Undercover Pursuit. Susan May Warren

to rebuff him, because he had gone to the trouble of getting her to her sister’s dinner party.

      As if he might be a bona fide gentleman.

      “Why did she leave you a note and not me?” she shouted above the sound of the motor.

      “Maybe she did. You were in a big hurry to get to your room.” He grinned.

      She yanked a thick chunk of hair from where it had lodged in her mouth.

      “You look nice tonight, by the way.” Luke’s voice lifted above the motor’s roar, and she glanced at him. He nodded too enthusiastically, like her response to his invitation had gone to his head.

      Not a date. Not a date. “You, too.”

      The lights began to take form, and as the yacht came into view, Scarlett had to admit that international modeling must pay pretty well. The yacht resembled a small cruise ship, with three brightly lit decks rising from the sea to an observation deck…and was that a helicopter? Talk about overkill. But Bridgett never did anything in a small way.

      No wonder Duncan fell so easily for her—no, that wasn’t fair. Duncan happened to be a great guy, a man of faith and principles. He wasn’t marrying her sister for her money.

      Or her beauty.

      But was she marrying him because he was some safe rebound after her race-car driving or soccer-playing boy friends?

      Scarlett glanced at Luke, suddenly glad that she didn’t have to walk into dinner alone.

      Coward.

      Oh, yes. She even found a smile for Luke as the boat eased up to the stern of the yacht where they could disembark onto the deck. The motorboat seemed a toy next to the hulking ship. Two deckhands—bull-size men with the look of the sea about them—held the boat as Luke stepped out. He pulled her up behind him.

      “Here we go,” he whispered as he helped her up the steps onto the aft deck.

      A little too much help, if anyone asked her, but she let him keep his hand on the small of her back anyway, just because the bigger of the two men stopped them, holding a metal detector.

      And in his waistband…was that a gun? She glanced at Luke. To her surprise, he held up his hands.

      Then the deckhand stepped forward and wanded him. Luke just let him, as if this might be something he expected.

      Then the man stepped over to her and motioned for her to remove her jacket.

      “What is this?” She backed away but Luke shook his head ever so slightly.

      What on earth?

      She glared at the man as Luke helped her slip off her jacket, then stood back as the man ran the wand over her, too. C’mon, it wasn’t as though she could hide anything in a dress with spaghetti straps. The whole process made her feel dirty.

      And even a little betrayed by Luke, who settled the jacket back over her shoulders and reached for her hand. But how pitiful had she become that she practically leaped when he offered it? Yes, she was a coward.

      He pulled her close and curled her against him. “I know I don’t need to say this, but you’re truly a professional.”

      She had never been more offended in her life. Who, exactly, did he think she was? Just wait until she found Bridgett.

      She heard the party going on somewhere in front of them, laughter drifting down from the deck above. She’d never been on a boat this size, however, and she took her time walking along the side deck, watching the lights splash on the dark ocean, getting her sea legs.

      “This must have cost a fortune,” she murmured.

      “I think the family can afford it,” Luke said, still holding her hand, walking in front of her.

      “No, really, I don’t think they can.”

      He glanced back at her, the slightest frown on his face. They emerged on the bow of the yacht where a band played steel drums, filling the night with a tropical beat. A couple of waiters held trays of pretty drinks and dark-haired women in dresses that certainly wouldn’t have needed the wand danced together while men lounged on the chairs, laughing and smoking cigars.

      Uh, maybe there was more than one wedding party on this ship. “She’s not here. I think we have the wrong group,” Scarlett said into Luke’s ear.

      She didn’t let go of his hand, however. And bless him, he didn’t let go of hers, either. See, he was a gentleman after all. She might decide to like him, just for now, despite the coerced dating.

      He stopped a waiter and asked him something in Spanish. She tried to catch it but he had a much better grasp of the language than she did, clearly, because he talked so quickly she got nothing. The waiter gestured up another deck.

      “She’s in her stateroom waiting for us,” Luke said and pulled her toward the stairs.

      Stateroom?

      They found another group partying on the deck above. Not a familiar face here, either. She let Luke drag her to the back of the boat.

      As he knocked on the stateroom door, she turned and stood for a moment, staring out at the mysterious black sea, the stars pinpricks on the undulating surface. The music, the flicker of lightning in the distance, the low tremble of thunder—she had entered a different world. “I can’t believe Bridgett rented this. I mean, she’s normally over the top, but—”

      “What?” Luke sidled up beside her just as the door opened.

      Scarlett turned, expecting Bridgett. Instead, a woman with dark hair, wide brown eyes and very red lips stood in the doorway. She was petite, beautiful and wearing an off-white silk gown that left nearly nothing to the imagination.

      The woman glanced at Luke, then her gaze landed on Scarlett. What looked frighteningly like relief crossed her face.

      “Finally,” she said. Then she reached out and put her arms around Scarlett, hugging her as if she might be her long-lost friend. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

      Something didn’t feel right. Luke couldn’t put his finger on it, but ever since they boarded the yacht—from the panic on her face when Sanchez’s men wanded her, to her more-than-friendly grip on his hand, to the way her eyes widened when Lucia threw her arms around her—something about Scarlett seemed off.

      She had been briefed, right? And it seemed that when she’d slid her hand onto his arm back at the resort, she’d even settled into their charade, had put on her game face.

      Lucia grabbed Scarlett’s hand and pulled her inside.

      Luke followed and shut the door behind them. Wow, the drug business paid well. His tiny flat in Prague that he shared with Brody Wickham—he might be displaced soon, thanks to Brody’s recent engagement to pop sensation Vonya—would fit three times over in Lucia’s living room alone. Closed doors probably led to a bedroom and more. The place looked as if it should be in a showroom or a catalogue—a seafoam-blue sofa and overstuffed chair, cherrywood end tables, a giant flat screen on which played a soccer game. Opulence purchased with drug money.

      The lavish setting probably accounted for Scarlett’s wide-eyed look, which she cast first at Luke, then back at Lucia.

      He tried to dismiss this sense that something wasn’t quite right.

      “I don’t understand,” Scarlett said softly.

      Nope, there was no ignoring it any longer. Especially after Scarlett let go of his hand and said to the bride, the woman she’d been hired to protect, “Who are you?”

      Who are you?

      “This is Lucia, Scarlett. Lucia…the bride?” Luke said as calmly as he could.

      Scarlett put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back, her voice low. The wild look in her eyes—something between panic and fury, only tightened the knot in his