That was the only way to summarize the expression carved into the man’s face. His jaw, sculpted and sharp, was clenched so tightly it could’ve shattered diamonds. His black hair was tousled in a way that looked unintentional, but was somehow more devastating for it. And those eyes—deep brown, nearly black—burned with such intensity that Dani felt the back of her knees wobble.
Somewhere along the chase, he had lost his jacket. His tie, too. His white dress shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to his chest and arms in a way that should’ve been illegal on international waters. The rolled-up sleeves exposed forearms that looked like they’d been designed by a very passionate Italian sculptor.
Her gaze dipped lower, despite her brain shouting for restraint.
Lean hips. Nice package.I hope I didn’t damage that too much.Long legs?—
Dani yanked her eyes back up to his face before her good sense slapped her.
Focus, Dani. Focus. You want to escape, not rip his clothes off.
“Listen,” she began, holding up a hand in a placating gesture. “It looks like you’re having a splendid party. Sorry for the punch. Thatwas a gut reaction. I really do appreciate the rescue, but, well… I’ve gotta go.”
Her voice was breathless, annoyingly so. She hated how weak she sounded when she was running on adrenaline, fear, and hunger.
For food, Dani, not him. Food!
To her surprise, the man didn’t immediately leap for her or call for backup. Instead, he stopped, frowning as if she was the confusing part of this equation.
His eyes swept over her, lingering for one frustrating second too long on the way her dress had slid down to reveal one rounded lobe covered by a thin piece of black fabric. Of course, her body reacted to his intense stare. Her face flamed as her nipples hardened.
It's the cooler air, girl, not him. He wants to strangle you remember? The punch. You just reminded him of the low blow.
His eyes returned to her face, and he lifted an eyebrow, as if he knew what she was thinking.
“And where do you plan to go?” he asked, his voice cool, low, and disturbingly steady. “In case you haven’t realized it, you’ve reached the end. There’s nowhere else to go.”
“That may stop other people,” she said, one foot sliding closer to the railing. “It won’t stop me.”
Her hand slid behind her, feeling for the curved fiberglass housing of the lower lifeboat. If she could just hop onto it, she could dive without breaking her neck.
“You, uh… you’ve got a little fish egg… right here,” she said, motioning vaguely to her cheekbone, trying to buy herself a few seconds of distraction.
He raised a hand and wiped at the spot she pointed to. He flicked the gooey remains of caviar onto the deck with a grimace.
“I hate the stuff,” Dani added helpfully. “I have no idea why people eat it. It’s like eating baitfish, only worse.”
He didn’t laugh.
I wonder if the Devil looks this yummy. If he does, I can see why people keep making poor decisions.
“Will you just shut up already?” she hissed, backing further along the railing. “I’m in enough trouble without you making it worse.”
He blinked. “Who are you talking to?”
“My idiot side,” she confessed, shooting him a wry smile. “We talk frequently… not that it helps.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Are you… wired? Is that what all this drama is about? A story for tomorrow’s tabloids?”
“Wired? Tabloids?” Dani gave him a bewildered frown. “No! I’m a mechanic. The only wiring I deal with is on engines.”
“A mechanic? You expect me to believe you are a mechanic?” he repeated, incredulous, like she’d just claimed to be a dolphin trainer or a time traveler.
“Yes, a mechanic,” she snapped, tugging the work boots tighter under her arm. “I fix engines. I was hired to fix this yacht’s engine. Which, by the way, had nothing wrong with it except its sleazy owner.”
“You mean Vito.”
“Ding-ding-ding, we have a winner!” she replied, giving him a sarcastic thumbs up.
