Twelve Hours of Temptation (16 page)

Get to the point, Ella.

‘I just...I wondered if you could confirm for me, why it’s necessary for us to be snorkel buddies? If I’m only going to be a few yards from the boat?’

‘Right.’

The word rumbled out and seemed to echo in her abdomen. He muttered something under his breath, then tugged off his captain’s cap, revealing curls of thick sun-streaked hair damp with sweat flattened against his forehead.

‘What I can confirm...’ he slapped the cap against his thigh, the smile becoming more than a little sheepish ‘...is that May Preston’s got one hell of a big mouth. Which I’m going to be having words with her about as soon as she gets back aboard this boat.’

‘It’s true?’ Ella’s eyes widened, her jaw going slack. ‘You really did make it up? But why would you do that?’

* * *

Cooper Delaney watched the pretty English girl’s baby blues grow even larger in her delicate, heart-shaped face—and began to wonder if he was being taken for a ride.

Shy and hot and totally lost, with that tempting overbite, and her lush but petite figure, Ella Radley had looked cute and sort of sad when he’d spotted her at the back of the boarding line an hour ago. Then her skin had flushed a ruddy pink as soon as he’d so much as smiled at her and she’d totally captivated him.

That nuclear blush had been so damn cute, in fact, that he’d been momentarily mesmerised and the snorkel-buddy rule had popped into his head and then spilled out of his mouth without his brain ever even considering intervening.

But seriously? Could any woman really be this clueless? Even if she did have eyes big enough to rival one of the heroines in the manga comic books he’d been addicted to in middle school? And her nipples peaked under her sundress every time he so much as glanced at her rack? And her cheeks seemed to be able to light up on cue?

No way. No one was that cute. It had to be an act.

But if it was an act, it was a damn good one. And he could respect that, because he’d dedicated his life to putting on one act or another.

Unfortunately, act or no, she’d caught him out but good.

Thanks a bunch, May.

He resigned himself to taking his punishment like a man, and hoped it didn’t involve a slap in the face—or a sexual harassment suit.

‘If I said because you looked like you could use the company,’ he began, hoping that humour might soften the blow, ‘would you buy it?’

The instant blush bloomed again—lighting up the sprinkle of freckles on her nose. ‘Oh, yes, of course, I thought it might be something like that.’ She shielded her eyes from the sun, tipping her chin up. ‘That’s very considerate of you, Captain Delaney. But I wouldn’t want to put you out if you’re busy. I’m sure I’ll manage fine on my own.’

It was his turn for his eyes to widen at the earnest tone and the artless expression on her pixie face.

Damn, did she actually just buy that? Because if this was an act, it ought to be Oscar nominated.

No one had ever accused him of being considerate before. Not even his mom—and he’d worked harder at fooling her than anyone, because she’d been so fragile.

‘The name’s Coop,’ he said, still not convinced that he’d got off the hook so easily, but willing to go with it. ‘Believe me. I’d be happy to do it.’ He tried to emulate her earnest expression. Although he figured it was a lost cause. He’d learnt at an early age to hide all his emotions behind a who-the-hell-cares smile, which meant he didn’t have a heck of a lot of practice with earnest.

Her lips curved and her overbite disappeared. ‘Okay, if you’re absolutely sure it’s not a bother.’ The blue of her eyes brightened to dazzling. ‘I accept.’

The smile struck him dumb for a moment, turning her expression from cute to super-hot but still managing to look entirely natural. Then she bounced up to pull her sundress over her head. And the punch of lust nearly knocked him sideways.

Bountiful curves in all the right places jiggled enticingly, covered by three pitifully tiny triangles of purple spandex that left not a lot to the imagination—and had that cheesy sixties tune his mom used to sing on her good days about a teeny-weeny polka dot bikini dancing through his head.

Damn but that rack was even hotter than her smile. Her nipples did that bullet-tipped thing again and he had to grit his teeth to stop one particular part of his anatomy from becoming the total opposite of teeny-weeny.

But then she turned, to drop her dress into the purse she had stowed under the dash, and he spotted the patch of sun-scorched flesh that spread out between slim shoulder blades and stretched all the way down to the line of her panties.

‘Ouch, that’s got to hurt,’ he murmured. ‘You need a higher factor sun lotion. The rays can be brutal in Bermuda even in April.’

She whisked around, holding the dress up to cover her magnificent rack—and the nuclear blush returned with a vengeance. ‘I have factor fifty, but unfortunately I couldn’t reach that spot.’

He scrubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin, playing along by pretending to consider her predicament. ‘Well, now, that sounds like a job for your snorkel buddy.’

A grateful smile lit up her face, and he almost felt bad for taking advantage of her...until he remembered this was all some saucy little act.

‘That would be fabulous, if you don’t mind?’ She reached back into her tote and pulled out some lotion.

Presenting her back to him, she lifted the hair off her nape as he squeezed a generous amount of the stuff, which had the consistency of housepaint, between his palms, and contemplated how much he was going to enjoy spreading it all over her soft, supple, sun-warmed skin.

Well, hell... If he’d known the good-guy act came with these kind of benefits, he’d have given it a shot more often.

Copyright © 2014 by Heidi Rice

ISBN-13: 9781460331583

TWELVE HOURS OF TEMPTATION

Copyright © 2014 by Shoma Narayanan

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