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He jerked his gaze back up to her face. “We’ve got to talk.”

* * *

FEET BRACED, LEGS APART, Cal Brennan made himself at home on Piper’s deck, nothing but challenge in his gaze as he waited for her to finish checking him out. He was magnificent. And mildly pissed off, which was pretty much the usual state of affairs between her and Cal. Of course, her soaking him when she’d buzzed past him into the marina might explain his foul mood. Faded jeans clung to a pair of powerful legs, and an old cotton T-shirt stretched over broad shoulders. Dog tags flashed as he turned his head to track her. Cal had never needed power suits to scream, “in charge.” He moved smoothly, confidently, as he came closer, his bare feet silent on the deck after his initial gunshot-loud landing. Behind him, down the dock, she caught a glimpse of a Harley parked in the street near her dive shop. Cal’s black low-rider bike screamed, “race me,” followed by, “take me.” And, while she’d never considered Cal as dating material, she had to admit he was hot.

Really, really hot.

“We need to talk,” he repeated and his patronizing, self-assured tone did a great job dampening the desire blazing a hot path through her belly. His eyes dropped briefly to her breasts again—darn it—then returned to her face. Like he was taking inventory and nothing more.

Right. The words coming out of his mouth were perfectly pleasant, but he clearly intended to do all the talking—while she did all the listening. That wasn’t how she lived anymore. She wasn’t six years old to his ten, any more than she was still a teenage diver bombarded by coaching advice. She was a businesswoman now. A grown woman.

Even if being near him made certain parts of her feel like a teenager.

“I’m listening,” she said neutrally because there was no point in pissing this man off before she had to. Plus, gazing at him was no hardship. If she was objective (which she usually wasn’t when it came to Cal), he looked every bit as sexy as his bike.

Not going there. Swiping her bikini top from her dive bag, she got busy with the ties. While she didn’t particularly care about the peep show she’d given him—you got used to stripping down on the dive boat and skin was just skin—she didn’t need to introduce the whole male-female thing to this conversation or tempt her hormones any further.

He approached swiftly, inserting himself into her personal space before she could protest. Big, callused fingers brushed the nape of her neck.

“Lift,” he ordered. His low, sexy, I’m-in-charge-and-we-both-know-it rasp almost made her forget she’d known Cal for twenty years and liked him for none of that time. She was in so much trouble.

Obediently, she lifted the wet tail of hair while she considered the merits of turning and kneeing him in the balls. Which would be, she decided, a waste. Her body was screaming for satisfaction of a completely different kind, which made no sense at all. She didn’t like Cal.

“You search me out for a reason? Or did you just stop by for the peep show?” She was proud of herself for calmly getting the words out. She didn’t sound like her hormones were rioting at all.

“I’ll pick option A.” His voice rumbled in her ear as he bent his head and tested the knot he’d made in her bikini top. “I hear you’re bidding on the Fiesta Cruise Lines contract.”

Fiesta Cruise Lines wanted a local dive shop to run trips for cruise ship clients. Since Fiesta put in one ship a week at Discovery Island, and they’d promised a minimum of twenty divers to start with, the contract was worth a significant chunk of change.

“My interest is no secret.”

“Business is booming?”

Her balance sheet wasn’t his business. She certainly wasn’t going to admit the dive shop she co-owned with her former diving coach wasn’t precisely bringing in the bucks. “What do you think?” she asked, turning away from him.

He was silent for a moment. Watching, of course, and probably plotting some terribly efficient course of action. Whatever Cal thought he saw, however, remained a mystery to her.

“I think business has been down on the island overall,” he said finally, unfortunately coming to precisely the right conclusion, like he always did. That was one of the most annoying things about Cal. He usually was right.

He shifted until he was blocking her path to the dock, unless she crawled over him, which she hadn’t done since she was seven. Or maybe nine. Their competitive moments blurred together. What she did know was that she had no plans for full-body contact with him today.

Today.

Whoa. Wrong idea. More clothes would have been good or perhaps a suit of armor. She’d never had the urge to think about Cal naked before. Cal’s family owned half the island, and he was the prodigal son who’d come home six months ago after a glorious stint in the military. He’d fought the battles and had the medals and the scars to prove it. She didn’t doubt his heroism, but his timing was rotten. She’d come back to Discovery Island two years ago herself to do some starting over and having Cal around now wouldn’t make her job any easier. Somehow, she rubbed him the wrong way and he returned the favor. The last thing she needed was his brooding self backseat driving or paying any attention at all to her plans for the dive shop.


Tags: Anne Marsh Men of Discovery Island Erotic