Wicked Heat. Kelli Ireland

CHAPTER FOUR

      WAVES ROCKED THE 109-foot catamaran, the slap of water against the fiberglass hull soft. Rhythmic. Every now and then, the breeze would gather enough momentum that the sails swelled and billowed. The fabric would snap taut only to fall back to its lethargic default when the winds quieted. Clouds were sparse—brilliant white against the endless azure sky. If the Garden of Eden had been anything like this particular slice of paradise, Adam had been a fool to risk it all over a mediocre piece of fruit. For Eve, though? Particularly if she’d looked anything like Ella...

      “I’d have eaten brussels sprouts if she’d offered,” he murmured.

      Ella had started the trip by grilling the dive instructors, asking for everything from credentials to referrals. The poor men had been overwhelmed, though she hadn’t understood why. And wasn’t that just like her. She was everything brilliant and strong and professional...yet kind...and wearing a bikini. The poor dive instructors had been tripping over themselves to satisfy her every request. If they knew how the woman kissed? They’d be lost—land or sea, it wouldn’t matter.

      As for himself? Well, he’d simply watched with avaricious appreciation as she took off the short dive suit and revealed the little number beneath. Thankfully, she hadn’t required anything of him. Even so, they hadn’t cleared the outermost harbor buoys before he’d lost the little bit of temper he’d packed for the afternoon.

      “For God’s sake, Ella,” he bit out. “Leave the men to their jobs. I’m certain your questions will be answered in due course, either by the instructors or through the experience.”

      Ella’s chin had set, and she’d shot him a sharp look. “I get your point, Liam. I’m annoying him by doing my job. Let me make something perfectly clear now, before we go any farther. You seem like you’d be the type who’s more comfortable dealing with women as accessories. That’s fine if it’s okay with the women in question. But I’m absolutely not that woman. I don’t require a man to intervene, to handle the difficult tasks—the proverbial heavy lifting. Thanks for feeling the need here, but I’m good. If you think I should retire to the deck and lie back, get a little sun and let the men do their jobs, think again.” She smiled sweetly at Liam. “Unless you’re willing to join me.”

      “Well, shit,” he muttered. “Insult my manhood when I’m just trying to help you relax. What’s the old saying? ‘Out of the frying pan—’”

      “Oh, you have no idea the fire you’ve just waltzed into,” she murmured, retrieving a glass of punch offered by the boat’s deckhand. “See, if you had grown up in the United States, Smokey the Bear would have taught you not to play with fire unless you were prepared to get burned. But after that interruption? You better hope there’s a first aid kit onboard, because I’m about to blister your ass.”

      “Foreplay in such a public manner?” Liam teased. “I’ll take my chances.”

      She grinned into her cup. “You’re just that type, aren’t you?”

      “What type is that?”

      Shaking her head, she wandered over to an unclaimed space on the deck and lay down before shooting him a quick, devilish look. “You know—the type to make things a little public.”

      He sank down beside her, propped himself up on one arm and leaned over her, seeing his reflection in her sunglasses a split second before his subconscious made the decision his conscious mind would’ve eventually landed on. He kissed her. Quick. All heat and passion, without apology and certainly without regret. He’d only had the one taste of her, but he craved more. She was an instant addiction.

      Breaking away, he smiled down at her. The stunned look on her face sent a thrill through him. Seducing her, or being seduced by her, would be worth every effort. Or almost any compromise. So she was clear, however, he leaned closer and said, “I don’t mind public displays of affection.”