“Yeah, Smitty, you sure as hell did.”
Her laughter died as easily as it had come. The wind whipped her hair loose and strands of it stuck to her face. He watched her pull the hair away from the fullest set of lips he’d seen in years.
She had a face and body that men in prison dreamed of—knock-’em-dead looks, full chest and hips, a small waist, legs that went on forever.
And he was intensely aware of her. But not as he would be about just any female, which seemed odd to him. He watched her a moment longer and became aware of a few other things, too. Aware that they could be on this island for a long time. Aware of how goddamn long he’d gone without a woman.
Mixed with the scent of the sea and the heavy air was the soft musk scent of her. That woman-smell men knew so keenly. The scent that could drive some men to cross the line and take what they wanted.
He’d never forced a woman. Never had to. Didn’t think much of those men who did. He had always been able to talk himself into walking away from any woman. And it hadn’t been too tough either.
But now, as he stared at her profile while she drew something absently in the sand, he felt a restless need to touch her. He shifted closer, casually resting one hand in the sand behind her.
She turned. Her eyes widened when she saw how close he was. Her gaze dropped to his lips, then back up to his eyes. Her lips parted, and she took one deep breath through her mouth.
With his free hand, he brushed another strand of hair from her lips and cheek, then slid his hand behind her neck. Before she had a chance to think, he kissed her.
17
There were times when reality was far worse than anything imaginable. For Margaret, reality came in the form of a wave—the cold wet slap of an ocean wave.
The water washed over her, and a second later she realized that she was rolling in the sand with Hank. Her tongue was in his mouth, kissing him back. He was on top of her, pinning her to the wet sand, one hand holding her head to his, his other hand between her legs.
She opened her eyes and blinked up at his face, then shoved him off of her and stood so quickly she saw stars for a second. She covered her eyes with a hand and took a deep breath to calm herself down.
Water dripped from her face and hair and pattered on the sand. Another wave sloshed over her ankles and calves and the sand sucked at her feet. The sea was pulling her one way. Her body pulled her another. Her head resisted them both.
Hank stood and moved closer to her, his shadow blocking out the warmth of the sun.
She didn’t want to look at him. This wasn’t happening. She took another deep breath, then without a word she turned and took a step.
He grabbed her arm and made her turn back around. “Running away?”
She stood there stiffly, embarrassed, confused, angry. “No.”
“You’re a rotten liar.”
“Let go of me.”
He didn’t.
“Please let go.” Her voice was almost a whisper. He swore and released her hand.
From somewhere she gathered the strength to look at him.
He was angry, too. His eyes were black with it. He gave her a mock bow and flung his hand out. “Go ahead. Run as fast as you can. But remember. I’m still here. And you’re still here. That isn’t going to change anymore than you can change what just went on between us.”
“I don’t want anything between us.”
“Believe me, sweetheart, neither do I.” He ran a hand through his hair and wiped the water from his face. Even with the anger and embarrassment of the moment, she could feel something pass between them. Tension and more—something neither wanted.
But even she couldn’t deny it. He’d been right about that. She turned her back to him and clutched her arms to her. After a minute, she said quietly, “In a perfect world, you would be a doctor... a judge or a professor. Anything but a crook.”
He shifted even closer, and a long dark shadow spread over the sand. “The world isn’t perfect and I’m no doctor or professor.” His voice was harsh and low and right next to her ear. “But it takes a crook to know the world will never be fair. And you want to know why?”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to hear this. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “This is why.” His mouth hit hers hard.
She stood there stiffly, refusing to respond. Her hands were clenched at her sides, her lips tightly sealed, her eyes open and angry.
