Call To Redemption. Tawny Weber

of the world I usually live in.”

      Dominic lifted both her hands to his lips, brushing a warm kiss over the knuckles of one, then the other. He smiled, his mouth still warming her skin.

      “If it’s a fantasy you want, darling, it’s a fantasy I’ll give you. One you’ll never forget.”

      Uh-oh.

      Darby knew trouble when it was kissing her hand.

      But this was vacation.

      Her chance to prove that she had a life outside of work. A way to relax that she could actually enjoy.

      So what if the guy was trouble?

      Nobody was going to be hurt by this. They were both single, both free to enjoy themselves. And both interested, with a solid finish line already spelled out.

      It was perfect.

      For the first time in her life, she was ready to simply live in the moment. To grab on with both hands and ride it like a wild stallion, wringing every drop of pleasure there was to be had from it.

      Talk about work-life balance.

      Who knew it could feel so delicious.

       CHAPTER THREE

      BY THE END of dinner, Nic was mentally writing a thank-you note to whatever universal being had sent Darby his way. Fate, his guardian angel—and no way a man saw what he did and lived through it all without believing there was an angel watching over his ass—or, in his case, the god Poseidon, whom he’d pledged service to when he’d earned his trident.

      Whoever, whatever, there was no question that they were looking out for him. Darby wasn’t just stunning, she was intriguing. There was an edgy sophistication in her demeanor that pricked at his curiosity and engaged his mind. As easy to talk to as she was to look at, she had a husky laugh, a wicked sense of humor and an easy sexuality that spelled interesting things for this week of living a fantasy.

      Nic watched her lick the last smear of caramel from her spoon, liking the way she seemed to give her entire focus to enjoying experiences. Food. Drink. Flirting. So far, the woman seemed to embrace every sensual moment of them.

      “The band is good,” she observed as the music drifted up from the lanai.

      “They’ve got a solid reputation,” he agreed. Then, after a long moment, he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

      His hesitance didn’t stem from reluctance to hit the dance floor. It was simply a matter of not bursting the fantasy bubble before they’d even got naked. The lead singer of the band currently rocking out an island version of “Welcome to the Jungle” was his cousin. If they went downstairs, there was no way his identity—or rather, his career, which was one and the same—would stay secret.

      “Do you not like to dance?” Darby asked, resting her elbows on the table and leaning toward him with a teasing smile. “Are you self-conscious about your moves? Oh, I know. Maybe you’re one of those awkward, flailing dancers? Or do you give Frankenstein a run for his money?”

      She added a jerky, stiff-armed shimmy that made him laugh.

      “My moves are solid,” he assured her as he mimicked her stance to watch the candlelight dance highlights over her face. “And I promise, there’s nothing awkward about my body when I use it.”

      Her mouth rounded in an O, even as her eyes narrowed as if she was imagining just how that’d feel.

      Then, her hypnotic eyes locked on his, she arched one brow, pursed her lips and said, “Prove it.”

      For all the fantasy talk, he’d figured it’d take them a few days to build to a climax...so to speak. He hadn’t thought he’d be proving anything tonight. He’d left his rack-’em-and-stack-’em days behind a decade ago. But, dammit, he’d never been able to resist a dare.

      So, planning it out with the same quick thinking and detailed focus as he would any operation, Nic stood, holding out his hand to her.

      “Shall we?”

      “You’re going to show me your moves?”

      “They’ll leave you begging for more,” he promised.

      “I’ve got to warn you, I don’t usually dance with a partner.”

      “You have something against moving against a partner?”

      She gave a tut-tutting sigh even as she slipped her hand into his.

      “Sadly, I’ve yet to find a partner who has the right rhythm to match my moves.”

      Nic shot her a doubtful look and asked, “Are your moves really that awkward?”

      Appreciation and humor danced in those big whiskey eyes for a moment before challenge took their place. With her head tilted to the side, she locked her eyes on his and, taking a minute step forward, rose.

      Just close enough to hint at their bodies brushing against each other. His body tightened, heat kindling. The look in her eyes said she knew she had his interest, and she was deciding just exactly what she wanted to do about it.

      Nic liked that.

      He liked that a lot.

      It wasn’t just the appeal of a woman who could laugh at herself that turned him on—although that was sexy as hell.

      For a man whose entire life was built on overcoming challenges, was there any sexier allure than a woman whose expression promised that she was up to meeting any challenge he tossed her way with absolute assurance and confidence?

      As he drew her toward the railing, where they could better hear the music, the distraction he’d been searching for took on a whole new light.

      “Here?” Looking self-conscious for the first time, she glanced at the other diners. There were only four tables on the balcony, but they’d be the only ones dancing.

      “Here. Under the moonlight, away from the crowd. It’s all about the fantasy,” he assured her.

      Then, because it was, he drew her into his arms. Nic had never narrowed his interest to only one type of woman, but he realized as he pulled Darby close, that he’d never gone for petite. If he’d ever thought about it, he’d have figured the foot difference in their height would make dancing awkward.

      He’d have been wrong.

      As his hands skimmed down her back, sliding over the gentle curves of her butt, he realized just how wrong.

      She was the perfect fit.

      * * *

      OH, YEAH.

      Darby’s heart stuttered a little, almost tripping over itself in the shock of feeling Dominic’s body wrapped around hers.

      Music drifted up from the beach, the band’s rendition of “Iris” wrapping around them like a soft breeze off the moonlit ocean. A lesser woman might have called it romantic, especially with the heady scent of plumeria and candle wax filling the air.

      But Darby Raye was a hard-ass. Everyone said so.

      So she knew this wasn’t about romance.

      Nope, like Dominic had said, it was all about the fantasy.

      And the fantasy was sex.

      Sex, and, she could admit only to herself, a chance to simply let go. To enjoy herself without worrying about stepping on a man’s ego. To make her own demands.

      It was a heady feeling, she thought as she let her body ease against Dominic’s and, eyes closed, rested her head on his shoulder and let herself enjoy it.

      From the breadth of his rock-hard chest to the strength of his thighs to the gentle power of the arms wrapped around her waist, the man felt amazing.