Sean

“Where to?” he asked.

She didn’t speak for a moment, then shook her head and, very quietly, almost too quietly for him to hear, said, “The Resort.”

He looked at her. “The Resort. As in…The Resort? The private club out on Flamingo Cay?”

“In my own defense, I didn’t pick it. My father did.”

“Your father? I have to meet this guy.”

“No. You don’t.”

She’d said it so emphatically, he had to laugh. “You’re only making me more curious, you know.”

She sighed. “He knew I needed a break. He probably had no idea about the resort’s…reputation. Neither did I, until I got here. The brochure looked totally tame.”

The Resort sat just off the south shore of St. Thomas on its own tiny spit of land. It was one of those private, all-inclusive clubs, like they had in Jamaica or Mexico, where certain rules of decorum were a bit more…relaxed. In this case, extremely relaxed, at least if the local island ads he’d spied in the morning paper were anything to go by.

He glanced at her and decided he didn’t want to risk losing his dinner companion. So he let the titillating subject of Flamingo Cay drop. For now, anyway. “Do you like seafood?”

“What?”

“Seafood? Stuff caught under water and cooked up for people to eat.”

She shot him a long-suffering look, which for some reason made him grin all the wider. “Yes, as it happens, I do. As long as someone else does the catching.” She wrinkled her nose. “And, for that matter, the cooking.”

“Fine, then we’ll go and ditch the Scooter of Death and head to a little place I heard about back closer to Charlotte Amalie.” He was already heading down the coast road as he spoke.

“Why do I get the feeling that I lost complete control the moment I got into this Jeep?”

Sean laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe the same reason that I feel like I lost all control the moment I swerved around that bend in the road…and found you.”

3

LAUREL LET THE WARM, early evening wind snatch and tug at her ponytail…and tried not to think too much about what she’d just agreed to do. A woman alone on an exotic island had no business standing on the side of the road talking to—okay, flirting with—a strange man…much less getting into his vehicle and riding off with him!

He’s a deputy marshal, for God’s sake, she reminded herself. He was hardly going to attack her. Yeah, but he’s still a man. And she knew quite well just how capable they were of causing a great deal of trouble, no matter their job description.

She shook that train of thought from her head. She’d given Alan far too much of her precious time back at home. She’d be damned if she’d let him ruin any part of her precious break. Break. She squelched the urge to laugh. So far she’d been on the island a grand total of twenty-four hours and this was the first time she’d felt remotely relaxed.

She’d wandered down to the pool just after checking in, but the sight of all that young, fit, taut and mostly naked skin—and dear Lord but there had been a never-ending sea of it—had dampened her enthusiasm for revealing her pasty-white, bench-sitting, thirty-two-year-old body. She’d spent her first evening in her room, sitting on her balcony with a glass of chilled wine, trying to pay more attention to the setting sun than to the somewhat startling goings-on in the club below. She didn’t consider herself a prude by any means but, for heaven’s sake, the nightclub in the center of the resort resembled something more of a Greek orgy than the open-air dance floor the brochure had purported it to be.

But not to be daunted, this morning she’d gamely pulled on her newly purchased vacation clothes and taken the water taxi over to the mainland, deciding to rent a scooter to see some of the island. And we all know how well that went, she thought wryly. From the engine conking out when she was miles from anywhere, to leaving the tags on her shirt, one would think she needed a keeper.

She skimmed a glance sideways, then hid the private little smile. Okay, so things were looking up. But she wasn’t sure, despite the badge and his claim to being a workaholic, that having Sean Gannon as her keeper was going to prevent her from getting into any more trouble. In fact, he made her think about all kinds of trouble she could get into. If she let herself go there. Which, of course, she would not.

It was just a nice dinner. And that alone was a heck of a lot better than the evening she’d envisioned just an hour earlier. Which had basically involved making it back to the resort, on her knees if necessary, showering off the road dust and sweat, then collapsing facedown on her bed. With maybe a room service meal later on, if she revived herself in time.

Dinner with the deputy was definitely a step up. Not that she planned on sharing that particular sentiment with him.

He wasn’t the kind of man one encouraged. He was quite bold enough as it was, without any provocation from her. Though for some reason she couldn’t quite name, he’d managed to provoke her a deal more than most men. It’s only dinner, she reminded herself yet again, firmly shutting out images of what she could be doing back on Flamingo Cay with a man like Sean Gannon. Suddenly the club’s atmosphere seemed a lot less sleazy…and a lot more sensual.

Not that she’d ever encourage that kind of lascivious behavior. Because, after all, she was a judge. And a Patrick. If her father knew where he’d sent her, he’d surely be horrified. At least she hoped he would be. So dinner it was. And nothing more would come of it, although just the realization that something more might made her body zing.

It had been a long time since she’d had zing. A really long time.

Sean turned at the sign indicating The Resort’s water ferry dock and Laurel shut out any and all trailing thoughts about Sean and Flamingo Cay…and zing.

“Everything okay?” Sean asked. “That was quite a sigh,” he added when she looked at him questioningly.

“Oh,” she replied. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t the company. Promise.”

He still looked concerned. “Just how far did you have to push that thing anyway?”

“Not all that far.” It had felt like a million miles. On the surface of the sun. “I’d love a quick shower, though, if you don’t mind.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she saw the potential suggestiveness of her request register on Sean’s face. To his credit, he didn’t respond to it. Which only made her envision exactly what it would be like to take a shower…with Sean. His face was all hard, tanned angles made more prominent by his almost brutally short haircut. His eyes were dark and they flashed dangerously when he smiled. His teeth were sharply straight and white, set between lips that looked as hard and chiseled as his face…that she bet felt anything but when pressed to someone’s soft skin—

His expression began to change and she vaguely realized he’d been staring at her as she’d fantasized about him. She jerked her gaze toward the water ferry. “I’m supposed to turn the scooter in here. They have depots all over the island, but the guy that rented it to me back in Charlotte Amalie said there was one right by The Resort’s ferry dock and—” She stopped, abruptly aware she was babbling to cover the sudden spike of sexual tension arcing—no, zinging—between them. And, God help her, the man gave very good zing.

To his further credit, when he smiled, it wasn’t smug or knowing. But then, it didn’t have to be. Neither of them could possibly deny the heat blossoming between them inside the tiny confines of the Jeep. And convertible or not, at the moment it felt downright intimate.

“I believe the depot is there,” he said in that flat uninflected tone he had. He motioned behind her.

But she didn’t follow the gesture. She was too busy wondering if it was the marshal’s training that had taken the South out of his voice, or just time spent away from home. When the drawl had crept into his voice earlier, even for those few words, the effect had been potent. It was every bit as commanding…but had an added lush underpinning that made her think of—well, the exact thing she’d been thinking of since she’d climbed in the Jeep. Or since he’d climbed out of it.

God, maybe she should have gone to the nightclub last night after all. Maybe rubbing bodies with some sweaty, mostly naked beach hunk was what she needed to dull this sudden sharp edge of need.

“Thanks,” she said, realizing she’d once again let the silence spin out. He was staring at her, his expression unreadable. When he didn’t say anything, just kept looking at her, she rushed on. “If you’ll help me get the death machine out of the back, I’ll return it, then hop the water taxi over and be back as fast as I can.”

The look of disappointment was brief, so brief she’d have missed it entirely had she not been looking at him as intently as he was looking at her. But he was really nice to look at. And not just his hard face and wide, welcoming smile. His body, even in regulation pants and polo shirt, was rugged-looking and fit. Definitely…inspiring.

“Why don’t you let me handle the scooter return?” he said easily, covering his disappointment over…what? she wondered.

Had he expected she’d invite him to the resort to wait there while she cleaned up? And why did he want to go? To ogle the surroundings—and the guests? Or to, perhaps, ogle her up close and personal? She shivered a little at the idea and quickly slid out of the Jeep to cover her reaction. One thing she already knew about Sean Gannon—he didn’t miss much.

“I’d offer to have you come over to the resort to wait, but they don’t allow unregistered guests to—”

He raised his hand and smiled, his expression open and easy now. “No, that’s fine. I’m okay here.”

Maybe she’d imagined the look of disappointment. He certainly looked as though he didn’t care one way or the other. “Okay, then. It’s just…I thought…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

His smile flashed wider and he shifted his weight, but didn’t move closer. Still, somehow it felt as if he was. “I’ll admit that I can’t shake this feeling that as soon as I let you out of my sight, you’ll vanish. Like a mirage or something I just dreamed up.”

The sincerity of his tone made her pause. So…he did care one way or the other. Her skin warmed and her heart tripped just a bit faster. “I’m no mirage. And I won’t stand you up.” She smiled. “Besides, a Patrick ruling is never vacated.”

“I’ll remember that.” He slid out of the Jeep and dislodged the scooter from the rear before she could search out any deeper meaning in that statement. He rolled the scooter around to her side of the vehicle. “I’ll handle this and be waiting right here.”

“Wait, you’ll need the ticket stub and the—”

“No, I won’t. Trust me, you’re not only going to have no problem returning this, you’re going to get a full refund for the rental price, as well.”

“But—”

“Consider it your half of dinner. But you shouldn’t have to pay for a broken-down rental.”

She didn’t bother to argue. Partly because he was absolutely right, although she’d have probably just mentioned the malfunction to the attendant and let it go at that. She listened to arguments all day long in her professional life. She wasn’t about to have one on vacation. But mostly she dropped the issue because he had this set to his jaw that told her it wouldn’t have done her any good to argue anyway.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, then grinned. “And may I say that when you play Good Samaritan, you’re really thorough.”

“I believe in always being really thorough,” he said. Again, with no overt inflection to any word he’d uttered.

And yet she had to resist squirming in her capris. Probably it was just her overheated imagination. Or the overheated air. Or both. Then he smiled and she thought, Or not.

“Me, too,” she finally said. It was the best she could manage, because he was still holding her gaze with that direct one of his own.

They both continued to stand there, neither one of them making the first move to walk away.

A bell clanged, announcing that another water taxi had just docked and was taking passengers.

“I should go.”

He merely continued to stare.

“The water taxi—” She didn’t even try to finish when he propped the scooter against the Jeep and silently stepped closer to her. The rest of her breath left her when he lifted his hand. What would his touch feel like? she wondered as her pulse began to thrum inside her body.

She sucked in a small gasp as he almost brushed her cheek…then slid off her sunglasses instead. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed…or close to climaxing.

“There,” he stated quietly. When she raised her eyebrows in question, he smiled. “I had to know.”

“What?” she breathed.

“Blue or brown.”

She absently realized he was talking about her eye color. It was hard to think straight with him standing so close, almost touching her, and with her dying to know what it would be like to have him touching her, wanting, needing to know, ridiculously so. And all she had to do to find out was to reach up on her tiptoes and—“Did you win?” she said abruptly.

“Win?” he repeated, though he didn’t sound as if he really cared what she meant. He was too busy gazing at her, so directly…so intently.

“The b-bet,” she stammered, hearing her voice dip down an octave or so. “Blue. Or brown.” Her breath was shaky as he shifted another infinitesimal fraction of space closer. “Did you? Win?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a shade deeper, a shade less flat. “I did.”

They were talking, but it was becoming rapidly apparent that the words themselves weren’t important as there was another dialogue going on entirely. The kind that didn’t rely on speech for communication.

“Good,” she said, the word barely more than a breath.

“I have another.”

“Bet?”

He merely nodded.

“About?”

“This.” He leaned his head down and just like that he pressed those incredible lips against hers. Not demanding, but not at all tentative. Just testing…exploring…finding out…whatever it was he needed to find out.

And it seemed the most natural thing in the world to respond, to lean into the kiss and do some exploring of her own. He tasted fresh, with a little salty tang from the sea air. She felt a moan build in the base of her throat as he opened his mouth and coaxed her to do the same. She had an almost desperate need for him to touch her. Her face, her hair, anywhere. This simple touching of lips was almost excruciating in how it could be so overwhelming…and yet make her feel so deprived at the same time. She wanted more.

He teased his tongue into her mouth and the moan was wrenched from her as she accepted it—almost greedily. She couldn’t have rightly given her middle name at the moment, her thoughts had scattered so rapidly the instant his mouth had touched hers. The world had tilted somehow and everything that made sense was suddenly all jumbled up. When she didn’t think she could stand the sweet torture one second longer, he finally—mercifully—slid his hands to her shoulders, turned her fully into him, leaning back against the Jeep so he could accept the weight of her body framed so perfectly against his.

She was sinking in the blissful cloud of ecstasy he’d created, completely willing to forget she was standing in a public parking lot, kissing a perfect stranger. Perfect. God knew the kiss alone was as close to perfection as she’d ever come. Come.

Dear Lord, could she ever.

Images of doing just that sprang fully realized into her mind at the same instant he settled her weight between his thighs. The contact was electric…and had the effect of splashing cold water on a hot wire. Sizzle and steam…and the fear of getting burned. She pulled away, gasping in a breath of air as the reality of what they were doing, where they might have taken it—right there in the parking lot, no less—sank in.

She couldn’t act horrified, though part of her—the part that had spent an entire lifetime understanding the role proper decorum played in the life of a public figure—wanted to. It had been too incredible, and she’d been too obviously enjoying it, to pretend otherwise. Sean pushed away from the Jeep and reached instinctively for her hips, to steady her as she stumbled a step back from him. As soon as she had her balance, he let her go.

She stemmed the urge to look around the lot, to find out just how big an audience they might have had. It wasn’t all that hard. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from his.

“I suppose I should apologize for that,” he said, his voice now delectably hoarse. “Or at least tell you that I don’t make a habit of kissing women I’ve only just met.”

She smiled, suddenly not caring who was watching. Sean Gannon had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if she was the only person in the room…or parking lot, as the case may be. And she decided maybe it was time to let go of a lifetime of proper decorum and do what she’d come here to do…relax. Enjoy life. Leave all her worries behind. “Actually, I’m more interested in finding out if you resolved that other bet you made with yourself.”

His smile twitched to a grin and his eyes flashed in that dangerous way. “I did. Except I lost this one.”

Surprised, she said, “Oh?”

He reached out, snagged the edge of her hand with his, hooking his finger around her pinky and pulling it up between them. “I bet you couldn’t taste as incredible as I imagined you could. And I was wrong.”

She looked down at their loosely linked hands, thinking it was almost a more intimate gesture than his kiss. But she liked the way he had the urge to continue touching her, connecting himself to her in some way. She understood the need, because she felt it herself. “Wrong?” she asked, lifting her gaze back to him and thinking, God, how long has it been since I so shamelessly flirted with a man?

Never, was the instantaneous—and honest—answer. But then, she’d never been alone on an exotic island. Alone with a man like Sean Gannon.

He tugged her pinky, just a little, but she shuffled a step closer. “Completely wrong,” he said, his smile lazy and the light in his eyes distinctly and unapologetically predatory.

She knew she had a decision to make, and that she had to make it fast. But in her day-to-day life, decisions were weighty matters, only being handed down after intense scrutiny and in-depth analysis of all the presented facts. Now, however, she didn’t have that luxury. Sean Gannon wanted her. Right here. Right now. And damn if she didn’t want him back. It should be more complicated than that.

But certainly he was a man who understood boundaries, a man who had built a life based on a code of conduct, knew that rules were made for a reason. A man who wouldn’t pursue beyond what she was willing to give. Which was, of course, the big question here.

What was she willing to give?

Everything, her body and mind screamed. At least for the next couple of hours. Maybe the next couple of days. Surely she could afford herself that luxury, here of all places. The luxury of letting go, of taking what she wanted. With no regrets. Only intensely wonderful memories of a place out of time, spent with a man far outside of her world.

“Completely wrong?” she repeated.

He dropped her pinky and reached for her hips, pulling her to him in one smooth yank, settling her weight on him, his grip just firm enough to discourage her from stepping away again. Not that she would have. Everything lined up so perfectly, so…She shuddered as she braced her hands on his chest.

“You far surpassed anything I could have dreamed up,” he murmured, already lowering his mouth to hers. “Are you a dream, Laurel Patrick? You sure taste like one.”

A shiver raced over her when he brushed his lips along hers.

“Maybe dreams aren’t such a bad thing to have,” she murmured, moving her lips to the sandpapery smooth skin of his jaw. His swift intake of breath when she pressed a kiss just beneath that hard curve was as intoxicating as it was seductive.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice a hoarse rasp. “Because, occasionally, one of them comes true.”

He slid one hand around her neck and moved her mouth back to his. This time the kiss was demanding, consuming. And she didn’t even consider holding back. She let her hands slide up his chest and leaned more fully into him. He was rigidly hard…everywhere. It made her feel soft, feminine and eminently desirable. Not a familiar feeling for a woman who spent most of her time in a shapeless black robe, dealing with men who mostly just waited for her to make the slightest hedge in passing judgment, to give them the slightest indication of a weak spot.

Well, Sean Gannon had only been in her company for less than an hour or two…and he’d found just about every weak spot she had. Certainly the sweetest ones anyway.

When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, they stayed where they were, all but mesmerized by one another. For how long, she couldn’t have said. But not too many seconds later yet another bell sounded, indicating the last water taxi had not only left, but they’d been tangled up in each other for so long, another one had arrived.

“About this resort,” Sean murmured. “Do you really think—”

Laurel smiled, judgment decided upon, ruling made. She would never have another opportunity like this one. Besides, she’d already asked herself the crucial question: would she regret it if she didn’t?

And didn’t she already have enough regrets in her life?

“I’m thinking that if a judge and a U.S. Marshal can’t figure out a way to get you on that island—” she began, but he stopped her.

“Actually, I was going to ask if you’d be willing to skip the shower and change.” He looked directly into her eyes in that way he had, and her fingers dug into his chest of their own volition. “Because the clothes don’t matter. And we’re just going to get sweaty all over again.”

Her pulse shot up like a skyrocket. And the muscles between her legs clenched almost painfully in response. “Are we now?” she asked, unsure why she was continuing to provoke him. Except to find out what would happen when she pushed him too far.

He slid his hand up from her neck and slowly pulled the soft band from her ponytail. Her hair dropped down to her shoulders in a wavy bob, which he pushed away from her face with surprisingly gentle fingers.

“Aren’t we?”

She knew what he was asking, just as she knew he already knew the answer. But she liked that he wanted them both to state their intentions. “I believe we are, yes.”

He skimmed his fingers along her jaw, then rubbed the tip of one across her lips. “Well then, I think we should ditch this little scooter and go find someplace to have a nice, quiet dinner.”

She was already nodding, assuming what he’d been about to say. It took a second or two for his words to register. “What? Dinner?” She’d already been mentally undressing them both and—

Now the wolf smile came out in full. “It’s a long night.”

Dinner as foreplay. The idea should have made her impatient. She was ready now, dammit. And it should have made her a bit worried. Worried that with too much time, she’d talk herself out of what she’d just finished talking herself into. Only the idea of getting to know him better intrigued her just about as much as the idea of letting him put those hands, and that mouth, on her.

“Yes,” she finally responded. “It certainly is.” And yet Laurel was pretty damn sure it was all going to go by way too fast. Maybe he had the right idea, after all. Savor each moment. Drag it out. Make it last.

Because when it was over…it was over.

4

WHAT IN THE HELL had he been thinking, asking her to dinner first? The wine hadn’t even been served and he was already dying to get her out of there and out of those brand-new vacation clothes…and into his bed.

He’d thought to stop at Sam’s, sit on the rear deck, eat broiled snapper as the sun set, and get to know each other better. He needed to understand if this unmanageable desire he suddenly had for her existed simply because she was an appealing and willing woman? Or if it was because of her, specifically…and he was just incredibly lucky that he’d stumbled across her at a time when he had nothing better to do than get to know her better. That made him think about the topic that had been occupying his mind just before he’d almost run her over. His earlier conviction that when he met the right person, he’d just know.