Until Doc came along.
What she wouldn’t give to go back to the night they met, before either of them had known who the other was. When she’d simply been a tourist out looking for a good time, and he’d simply been the golden god sitting across the bar. A stranger with a face like a slab of granite that’d been carved by the wind and rain and a look in his eye that told her he knew what it was to suffer.
That’s what had prompted her to hop down from her barstool and go introduce herself to him. She’d always been a sucker for a guy who showed a little wear and tear.
And boy oh boy, they’d had fun that night.
Not as much fun as she would’veliked, considering he’d passed out on the floor of her hotel room before he could make good on all the things his drunken kiss had promised.
But fun all the same.
And then, in the light of day, she’d discovered he wasn’t simply a tall drink of water who went by the succinct nickname ofDoc. He was Dalton Simmons of Deep Six Salvage. Which meant she was his attorney. Andthatmeant he was completely off-limits.
Although, even if she had been one to mix business with pleasure, she got the distinct impression Doc would have put the kibosh on anything more between them. All his smoldering looks, dirty innuendos, and flirty smiles aside, ever since he’d learned she was a lawyer, he’d made it clear he held her chosen profession—andherby association—in the lowest regard.
And yes, okay,mostpeople didn’t have very high opinions of those who practiced the law. She blamed slimeballs like Roy Cohn and Rod Blagojevich for painting the lot of them as power hungry con artists. And yet, with Doc, she couldn’t help thinking there was more behind his derision.
But whatevs.
Because the long and short of it was they both had their reasons for not finishing what they’d started that first night. And since they couldn’t engage in the physical free-for-alls she fantasized about on a weekly basis—okay, nightly; it was nightly—she satisfied herself with their verbal skirmishes.
Never in her life had she met anyone with a mind more agile than Doc’s. Trying to keep up with him, trying tobesthim, gave her a thrill like no other.
The wind had gone from singing to sounding like the ominous opening score of a horror movie. Where the noise alone lets you know something truly awful is about to happen.
Adjusting the shoulder strap on her overnight bag, she reached a hand toward Doc, needing his help to steady herself as she prepared to step onto the sailboat’s undulating…erp…deck.
Instead of grabbing her outstretched fingers, however, Doc shook his head. “It’s too late!” he shouted above the sound of the waves slapping against the pier’s pilings. “The storm’s too close! We can’t outrun her! We’re staying!”
“St-staying!” she sputtered, glancing back at the ramshackle beach house.
She’d heard people use the phrasemy heart sank. But she’d never experienced the sensation herself. She’d had her heart bruised a few times. And it’d beenbrokentwice—the first time when she found out the truth about her father, and the second time when her mother called to tell her that her baby sister had died in a plane crash. But now, she would swear her heart was sitting in the soles of her feet.
“We’re stayinghere?” she demanded incredulously. “Are you out of your whole damn mind?”
“Better here than out on the water!” Doc shouted as LT appeared on the sailboat’s deck. The head of Deep Six Salvage had a heavy-looking duffel bag thrown over each shoulder. Four more were already piled on the teakwood decking at his feet.
“Catch!” he yelled and Cami realized he was talking tohera split-second before one of the blue duffels sailed in her direction.
She squealed but managed to snag the bag before it could hit the weathered boards of the pier. It was even heavier than it looked. Its impact knocked her off-balance and she stepped back to steady herself.
Too late she realized she’d stepped into thin air.
Her right foot was planted firmly on the wooden decking, but her left foot dangled over nothing but fractious waves.
Screwing her eyes shut, she clutched the bag of treasure close to her chest and prepared for the inevitable—a hard crash into the lagoon followed by a struggle to tread water until someone could pull her back onto the pier. But suddenly, inexplicably, her downward momentum stopped.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Doc bent over the side of the pier. He held onto a post with one hand. The other was firmly wrapped around the front waistband of her linen camp pants. She could feel the heat of his bare knuckles pressing against the skin of her lower belly.
Isn’t thata weird thing to notice at a time like this?she thought absently as she quickly replaced her dangling foot back onto the pier.
Probably not as weird as noticing how his shoulder muscles flexed with the effort of keeping them both from tumbling into the water.
But his wetsuit fits him like a second skin. How could Inotget distracted by all that twisted steel and sex appeal?
All this rumination happened in a split second, of course. Because, with a grunt and heave, Doc pulled her up and into the circle of his arms.
The duffel was between their upper bodies. Her overnight bag hung heavy against her hip. But there was nothing separating their lower halves. Her feet slipped next to his. Their thighs interlocked. And she could feel the uncompromising strength of his legs.
