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“I don’t know if you need to go that far …” Andrea began.
Sloan grinned. “But it couldn’t hurt.”
“We wouldn’t want Brenna to compromise herself.” Uncertainty slid across Andrea’s face, and Brenna felt a surge of hope.
“Who’s talking about compromise?” Sloan argued. “I bet he’s great in bed.”
“His body certainly seems fit,” Andrea said slowly. “And he doesn’t lack for confidence.”
Sloan sent Andrea a knowing look. “Seducing the man of your dreams worked for you.”
“Hellooo? Guys?” Brenna’s tone rose in alarm as she dug in her heels and brought them all to a standstill. They really were going to throw her at the wolf’s feet. “Remember me? Don’t you think I should have some say in this plot of yours?”
“No,” Sloan said at once. “You’re too emotionally involved.”
“And you’re the one who was so passionate about this project,” Andrea added. “Don’t you want to save The Carolina and her treasure?”
That was hitting below the belt. “Gavin Fortune is not the man of my dreams!”
“You wound me deeply with your barbs, fair Irish queen.”
Brenna’s gaze shot to the circle of women where Gavin had been standing only moments before. The women were there, but no Gavin.
He was standing right behind her.
She whirled, and her sudden movement caused Sloan and Andrea to drop her arms. She was finally free, and she longed to run, but she found herself rooted to the spot, caught by the laughing hazel eyes of Gavin Fortune.
How much had he heard?
“I’m great in bed, by the way.” His smile turned wickedly inviting. “I’m an avid swimmer, and you know, it’s all about stamina.”
And despite comments like that one, her body leaned toward him. It was humiliating.
Hadn’t she laughed at him the last time she’d seen him? Hadn’t she vowed he’d killed her attraction with his ridiculous lies about his credentials?
But were they lies?
When she remained furiously mute, Sloan and Andrea introduced themselves. The three of them exchanged pleasant chatting while Brenna’s blood pressure rose, and she fought to remind her libido that she wasn’t hard up enough to remotely consider throwing herself at her enemy. Even to protect priceless treasures. Even though the fact that he was within touching distance made her fingers tingle.
Along with other, more intimate body parts.
“Still too intimidated to talk to me?” Gavin asked her.
Brenna glared at him. “Not hardly.”
“You found out I’m smarter than you, and sent over your real estate friend rather than deal with me.”
“What smarts?” Brenna returned through clenched teeth. “You lied about those degrees.”
“Did I?” His hazel eyes danced. “You don’t believe I know what I’m doing?”
No way was she going there. “I’m too busy to deal with you.”
“What a shame.” He leaned close enough that she could smell his enticing cologne and see the telltale gold flecks in his eyes. “I’d really like you to come back.”
She swallowed hard. “You would?”
“Sure.” He straightened, his expression smug. “If you don’t, Helen’s going to wind up selling me half the island.”
Brenna felt heat climb up her neck. “With all your ill-gotten gains, you could certainly afford it.”
“You bet I can,” he returned with equal resentfulness. “But I’m sure one sage quote from you via some boring English poet would change my life, make me see the error of my ways and get me to donate all my profits to some moldy museum.”
“Wow,” Andrea said, her tone awed. “Helen was right about you two.”
“You’d be smokin’ together,” Sloan agreed.
Brenna glared at her friends.
Andrea was an art historian and expert appraiser. Why wasn’t she the one forced to deal with the arrogant treasure hunter? Sloan was president of the historical society. She should have to listen to his come-ons and stubbornness.
Then, like an angel sent from heaven, she saw her salvation.
Another high school friend, Carr Hamilton, had started dating a tough-minded, always-armed FBI agent in the spring. Though gooey in love with Carr, her live-in boyfriend, Malina Blair was intimidating as hell to everybody else.
She was perfect.
Without a glance to those around her, Brenna darted to Malina’s side and rudely interrupted the welcome kiss between her and Carr.
“How do you feel about murder-for-hire?” she asked, relieved to note Malina’s sidearm was indeed in its holster.
Malina’s turquoise eyes widened, then turned speculative. “Depends on who I’m killing.” She paused, angling her head. “I assume I’m the killer in this scenario?”
Brenna grabbed her arm and tugged her toward the group surrounding Gavin Fortune. “Definitely.”
3
Brenna stood on Sloan’s back deck, her neck craned as she stared up at the stars.
The sticky summer heat lingered in the air, and though she’d be more comfortable inside with the air-conditioning, the party had long since lost its luster. If it ever had any.
She wished she could be launched to that star, the third from the right. It looked peaceful and welcoming.
And galaxies away from Gavin Fortune.
Clearly, there was no justice on this planet anymore. Even Malina was charmed by him. The kick-ass agent had patted Brenna’s shoulder and pronounced, “It’s not a crime to be a flirt.”
Brenna was on her own in her resentment and suspicion.
Hearing the back door open, then close, she didn’t have to turn to know who’d joined her on the deck.
And she wasn’t so far gone into melancholy that she didn’t realize she needed to draw first blood. “I don’t like you.”
He leaned against the railing beside her. “And all your friends do. That must really suck.”
“You have no idea.”
“Maybe you’re trying too hard not to like me?”
Eyes wide, she turned her head and stared at his profile. “Are you delusional?”
Not seeming at all offended, he angled his head in consideration. “I don’t think so, but then if I were, how would I know?”
“Is it any wonder I want to run in the opposite direction every time I see you?”
He leaned toward her. “Face it, you have the hots for me.”
“Sure I do,” she returned sarcastically, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart rate pick up speed. Propping her forearm on the deck railing, she forced herself to hold his gaze and move closer, until their faces were mere inches apart. “Probably because of all those compliments about me and everything I care about.”
“I’m a scientist,” he said, his gaze flicking to her lips. “I’m required by law to hate literature.”
“You don’t seem like much of a rule follower. Do you really hate all the classics? Or is it just not cool to read?”
“Dickens had his moments, and I do like Yeats, but I’m more of a modernist when it comes to pleasure reading.”
He really did have a gorgeous face. “Well, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t put down the things I like.”
“And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t judge me without even knowing me.”
When he licked his lips, she bit back a groan. “I’ll do my best.”
“Tell you what, if I keep my derogatory comments about English poets and long-winded nineteenth century literature to a minimum, will you participate in an experiment?”
“What experiment?”
“Kiss me.”
As her breath caught in her throat, her heart lurched to a stop. Were Sloan and Andrea right? Was she jumping to conclusions? Would she and Gavin be great together? Was there something to this honey and bees thing? Maybe, with their chemistry leading them, they could find common ground somehow.
He continued in a low Texas drawl, “I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since you stormed off the other day.”
She coughed to clear her throat. “You’ve been on my mind quite a bit, as well.”
His perfect teeth flashed in a smile. “Anything you want to mention, between the cuss words and name calling, that is?”
“Your degrees are imaginary.”
“Are they?” He seemed surprised.
“I had the historical society’s resident computer expert do a little research. She discovered your name change, by the way. Care to elaborate?”
“Fortune is descriptive—and sexy, don’t you think?”
That wasn’t an answer. A confirmation. Or a denial. Hmm … “It’s something, all right. I saw you talking to her earlier.”
“Who?”
“My computer expert—Penelope Waters.” Brenna narrowed her eyes. “Who you need to take off your radar instantly.”
“I don’t fool around with kids.”
“Or big-breasted waitresses.”
“For some reason, I find temperamental redheads fascinating all of a sudden. Are you going to let me kiss you or not?”
“I was waiting for you. Are you sure your lothario reputation is actually earned? Because so far—”
His mouth covered hers midrant. His lips were warm, persuasive, tasting appealingly of whiskey and sent a spark of desire shooting down her spine.
He cupped her jaw in his hand, angling her head to deepen the kiss, his tongue gliding against hers. She pressed her body to his, her hands clutching his soft cotton shirt as she fought to get closer.
Man, he felt amazing. She closed her eyes, shutting out her conscience, which was trying to remind her that she was kissing her opponent.
“I really don’t need this complication in my life at the moment,” he whispered hotly against her cheek.
“You’re hopelessly arrogant,” she returned, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her aching breasts against his firm chest.
“You’re too serious.” His lips moved over hers for another heated kiss. “And you could be a lot quieter.”
She was perfectly happy with the method he used to silence her.
He had a great mouth, and the hunger that twisted low in her belly spread and intensified. As his hands slid down her back to cup her butt and tug her against his erection, she moaned.
The heat that had flared briefly between them a few days ago raged into a white-hot fire, leaving her body throbbing, and incinerating every vow she’d made about keeping her distance from this man.
He not only had her motor revving, it was on the verge of blowing. Yet she didn’t do one-night stands. And she couldn’t imagine anything with Gavin Fortune lasting beyond one night.
They were adversaries at best, stone-cold enemies at worst.
This same thought seemed to occur to him at the exact second it did her, since they both jumped back simultaneously.
“We can’t do this,” he said, his breathing harsh and choppy as he stared in disbelief at her.
“You started it,” she snapped, annoyed that she wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms.
“Me? You were all over me.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Delusional. You were the one who proposed the experiment.”
