Swept Away by Toni Blake

gone to Vegas. Riding a pirate, in the long run, would have been less sinful than what she had going on in her head about Brock.
    Even as she donned her white bikini, she glanced in the mirror, seeing her body as he probably saw it, and couldn’t deny feeling utterly sensual. Where was a good, dependable turtleneck sweater when you needed it?
    After moisturizing her pottery-roughened hands and slapping some lotion on her arms and legs for good measure, she exited the bathroom with a silky white sarong draped about her hips and tied low on one side. She walked to the bedside table to snatch up a hair clip, secured her hair in a messy knot atop her head, then grabbed up the straw bag where her towel and sunscreen resided. She still needed that change of scenery.
    “And just where do you think you’re going?” Brock snapped as she started past him for the door.
    She looked up, blinking. “To the beach. Where else?” “I can’t let you do that, kitten.”
    She sighed. He was sexy as sin itself, but his nerve never ceased to amaze her. “I wasn’t asking your permission.” No more flirting, she’d decided—and defying him seemed a good way to prevent that.
    She headed for the door again—only to feel his large hand latch tight around her wrist. “Wait.” She looked up to find his face—his whole body for that matter—close. She wanted to touch the stubble again. And despite herself, she liked how tightly he held on to her.
    She could barely locate her voice, but managed to ask, “So what’s the problem? Do you think the bad guys are coming back or something?”

    “Not really. But it’s not impossible—and that’s the problem.” He still held her arm, making her whole body hum with his nearness.
    Which meant she’d better get away from him—now. “Well, I’m not sitting here with you all day.”
    He gave her a slow, scolding look. “Fine. Then I’ll sit there with you all day.”
    “You’re going to the beach with me?” She kept her face blank since she hadn’t yet decided how to feel about that.
    His reply was a short, all-business nod.
    She flashed a dry expression. “So how are you going to protect me if they show up, Mr. FBI Agent? Squirt them with my sunscreen?”
    “You really are hysterical,” he said, looking completely unamused. “You should take that on the road.”
    “Maybe I would, but I can’t get to the road. Someone blew up my boat.” With that, she jerked her arm free and turned to march toward the beach—but she missed his touch the whole way.
    Tell me you love him, kitten. Tell me again.
    Glancing over at her lounge chair, where she lay with eyes closed, looking like every teenage boy’s tropical fantasy, he thought about asking her, one more time. But he wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to see something new in her eyes, something to tell him that she was doing the right thing, marrying the right guy—or if he didn’t.
    Because as long as nothing changed and he remained unconvinced, that made it A-okay to keep flirting, trying to seduce, trying to make her give in to what they both wanted.
    No doubt in his mind that she wanted it, either. Last night, maybe there’d been some question. This morning, though, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off him. He’d felt her gaze all over him, and it was a good thing he’d been sitting down or she would have seen exactly how much he liked that, evidenced by the tent in his pants.
    He watched the sensual way she let her arm droop over the edge of the chair, her fingertips dragging lightly through the powdery sand, almost petting, caressing it.
    The thing that surprised him was that Kat was the last girl to be pushed into something she didn’t want to do. He’d only known her for six months or so when they were younger, but he’d watched her, wanted her, even then. He’d seen the fine way she balanced her life—the skill with which she played the prim daughter, enough to please her father, and yet at the same