Wicked Sexy. Anne Marsh

on the beach. They’d see him come back soaking wet, and they’d demand details he didn’t feel like sharing. And that was the kicker, wasn’t it? What should have been a simple walk on the beach and a summertime flirtation had morphed into one of the sexiest moments of his life.

      He couldn’t get over seeing Dani Andrews again after all this time.

      She was even more gorgeous today. Back then, she’d been just a girl, no matter how mature she’d pretended to be, all long hair and longer legs. Those big, brown eyes filled with hopes and dreams. When he’d met her on the beach that night, he’d picked her up and dusted her off—metaphorically speaking. Part of him had wanted to go after the guy that had hurt her feelings. Another part of him, though... That was the part that had done the kissing. The same part of him that had shown up again today.

      He should leave her alone.

      Problem was, she was sweeter than sweet and no doubt far too nice for a guy like him. She was exactly what he was not—all white picket fence and happily ever after. Meanwhile, he’d be leaving Discovery Island—again—in a few weeks, and that was nowhere near enough time for a woman like Dani.

      And yet he didn’t want to leave her alone. Not this time.

      As he crossed the wooden porch, the weathered boards creaked beneath his boots. The door opened fast and silent when he got a palm on it and pushed. Sure enough, Cal was waiting for him, feet propped up on the counter. The familiar smell of Neoprene and dampness filled the air. The front part of the building was dedicated to the diver training portion of Deep Dive’s agenda, holding racks of wet suits, tanks and weights. Whatever was needed to swim in the ocean, Deep Dive had it in spades.

      “You all done with the blonde?” Cal eyed the wet jeans but, good man, he kept the observation to himself.

      Daeg rummaged in his duffel and came up with a change of clothes. He had to smile, remembering that walk on the beach. “She’s finished with me.”

      “Bad luck.”

      “True enough.” Ignoring the commiserating grin, Daeg headed for Deep Dive’s command center before Cal could get the next question out of his mouth. Sometimes a tactical retreat was the only way to go.

      The steel-and-concrete-reinforced interior room was the heart and soul of Deep Dive’s operations. With bad weather inbound, today’s focus was on maintaining situational awareness, but that would switch to command and control when the storm hit. A floor-to-ceiling monitor displayed weather and radar maps, tracking both inbound and outbound vessels and weather. Cal had been granted permission to link into the local coast guard command center for incident notification and infrared cameras posted strategically around the island delivering real-time information about conditions on the ground.

      Surrounded by a bank of computers and monitors, Tag’s fingers flew across the keyboard as the man fed data into the geographic information system that would map the approaching storm and identify problem areas in Discovery Island’s sector. That was Tag. He’d catalog every weather front, every current and navigation chart. The ocean held no surprises for Tag.

      “You got a room booked for me?” While he waited for an answer, he shucked his wet denim and pulled on the dry pair of jeans.

      Tag nodded and pushed away from the desk. The chair wheels rolled over the cement floor with a squall of protest.

      “You sure you don’t want to stay put in Cal’s spare room?”

      Cal knew everyone and everything on the island. His loud, crazy family, complete with numerous aunts and uncles, a mother and father and four sisters, still lived just up the road from Deep Dive, and Daeg had wondered if the appeal of diving for Cal was the silence. Not that Cal didn’t love his family—there was no getting around the fact he was fiercely protective of them—but getting a word in edgewise was a challenge, particularly in the big, rambling house with what seemed like a hundred rooms jammed full of people.

      The Brennans had all but adopted him when he and Cal had met on the mainland at swim meets. He’d been an inner-city kid swimming in community pools. No dad in the picture and his mom working two jobs to make ends meet. When a car accident killed his mother, the Brennans took him in. No questions asked. Daeg appreciated that. He really did. They were the closest thing to a family that he had, but he didn’t want to field questions about his leg and his future, and they’d ask. Cal’s family always asked. Then they advised, argued and discussed. At length. Daeg needed some space.

      “I see you’re camping out here in the back room,” he pointed out, and Tag grinned, acknowledging the hit. Tag might not have visited the island before this summer, but even he had guessed the dangers of the Brennans’ good intentions.

      “It’s as well furnished as our San Diego place was,” he pointed out. The three of them had shared an apartment near the San Diego base, but the place had been little more than somewhere to crash between missions and none of them had bothered with decorating. The only furniture was a couple of futons and the racks where they stored their gear bags. They’d lived ready to roll out at a moment’s notice, and that had always worked well for Daeg.

      Cal showed up and jumped into the conversation. “Congratulations. You’re now a happy resident of Sweet Moon.”

      For the second time that day, Daeg took a trip down memory lane. While he’d never met Dani Andrews’s grandparents, he’d seen the couple a time or two. He’d also seen the place. From a distance. Yeah, he’d done his fair share of drooling from afar.

      “That the only spot you could hook me up with?”

      Tag smiled knowingly. The man had his suspicions about the blonde on the beach and Daeg’s current dress-code issues. “Problem with the digs already?”

      “Be nice to our boy, Cal. Doesn’t Sweet Moon have a reputation for serving up happily ever afters? Maybe he’s not in the market,” Tag joked.

      That was true. Daeg had more than enough on his plate, thank you very much. Hell, he’d had his hands full of trouble earlier today, and that was only part of the problem. Memories teased him. He instantly recalled Dani’s soft skin and the feel of her shoulders beneath his fingers. He was enjoying her right up until the minute she’d run out on him.

      “Absolutely not in the market.” He swiped the keys to his Jeep from his desk. He’d leave the Harley in town for now; bringing both vehicles over on the ferry might have been overkill. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll go check in.”

      His knee ached and he evened out his gait as much as he could as he headed for the door. He was off-kilter, the threatening rain putting a hitch in his stride.

      “Time to catch up with the blonde on the beach?” Cal’s voice was all tease and no sympathy. They were back to normal.

      Making a face at his partners, he left the command center.

      He popped the roof off the Jeep and drove, enjoying the wind tearing past his face. The storm moving in had a smell all its own, the metallic warmth of the spray and the sharper bite of sea salt. He wanted to be out there, riding the waves and surviving that rough swim. The ocean would make him fight for every stroke. Damn, he missed that.

      When Sweet Moon finally popped into view twenty minutes later, he almost didn’t recognize the motel. Time hadn’t been overly kind. The tiny front lodge was weather-beaten, the paint worn down to a seashell-pink color. Eight cabins were situated cheerfully around the main office, although a small army of stone cupids and amorous lawn ornaments arranged in precise rows had survived time’s test just fine. He had a sneaking suspicion that, if he counted, the cupids had actually been fruitful and multiplied.

      The car sitting next to the building announced someone was in, so he parked the Jeep and headed for the office.

      Home sweet home.

      * * *

      THE CORNY BELL Dani’s grandfather had strung up over the door jangled as the same person who’d torn up the drive too fast strong-armed his way inside. The door always jammed in