Risking Delaney. Rhonda Leah

      “Ah.” She was at his side picking up the pole he’d baited. The sparks that flew between them were almost tangible. “A challenge. That I can see you enjoying.”

      Head cocked to the side to avoid the sun, she stared at him with those incredible eyes. “Not that I will pretend to know you.”

      You do, he wanted to say. They had connected in a way he didn’t understand, when it came right down to it. She’d pretty much read him like a book from the time he’d stalked into the hotel bar.

      “You’ve got it right anyway. I’m always up for a challenge.”

      The desire that flashed in her eyes matched his.

      “Ever done this?” he asked as he lifted the other pole. He attached the tackle to his side and started toward the water.

      “Surf fish? Not in years.”

      “You’ve been surf fishing before?” he choked out as the warm Gulf water surrounded his legs. The salt-tinged air filled his lungs. She nodded and eased into the water beside him.

      Delaney Breaux was full of surprises.

      * * * *

      The water was warm and welcoming as it swirled around Delaney’s legs. After a few minutes, she felt confident and relaxed. She’d grown up around the waters of south Louisiana, and even though she hadn’t surf fished in many years, after a few test casts she had the hang of it.

      “Looks like you’ve done this a time or two?” Brock asked a few minutes later.

      “My family has a camp on the coast, so we went often when I was growing up.”

      The pole bent sharply downward The muscles in his arms tightened and flexed as he reeled in the catch. He was definitely easy on the eyes.

      When one topped the water, they both laughed.

      “He sure put up a big fight for a little guy,” she said.

      “Yup.” Brock easily unhooked and released the fish.

      A catchy country tune filtered through the air, and she let the waves rock her gently to the music. The sun was high and bright. She brought in the biggest catch of the day. When all was said and done, they had two nice redfish that Brock said he would turn into dinner.

      They cast out and reeled in mostly in silence, listening to the radio he had brought along.

      She swiped at her shorts as she walked out of the water.

      “You look beautiful,” he said.

      A short burst of laughter escaped her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

      The wicked twist of his lips made her insides flutter. “Completely honest. I love an outdoor girl.”

      “I’m not.”

      “You look like one. You fish like one.”

      She shook her head. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you looks can be deceiving?”

      Although her clothes were mostly wet and her hair twisted into a knot, contentment outweighed her worry of her physical appearance. Those were two dangerous feelings to have in the company of bad boy Brock Chandler.

      She’d never been an outdoor kind of girl, but being with him relaxed her. And something about Chandler Bayou made her feel at home. When she kicked off her shoes, the sand under her toes warmed her feet.

      “Nothing about you is deceiving. You enjoyed yourself today,” Brock said.

      “Maybe. A little.”

      “A lot.”

      Shoulders squared, she marched over to where he was putting gear into the thing he called a Mule. It looked more like a golf cart on steroids to her.

      His hair glistened, became an almost golden color. As he loaded the gear, the muscles on his bare back flexed, making her mouth go dry. He stopped and turned, a hint of a smile on his face. “What are you doing over there?”

      She licked her lips. “Watching you. At least you were smart enough to wear swim trunks.”

      “I had an advantage. I knew where we were going.” He handed her a container of baby powder. “This will knock the sand off.”

      “At least you were nice enough to tell me to put on a t-shirt, even though it’s soaked.” She gave him a thoughtful look. “Of course, maybe that was what you were after.”

      His smile lit his entire face. “Maybe. Here. You can wear mine.”

      Delaney took the dry shirt he offered, pulled it over her head and held it out far enough so she could extract herself from her shirt. Brock laughed. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen.”

      “We are in broad daylight. Anyone could stumble upon us.”

      “Come on.” He tossed her wet shirt in the cooler and handed her onto the seat. “I want to show you something.”

      Their flirtatious banter was the most fun she’d had in ages.

      She’d only gotten a small taste the real Brock before. He had a larger than life personality and the feelings he evoked in her were downright overwhelming.

      They drove for a few miles, and the bumpiness of the road ensured they remained in close proximity. Brock parked at a concrete piling and pulled binoculars from the rear view mirror. He led her to the side of the piling, where there was a makeshift stairway of concrete block.

      “Step up to the top,” he said, and held her hand for support as she climbed. Heat flashed from her hand to the already tense spot between her legs.

      At the top with her, he held the binoculars to his eyes.

      “Here.” He handed them over and leaned around, wrapping her in his arms. “Look, right below the fallen cypress.” His chin rested against her ear, his breath was a whisper on her neck. A shiver danced up her spine.

      She looked, and if he had not been there she might have stumbled. “Wow, they’re close. Is it safe to be here?”

      He took the binoculars. “You can see them without these. I wanted you to see her up close.”

      “Her? You know this alligator personally, do you?”

      He laughed. “She’s been in this same area of the swamp for years. I like to watch her sometimes.”

      “You can’t know it’s the same alligator every time.”

      “Yeah, let me show you.” He lifted the binoculars back to her eyes. “She has a six or seven inch ridge behind her right eye.”

      She laughed. “You could have seen the mark just now. If she’s here, there must be dozens of others around here too.”

      “Hundreds. I guess you think this is pretty lame entertainment?”

      Actually, she was enjoying herself. “No, I think bird watching would be safer.”

      “But I live for danger.”

      She wasn’t ready for the real Brock Chandler, and might never be.

      “I need a shower. Can we go back now?” she said, pulling out of his arms.

      * * * *

      Hours later, at his place, Brock checked the fish and moved it to the side of grill to keep warm. On his way through the kitchen he poked the potatoes with a fork and pulled the salad out of the refrigerator.

      Now all he needed was Delaney. He grabbed his keys from the counter and headed to the back door. A knock sounded from the front of the house, and he retraced his steps, opened the door.

      “I…uh. Here.” She held out a covered dish. “I brought dessert.”

      “I was thinking maybe you’d be dessert.”