Worth the Risk: A Contemporary Romance Bundle, page 59
He cupped a palmful of oil and slid it along the bunched muscles of his forearm, then up to his shoulder. “Whatever. Bust my balls. I can take it.”
“Can I get back to my book?” she asked pointedly.
He waved a hand. “Go ahead. Read. Forget I’m here.”
So she read. Or at least, she tried to. She kept getting distracted by the sight of Vincent oiling his fit body.
“Hey, Frasier, help me with my back, will you?”
She gave a heavy sigh meant to indicate annoyance, but didn’t hesitate to put down her iPad. “What SPF is this stuff—negative a hundred?”
Vincent looked over his shoulder at her. “Benefit of mixed ethnicity. Nobody’s quite sure what to label me, and I don’t get sunburned.”
She looked over his broad back. He was the color of rich caramel. Coffee with lots and lots of cream. Toasted almond. She gave a look down to her own pale, freckled and SPF forty-eighted legs. “I can see that as a benefit.”
He turned back around. “Rub it in good. Don’t miss any spots.”
Kendall took the bottle of oil and poured some into her palm, but couldn’t quite bring herself to touch him. Not yet. She thought smoothing her fingers over the delicious-looking back would probably be a mistake, and one she was sure she was going to make. Knowing she was going to give in didn’t make it any easier.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Prime beach time, Frasier. You’re wasting it.”
She took a deep breath and girded her loins, so to speak. She slid her oily palm over the satin-smooth skin of his back. The oil left trails on his skin. She rubbed them in. She put both hands on him, relishing the way his muscles bunched and knotted beneath her fingers. She smoothed oil over his shoulders, then down the curve of his biceps.
“Is that good?”
“That’s very, very good.” His deep voice caught a little, or was she imagining it? “You want to do my front?”
He turned as he asked the question. Kendall looked into his eyes, but couldn’t get past the cocky grin.
“Are you flirting with me, Agent Vincent?”
“Am I?” He cocked his head to look at her. “What do you think?”
She thought she was being stupid, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Maybe you should do your own front.”
She moved to hand the bottle of oil back to him, but he reached up and caught her other hand at the same time. He brought the oil-coated palm up to his chest, just over the bulge of his pectoral muscle. His nipple was a blunt peak against the sensitive flesh along the bottom edge of her fingers.
For a long moment, they stared at each other. Kendall looked down to his hand holding hers to his chest, then back up to his eyes.
“This is a dangerous game,” she said.
“I thrive on danger.”
“Obviously. But I’m here to relax. Not get into more complications.”
He ran his tongue along his lips in a gesture she’d have found annoyingly contrived, had she not been so certain he was unaware he was doing it. “Who says it has to be complicated?”
“It always is, Vincent.”
He nodded once, slowly, then let go of her hand. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I am right.” She wiped her greasy hands on her towel and picked up her iPad again.
“Maybe I’m just seeking an alliance with you because of misplaced guilt over what happened on the job.” His words sounded serious, but his tone was light and self-mocking. “Maybe this attraction between us has nothing to do with the way you look in that bathing suit.”
“Between us?” She rolled her eyes. “I never said there was any attraction between us.”
“Then why are you so worried about complications?” He lay on his back on the towel and slid his mirrored sunglasses back over his eyes.
He had her there. Kendall didn’t like being had. With a disgruntled snort, she grabbed up the bottle of oil. Kneeling beside him, she poured a generous handful onto her palm, rubbed both hands together and pressed them to the sun-heated flesh of his chest. With firm, swift strokes she passed her hands over the ridges of his chest and stomach, outlining every muscle. He had almost no hair on his chest at all…just a few strays around the perfect cocoa circles of his nipples and a thin line of black hair from his navel that disappeared into his trunks.
His skin absorbed the oil, every drop. She slid her hands one more time over his chest, pausing just a moment too long over his nipples and the hard ridges of his six-pack abs. She glanced up at his face, which was inscrutable, but his hands had clenched together behind his head.
Ask and you shall receive, she thought wickedly, and poured another palmful of the oil. She covered his thighs, one at a time, passing over the crinkly hairs until they glistened. Then she continued down, over his knees and calves, with a quick coating for the tops of his feet. When she sat back to admire her handiwork, the sun gleamed on every exposed inch of his skin, turning the caramel into an almost amber gold.
She couldn’t force herself to look at the bulge in his black swim trunks. “Is that enough?”
“Yeah.”
She waited for him to say more, but when he didn’t, she went back to her book. Despite the well-written prose and vivid descriptions, she couldn’t manage to get back into the story. Her mind kept calling up images of Vincent and bottles of oil…and no black swim trunks to get in the way.
Chapter 4
Her meeting with Dr. Marge went as well as could be expected. Despite the psychiatrist’s somewhat goofy demeanor, the woman really knew her stuff. She dug right to the heart of Kendall’s problem—her feelings about Dan Whitney.
“Do you think you’d feel better or worse if your relationship with your partner had been a good one?”
Kendall toyed with the pen and paper on her lap and thought of what Vincent had said about her feelings for Dan. “I’m not sure.”
Marge steepled her fingers under her chin. “I’m going to go out on a limb here, Kendall. I think the reason you’re having such a hard time adjusting is because part of you is so relieved you don’t have to work with him anymore. And part of you thinks he got just what he deserved.”
“He was a pompous ass,” Kendall said. “But he didn’t deserve to die.”
“No.” Marge sat back in the comfortable armchair that matched Kendall’s. “But I’ve read the witness reports. They say you followed procedure, by the book, and even warned your partner against going out. He ignored you and he died, not by the criminals, but by another agent. Now, tell me this. Why do you still think you should’ve been able to prevent his death?”
Vincent had said much the same thing. “I could’ve stepped in front of him…”
“And taken a risk you knew was stupid? Taken the bullet perhaps?”
“No.”
“Shot him yourself, in the leg maybe, to stop him?”
“No!” Kendall shook her head.
“Dan’s death is not your fault. You were not a bad partner. You were doing your job. He messed up. Not you.”
Kendall sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I should’ve been so relieved.”
Marge gave one of her ditzy laughs. “Kendall, too often when someone dies, we feel we have to elevate them to some sort of sainthood. You didn’t like him. From what I’ve read, not many people did. Dan didn’t deserve to die, but you don’t have to like him just because he did.”
Kendall nodded. She didn’t feel completely exonerated, but Marge had just put into words the ideas she knew were true. “You’re right.”
“It’s my job to be right. Now, about your feelings for Agent Zane Vincent—”
Startled, Kendall let out a small squeak. “Feelings? I don’t have any feelings!”
Marge didn’t even look taken aback. “He was the man who shot your partner. I sensed hostility between you, which is certainly normal. I almost thought about having you in for mutual therapy sessions, but I wanted to talk to each of you alone first.”
Feeling foolish, Kendall cleared her throat before speaking. “Actually, Agent Vincent and I have reached an understanding.”
“Really?” Now Marge looked surprised. “Because it’s understandable for you to feel anger and resentment toward the man who killed your partner.”
Kendall thought of how she’d burned at the sight of him, and how she still burned, but now for different reasons. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“Be careful you’re not redirecting your emotions, Kendall. It would be easy for you to find yourself…um…intrigued, for lack of a better word, by the man whose actions released you from a relationship you found unpleasant.”
Kendall thought of Vincent’s comment on the beach. “And easy for him to have misplaced guilt that could turn to a different sort of interest?”
Marge blinked. “Well, yes.”
“So you’re saying it would be crazy for us to become too friendly.”
“Not crazy, no.” Marge gave a titter. “I prefer never to use that term, Kendall. I’m just saying you two have a common past that might affect your future working relationship. Compounded by any resentments or guilt, that could make interactions awkward.”
“For work.”
“Of course.” Now Marge gave her a focused look. “Whatever else could I be talking about?”
That, Kendall thought as she stood to go, is the question.
Chapter 5
The buffet-style dinner was simple and delicious, even if it was served on slightly worn plates and mismatched silverware. The group ate on the hotel’s open patio overlooking the pool and the ocean. Flickering tiki torches gave the meal a partylike atmosphere enhanced by the fact people were beginning to loosen up to the idea they still had nearly a full week of tropical paradise to enjoy.
There wasn’t a band, of course. As much as it might appear they were on an island resort, this was still an agency facility. But there was some music, piped in from a sound system, and some people managed to dance while others enjoyed their after-dinner drinks and conversation.
“Want to dance?”
Kendall looked up from the glass of red wine she’d been looking at but not drinking. She’d been waiting for him to come over to her. He wore a loose-fitting pair of khaki trousers and an olive-colored button-down shirt with short sleeves. He looked good.
“I’m not a very good dancer.”
Vincent raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Frasier admits she’s not good at something? Let me write this down.”
That earned him a smile. “I suppose you’re a good dancer.”
“Excellent.”
The song had become a fast Latin rhythm. “All right.”
“I’ll lead.”
She rolled her eyes but let him lead her to the small dance floor. “Of course.”
He put a hand to the small of her back and held her other at shoulder height. “Ready?”
Suddenly, Kendall felt self-conscious. She looked around, but nobody seemed to be paying them any special attention, even though she was certain her lust was rising off her in waves visible to the naked eyes. Naked. Oh, mercy. “I’m ready.”
He was an excellent dancer. Kendall knew the basics, but in Vincent’s arms, she felt like one of those sport dance champions she sometimes watched on television. Without the feathers and stretchy body stocking, of course.
The song ended, and they grinned at each other.
“Nice,” Kendall told him. “You’re good.”
“You’re not bad yourself.”
“Wow, Zane.” Jean’s voice was admiring. She’d passed them on the way to the dessert table. “For a big guy, you sure know how to dance.”
Was that a blush? An actual blush on Zane Vincent’s tawny cheeks? Kendall bit back a laugh at his “oh, shucks” reaction.
“I took lessons,” was all he said.
Another surprise. Kendall arched her brow. “Dance lessons?”
He nodded. “For my sister’s wedding. My dad passed away before she got married, and I walked her down the aisle. It was important for her to have someone to dance the father/daughter dance with, so I learned.”
She was impressed. “I doubt you did the cha-cha.”
“Nah.”
Jean sighed. “We used to dance.” She cast a glance over at her husband, who was in animated conversation with a few other people. “But now…”
Kendall stepped out of Vincent’s arms. “Here, Jean. A new song’s coming on. Take him for a spin.”
Jean looked flustered. “Oh, no—”
But Vincent had also heard the note of longing in the woman’s voice, and he stepped neatly in front of her to take her hand. “I insist. If you think Kevin won’t beat the hell out of me for stealing you away for a few minutes.”
Jean laughed, her blue eyes twinkling. “You’re too charming for me, Zane. But I’ll dance with you.”
Kendall stepped off the dance floor and watched as Jean and Vincent spun around to the music. He was a good dancer, and the story about his sister had moved her. It seemed there was a big heart inside the big man.
“Did my wife steal your date?” Kevin asked.
Kendall began to sputter, then saw he was kidding. “He’s not my date, Kevin.”
“Of course not.” Kevin nodded toward the dancing couple. “I’m glad he got Jean to dance. I’ve always hated it. If there’s one good thing about having this bum leg, it’s that I have a good excuse not to dance!”
Kendall sat down next to him. “Have you been to see Dr. Marge yet?”
He nodded, a shadow passing over his expression. “She says the dreams of falling will stop when the guilt goes away. I asked her, what if it never does?”
“And what did she say?”
Kevin gave a rueful chuckle. “She said I’d better start teaching myself how to land.”
“She’s good.” Kendall tapped her fingers in time to the music. “She told me I shouldn’t beat myself up because I didn’t like my partner.”
“Dan Whitney, right? Went down on the Scorpions of Satan bust?”
Kendall watched Vincent finish the dance by gracefully dipping Jean. They both burst into laughter. “Yeah. Vincent was the guy who shot him. Friendly fire.”
Kevin made a noise of understanding. “Zane’s a good agent and a good guy. I’m glad you’re not blaming him.”
“I wanted to.” Kendall shrugged. “I did. But…the truth is the truth, and Vincent wasn’t at fault.”
“Sounds like you’re not going to have to see Marge too many more times. It’s back to duty for you,” Kevin teased.
Kendall gave him a look of mock horror. “Not until the week is up, and I take my second one at home! I need this vacation!”
“Prime beach time, right, Frasier?” Vincent said as he handed Jean back to her husband.
She met his eyes and his smile. “You bet.”
Kevin took Jean’s hand. “Well, folks, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for bed.”
Jean yawned in agreement. “Me, too. Thanks for the dance, Zane.”
The couple said their goodnights and left the dining room. Kendall looked around the room and noticed most of the others had done the same, whether to head back to their rooms or to participate in some of the evening’s planned activities. In another minute, they’d be alone in here.
Alone, with Vincent? It sent a thrill through her stomach. Kendall got to her feet. “Guess I’ll say goodnight, too.”
A flash of disappointment showed briefly in his eyes. For a minute, he didn’t move out of her way. They stood, her chin almost touching his chest, before he stepped to the side.
“I’ll walk with you.”
She wasn’t a teenager, Kendall scolded herself when a slow curl of excitement began to writhe inside her. But she didn’t reject his offer. Together, they left the dining room and walked to the pool, where one lone man was doing some serious laps. The tiki torches couldn’t mask the bright pinpoints of starlight that cut through the black sky. She caught a glimpse of the silver moon on the horizon.
By silent consent, they bypassed the path leading to their cabin and instead took the short walk to the beach. Kendall paused to slip off her sandals. The sand was cool on her feet. The breeze blowing off the ocean tangled her hair.
“Have you ever skinny dipped, Frasier?”
“No, and I don’t intend to. Haven’t you ever seen Jaws?”
Vincent shook his head. “No great whites in the Caribbean.”
“Didn’t you see Jaws, The Revenge?”
He chuffed and nudged her with an elbow. “Chicken?”
“Hell, no. Just smart.” Kendall nudged him back. “If you’re so antsy, you do it.”
“Okay.”
She stared after him, stunned, as he walked toward the water’s edge, unbuttoning his shirt. It fell to the sand. The soft silver moonlight caught the ripple of his muscles. He undid the button on his pants and stepped out of them. Clad only in a pair of white boxer-briefs that shone against the darker tan of his skin, he paused and shot her a grin full of pure wickedness.
“Last chance, Frasier.”
“I think I’ll just watch.”
He shrugged, an easy and graceful movement that belied his size. “Okay for you. But that water looks mighty appealing.”
He strode to the water’s edge and dipped a toe in, then shot her a look over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to do it…was he? Wasn’t going to strip… Oh, wow. Vincent hooked his thumbs in his waistband and slid the briefs over his lean hips, down those thick thighs, and off. For one, heart-stopping instant, she had a full view of his tautly sculpted ass. In the next instant, he ran into the water and splashed beneath the waves.
He came up with a snort and a whoop that made her look around to be sure they were alone. “Water’s great, Frasier! You don’t know what you’re missing.”
The problem was she knew exactly what she was missing. Kendall shuffled the sand over her toes wondering what, exactly, was holding her back. She wanted him, there was no doubt about that, and she didn’t doubt that if she asked him to go to bed with her, he’d take her up on the offer. He was a handsome man. Charming. Sexy as hell. And she was on vacation.
