Slippery When Wet

As though he’d read her mind, he gave a slight smile. “Glynnis sweet-talked the tour company into giving me an extra week since it was only one person. You know, extenuating circumstances and all. I figured lying on the beach for a while and enjoying the—” he paused and looked her over “—scenery would be good for me.”

“And has it been?”

His grin widened. “Ask me in a little while.”

“SO YOU CAME DOWN ALONE?”

Dev nodded. “That’s why I was so pleased to see you here.” Pleased didn’t begin to cover it. When he’d first seen her walk onto the beach, long and lovely in her copper-colored sarong, he’d thought he was seeing things. Back in Baltimore, still sporting fresh wounds to his pride, he’d been irritated by her cool attitude, frustrated by the news that his insurance was next to useless, and furious that she was willing to do little or nothing to help resolve the situation. But through it all, he hadn’t been able to entirely ignore that swing of blond hair, those dark eyes, that hint of a dip in her lower lip that made that wide, tempting mouth look like she was perpetually prepared to kiss someone.

And she’d stayed on his mind.

She’d mentioned a business trip to the Caribbean, he’d remembered. Somehow, finding her sprawled on the beach had made him pretty certain that she was finishing up with a vacation of her own. As for Dev, he’d come south with one objective in mind: to find a pretty señorita to drive all memories of his failed engagement out of his mind. And if that señorita proved to be a gringo who’d refused to give him a refund, it would be all the sweeter. He’d watched her untie her sarong and wondered how she would undress for a lover. He’d seen her spread on the sunscreen and wondered how it would feel to touch her smooth skin.

And then she’d stripped off her top and his tongue had just about fallen out of his mouth. Paradoxically, some vestige of the gentleman in him had kept him focusing on her face, not her breasts, even when he’d approached. He didn’t need to cop a sly peek. He knew he’d be able to look at his leisure, and soon.

He’d already decided he was going to seduce her.

Part of him was shaking his head wryly that the one woman who wouldn’t get out of his head right now was the same woman who’d gotten under his skin in Baltimore. Then again, if it hadn’t been for her refusal, he wouldn’t be here on vacation. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still just a bit annoyed.

Now he looked at the downy hairs at the small of her back, on skin pinkening in the tropical sun. “You’re going to get yourself a burn there if you don’t get some sunscreen on. I’ll help if you like.” He picked up the bottle, bouncing it lightly against his hand to shake the lotion down.

Taylor gave him a withering look. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You don’t want to get burned the first day.”

She pushed her dark glasses up on her nose, taking another look at him as she did. He looked like some island native, with his skin darkened to bronze, a string of shells tied around his neck. His sun-streaked hair hung nearly to his shoulders and clearly hadn’t seen a comb in days, nor had the stubble that darkened his chin seen a razor. The only jarring note was struck by his eyes, that sea-green that glowed all the brighter against his tan. Eyes that watched her with the lively pleasure of a cat watching a mouse it was toying with.

His teeth gleamed in a smile. “I suppose you could move your lounger into the shade. I’ll help you if you want to get up.” He gave her a guileless look.

It sent her blood to simmer. “Mr. Carson,” she began.

“Dev,” he corrected her.

“Dev. I’m sure you have other things to do today.” Besides heckling me.

“I’m on vacation,” he said lightly. “I don’t have any plans at all.”

“Well good,” she said thinly. “I’m sure that will be fun for you. And while you’re doing that, I’m going into the water. Can you please hand me my top?” she asked with the studied aplomb she used for problem clients.

“Sure.”

This was it, Taylor told herself with a swallow. The moment of truth. Then she heard the Italian woman laugh and she raised her chin a fraction. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself by trying to wriggle into the top without showing anything. She wasn’t going to hide out like some bashful girl. Dammit, they were just breasts, and he’d already gotten an eyeful. Taylor pushed herself abruptly into a sitting position.

But Dev had already turned away to watch the dive boat come in to the dock that snaked out from the beach. “Are you going diving while you’re here?”

“No,” Taylor said shortly, fumbling to untangle her bikini top and slide her arms through the shoulder straps.

“Those reefs are about the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he said reflectively. “Like underwater palaces.”

“My idea of vacation is lying on the beach and doing absolutely nothing.”

With impeccable timing that she suddenly knew was entirely calculated, Dev turned back to her just as she got her top in place. It was impossible not to like him for it.

“Have you been to this area before?” he asked.

“Nope, this is my first time.”

“Then you’ve got to get out to see the reefs, at least once. Don’t you want to be able to tell your clients about it?”

“I’ll show them pictures.” Taylor stood up. “You can keep your crack-of-dawn scuba trips. I’ll settle for sleeping in.”

“Let me know if I can help.”

She almost gave a snort of laughter before she caught herself. “Thanks but no thanks. I’ll see you around. I’m going into the water.”

Dev rose and sat on the edge of a nearby lounger. “You go right ahead.” He looked her up and down and his grin widened. “I’ll just sit here and enjoy the view.”

Taylor walked down to the water, excruciatingly aware of the swing of her arms, every sway of her hips. Excruciatingly aware of Dev’s eyes on her. She was being silly, she chided herself. He’d harassed her, had his laugh. With all the bare breasts around, he had to have lost interest in her. Still, she could feel two spots burning on the scrap of fabric that stretched over her haunches. Just her imagination, she told herself firmly, she’d look back and he’d be gone. As she stepped onto the damp, firm-packed sand by the water, she glanced over her shoulder toward her palapa. And saw Dev raise a hand lazily, his white smile glittering even from this distance.

Taylor flushed and stepped into the wash of foam.

SHE HAD DIED AND GONE TO heaven. That was simply all there was to it. Tropical sea, an aqua so pale it was luminous, stretched around her. She sank down in the water and looked along the shore to where the pastel wavelets met the periwinkle sky. No wonder everyone dressed in such bright colors in the tropics, they were trying to keep up with the exuberant background.

The gentle nudge of the foot high swells cradled her body. Even though she’d gone past the end of the dive dock to the string of cork floaters that marked the edge of the swim area, she was only chest deep in the warm water, her feet still touching ground. Bright-colored fish whisked along, past the occasional trail of seaweed. The water was clear enough that she could see the shadow patterns of the surface ripples waving on the bottom, could see the vivid red of her toenail polish against the white sand.

Taylor turned lightly to look at the gleaming beach that ran along the coast to where it curved out of sight. The graceful curves of coconut palm fronds swayed over the golden sand, dotted among the thatched palapas.

It was paradise.

Almost paradise, she corrected herself. Except for Dev Carson. Maybe if she spent a dozen years around him, she might stop turning red every time she saw him. It probably wouldn’t happen anytime soon, though.

She scowled at the tiny figures on the shore. Maybe he’d tired of teasing her by now and would leave her in peace. She thought of the spark of mischief in those green eyes and shook her head. She should be so lucky.

Diving under the water like a seal, she came up with her hair wet and slicked back. It was a shame. The more she thought about the idea of cutting loose for a totally meaningless and completely decadent vacation fling, the more it appealed to her. If Dev Carson had been just another guest at the resort, she’d have given very serious thought to jumping his bones. Granted, her bones-jumping skills were rusty, but there had been a time when she’d been able to reel in any man she set her cap for. She still had the equipment, she had no doubt she could do it again. She just needed to get back the mindset.

Somehow, though, none of the other men she’d seen around the resort had made quite the impression on her that Dev did. If only he weren’t focused on their little contretemps.

Taylor rolled over to float lazily on her back, staring at the small white puffs of cloud in the sky overhead. She couldn’t do anything more about the situation than she already had. Ignore him and relax, that was the thing to do. This was her long overdue vacation. No way was she going to waste another precious minute of it worrying about work-related stuff. For the next seven days, duty and responsibility didn’t exist. Indulging herself was the only rule.

That, and finding herself a decadent summer lover.

DUSK WAS PURPLING TO evening as Taylor strolled up the winding jungle trail that led from her room to the restaurant. Stone lanterns dotting the side of the path cast a soft, peach glow over the flagstones, illuminating the nodding blossoms on plantings by the trail. Out in the dim space under the trees, a bird whistled softly. The skirt of her hot pink minidress swished against her thighs. With every step, she felt the years slough away, bringing her closer to the carefree, happy-go-lucky chance-taker she had once been.

She’d begun to relax fractionally that afternoon after she returned to her lounger to find Dev Carson nowhere in sight. The little prick of disappointment she’d felt, she’d suppressed ruthlessly. No mixing business and pleasure, she told herself sternly. Having a fling would be wonderful. Having a fling with Dev Carson would be the dumbest thing she could do.

But he was gone, and hopefully that was the end of it. She ignored the tiny voice in her head—miniscule, really—that whined about the rarity of six-pack abs. He was gone and she was glad. Now she could relax and take it easy. After all, in a resort of nearly a thousand people, she might go days without seeing him again.

But she’d kept her top on the rest of the afternoon, just in case.

The path leveled and broadened and changed into polished golden terrazzo that led along the edge of the open-air restaurant. In a region where the air was warm and silky, even in winter, walls were superfluous. The only thing necessary was the thatched roof that hung down at the edges and soared to a peak in the center, blocking out the occasional cloudbursts. Long ponds patrolled by orange and white koi separated the walkway from the dining area, where a fringe of dried palm fronds overhung the edge of the roof. One side of the restaurant looked out on a broad waterfall that cascaded over rocks, the chatter of the droplets soothing in her ears.

Taylor walked up to the hostess stand at the entrance. “Hola, señorita,” smiled a compact, dark-eyed man, with a badge that said Raoul. “You wish for dinner?” he asked.

“Si, gracias,” Taylor replied. “Un asiento, por favor.”

“Ah.” His eyes lit. “Habla Español?”

Taylor laughed and held her forefinger and thumb half an inch apart. “Un poquito, un poquito,” she said, shaking her hand ruefully.

Raoul picked up a menu and led her to the side of the restaurant near the waterfall where a stream of droplets fell musically into the catch basin. The paddles of overhead fans stirred the air. Candles flickered on the tables and soft Latin guitar played over the sound system. It was exquisite. She wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Except for the fact that the table Raoul was leading her toward was already occupied by Dev Carson.

He stood up as Raoul stopped at the table, and pulled out a chair for her. “Gracias, amigo,” he said, nodding to Raoul.

“De nada,” Raoul murmured with a wink and disappeared.

Taylor looked at Dev and he looked steadily back. Behind him, the drops of the backlit waterfall chattered. His tan was dark against the white linen of his shirt. His eyes glimmered with something like anticipation, and had something in her stomach chittering like the waterfall.

“Hot-pink suits you.”

Taylor took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting her system steady. “Mr. Carson,” she began.

“Dev,” he corrected.

“So you keep telling me. Look, I know you weren’t happy with the way things worked out at the travel agency, and I sympathize with that. I sympathize with the fact that you might still be annoyed. But I’m on vacation. You made your point this afternoon. I’d be happy to listen to anything else you have to say—next week, in my office. While I’m here, I’m off the clock. Buenos noches.” She moved to turn away.

He took a step and was at her side. “Don’t go. Have dinner with me.”

She blinked at him.

“Just dinner. I’m not going to give you a bad time. I swear,” he said, holding up his hands, palms toward her. “Baltimore never happened. Pffffttt.” At her suspicious look, he went back to his seat. “Look, I’ve been down here for three weeks. I’ve gotten certified for scuba and dived half a dozen reefs, some of them twice. I’ve parasailed. I’ve been to see the ruins. I’ve taken a catamaran around the island. I’ve made friends with all the staff. It would be nice for a change to talk to someone who wasn’t paid to be friendly to me.”

A quick frisson of sympathy whisked through her. Taylor sat down slowly. “Somehow, I have a feeling that the only time you dine alone is when you want to.”

“I haven’t exactly been in the mood for company, at least I wasn’t at first. I’ve been…mellowing over the past week,” he decided.

Somehow, mellow wouldn’t have been the word she would have chosen. True, he lounged in the chair across from her, but it was with the watchful indolence of some beast that could spring on its prey without warning. And she had the uneasy feeling that despite his assurances, his prey just might be her.

The waiter stopped by to take their drink orders. Dev eyed her as she asked for a beer. “You’re in Mexico,” he said. “Why not a shot of tequila?”

She looked at him for a moment. Six-pack abs, the voice whispered. “Why not? A shot please,” she asked the waiter.

“Herradura, por favor,” Dev added, “y dos cervezas.”

“What’s Herradura?” Taylor asked suspiciously as the waiter left.

“Top quality tequila, the kind that you don’t need salt and a lime to get down. You can sip this stuff,” he added, nodding at the bottle that the waiter was bringing their way.

“A connoisseur?” she asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged. “Three weeks in Mexico will teach you a thing or two if you’re prepared to listen instead of talk.”

Somehow she could see that about him, a certain quiet watchfulness that absorbed the world around him. The waiter set the shot glasses on the table and poured the amber liquid, then nodded and left.

Dev picked up his glass. “Here’s to vacations.”

“To vacations,” she echoed and took a sip of the tequila. To her surprise, it flowed down smooth and warm, though with a fiendish little kick at the end. Savoring the flavor, she glanced up to see Dev watching her.

“Like it?”

She nodded, taking another sip. “I’m surprised. In college we always did the whole salt and lime routine. I thought you had to.”

“Only with cheap rotgut tequila. The salt and lime is just to cover up the taste. The good stuff like this is made for sipping,” he said, demonstrating.

“Mmm. Could be dangerous. A sip here, a sip there, and the next thing you know you’re hammered and dancing on the tables.”

His eyes lit with interest. “Now that I’d like to see.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” she laughed.

“So what if you dance on the tables? Isn’t that what vacations are for? No one knows you here.”

“Except you.”

“I’ll never tell. This is time-out from the real world, you can do whatever you like. And, you know, if what you’d like is to dance on the tables, I’m all in support of that.”

“You’re so generous.”

“Aren’t I, though,” he said modestly. “So if you’re not going to dance on the tables, what are you going to do?”

She moved her glass meditatively in a little circle on the table. “I don’t know, probably as little as possible. I haven’t had a break in almost five years. I keep catching myself starting to think about work and I have to remind myself to let it go.”

“It takes a couple of days, at least it did for me. Especially if you’re down here with no distractions.”

“When was the last time you had a vacation?”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever really had one,” he said thoughtfully. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Relaxation makes you live longer.”

“So does being able to afford groceries.” He shrugged. “I’ve mostly been running my own business for the past ten years. It takes over your life. I’m sure you can relate.”

“What do you do?”

“Ah, ah, ah.” He shook his finger at her. “Baltimore doesn’t exist, remember? No talking about the real world and definitely no talking about work.” His eyes lingered on her as the waiter set their beers on the table. Dev reached out to take his glass, held it up. “Here’s to being off the clock.”

The clink of glass rang in the warm evening air.

“So you said you’re going to do as little as possible. What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “Lie on the beach, sleep in, read books.” She didn’t figure adding wild sex to that list would be wise, although she was suddenly certain he’d be happy to volunteer. And as the tequila flowed through her veins, she was beginning to think it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. In fact, if his current mood held, Dev Carson might be just what the doctor ordered. “I figure I’ll just relax for a week. Maybe dance a little, flirt a little. I’m on vacation, after all.”

“So you are. Well, it is an all-inclusive resort. I think flirtations are part of the list of services. Did I mention,” he asked casually, “that Raoul considers me an honorary local?”

She looked at him consideringly. “Can I take that to mean you’re offering to be of service?”

He sat up and leaned forward. “Oh, service is the name of my game, Ms. DeWitt. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

It was ridiculous to start a flirtation with someone from home, she thought. Baltimore doesn’t exist, the words played through her head. Isn’t that what vacations are for? Maybe. And maybe it was time to let the old Taylor come out to play.

HE’D NEVER SEEN A WOMAN GO into ecstasy over mango cheesecake before, Dev reflected as he watched Taylor eat her dessert. Her tongue flicked out to catch a crumb of crust, and his pulse bumped for a moment.

It had been doing that a lot in the past couple of hours.

Dev Carson considered himself smart, tough, ambitious and focused. When he decided to go after something—or someone—he was usually successful. What he wanted, he got.

And he wanted Taylor DeWitt in the worst way. At first, it had been a game: embarrass her a little, have some fun flirting. Somehow over the course of the day and evening, she’d become an unendurable temptation, a prospect of pleasure that drummed through his mind.

Watching her eat had been a revelation. Unlike most women, she didn’t pick at her food but dug in with enthusiasm and little hums of satisfaction. She sampled every exotic dish offered at the show-cooking buffet, experiencing it with an exquisite pleasure that had him imagining what she would look like in the throes of orgasm. After he’d taken her there.

Taylor pushed her plate away. “That was fabulous.”

“You looked like you were enjoying it.”

“Especially since someone else is doing the cooking and cleaning. But I’m stuffed. If I don’t move soon, you’re going to have to carry me to my room.”

Now that was a prospect with some possibilities, he thought. “Just say the word.”

Taylor laughed. “I think I can walk for now, I just need to be encouraged a bit.”

Dev rose and held out his hand. “I can help with that.”

The sultry strains of Latin music floated into the night sky as they approached the open-air theater area. Soft light filtered down onto the dance floor, where couples swayed to the slow, hypnotic beat from the band.

Dev took her hand. “Dance with me?”

Taylor lifted a brow. “Fred, I thought you’d never ask.”

“You laugh, but prepare to be amazed and humbled.”

“Another one of the things you’ve picked up since you’ve been here?”

“I like to consider myself a multifaceted individual.”

He led her down the steps and onto the polished wood floor. Taylor looked at the couples nestled together. Anticipation sent a sharp thrill through her, then he swept her in toward him, unexpectedly close.

She’d expected the classic clinch and shuffle of the high school slow dance, but he surprised her, capturing one of her hands in his and pressing his other against the small of her back. The heat spread through the thin silk of her dress, making her catch her breath.

Making her melt against him.

“I don’t know how to dance like this,” she said unsteadily, clutching at his shoulder with her free hand. His hard, rounded shoulder. “I only ever learned to shuffle around.”

“It’s a rumba,” he murmured in her ear, “a standard box step. Just hold on and follow me.”

The guitar moaned low and soft over the clicking tropical rhythm of a hollow woodblock. An exotic woman dressed in fiery red stepped up to the microphone and began to croon in Spanish, a passionate tale of what Taylor figured was no doubt doomed lovers.

Moving in time with Dev’s body was immensely seductive. She felt the muscles of his thighs flex against hers. She looked up and found her gaze snared by his, the green shadowed in the dim lighting. He brought their clasped hands in close to their bodies, pressing her against him. The call of the guitar drifted up into the sky.

THEY STROLLED DOWN the shadowed path that wound through the jungle toward the beach. Dev tangled his fingers with Taylor’s. “I couldn’t believe it when I first got down here,” he murmured. “I thought I’d walked into another world. Home was gone.” It hadn’t been quite as easy as that, if he was honest. It had taken days in the hot sun, hours of swimming with the schools of bright fish in the tranquil blue depths of the reefs to erase the memory of finding his fiancée with another man. No matter that he’d known deep down they were a bad match, the betrayal had scored his pride. To smooth it over, he’d flirted with a couple of the beach babes but something had felt wrong each time. Each time, he’d ducked out with a simple kiss good-night.

Somehow, he didn’t see himself doing that with Taylor.

They followed the trail out of the lush plantings to circle around the edge of the pool, now glowing pale turquoise. At this hour, the area was deserted, the guests all up at the theater area dancing and watching the show. They had the beach to themselves.

A vivid red hibiscus blossom, fallen from its bush, lay on the pavement. Dev stopped to pick it up. Turning to Taylor, he tucked it behind her ear. “Now you look like an island girl.”

“You’re the one who looks like an islander, with that tan and the batik and the shells…”

He fingered them. “The clerk at the hotel store threw them in when I bought my trunks.”

“I don’t have to ask if she was a she,” Taylor said dryly.

“She was indeed, and also about sixteen. Not my style.”

“You’re not into giggling Mark Anthony fans?”

“I’m not into girls.” His eyes darkened. “I’m more interested in women.”

Taylor swallowed and the silence stretched out for a beat, then two. In the darkness, the crude stone heads of the showers had a brooding, almost menacing cast, like vengeful gods come down to earth. Beyond, Dev could hear the hiss of the waves. He reached out and caught her hand again. “Let’s go out by the water.”