Bait Read online

  “Or?” Wyatt had become acquainted with his newest agents over the past months. He felt certain Livingston would prefer being re-assigned to Antarctica over doing it “old school.”

  “Well, you’re in charge, of course,” she continued, her eyes wide. “But I think our original plan can still work.”

  “You have someone in mind, Deputy?”

  “Yes, Boss. You, Boss.”

  Wyatt had come to the same conclusion. Knowing it appeared to be their best option didn’t stop the hair rising on the back of his neck. “Already under consideration.” Without waiting for either deputy to respond, he turned back to the large picture window and the heavy rain that continued to fall. “Briefing at zero seven hundred hours.”

  With hurried goodbyes, the agents got to their feet, gathered their belongings, and scurried out into the storm.

  Left alone with his thoughts, Wyatt watched the rain form rivulets as it raced down the glass. Jenna was likely now comfortable and dry. Resisting the urge to check on her, he turned his back on the elemental crescendo outside, flipped off the main lights, and headed out of the room.

  Walking past the kitchenette, he reached the second bedroom and stopped. He mentally replayed the day’s events and how quickly Jenna had dived in after his agent—even with the dangerous-looking surf. The jury may still be out on her involvement in Lowell’s business affairs, but her attempt to save Walton was not the action of an ambitious, amoral sophisticate.

  Nor were his reactions to the petite beauty those of a seasoned law enforcement officer concerned only with completing his mission.

  What the hell is wrong with me? He’d come across many attractive women during his eleven years with the Agency. Not one of them had affected him like Jenna Alexander.

  Admittedly her feminine curves, big brown eyes, and generous mouth were sexy. Had they met under different circumstances, he would have found the quickest route into the woman’s bed. But Jenna was the best lead they had to successfully close their case. Common sense alone took her off his short list, regardless of how hard just the thought of her made his manhood.

  He and his team had arrived on the island with a dossier full of unflattering observations and glamorous photos of her—champagne flute in hand—tucked under her shady fiancé’s tuxedoed arm. In the flesh the woman was a contradiction; her apparent enjoyment in her natural surroundings, her headlong dive into rough waters, her interactions with the young family…

  Even considering his strong attraction to the woman, something didn’t add up. First thing tomorrow he would contact a few connections he had in DC and request a deeper dig on Jenna. But even if she were cleared as either suspect or witness, it shouldn’t matter on a personal level. Unhappy with his thoughts, Wyatt retraced his steps and headed for the mini bar.

  Sleep would not come easy tonight.

  ****

  The storm marched across the island most of the night with dawn bringing the slumbering resort awake to crisp, fresh air. After her morning jog, Jenna changed into a mint-green bikini, snagged a bottle of water, and headed down to the ever-beckoning ocean. She had just chosen her spot when she heard her name. Several yards away Sheila waved enthusiastically while her son piled tall mounds of sand onto his father’s inert body. Grinning, Jenna waved back and positioned her lounger to better enjoy the family’s antics.

  The pleasant exertion of her morning run and the carefree noise of beach activities soon had her relaxing, her mind drifting on the hypnotic rise and fall of waves much more soothing than yesterday’s. As her eyes began to grow heavy, her lids fluttered shut, the utter tranquility permeating her consciousness until the sounds around her began to fade…

  “You look well.”

  The deep timbre of a masculine voice floated across Jenna, leaving behind tingles of awareness. Opening her eyes, she focused on the face parallel to hers, his eyes shielded by dark shades but still recognizable.

  He looks pretty healthy himself.

  A well-defined jawline and stern-looking profile contrasted sharply with the thick, black hair framing his face.

  Her heart thumped. “Um, thanks.” Her voice vibrated with its own husk. “You look good—I mean well yourself. How’s Kenny?”

  “I’d wager more embarrassed than harmed.” He settled on the sand beside her, the short sleeves of his white cotton shirt digging into his arms.

  “Oh? Why?”

  His shades lowered to run the length of her bikini-clad body. “The man almost drowned trying to rescue a doll to impress you.”

  “Did Kenny tell you that?”

  The reflective lenses paused on her mouth for several moments. When his sunglasses moved back on level with her eyes, he shook his head. “Didn’t have to. I hadn’t been on the beach five minutes when the kid started screaming bloody murder, and I saw your Kenny take off to save the day.”

  “Then he was wasting his time,” she concluded, her lips warming as though caressed. Turning her head away from him, she looked back at the water. “And he’s not my Kenny.”

  “Oh? You here with someone else?”

  Heat danced under her skin, but when she answered her tone was level. “No, but it doesn’t matter. I’m just not interested.”

  “Guys like Kenny interest every woman.”

  She shifted back to once again see her own sunglass-covered features reflected in his lens. “Shows how much you know women.”

  He shrugged. “No complaints so far.”

  I bet. When she could think of nothing to say, she turned and looked back at the waves. The silence stretched into minutes before Wyatt shattered the lull with ruthless efficiency.

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “W-what?” She turned to look at him.

  “Dinner. You and me. Tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” The man was intriguing in a Gerard Butler/The Rock kind of way, but anything beyond a harmless flirtation was not in her plans. And there was nothing harmless about Wyatt Stone. “I appreciate the invite, but I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “I came here to relax and enjoy the island.”

  “You can’t relax and enjoy the island with me?”

  “I have no opinion either way.” She shrugged, her brow creasing. “We shared an unusual experience, but I don’t know you. I’m not in the habit of sharing meals with men I don’t know.”

  “Wise woman.” He nodded. “Are you free tomorrow at two?”

  “Excuse me?” She stared at the lenses that continued to block his eyes.

  As though sensing her thoughts, he reached up and removed his sunglasses. “You don’t know me.”

  “I just said that.”

  “Spend a couple of hours with me playing tourist. You should know me well enough by dinner time.”

  “You’ve certainly got balls.”

  One black eyebrow arched upward. “You don’t like balls?”

  “Funny.” She fought to keep the smile off her face. “What did you have in mind?”

  “A short tour. No pressure. No strings. If you don’t want to share a meal with me after, I’ll leave you alone.” With an economy of motion, he pushed his shades back over his eyes and got to his feet, the muscles of his thighs surging. “Deal?”

  She ignored the warning bells clanging in her mind and capitulated. “Why the hell not?”

  “Exactly. Two o’clock. I’ll meet you at the front entrance.” He pivoted and headed up the beach.

  Jenna watched his broad shoulders, long legs, and firm butt as long as she could. When Wyatt rounded a curve in the beach and disappeared from sight, she finally looked away to find Sheila watching her. With a smile reminiscent of her young son’s, Sheila flipped two thumbs up.

  Jenna’s laugh rang out. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and concentrated on enjoying the beach, even as tiny licks of pleasure settled in her belly and stayed there well into the night.

  ****

  Monday morning Jenna awoke to the warm caress of sunlight slanting between the blinds and the rhythmic sound of the surf caressing the earth. Wyatt’s overt masculinity continued to prowl around in her mind, which had left restful sleep beyond her reach until the wee hours.

  The thought of spending the afternoon with him added extra oomf to her morning jog. Following her run with a cooling dip in the ocean, Jenna enjoyed a leisurely shower and a light lunch. When it was time, she changed into jeans and a sleeveless, chambray shirt before pulling on comfortable cross trainers and heading out to meet Wyatt.

  He was the first person Jenna saw when she rounded the side of the white stucco reception building. She watched as he passed cash to the young man standing with him and took the keys the man offered. With a wide grin on his face, the young man patted a large and pristine scooter parked at the curb, threw Wyatt a three-fingered salute, and walked away.

  Wyatt was still smiling when he spotted Jenna. Gone were the enigmatic rescuer and inscrutable stranger. The Wyatt wearing tight jeans and a well-worn T-shirt seemed relaxed, approachable, and sexy. After throwing one leg over their transport, he beckoned her over.

  “You know how to handle this mini beast?” she asked when she got closer.

  His shoulder lifted and his smile widened. “How hard could it be?”

  She halted within reach of both man and machine. Standing hipshot with arms crossed, she peered over her sunglasses. “Not a glowing testimony, Stone.”

  “I’ve ridden a motorcycle for years.” He chuckled. “You’re safe with me.”

  She muttered a quick prayer, fixed her sunglasses more securely on her face, and climbed on. He handed her a white helmet, fastened his matching one, and glanced back at her. She nodded and gripped his sides. Without another word, he started the scooter and pulled away from the curb.


  He was true to his word and expertly handled the scooter on the narrow, winding main road. Catching glimpses of calm waters winking between the trees and colorful houses of all sizes and shapes, she began to relax. By the time they passed the wooden sign welcoming them to Warwick Parrish, she was enjoying the ride.

  He adjusted admirably when traffic picked up heading out of Warwick. As he maneuvered, their movements synched and made it increasingly harder to ignore the flow of taut muscles that rippled beneath her hands.

  She was ready for some space between them when they finally slowed to make the turn into the entrance for Gibbs Hill Lighthouse. She stared up at the one-hundred-sixty-year-old, cast-iron lighthouse towering two hundred and forty-five feet above water and mentally checked one attraction off her to-do list.

  “There are two hundred steps between here and the top,” he advised. “You game?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He paid the nominal entrance fee and led the way to the base of the steps. Even though the stairwell boasted resting platforms and exhibits depicting the lighthouse’s history, Jenna was interested in reaching the top. With Wyatt close on her heels, she set a rigorous and measured pace that didn’t stop until she’d achieved her goal.

  “Oh, wow,” she breathed, moving out onto the observation platform. “Wyatt, this is spectacular!”

  Turning back to face him, she flashed an excited smile and then began to travel the narrow circuit. None of the resort brochures prepared her for the sight of Bermuda spread out below her in three hundred and sixty degrees of panoramic splendor. The stunning view of calm waters dappled with boats transitioned into a dockyard complete with a cruise ship heading out to sea. Moving on, Jenna was able to pick out the town of Hamilton in the distance before surveying the jade green island foliage speckled with white roofs and the occasional sparkling blue of private swimming pools.

  But the sea pulled at her most. The inky darkness of the ocean at the horizon was framed by the baby blue of a sky riddled with thin, fluffy clouds. The closer the water flowed toward the treacherous reefs nearer to shore, the lighter the hue, melding from cobalt to azure and finally to aqua at the inlets and sandy beaches.

  Wyatt circled the tower twice behind her before taking a position next to the doorway. Jenna continued on. After her fifth loop, he hooked her by the arm and pulled her to him.

  “You’re making the lighthouse dizzy.”

  Her giggle spilled out, and her hands tangled with the front of his shirt. “Isn’t it fantastic?”

  “It is. But I’m pretty sure you’ve seen everything there is to see.”

  “Spoilsport. Just once more. I promise.” On impulse she stretched on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

  He lowered his head, and two strong arms locked at her back and held her in place. When he teased at her lips, her mouth opened. The kiss was light and leisurely.

  “That was unexpected,” she whispered once the kiss ended.

  “Unwelcome?”

  “Not entirely,” she admitted. “But I still want one more turn.”

  His hands dropped to his sides as she moved away. This time her speed was little better than a crawl. When she reached him at the exit again, she ducked inside for a quick tour of the beacon itself before leading the way to the stairs. She stopped to explore the shops and displays on the way down. Enchanted by the entire experience, she insisted on buying a tiny replica of the lighthouse before they could leave.

  “You can get that cheaper almost anywhere else,” he commented, watching as she unzipped her backpack and tucked her souvenir inside.

  “Sure,” she said, grinning up at him. She took her helmet from his outstretched hand and put it on. “But where’s the sentiment in that?”

  “I’m pleading the Fifth.” He checked his watch before starting the scooter. “Time to head back.”

  “We’re done?”

  He nodded. “Disappointed?”

  “A little,” she acknowledged. “I’ve had fun.”

  “Enough for dinner?”

  “Yes. I’d like that.”

  When they backed out of the parking spot, her arms completely encircled Wyatt’s waist. Relishing the hard play of muscles, she skimmed her fingers under the edge of his shirt and felt heat pumping off his skin. When she flattened her hands against his belly, a spasm rippled across his firm abdomen. Smiling, she snuggled closer and rested her cheek against his back. She stayed that way until Wyatt parked the scooter at the end of the resort drive and cut the engine.

  Without saying a word, he swung off, and in one sure motion, tugged her off the scooter and into his arms. This kiss wasn’t the light exploration of earlier but one full of promise that sent shockwaves down to the soles of her feet. She gave back in equal measure. Nothing intruded to break the command he held over her senses until he released her and stepped back.

  “Seven o’clock,” was all he said.

  Jenna turned away and headed to her cottage. It didn’t take long for her anticipation to morph into a serious case of feminine anxiety, so much so she felt relief when it was time to shower and change for their date. She’d only brought two dresses suitable for dining out, so it didn’t take long to settle on the halter-backed, jade-colored sundress. She had just slipped on a pair of heeled sandals when the doorbell pealed.

  Looking refined in a caged-tiger kind of way, Wyatt’s contemporary style integrated a black jacket and gray polo shirt that molded his broad chest with dark gray slacks that accentuated his long legs.

  “You look good enough to eat,” he murmured, his gaze traveling over her body.

  “Thank you.” Lust, hot and alive, coiled through her. “I admit I’m looking forward to dessert.”

  For the first time since they’d met, he laughed, a throaty laugh that did nothing to ease her heightened nerves. Sexual awareness drummed through her as they entered the elegance of the terraced dining room with its ceiling-high windows and magnificent views. By the time they finished their five-star meal, she knew she wasn’t ready for the evening to end.

  The warm, scented night curled in around them under the seductive flicker of delicate lamp posts. Savoring the burgeoning sensual tension, she led the way up the short walk to her front door. Suddenly a small, dark form darted out from under a nearby bush, streaking across their path to brush against her bare ankles before it raced away.

  “Oh!” Her feet tangled beneath her as she pitched forward and delivered a glancing blow to Wyatt’s ribcage. His big body broke her momentum but left him trying to prevent his own descent. His breath escaped on an oof when his heel caught on a large edging rock and landed him on his ass.

  Saved from her fall, she straightened, her hand covering her mouth in shock. He was looking up at her, his eyes wide, when what sounded suspiciously like a giggle escaped her.

  “I-I’m sorry.” She quickly recovered. “That was rude. A-are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” Any residual humor fled at the thought that he was hurt. “Do you need anything?” she asked, dropping down beside him.

  “Just my pride. It went that way,” he mumbled.

  A second giggle threatened as she reached down to help him. With an agility that had been lacking seconds earlier, he grasped her hands and got to his feet. When he used his grip to pull her to him, she went willingly. With one kiss every tumultuous sensation since their first meeting burst free, fanned by the sure stroke of his tongue and the caressing hold he kept on the curve of her waist.

  As the kiss deepened, the need to destroy his composure as thoroughly as he was annihilating hers spiked through her. Tearing her mouth from his, she blazed her own path across the skin of his collarbone and chest.

  He groaned.

  “Would you like to come inside?” she whispered, her lips brushing against the soft skin beneath his ear.

  He went still. Seconds later his hands slid down to rest at her hips.

  It took a beat before her hazy mind registered his retreat. “Wyatt?”

  “Shit.” His voice husky, he dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back.

  “Wyatt? What’s wrong?”

  “This can’t happen.”