One Night to Risk it All. Maisey Yates

“Fine. I’ll go talk to him,” she said. “Talk to. Not orgasm with. Lower that suggestive eyebrow of yours.”

      “Okay. And I’ll be close. So if you...you know, need anything, text.”

      “Also I have mace,” Rachel said. “Ajax insisted.”

      She winced as she mentioned her fiancé’s name. But she wasn’t going to do anything, not really. She was just going to go talk to Shirtless Sailor Stud. She wasn’t going to do anything inappropriate.

      It was all about having a moment. Just a moment. To be brave and reckless, and not so much like the Rachel she’d been this past decade. To know what it was like to chase a moment that wasn’t bound up in the expectations of other people.

      Just a moment. To talk to a guy because she thought he was cute. Nothing more.

      She took a breath and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Wish me...well, not luck exactly.”

      Alana winked. “Get lucky.”

      “No. I’m not cheating on Jax.”

      “Okay,” Alana said.

      “I’m not.” The very idea was laughable. There were people who were like that. Bold people who went around carpe-ing diems all over the place. But that wasn’t her. Not anymore. She wasn’t sure that had ever been her. Her rebellious years had been just that. Rebellion. Not just a desire for freedom, but a desire to push against the bonds that had always held her in place. Until she’d realized just how much that behavior affected other people. Just how much it could affect her. Not just her present, but her entire future.

      But just saying hi wasn’t so bad. There was no harm in giving herself a moment to bask in the heat that this stranger gave off.

      “Riiiight,” Alana said.

      “Shush.” Rachel turned and walked toward the dock, her hands shaking, her body rebelling in every way against what she was about to do. Sweaty palms, heart beating so fast she was pretty sure she was going to faint, mouth watering with sickness. Yep, the signs to run and preserve herself were all there.

      But she ignored them.

      She looked back at Alana one more time, who was standing at the wall still, watching. Then she turned back to her target.

      She would just say hi. And maybe flirt. Just a little harmless flirting. She half remembered how that went. She’d been a master of the tease back in the day. Batting her eyes and touching a guy’s shoulder, all while never intending to do anything more than use his interest to boost her ego. It had been a game then. Fun.

      Why not revisit it? This was her last hurrah before her marriage. A chance to hang and shop with Alana. A little time to decompress, loll by the beach, watch chick flicks in her hotel room, then enjoy a charity gala. All without her family or Ajax around.

      This was just a part of that. A little time off from being Rachel Holt, beloved media figure. Rachel Holt, who was doing her best to represent her family, to do what was right.

      She needed some time to just be Rachel. Not New Rachel. Not Old Rachel, either. Just Rachel.

      She stopped in front of the yacht and took a deep breath that was choked off.

      Then she looked up, and her gaze crashed into the most electric blue eyes she’d ever seen. Followed by a slow, wicked smile, a flash of bright white teeth on dark skin. He was even more beautiful up close. Utterly arresting. He pushed dark curls out of his eyes and the motion made his muscles flex. A show just for her. And her hormones stood and applauded. And cheered for an encore.

      Stupid hormones.

      “Are you lost?” he asked, his English heavily accented. The same accent as Ajax’s. Greek. And yet it didn’t sound the same. It wasn’t as refined. It had a rough edge that abraded against something deep inside her. Struck against the hard, dry places inside of her and set off a shower of sparks that sat smoldering, building.

      And all that over three words. She was doomed if she did anything other than walk away.

      But she didn’t. She stayed rooted to the spot.

      “Um...I was...I was just there,” she gestured back to the wall where she’d been standing with Alana, who was now absent. “And I saw you.”

      “You saw me?”

      “Yes.”

      “Was there a problem?”

      “I...” she said, stumbling over her words. “Not a problem, no. I just noticed you.”

      “Is that all?”

      He put his foot up on the metal railing that surrounded the deck then jumped down onto the dock, the motion fluid, shocking and...darn hot.

      “Yes,” she said. “That’s all.”

      “Your name?”

      “Rachel Holt.”

      She waited. For recognition to flash through his eyes. For him to get excited at being in front of someone who had a certain level of media fame. Or for him to turn away. People did one of those two things. Rarely anything else.

      But there was no recognition. Nothing.

      “Well, Rachel,” he said, that voice a rush of liquid that pooled low in her body, “what is it you noticed about me?”

      “That, um...you were hot,” she said. She’d never been so forward with a man in her life. Though, honestly, she wasn’t sure if she was being forward or being an idiot. She was good with people. The consummate hostess. Everyone, even the vicious press, liked her. A reputation that had been carefully cultivated—and fiercely guarded.

      But she was a lot more experienced at offering people cold beverages than she was at offering them her body.

      He arched one dark brow. “That I was hot?”

      “Yeah. Haven’t you ever had a woman come on to you before?” Her face was burning and she couldn’t blame the afternoon sun. She wasn’t supposed to be hitting on him, and yet these were the words leaving her mouth.

      Stupid mouth. Almost as stupid as her hormones.

      “Yes, but not in quite such a charming way. Did you have an end goal in mind for this?”

      “I thought...” Suddenly she did. Suddenly she wanted everything, all at once, with this stranger. Wanted to touch him, kiss him, feel his fingertips forge a trail of fire over her bare skin as he took her to levels of ecstasy she’d never believed were possible for her to want, let alone feel. “I thought we could have a drink.” A drink. A cold beverage. That was back in her comfort zone and maybe a bit smarter. Especially since she didn’t even know his name. “What’s your name?” she asked, because since she was engaging in naked fantasies about the man, it seemed polite to ask.

      “Alex,” he said.

      “Just Alex?” she asked.

      He lifted a shoulder, the muscles in his chest shifting with the motion. “Why not?”

      Why not, indeed? It wasn’t as though there was any reason for him to be anything else. Who cared what his last name was? She’d never have occasion to use it. She’d never introduce him at a party, or need to refer to him in conversation. She’d never see him after today.

      “Good point. So, a drink? Or...would your boss get mad?”

      “My boss?”

      “The owner of the yacht.”

      He frowned and looked behind him, then back at her. “Oh. No, he’s gone up to Athens for a few days. I’m just supposed to check in on things now and again. No need to stay tied to the dock.”

      “I suppose not. You won’t float away.” She laughed, then felt immediately stupid. Like she’d regressed to being an eighteen-year-old girl rather than a twenty-eight-year-old