Nononono!
She clutched the animal to her chest, holding her breath, one arm grasping for the surface, legs kicking frantically. Something thick and strong circled her waist, hauling her back against something hard. She fought to free herself, clutching the animal she was trying to save. Were there man-eating octopuses or maniacal anacondas on Silver Island? Oh God! Suddenly she was thrust to the surface, and she gasped a breath just as her foot connected with whatever held her, and a deep male voice shouted, “Cait! It’s me!”
Clutching the tiny animal, she looked over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of electric-blue eyes as she sank beneath the surface again and was instantly hauled back up.
“Cait, it’s me, Brant!”
Brant! She threw an arm around him, gasping and coughing.
“Stop kicking me!” he snapped. “Jesus. Are you trying to kill me?”
In her panic-stricken state, she hadn’t realized she was still kicking. I’mokayI’mokayI’mokay. She tried to calm herself down, but her pulse was racing and her lungs hurt.
“I’ve got you, Cait,” he said reassuringly.
She froze, having heard him say those exact words in her dreams. Their eyes collided, sparking the nerve-racking connection she’d spent the last few months trying to deny. It wasn’t just the heat blazing between them that had rattled her since she’d first set eyes on him. She was practiced at ignoring lust. It was the way he looked at her, as if he saw all the parts of her she tried to hide, making their connection feel deeper, even more intense than any other.
“Cait! Are you okay?”
His voice snapped her from her frenzied state, and she was suddenly hyperaware of his strong arms around her and their bodies touching all over. God, he felt good. Too good, setting off her warning bells. She pushed back, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“What’re you doing? You can’t swim.”
“I just . . .” Pull yourself together. The possibility of drowning was nothing compared to the thought of losing herself in those all-seeing eyes. She drew upon the trick she’d honed over the years to keep from showing fear, tears, or panic and conjured memories of the feel of her mother’s hand holding hers, birds soaring, and mermaids swimming, locking down her emotions and forcing herself into a calmer state.
“Sorry.” The confidence she’d also honed during those desperate years took hold, and she felt more in control. She narrowed her eyes. “Can you get your hand off my butt now?”
Brant grinned, revealing those panty-melting dimples. “Where would you like my hand?”
She rolled her eyes.
He moved his hand to her back and headed toward the shore with Cait pressed tight against him. “Whose dog is that?”
“Dog?”
He cocked his brow. “The one you’re holding.”
She looked down at the animal she’d forgotten she was holding, and sure enough, it was a tiny dog with a crooked mouth and two teeth sticking out. It looked like a wet rat, and it was trembling. Its tongue shot out and licked Cait’s skin.
Brant’s eyes drilled into hers. “Lucky dog.”
“Brant!” Cait snapped, earning one of his lighthearted sexy laughs.
He kept his arm around her as her feet touched the mushy bottom of the marsh, and they made their way out of the water. Brant was a sought-after boatbuilder, and he owned the only marine equipment supply company on the island. He’d grown up there and seemed to know, and was loved by, everyone. But Cait had firsthand experience with guys who spun webs of kindness, luring in their prey to lower their defenses and then striking at precisely the right time to bring them to their knees. That was why she no longer attempted to have long-term relationships with men. If she needed to scratch a sexual itch, she did it with someone who didn’t matter, when she was in control of who, where, and when, and she didn’t do it often.
“Are you okay?” he asked as they stepped onto the shore. “What happened out there?”
She clung to the dog, Brant’s voice turning to white noise as her eyes moved over his broad, muscular chest, down the treasure trail bisecting his abs, to his drenched shorts clinging to everything.
“Are you going to answer me or check me out?”
Her eyes darted up to his smirking face, and she felt her cheeks burn. What was wrong with her? She never checked out guys like that. It had officially been way too long since she’d scratched that particular itch. “Where am I supposed to look when you’re strutting around like you’re on Baywatch?”
He cocked a grin. “Maybe now you’ll dream about me in lifeguard shorts.”
“Shut up,” she said with a laugh, trying not to think about how he appeared in her dreams, because she didn’t understand them. She’d always had vivid dreams, but since she’d met Brant, he monopolized them. She’d had three recurring dreams about him, which was odd in and of itself and made her nervous. In one dream, she was in a dark tunnel and Brant was shrouded in moonlight at the other end, beckoning her toward him. In another, he was holding her in a room she didn’t recognize, and she was trembling and staring at the word paradise hanging in the distance. The third dream was a scorcher. In it, they were tangled up in each other, lost in the throes of passion, and in all three dreams, he was whispering, I’ve got you.
“I’m serious, Cait,” he said firmly. “What happened out there?”
She held the trembling dog tighter. “He was drowning, and I went in after him. I didn’t expect the bottom to drop off the way it did.”
He reached out to pet the dog, his eyes never leaving hers. “That’s pretty brave for someone who can’t swim.”
She hated that he’d seen her in such a vulnerable state. “I’d call it stupid, considering I nearly killed both of us.” She felt a pang in her chest and brushed her chin over the dog’s head. I’m sorry, buddy.
Brant lifted his hand from the dog and ran the backs of his fingers down Cait’s cheek, causing goose bumps to chase over her flesh. “Nobody’s dying today. Not on my watch.” His eyes trailed down the length of her, taking on a seductive glint. “I pegged you as having a thing for black lingerie. Pink is much hotter.”
She’d forgotten she was in her underwear. “Don’t gawk at me!”
She stalked toward her boots and clothes piled on the ground a few feet away and had a momentary bite of curiosity about what Brant thought of her many tattoos. He’d seen her in tank tops but never in shorts, much less with her stomach bared. She wasn’t so heavily tattooed that her skin was totally covered, but she had several tattoos, and Brant didn’t seem to have any reaction at all to the ink. Only to her body, and she could still feel him checking her out as he followed her.
“Where am I supposed to look when you’re prancing around like a Victoria’s Secret model?” He plucked his shirt off the ground.
He was ridiculous. There was nothing remarkable about her tall, thin body. She gave him a deadpan stare, having trouble tamping down her smile. He had that effect on her. He made her smile more than anyone ever had. “Now you’re really grasping at straws. I have practically no boobs, and I’m built like a lanky guy.”
“Not like any guy I’ve ever known.”