her skirt. Looking to see if she’d put on panties? Something went through her at that. A bit of daring. Bravery. And because of it—and the slip she’d added—she executed a little curtsy, spreading the material of her skirt out with her fingers, inviting him to do his best to try to see through it.
An invitation he freely took.
His gaze traveled slowly down to her toes and back up, and by the time his eyes landed on hers, they were two scorching balls of pure flaming heat.
Yowza.
She hadn’t realized the full potency of the serious sex appeal he was packing behind that edgy, dangerous front. So much so that she nearly staggered back a step. She actually had to look away to breathe, and then, unable to help herself, she turned back.
He was still looking at her.
She swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of even attempting to play, because unlike Andy, who probably ran bases during a World Series game looking relaxed and easygoing, Christian was one long, lean line of tensed muscle.
Ready.
But for what, she hadn’t a clue. Just thinking about the possibilities did the oddest thing—it heated her from the inside out. Interestingly enough, her tongue didn’t swell.
It made sense, she supposed. The men in her life had mostly been safe and sweet and kind. Fun and easygoing. Her father. Her sister’s husband. Her own too few and far between boyfriends. She liked fun and easygoing. In fact, it was what drew her to Andy. Fun and laid-back counterbalanced all the stresses in her life, such as working at Shop-Mart when she really wanted to be designing clothes.
But, and this was something she’d never really admitted to herself until she’d won this cruise, something had been sorely missing.
What, exactly, she wasn’t yet sure. Sex? Definitely. But if she could just get her nerves under control—and her tongue—she could have that. No, this went deeper. Maybe she needed adventure. Excitement. Danger.
A brooding rebel.
Another peek at Christian assured her that she was the only one still thinking about this because he and the captain were deep into conversation, both looking . . . extremely uptight? In fact, there was a tic in the captain’s jaw, and Christian’s eyes were still hot, but no longer sexy hot.
Temper hot.
Huh. Maybe things weren’t as comfy cozy as they seemed, which was a disturbing thought considering they were in the middle of the ocean.
Denny stepped onto a platform, and Dorie realized it was some sort of observation deck, and that he could control the boat from right here. Good to know.
He called Bobby to his side. Bobby tugged on his baseball cap. Whatever Denny said made the three of them look even more tense. Unable to help herself, Dorie shifted closer.
“The weather could go south,” Denny was saying. “Hard and fast. I want that storm jib checked.”
“We’re not going to hit bad weather,” Bobby said. “They’ve been calling for this supposedly big storm for days now, and we’ve gotten nothing.”
“Check the fucking jib.”
“But—”
“Look But-Boy, I sign your checks. I can stop signing your checks.”
Without a word, Bobby turned away.
Through the large windows, Dorie scanned the horizon but saw no signs of a storm growing. Surely they weren’t in any real danger or Denny would turn back. Right?
“Care to join us?”
She turned. The two other women on the boat were seated at the bar, smiling at her. The dark-haired woman wore capris and a blouse open over a tank top. Casual clothes, but worn with a look of easy elegance that spoke of wealth. Dorie recognized it because she’d never looked that way in her life.
The other woman was Sailing Barbie, who’d been trying to eat off Christian’s face in his office. She wore a different pair of shorts, stark white, with a matching itty-bitty halter that barely contained her, with carefully perfect makeup that couldn’t quite hide a hardened soul. She smiled though, a genuine one actually, as she scooted over to
An invitation he freely took.
His gaze traveled slowly down to her toes and back up, and by the time his eyes landed on hers, they were two scorching balls of pure flaming heat.
Yowza.
She hadn’t realized the full potency of the serious sex appeal he was packing behind that edgy, dangerous front. So much so that she nearly staggered back a step. She actually had to look away to breathe, and then, unable to help herself, she turned back.
He was still looking at her.
She swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of even attempting to play, because unlike Andy, who probably ran bases during a World Series game looking relaxed and easygoing, Christian was one long, lean line of tensed muscle.
Ready.
But for what, she hadn’t a clue. Just thinking about the possibilities did the oddest thing—it heated her from the inside out. Interestingly enough, her tongue didn’t swell.
It made sense, she supposed. The men in her life had mostly been safe and sweet and kind. Fun and easygoing. Her father. Her sister’s husband. Her own too few and far between boyfriends. She liked fun and easygoing. In fact, it was what drew her to Andy. Fun and laid-back counterbalanced all the stresses in her life, such as working at Shop-Mart when she really wanted to be designing clothes.
But, and this was something she’d never really admitted to herself until she’d won this cruise, something had been sorely missing.
What, exactly, she wasn’t yet sure. Sex? Definitely. But if she could just get her nerves under control—and her tongue—she could have that. No, this went deeper. Maybe she needed adventure. Excitement. Danger.
A brooding rebel.
Another peek at Christian assured her that she was the only one still thinking about this because he and the captain were deep into conversation, both looking . . . extremely uptight? In fact, there was a tic in the captain’s jaw, and Christian’s eyes were still hot, but no longer sexy hot.
Temper hot.
Huh. Maybe things weren’t as comfy cozy as they seemed, which was a disturbing thought considering they were in the middle of the ocean.
Denny stepped onto a platform, and Dorie realized it was some sort of observation deck, and that he could control the boat from right here. Good to know.
He called Bobby to his side. Bobby tugged on his baseball cap. Whatever Denny said made the three of them look even more tense. Unable to help herself, Dorie shifted closer.
“The weather could go south,” Denny was saying. “Hard and fast. I want that storm jib checked.”
“We’re not going to hit bad weather,” Bobby said. “They’ve been calling for this supposedly big storm for days now, and we’ve gotten nothing.”
“Check the fucking jib.”
“But—”
“Look But-Boy, I sign your checks. I can stop signing your checks.”
Without a word, Bobby turned away.
Through the large windows, Dorie scanned the horizon but saw no signs of a storm growing. Surely they weren’t in any real danger or Denny would turn back. Right?
“Care to join us?”
She turned. The two other women on the boat were seated at the bar, smiling at her. The dark-haired woman wore capris and a blouse open over a tank top. Casual clothes, but worn with a look of easy elegance that spoke of wealth. Dorie recognized it because she’d never looked that way in her life.
The other woman was Sailing Barbie, who’d been trying to eat off Christian’s face in his office. She wore a different pair of shorts, stark white, with a matching itty-bitty halter that barely contained her, with carefully perfect makeup that couldn’t quite hide a hardened soul. She smiled though, a genuine one actually, as she scooted over to
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