Revealing Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 4) by Kat Cantrell Page B

via his assistant and put on her war paint: an Escada suit that she’d last worn to face down a headstrong judge in a particularly messy divorce involving a dotcom CEO and a pair of Manalos that a man like Anderson would recognize as a don’t-underestimate-me combo. Her makeup went on flawlessly, what little of it she wore, and then she wound up her hair into a chignon that she secured with lacquered chopsticks from Shanghai.
    Charlie took her to Abaco, and she hopped a commuter plane to Freeport, where ReefCo’s corporate office was. She hadn’t been to the main island since she’d returned from Boston over a month ago. Not much had changed. Most of the Caribbean looked the same. Gorgeous beaches, blue water that was so clear it seemed otherworldly, lots of tourists, cruise ships in slips at the commercial dock, smaller boats in constant motion around her.
    She loved it. Never would she have pegged herself as a beach girl, having grown up in Boston and enduring the hellacious winters. But that’s where Blume Family Law had been established so she’d toed the line without ever realizing she hated the line.
    No. She’d realized. But breaking free hadn’t ever felt like an option. Until Emma had made a split-second decision to stay in the Bahamas that had changed the course of Rachel’s life. If Emma could be brave enough to chase her own happiness, Rachel could too.
    ReefCo’s building in downtown Freeport took no time at all to find, largely owing to the giant sign lording it over the other less impressive structures surrounding it. Two uniformed police officers clopped by on horseback, tipping their hats to her as they passed.
    On the eighth floor Rachel emerged from the elevator and greeted the receptionist. Anderson, predictably, made her cool her heels in the lobby for exactly six minutes, then buzzed the receptionist to escort her back to his office.
    Rachel had done her research on the billionaire. Jared Anderson had made his money in his twenties after opening a successful group of hotels in the States and now focused on “humanitarian” efforts in the Caribbean as he expanded his hotel empire. Which was a front for slinging his ego around the small corner of the Bahamas that he owned.
    But despite having studied up on him, she still managed to be fifty shades of shocked when Jared Anderson greeted her at the door of his office draped in a smile, oodles of charm, and an Armani suit that looked so good on him David Beckham must be curled up in a corner somewhere, weeping with envy. In short, Jared Anderson was the kind of man who elicited double takes and wild fantasies involving various stages of undress.
    Cheekbones that could cut butter and carefully styled light brown hair completed his full package. He was underwear-billboard hot and then some, putting a whole different spin on Charlie’s command to play “dirty.” Because Rachel could think of a few choice scenarios that might fit that bill and give her the complete upper hand at the same time. She’d never shied away from using sex to get what she wanted, especially not in a competition the likes of which Anderson had started.
    Until now apparently.
    She shook Anderson’s hand, noted his appreciative once-over, and had to swallow the wave of revulsion at the thought of letting this man put his hands on her.
    God, what was wrong with her? She didn’t have to like him. She just had to win, and it would take so little effort to have him eating out of her hand. Confidence had always been her best accessory, and judging by the vibe in the room, the billionaire had sniffed it out instantly.
    Except she knew exactly what was wrong with her. Evan . That exasperating, enigmatic, sexy-as-hell frustration with a bad case of tight-lipped-itis had crawled under her skin when she wasn’t looking.
    And she hadn’t even slept with him. Yet. What had happened to her get-laid-get-over-it-get-gone plan? There was a big knot of Evan inside that she’d failed to