Chapter Seventeen

When the limousine arrived back at the marina shortly after midnight, Mitch, Gregory, and Kenyon formed a human shield around Dillon and Andrea and escorted them back onto the yacht. Mitch told Gregory to grab some sleep, and left Kenyon to guard the boarding ramp.

Dillon escorted Andrea to the deck where their cabins were located. Mitch followed but stayed a distance back and observed. He wasn’t going to rest easy until she was safely behind a locked door.

From the end of the hallway, he heard Dillon say, “You did a wonderful job of impersonating Karli tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“And you look absolutely fabulous. You’re very beautiful, you know.”

Andrea hesitated for a few seconds, and Mitch wondered what was going on in her mind. Stone was a billionaire. Didn’t all women want to marry a guy who was superrich? Would Andrea see this as her chance to get closer?

She said, “Thank you again.”

Dillon put his hands on Andrea’s shoulders, leaned down slightly, and kissed her forehead. “Good night.”

Mitch analyzed the kiss. Smooth. Not too brotherly but not too hot. Enough to indicate interest without seeming forward. He had to give it to the guy. The move was slick. The ball was in Andrea’s court.

He hadn’t anticipated that Stone would make a move on a woman who looked so much like his sister, but he understood the attraction to Andrea completely. She was better built than Karli, with a well-toned body and fuller breasts. She even had a world-class backside. Any man lucky enough to get her in his bed would thank the gods for the opportunity.

Andrea stiffened slightly and leaned away from Dillon Stone. “Good night.”

Then she turned and headed into her cabin.

Mitch crossed his arms and pursed his lips. Interesting. He’d observed her during the gala tonight, too. She’d kept her distance from the many men who would have been eager to get a come-hither look. Watching her avoid her admirers, he’d gotten the strange impression that she was afraid. Not that they’d know she wasn’t Karli, but that they’d do something more dangerous, perhaps shatter the shield around her heart.

Kenyon’s voice in his earbud pulled him out of his reverie. “Hey, Mitch. You’ve got a delivery.” He headed back to the main deck.

A few minutes later, with the delivered items securely in hand, he returned to Andrea’s cabin and knocked.

When she opened the door, he held up the large mustard-yellow paper bag with Harvey’s printed in large brown letters and the aroma of charcoal and burgers wafting from the top. “Special delivery.”

She got a puzzled expression, sniffed, and then broke into a Cheshire cat grin. “Please tell me that’s what it smells like it is.”

He nodded. “From the expression on your face when you were browsing the buffet, I guessed that you didn’t consider the vegetarian food very appetizing.”

Mitch handed her the bag. She seized it, unfolded the top, drew in a deep breath through her nostrils, and closed her eyes. A euphoric look spread over her face. “Oh my God, it smells heavenly.” She walked to the small table near her door and removed the contents of the bag: three huge burgers and two orders of golden-brown fries.

Following her to the table, he explained, “I ordered you two. The third one’s mine. Harvey’s is the best burger joint in this hemisphere, and I wasn’t about to watch you eat.”

He swung his other hand around and handed her the second bag and the small bud vase containing a single stem of trumpet-shaped flowers. “Beer and wine. I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer. Yellow bells are the official flower of the U.S. Virgin Islands. I thought they were appropriate.”

“I’m not a beer person. Wine sounds great.” She raised the vase and breathed in the flower’s scent. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” She set the little vase in the center of the table. “Sit down and let’s eat.”

She handed him a napkin and then pursed her lips as she looked down at her dress. “I should probably change out of this before I eat. What if I got ketchup or a spot of grease on this work of art? I wouldn’t be surprised if it cost more than my car.”

He swept his gaze over the scrumptious woman in front of him and wanted her to stay in the dress so his eyes could feast on the sight of her a little longer. “The Stones can probably afford to have it cleaned.”

“True. Still, I won’t be comfortable eating if I have to worry about every bite. I’ll just be a second.”

She disappeared into the closet. Mitch consoled himself with the idea that keeping his eyes off her would be easier if she didn’t look so beautiful. He shouldn’t be looking anyway.

Two minutes later, she reappeared wearing snug jeans and a T-shirt that hugged her curves. Her feet were bare. “I’ll wipe off the makeup later. I don’t want my burgers to get cold.”

He sucked in his breath. How could a woman take off a gorgeous gown and come back wearing jeans, yet somehow look even sexier? His blood warmed, and he shifted in the chair to hide the evidence of his desire.

Andrea sat and picked up one of the burgers, holding the big bun with both hands. She took a bite, chewed and swallowed, then sighed. “Oh my God, this is so supergood.”

He stood and got a glass from the bathroom, then poured her some wine.

She stopped chewing. “This will be my third drink. I had two flutes of champagne. Two is usually my limit, but I can go for something without bubbles, and I guess we’re off duty.”

Letting his burger sit, he opened his beer and took a long pull.

She sampled a fry. “This stuff is fabulous. You obviously have great taste. Thank you for ordering it. It’s good to know they deliver.”

“They don’t normally. But the manager is a friend of my brother, and I offered anyone who would drop the stuff by on their way home a big tip.”

“Thank you for going to all that trouble.”

He leaned toward her, picked up a napkin, and wiped a bit of ketchup from the corner of her luscious mouth. “I’m always at the service of a maiden in distress.”

Her gaze darted toward his hand, and she sat motionless for a few seconds before grabbing a napkin and dabbing at her lips. “Not being able to touch the good stuff on the buffet was definite distress.” She ate another fry. While he bit into his burger and chewed, she said, “By the way, I have to compliment you on your technique tonight. I knew you were there hovering over me, but hardly ever saw you being obvious—you’re good at this blending into the background stuff.”

“And you’re good at pretending to be a sparkling socialite. You wowed everyone.”

“Not everyone, but at least one man.”

“Actually two, Watson and Stone.” He didn’t want to admit he was the third.

“I was referring to Watson, the creep.” Her tone got a bit defensive. “I saw you watching when Dillon kissed me.”

“That’s my job, to guard you, watch you.”

She wet her lips and squirmed in her seat. “You don’t have to tell every last Ranger about it.”

He frowned. “Why would I?”

“I have three older brothers. I know all about how men like to talk, share information about women.”

“Like what?”

“Which women are flirts or which are quick to jump into bed, which ones to avoid because they get attached or jealous. I learned about the birds and bees by listening while my brothers Monday-morning-quarterbacked the intimate details of the physical relationships they had with their dates.”

“Maybe your brothers talk about women like that, but it’s not my way.”

“Well, just so you know, I didn’t want him to kiss me. I wasn’t the instigator. I would have stopped him, but I didn’t want to make a scene.”

He shrugged, pretending nonchalance but realizing she was genuinely worried behind her tough mask. She was sensitive to criticism and gossip, vulnerable. She’d been hurt by some man or made overly defensive by her brothers’ behavior. She put on a good act, but it was all bluster. If she got into a relationship with a man like Dillon Stone, there could be fallout she might be unable to handle. Her heart needed protection, but she’d never admit it.

Telling himself to stay out of her private life, he said, “Whether or not he kisses you is your business. Unless it happens where someone will see you and blows your cover.”

“I just want it clear I have no interest in that man. And if he tries anything else, I’ll make that clear to him.”

“He seemed to be behaving politely to me. Have you considered that you might be overreacting because you’re a coward?” He watched her eyes narrow and scrambled to get out of the quicksand his big mouth had just shoved him into. “I saw how you acted at the party. You’re so afraid that you run for the hills the minute a man shows the slightest bit of interest.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re wrong. I’m not afraid of any man, and I certainly don’t run away. What makes you think you’re such an expert?”

Good question. Another one was: How did he get out of this mess without making it worse? He wanted to let her feel secure enough to stop pretending and decided the best way to win her trust was to share a little of himself. “It takes an emotional coward to know an emotional coward. As soon as any woman starts to get serious, I tend to run the other way.”

Her tone softened marginally. “Commitment-phobic?”

He’d already told her more than he usually revealed, but he shrugged and answered honestly. “I’m not interested in forever. When a woman starts dropping hints about marriage, I move on.”

“Sorry, ma’am, I need my freedom?”

“Something like that.”

“So, no strings or Mitch Weaver is out the door?”

“My job doesn’t allow for relationships.”

“Right. Well, neither does mine, so don’t think I’m interested in Dillon.”

A chuckle escaped his throat. “I believe the lady doth protest too much. You’re scared of him, afraid he’ll hurt you. My guess is you’ve been hurt pretty bad by some guy in the past.” He grasped the edge of the table with both hands and exhaled slowly. “But you know what? The past won’t stop you. You’ll get together. He’ll come on to you, and you’ll risk believing he’s okay. It’s only a matter of time.”

He berated himself for essentially pushing her toward Dillon. But what the hell. She was going to end up sleeping with wonder-boy. The man would be crazy not to want her, and he had the advantage of money and a yacht. His wealth would be enough to dazzle any woman, even one as down to earth as Andrea.

A dagger stabbed Mitch’s gut. He wanted Andrea, and having her end up in Dillon’s bed was unfair. But that was the way life worked. And just because something was unfair didn’t mean it wasn’t likely to happen regardless.

She huffed out her breath and looked like she might blow smoke out her ears. “You’re dead wrong. I am not scarred, and I am not scared of anything. And I am especially not scared of Dillon Stone!”

He waited for the stomp of her foot and the insistent not, not, not, but she just drew herself up into a tight bundle of tension and gave him a deadly look.

He hoped she wouldn’t be hurt and wished he could protect her, but damn it, all he could do was stand by and watch. He heaved himself to his feet, “It’s been a long day, and I appear to have worn out my welcome. Get some rest. Good night.”

…

Mitch left, but his accusations lingered in the air.

Andrea paced, fuming, too wired to sleep. She pressed her palms over her ears, but couldn’t stop his words from echoing in her mind. How dare he say she was afraid of men or sex? How dare he call her a coward?

She’d volunteered for this assignment, volunteered to be a decoy. She’d faced the threat of a bomb and showed herself on a city street. She’d been shot at without going to pieces. She’d played hostess and been stared at for hours at a high-class party. She’d suggested a trap when all he wanted to do was sit on his hands and wait. Were those the actions of a coward?

Andrea stopped in her tracks, raised her chin, and narrowed her eyes. She’d show the almighty Mitch Weaver. She’d go down the hallway right now and prove she wasn’t afraid. She’d make the next move with Dillon. Let him know she was attracted to him. Let nature take its course. If that meant they’d have sex, fine. She wasn’t afraid of him or anyone else.

After stomping into the closet, she scanned the selection of negligees looking for the sexiest, most revealing of the lot. A bunch of purple lace caught her eye. Spaghetti straps. A skimpy top cut so low it would expose most of her breasts. The bodice was all lace. The knee-length skirt was full but sheer. A matching sheer robe was useless for anything but seduction. Perfect.

She threw off her jeans and T-shirt and put on the skimpy negligee. She found a pair of high-heeled, backless black slippers and stepped into them. She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and swished around some mint-flavored mouthwash. At Karli’s dressing table, she unstoppered the bottle of Shalimar and dabbed a generous drop behind each ear. She checked her makeup in the mirror. Touched up her lipstick. The smoky eyes were still good. She batted her long eyelashes and pursed her lips.

Ready. Straightening her back, she opened her cabin door and peered both ways down the hallway. Empty. She quietly shut her door and tiptoed down the hallway.