Shit, damn, and hell, Romeo thought. Now it’s just the two of us.
It was easier to fake nonchalance and comradery toward Mia when they were surrounded by friends and colleagues. But it was almost impossible when he found himself alone with her. When there was nowhere to look but at her tempting mouth and no way to ignore the way her small waist flared dramatically to a pair of hips curved perfectly for the fit of a man’s hand and—
Chronic masturbation.
That was another physical symptom caused by her mere presence.
Girding himself for the impact of her eyes when he retook his seat, he was relieved when she didn’t look at him and instead kept her nose buried in her phone.
Wayfarer Island was smack-dab between Key West and Havana, Cuba. A small circle of sand and mangrove forest that grew out of the sea and boasted few modern conveniences, least of all cellular service.
Everyone who lived on the island had given up their phone plans—why pay for something they couldn’t use? But not Mia. She’d kept hers active, and anytime she found herself in civilization, the device buzzed nonstop.
“Your cousin again?” He hitched his chin toward her lighted screen.
“He’s asking what time we’re leaving in the morning,” she said and then pocketed her phone after shooting off a quick text.
And there they are, he thought, catching his breath. Those eyes.
As the band started in on their version of “The Drunken Sailor,” an awkward silence stretched between them. He wasn’t used to being awkward around women. In fact, he’d spent most of his adult life being the opposite of awkward around women. Doc didn’t dub me Rico Suave for nothing. But something about Mia tied his tongue.
Searching his brain for a safe topic, something that wouldn’t make him fantasize about running his lips from the point of her piquant chin down to the tips of her dainty toes, he seized on the first thing that came to mind. “You want something to drink? A gin and tonic?”
Yeah, he knew her usual. He also knew she loved avocados, fiddled with the diamond studs in her ears when she got nervous, and forgot to breathe anytime she was unsure or scared.
He’d made quite a study of Mia Ennis. It hadn’t been intentional, of course. Just the natural result of him being unable to keep his eyes off her.
“No, thank you.” She shook her head. “I think I’ll follow Alex’s lead, skip the after-dinner drink, and head back to the hotel. It’s hot tonight, and the air-conditioning is calling my name.”
She pulled out the collar of her soft-looking blouse and blew down the opening. The thought of her sweet-smelling breath drying the dampness of her skin had a heavy feeling settling behind his fly.
Tossing back the last of his tequila, he quickly rose to pull out her chair. “I’ll walk you.”
“It’s only a couple of blocks. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“I’ll walk you.” His tone brooked no argument.
Typical of Mia, she merely smiled a closed-mouth smile and nodded her consent without saying another word.
They were outside, the warm sea breeze running gentle fingers through her wavy, shoulder-length hair, the next time she spoke. “You up for a couple chapters from In Darkness and Dreams?”
Recently, they’d discovered they shared a mutual love of P.J. Warren’s Night Angels paranormal romance series. Ever since then, she’d been reading aloud to him from the newest novel.
The BUD/S O-Course, one of the training segments required to make it as a Navy SEAL, was a study in physical pain, intended to make anyone going through it suffer as much as humanly possible. But Romeo thought it was child’s play compared to sitting beside Mia while she read aloud in that smoky, film-noir voice of hers.
“Sounds good,” he was quick to answer, because apparently he was a glutton for punishment.
Something his recruit division commander had said to him years before echoed through his head. “When someone keeps doing the same self-destructive crap over and over again, it’s no longer a bad decision. It’s a bad habit.”
Mia Ennis had become a habit Romeo couldn’t break.
Most troubling of all? He didn’t want to.
Chapter 2
8:42 AM...
This is becoming a habit.
That was the first thought that ran through Mia’s head when she was jolted awake by the feel of a hot, hard body stretched out beside her.
Or...beneath her?
Yes. Definitely beneath her.
It wasn’t the good kind of habit either. Not the getting-eight-hours-of-sleep or including-a-retinol-into-her-skincare-routine kind of habit. It was the good-way-to-get-her-pride-stomped-on-like-a-cigarette-butt kind of habit.
Spiro “Romeo” Delgado was so far out of her league it was like digging in the dirt with a stick as a kid compared to using advanced technologies to carbon date ancient bones. Like finding a penny on the beach compared to hauling up treasures of the deep. Like choking down Uncle John’s tuna casserole compared to dining on one of Bran’s homemade calzones.
Oh, she and Romeo might be well-matched in some areas. They both liked novels filled with angsty vampires, mischievous ghosts, and humorless werewolves. They’d both had less-than-ideal childhoods. And they’d both traveled the world—him on harrowing military missions and her on various hunts for sunken history.
So, sure, on paper they made a pretty good match. But people weren’t paper. People were people, with arms and legs and bodies and faces, and that’s where their similarities ended.
When it came to looks? To borrow one of her grandmother’s favorite phrases...my stars and garters! In the case of Spiro “Romeo” Delgado and Mia Ennis, Romeo was the stars and Mia was the garters.
Not that she thought she should go around with a paper bag over her head or anything. She was capable of being seen in public without causing people to turn away in horror. You know, when she spent twenty minutes on her makeup and twice that long on her hair.
But Romeo? He had a face like a two-week paid vacation, a profile so beautiful that every woman from seven to seventy did a double take whenever he walked by.
And that’s before they let their eyes travel down his body.
When that happened, their double takes turned into jaw drops. Seriously. They reminded Mia of that wolf in the old cartoons when his tongue unfurled across the table at the same time his eyes bulged from his head.