allowed to, but for your own safety. Yet you’re right, I owe you an explanation. So here it is. I’m an FBI agent.”
    Kat raised her eyebrows, lowered her chin, and cast a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “And I’m a nun.” She forked a bite of steak into her mouth.
    He leaned forward, eyes widening a bit, mouth hanging slightly open. “You don’t believe me.” Then he laughed, as if that were funny. “I guess I don’t blame you in a way, but sorry to tell you, Sister Katrina of the Tiny Bikini, it’s true. Special Agent Brock Denton, Federal Bureau of Investigation, at your service.”
    She narrowed her gaze on him, trying to puzzle her way through what he’d just said. He couldn’t be. Could he? She set down her fork, sat up straighter, and looked him in the eye. “Let’s see a badge.”
    “Let’s see a tiny bikini.” She smirked. “I’m serious.”
    He continued looking just as smug as usual. “No badge when you’re working undercover, kitten. No ID at all, except a fake one—and I had to leave that on the yacht anyway. So you don’t have much choice but to take my word for it, do you?”
    “I can go right on not believing you,” she argued.
    “If it floats your boat, sure. You’re the one who wanted answers, so I gave ’em to you.”
    “First of all, I no longer have a boat to float, thanks to you. And second, I need more.” She propped her elbows on the table with a plunk. “If you want to convince me, tell me how the hell you got here.”
    He cut into his steak and took a big bite, then a sip of the wine she was suddenly glad she’d brought—because she thought she was going to need it. “Okay, here’s the short version, which is all I can give you, and even that’s too much. The guys on the boat are smugglers.”
    “What do they smuggle?”
    “None of your business. I was trying to get to their superior when my cover was blown. They took my gun and tied me up.”
    She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Boy, sounds like you’re a really top-notch FBI agent.”
    To her surprise, he laughed, just softly. “I was having an off-day. Anyway, I managed to get loose, slip off the yacht, and swim for the island. I didn’t think they saw me, but I guess they did, and that’s why they showed up here looking for me.”
    God, it sounded insane, but he spoke about it so easily that she was starting to think he was for real. “And you pretended to be shot because...?”
    “Because if they didn’t think I was dead, they’d come after me. And then you’d be in danger, too.” His gaze settled warm on hers. “And I couldn’t have that.”
    Her stomach fluttered, but she tried not to feel it. “Why not?”
    His eyes glittered beneath the soft light emitted from the security lamp mounted outside the bungalow, and for a long moment she thought he was going to say something gentle, or endearing, until finally a slow, calm expression took over his handsome face. “It’s my job to protect civilians.”
    Oh. Well. That’s all she was to him. A civilian. Fine. Who cared, anyway? She was getting married in a week.
    He pushed another bite of steak into his mouth, chewed, swallowed. “So, do you believe me now?”
    She kind of did, but it was hard to reconcile the Brock she’d once known with the guy who sat across from her. The guy who suddenly called other people civilians. “Why would you want to be an FBI agent?”
    “Because I didn’t want to waste my life. And that’s exactly what I’d been doing until I applied at the Bureau.”
    To her surprise, he sounded honest. Frank. Real. Maybe like