She’d done it.

A deep sigh parted Jenna Alexander’s mouth at the sound of the door closing behind the porter. Exhaustion brought on by months of emotional strain and overwork had etched tiny grooves around her eyes and full lips and loosened the fashionable lines of her couture blouse and slacks. But she’d made it through the chaos that had been her life for the past five months and here, here was her reward.

Nine days and eight nights in Paradise!

Her gaze skimming around her Bermuda vacation home, she walked to the magnificent view beyond the patio window. Pleased that the resort had surpassed her expectations in less than three minutes, she walked back to the bags and luggage waiting beside the front door. On the way in from the airport she’d had her driver stop at a local market, so she didn’t have to leave the property if she didn’t want.

Jenna put away the perishables and then hauled her luggage to the master bedroom. Instead of unpacking, she stripped to her panties and replaced her travel-creased slacks and blouse with tan capris and a summer top. Slipping on a pair of sandals, she stepped outside.

The afternoon sun floated brilliantly between the sapphire hues of the ocean and the cobalt blue of the sky. Walking across her small patio, she left the pastel-yellow cottage and followed the rocky path down. When she reached the private beach, she yanked off her sandals and sank her bare feet into the luxuriously warm, pink sand.

“Oh, yeah!”

Lifting her face to the sky, she drew in the balmy sea air with deep breaths. Her mouth curved with satisfaction, and she angled south to stroll along the expanse of sand that edged the water. Staying parallel with the shoreline, she watched as undulating waves crashed against the beach and sparkling water beckoned even as ominous clouds gathered on the horizon. Grateful the forecasted weather was slated to be a typical summer storm and not another hurricane like the one that had ravaged the island in October, she continued down the beach.

“On the left.”

The choppy words of someone running up behind Jenna broke her reverie. A hiker and jogger herself, she shifted to the right. Stylishly long hair, handsome profile, toned body, name-brand running gear, and a dazzling set of pearly-whites flashed by.

“Nice view.”

She returned his smile even as an unexpected niggle of annoyance pricked. The man reminded her of Scott. The jogger moved on, and her focus shifted to a small family just at the water’s edge. A very pregnant young woman was attempting to wrangle a young boy who, judging by the tone of their conversation, was due for a bathroom break but unwilling to leave the beach.

The ensuing dialog confirmed that the two were mother and child as the toddler continued to voice his protests, clearly and loudly, causing those nearest to turn and look in his direction. All except the lad’s presumed father who appeared to be asleep in a low beach chaise, waves pooling around his outstretched ankles and feet. Scattered around the man were a small Styrofoam cooler, a stuffed toy sitting atop the cooler, and a large, oddly-shaped mound of sand.

The mother was carrying her son by the time her path intersected with Jenna’s. Smiling, Jenna sprinted ahead of her to open the toilet door.

“Bless you,” the young mother said as she hurried inside.

Chuckling, Jenna continued to soak in the sights and sounds of a well-tended vacation resort designed to anticipate any amenity their guests could need. Reaching the short wooden pier that served as an informal boundary with the adjacent hotel, and aware of the ever-darkening sky and quickening wind, she turned around and headed back.

A low rumble of thunder reverberated across the beach, and plumes of warm sand brushed against her legs. She skimmed her hair out of her eyes and quickened her pace. The craggy steps leading back to the cottage were again in view when a familiar voice intruded.

“On the left.”

A general exodus from the beach left plenty of room for him to pass, so Jenna did not adjust her pace, her direction, or her gaze on the horizon.

The man slowed beside her and began jogging backward. “Hello again. I’m Kenny.”

Kenny’s classic good looks and confident smile solidified her initial impression. Her body stiffened.

“I’m not inter—” she began before an ear-piercing scream interrupted her words. Both Jenna and her Romeo-wannabe stopped and turned toward the sound.

The day had gotten worse for the young family she had come across earlier. As she watched, the mother lowered to her knees and pulled the child close. The napping man was nowhere in sight. Jenna’s gaze followed to where the toddler pointed, his chest heaving. Quite a distance off shore, the cooler bobbed on the waves with the bright yellow toy precariously perched on top.

Jenna began moving in their direction, but her admirer was quicker. With a grin on his face, Kenny took off, sprinting by her as he dashed toward the ocean. Within seconds instinct had her breaking into a run, her gaze tracking the surge of waves stirred by the impending storm.

Surely the man wasn’t that stupid?

She was halfway to the boy and his mother when Kenny reached wet sand. Immediately he toed off his shoes to race into a receding wave. By the time Jenna reached Kenny’s sneakers, his long strokes had closed the distance to the toy now floating without the cooler. He scooped up the endangered toy, turned back toward the shore, and waved the doll in the air in triumph.

“Kenny!” Jenna shouted, taking note of the breaker rapidly building behind him. But he continued waving until the wall of water came crashing down on him.

The young boy quieted mid-shriek, and his mother gasped loudly. Jenna registered their reactions even as she tossed her sandals and ran into the surf. Swiftly she plowed through the water to where Kenny had disappeared, diving under just as another fierce wave broke. Moments later she resurfaced, a listless Kenny tucked under one arm, and began the arduous task of pulling them both back to safety.

Her years as a YMCA lifeguard had not prepared her for her current predicament. She was struggling to keep her momentum in the shifting undertow when she glimpsed a blur of movement on the shore. Blinking her stinging eyes, she saw the figure of a man splashing toward them, his stride long as his knees pumped him into the water. He dove in and propelled himself through the water with sure strokes.

Still several yards from her, he slowed into a dog paddle. “Wave!” he called out and disappeared from sight.

She rolled onto her back, pulled Kenny’s head and torso across her chest to ride the swell, and held her breath. Once the surf began to even out, she rolled back onto her side, adjusted Kenny’s still inert body, and continued her modified breaststroke toward shore.

Seconds passed with the stranger nowhere in sight. When a head full of slick, black hair surfaced beside her, light-colored eyes glinting in a ruggedly masculine face, she had to hold back tears.

“Got him,” the stranger said, reaching for Kenny. “Head in.”

Relieved of Kenny’s weight, Jenna fell in place behind and to their left. When the pair touched shore ahead of her, she breathed a sigh of relief and urged her trembling limbs on.

She cleared the water and dropped down onto the damp sand, her eyes burning as she watched the stranger perform CPR. Silence fell over the small crowd that had gathered until, with one inelegant gag of warning, Kenny began to cough up water. A quick cheer went up from the throng. Several minutes passed before an obviously shaken Kenny sat up.

Jenna couldn’t hear what their rescuer said, but he patted Kenny on the back, stood up, and headed toward her. Easily six feet one or two and weighing in around two hundred pounds, the dark-haired stranger’s magazine-worthy body moved with feline grace.

She slowly got to her feet. As his gaze traveled over her body, she resisted the urge to pluck at the thin, wet material of her clothes. When their gazes connected again, sexual awareness coursed through her.

“Thank you,” she said when he was close.

“No thanks are necessary. You were doing fine.” The deep timber of his voice was as masculine as his body.

“I was in over my head. Literally,” she corrected him. “I’m Jenna…Jenna Alexander.”

“Then you’re welcome. Wyatt Stone,” he added and extended his hand.

Heat bloomed across her hand and up her arm.

“You feeling okay?” he asked.

“Er, yes.” She pulled back her hand. Wyatt Stone was primo male, and even though feeling that hot pull again was likely a good sign, a vacation affair was not on her agenda. “Um…it seems foolish now, but I didn’t consider how different an ocean rescue would be.”

“Lifeguard?”

“Three summers for the Y.”

“That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

His gaze drifted back over her body. “Your form, it was—”

“Miss! Mister!”

Jenna tore her gaze away from Wyatt and toward the young mother picking her way toward them, a large resort towel in each outstretched hand. She handed Wyatt one of the towels before draping the other across Jenna’s shoulders and neck.

“Is that young man going to be all right?” she asked.

In unison the three of them looked over at Kenny who, with the aid of two Good Samaritans, was almost at the foot of the path leading up to the resort.

“Looks like it.” Wyatt glanced back at Jenna before continuing. “If you’re heading in, I’ll get my things and walk with you.”

She nodded. Wyatt moved off toward a small pile farther up the beach. He was barely out of earshot when the young mother put her hand over her heart and sighed.

“Yum. Is he for real?”

Jenna chuckled. “You interested?”

“I wish, but baby bumps, even one as huge as mine, don’t stop a girl from looking. You all right?”

“I am,” Jenna assured her.

“It was sweet of that guy to try and save Neo’s dollie, but when I realized what he was doing, I almost went into labor. No, no!” she reassured Jenna when Jenna’s eye’s widened and darted to her protruding belly. “Baby girl’s fine, Miss…?”

“Jenna,” she offered, her gaze shifting to the father and child holding hands a few feet away.

“Jenna. What a lovely name. I’m Sheila, and that’s my husband Brian and our rather spoiled firstborn, Neo. Is there anything we can do for you?”

“Thank you, Sheila, but no, I’m fine. I just need to get out of these wet clothes.” When Jenna started to remove the towel, Sheila stopped her with a shake of her head.

“Keep it. You aren’t dressed for a swim, and the Dark Knight has already seen plenty. For now.” With a wink, Sheila glanced back at Wyatt before turning toward her family. “I hope to see you again. We’re here through Saturday.”

“I’m here until Saturday myself, so I’m sure you will.” Jenna was still smiling when Wyatt returned with his belongings in his hands. Waving goodbye to the small family, she started toward the footpath.

“You’re staying at this resort?” he asked, matching her stride.

She nodded. “Number nine. You?”

“Three.”

That was the entirety of their conversation as they climbed the narrow passage in single file. Awareness of Wyatt following behind made her movements awkward. Finally she reached the top, the manicured grounds of the resort spreading out in lush splendor before her.

“Again, thanks for the rescue,” she said, still clutching her towel around her. When she reached her bungalow, she stepped onto the tiny terrace and turned to face him. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

He stood for several moments without moving or speaking. And then he nodded, turned away, and walked around the corner of her building.

Jenna went inside, trekking seawater as she squelched her way down the hall and into her small bathroom. She turned the shower on extra hot. Peeling off her sodden clothes, she caught her reflection in the mirror. “Ugh.”

Her dark hair was already drying into a tangle of salted, crusty curls, and her nose was red. Even so, color bloomed under her skin.

“Don’t even think about it,” she advised her image. She was on the island to rest and regroup and not for romance. Besides, the hella hunk that was Wyatt Stone was probably already tucked away with some leggy bombshell.

Jenna was dry and warm when Mother Nature eventually took center stage and let loose her fury. She burrowed farther under the bedcovers as thunder and lightning battled in the skies, and the day’s events began to take on a surreal quality. Even so, she drifted off to the memory of stormy eyes and rippling muscles cleaving through the water to save her.

****

“So, Boss, what’s your take?”

Supervising Deputy US Marshal Gregory Wyatt Stone stood looking out across the lawn with his back to the room’s two other occupants. Not much of a talker on the best of days, he had been even less so since he’d returned from the beach. Dressed in agency sweats, his still-damp hair springing back from his forehead in short black waves, Wyatt turned to face Deputy Livingston.

Delicate features, a mass of chestnut curls, and sexy curves invaded his mind for the fifth time. For the fifth time he pushed them away.

“She seemed…friendly enough,” he responded. His words belied the unwelcome clench in his gut.

“Girl-next-door or Mata-Hari friendly?” Livingston questioned, turning to look at the man sitting across from her.

Livingston’s queries were to be expected since Ms. Alexander was the reason his team was assigned to the island. As the supervising agent, Wyatt oversaw the two rookie agents and efforts to locate and detain Scott Lowell for extradition back to the US.

Lowell, allegedly Ms. Alexander’s ex-fiancé, had agreed to testify against his bosses in the year’s highest-profile federal embezzlement and money-laundering case. Lowell had slipped protective custody a week before Ms. Alexander had left for her vacation. Wyatt considered Lowell’s and Alexander’s timing suspicious.

His director agreed.

Bermuda and the US enjoyed the benefits of a strong international relationship, so the local police service kept watch for any signs of Lowell while he and his team covered Ms. Alexander.

Wyatt’s narrowed gaze moved to Livingston’s partner. “Walton?” he prompted.

“Neither,” Deputy Walton responded, his mouth twisted into a pout. “Nor did she have bad girl tattooed across her chest. She,” he emphasized with a head-toss in Livingston’s direction, “watches too many damn crime dramas.”

“I’m not the one who almost drowned trying to impress the woman,” Livingston retaliated.

“I messed up. But I refuse to apologize again,” Walton griped, shifting his gaze back to their commander.

“You have,” Wyatt concurred. “I’ve filed it under learning curve, so let’s all move on.”

“Appreciate that, Boss, but where does it leave our assignment?” Walton questioned as he hunched farther into his seat.

Livingston spoke up. “Looks like up a creek without a paddle.”

“Our assignment hasn’t changed,” Wyatt answered.

“His has, Boss,” Livingston contradicted. “He’s blown any shot at getting close to Ms. Alexander—unless drowning victims do it for her.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Of course we could go old school and just sit back, observe, and wait for something to happen. Or…”

“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.”

She took a deep breath but found any semblance of sanity long gone. “I’d say this has already happened.”

“No. Trust me, Jenna, it hasn’t.” Without waiting for her response, he turned and stalked away.

She stared after Wyatt until the darkness had closed in around him, the aching frustration of unfulfilled needs erupting from every cell in her body. Finally she turned away, letting the bright glow of the traitorous moon guide her as she let herself into her cottage and headed straight for the sanctuary of her empty bedroom.

****

Wyatt barely restrained the urge to slam the door of his cottage behind him. Pulling out his cell phone, he noted a missed call with a DC area code and returned it. When Walton and Livingston reported in the next morning, he had already been up for hours. Wyatt wasted no time getting to the point.

“Ms. Alexander’s been cleared. She is no longer a person of interest, nor is she considered a suspect or a witness in the case.”

Livingston’s response was swift. “What does that mean for us?”

“We show her the protection and respect to which every US citizen is entitled. And we stay close in case Lowell reaches out, but we minimize her exposure.”

“Are we reading her in?”

“No, Walton, that’s where we draw the line. Even with departmental clearance, we can’t be certain she won’t tip-off Lowell. Livingston,” he continued, shifting his gaze to the female agent, “let’s see what you can do with this latest development…”

****

Tuesday morning, Jenna was up before the sun, her rumpled bed a testament to her sleepless night. Still, she refused to mope around her rooms all day. After forcing down a light breakfast, she stopped in the main building and cornered the head doorman. In less than thirty minutes she had paid for the longest excursion packet, returned to her cottage to grab a few necessities, stopped off at the kitchen for a boxed lunch, and was back in front of the hotel in time to be number three in the line to board the shuttle. Claiming a window seat, she stowed her gear behind her feet and waited for the Bermuda Botanical Gardens tour to begin.

A John Lennon fan, Jenna had read that a particular flower in the renowned Gardens was how Lennon had come up with the name of one of his albums. The breathtaking formal gardens and lawns, the large glass houses that were home to a myriad species of cacti and orchids, the palm and hibiscus gardens—each on its own was a captivating muse for a creative mind.

Time passed pleasantly until her growing hunger pangs propelled her to select a picnic table for lunch.

“Hi. Is this seat taken?”

“Hello, and no.” Jenna watched the willowy blonde put her backpack on the bench and take out a bottle of water that sported the same resort label as Jenna’s boxed lunch.

“That looks good.”

Jenna smiled. “It does, doesn’t it? The resort’s kitchen outdid itself.”

“I thought I recognized you from the van. I wish I had thought to order lunch, but it never occurred to me that the lines at the food trucks would be so long.”

“No problem,” she assured the young woman. “There’s plenty here to share.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean—”

“I insist. There’s more than enough for two.” She smoothly picked up a napkin and wrapped it around half of the sandwich before placing it in front of her guest. Half of the container of homemade chips followed.

“Thank you, you’re very kind. I’m Wendy by the way.” She smiled and extended her hand.

“Jenna. Good to meet you.”

“Even better for me.” Wendy grinned. Picking up her half of the sandwich, she took a big bite.

Jenna chuckled and followed suit.

“What brings you to Bermuda, Jenna?” Wendy asked when they were midway through the meal.

“A much-needed vacation. You?”

“College graduation present from my dad.”

“Wow, that’s great! Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Wendy replied. “It’s no big deal…more like a combo family vacay since they’re here with me.”

“It’s still cause for celebration. What did you study?”

“My major was criminal justice. You?”

“Business admin.”

“Cool. My dad says the real trick is to use all that education after you graduate. What do you do for a living?”

“He’s not wrong.” Jenna finished her sandwich and smiled. “I work in Human Resources for a private company in Northern Virginia, and my education definitely contributes. What do you want to do with your degree?”

Wendy answered without hesitation. “Catch bad guys.”

“Of course you do.”

Once they’d cleaned up, it seemed natural that Jenna and Wendy resume the tour together. They first explored Camden House, which was the official residence of Bermuda’s head of government. From there they walked through the exhibits at the Masterworks Museum before ending their tour at the steel Tribute Sculpture that had been commissioned in memory of John Lennon.

Just shy of four o’clock, Jenna and Wendy climbed back into the van to sit together. Jenna was engrossed in the passing scenery when Wendy’s words broke through her concentration.

“Jenna?”

“I’m sorry, Wendy. Did you say something?”

“I asked if you were here alone?”

“Oh. Yes, I am.”

“So…no husband? No boyfriend?”

“No.”

“He couldn’t come or what?”

“There is no one.”

“That doesn’t seem right.”

Jenna tried not to bristle at her comments. After all, it wasn’t Wendy’s fault that she had abysmal luck with men. “I was engaged once, but it didn’t work out.”

“Oh, wow,” she gushed, patting Jenna on her arm. “You’re too pretty and smart to be alone. Maybe you’ll meet someone while you’re here. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

“It would be if I were looking, Wendy. But I’m not.”

Telling herself the questions were more insensitive than rude, she steered the conversation to the places Wendy wanted to visit and wasn’t sorry when the resort’s entrance came into view.

She swiftly said her goodbyes and headed back to her cottage. As they had done throughout the day, her thoughts shifted to Wyatt, but this time she let them come. Whichever way she looked at it, his defection should have put an end to any interest she had in the man. Yet her thoughts and emotions continued to churn until, once again, she lay watching the morning light begin to glow around her bedroom curtains.

Jenna gave up any pretense at sleep and prepared for her early jog on the beach. Her thoughts always clearer after a run, she paced the length of the private beach eight times before heading back to her cottage.

By the time she’d reached the steps leading back up the cliff, she’d made a decision.

****

Wyatt opened the door on Jenna’s second knock. His gaze skimmed her from head to toe before he spoke. “Yes?”

“Hi.” She attempted to sound as cheerful and confident as her cotton-candy pink shell and white shorts advertised. “Would you like to join me for a drink by the pool?”

He took a few seconds to reply. “That’s not a good idea.”

“I disagree.” She shrugged. “I enjoyed our day together, but not so much the way it ended. I think we should talk.”

“Still doesn’t make it a good idea.” He released the doorknob, crossed his arms, and continued to watch her.

“Is it unreasonable for me to want to know what went wrong that night?”

He didn’t respond.

Irritation rippled through her. Whether he wanted to give one or not, she wanted that explanation.

“What’s your deal, Stone?” Mimicking him, she crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. “I know when a man wants me, and I’m sure you know the same about women. Why the hot and cold routine?”

“Go away,” was all he said.

“Tell me I’ve misread the signals, and I’ll leave without another word.”

He sighed. “I can’t do that.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“My primary reason for being here is for a job, not to get involved with someone.”

She snorted. “I didn’t plan on this either, but you pursued me,” she reminded him. “And I haven’t asked you for a damn thing beyond our stay here.”

“My mistake—this is all on me. Is that it?”

“Hardly.” She wasn’t that easy to put off. “I can be stubborn to the point of obnoxiousness. So quit the bullshit and tell me the real reason you left me hanging.”

Wyatt lips thinned, and his tone was even more clipped. “I’d like to think I’ve outgrown the need to bed every woman who’s willing.”

“Defense, mea culpa, and when that doesn’t work, deflect. Nice technique. Tell me, were you lying about being single?”

“No.”

She studied the ruddy color creeping up his neck. “Are you sexually attracted to me?”

He raked his hand through his hair. “Yes.”

“But for reasons you aren’t willing to share, you’ve decided we’re not going any further?” she concluded.

“It’s for the best.”

“Still with the bullshit, but whatever.” She unfolded her arms and turned around. “My vacation has an end date, so leave-Wyatt-to-jerk-off-alone it is.”

She made it as far as the main sidewalk before he spoke again.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

She stopped walking. Taking a deep breath, she turned and marched back to him.

“That’s weak and you know it,” she scolded, her words abrupt. “In my book that makes you a coward. But it’s a small resort. If I see you coming, I’ll be sure to change direction.”

Female indignation straightening her spine, Jenna whirled back around with her head high. She hadn’t taken one complete step before he grabbed her forearm and stopped her retreat.

“I’m no coward,” he bit out.

“Like hell! You came after me, revved me up, and then walked off without explanation. That makes you something not very pleasant. But I promise it will be our little secret. Now let go.”

With a muttered expletive, he hauled her backward instead. Before she could protest, the door was slamming shut behind her and he was moving in to claim her mouth. She pushed against his hold and turned her face away before he could reach her lips. Undeterred, he anchored her by grabbing a handful of hair and ran his teeth along her jaw.

Heat spiked. She willed herself not to cave, but it was a losing battle. When his mouth began to suck on the skin of her neck, she gave up the fight. Her soft moan vibrated on the air as his busy hands tunneled under her top and began to massage her breasts. When he next aimed for her lips, he found her willing.

Minutes passed before Wyatt spoke again. “You want the truth, Jenna?” he grated, glaring down at her. “You’ve twisted me up from the moment I laid eyes on you. So to hell with it! You’ve got ten seconds to change your mind. Make that five…and damn the consequences.”

Surprised by his words and unbelievably aroused, she held his stare for several seconds. Slowly, she unfastened the tiny buttons on the front of her top. When she exposed the white lace of her bra and the hardened nipples beneath, she paused.

“I’ve had a crappy year,” she admitted. “I figure I deserve this.” Cocking her head to the side, her gaze traveled down his body and back up. “But I’ll extend you the same courtesy.”

His smoldering gaze shifted up to meet hers. “What?”

“I believe it was ten, no, five—oh!”

He moved quickly, his hands encircling her waist before he scooped her up and headed toward the back of the cottage. He tossed her none-too-gently onto the bed before he straightened to strip off his shirt.

Her sultry laugh echoed on the air. She rose to her knees in the middle of the bed and began to unzip her shorts.

His hands instantly covered hers. “That’s for me.”

Bare-chested with his arousal pushing against his jeans, he nudged at her fingers and tugged her zipper down. His fingers seduced her as he moved across the exposed skin of her belly to peel her pants away. When she lay naked before him, he quickly dispatched his own clothing and reached into his nightstand drawer.

“You’re awfully small,” he whispered when he came back to her.

“But sexy, right?” she teased.

“Hell, yeah.” He grinned, pushing her into the mattress with the steady press of his hard body. “Can’t you tell?”

“Mmmm.” Erotic fascination coursed through her. Looping one arm around his neck, she tugged to bring his face down to hers as her hips rocked against him. “I want you, too.”

“You’re sure?”

Her lips curved in answer. One hand grabbed his thigh while the other closed around his thickened penis. With a soft moan trembling from her lips, she took him in.

His body shuddered. On a low growl he rolled her on top of him and completely filled her. Before she could catch her breath, he was surging upright to lavish attention on her breasts, pulling first one and then the other rigid nub into his mouth to suckle.

Arching backward, she clamped her legs tightly around his hips and enthusiastically rode the tide that surged to engulf her.

****

The first thing Jenna noticed, after being awakened by the call of nature, was the light summer rain beating against the darkened bedroom window. As she considered her options, vivid images of the last hours played like a kaleidoscope through her mind. She thought of holiday romances as extended one-night stands. Since she’d not experienced either before now, she wasn’t up on protocol. Eyeing the bare skin of Wyatt’s delectable backside, she briefly contemplated waking him with a trail of ardent kisses.

But she had to pee.

After pulling the sheet over temptation, Jenna slipped out of bed, scooped her clothes off the floor, scooted down the hallway, and turned right. Wyatt’s cottage was the mirror-image of hers, so when light flooded the spare bedroom instead of the bathroom, she immediately turned to leave. Mid-motion, her gaze scanned the complicated array of electronics on a folding table placed between the twin beds.

Curiosity had her stepping farther into the room. As she approached the large monitor with split-screen images that dominated the room, her curiosity gave way to confusion. Her confusion had jelled into disbelief by the time Wyatt entered the room.

“That’s my tote on the breakfast bar in the kitchen. Here.” She pointed to the image on one of the screens. “And those are my sandals on the floor by the front door.” She moved her finger across the screen. “These are my rooms.”

“Yes. Jenna—”

“Why can you see inside my cottage?”

“It’s not easy to explain.”

“Try.” Ice hardened her voice as a growing sense of violation formed.

“I—we’ve been watching you.”

“Watching me?”

“Yes.”

Ignoring the expanse of prime nude maleness on display, Jenna straightened to her full five feet four inches. Quickly now, her movements jerky and stiff, she began pulling on her clothes. “Why?”

“Scott Lowell,” Wyatt bit out.

“Scott?” Surprise stopped her fumble with the buttons on her top. “You’re spying on me because of my ex-fiancé?”

“Yes, he’s missing.”

“Missing? He’s been kidnapped?”

“I don’t think so. Lowell agreed to roll on his business partners to get out from under the bulk of the felony charges he’s facing. Something could have happened to him, but more likely he got nervous and skipped.”

Dread joined the feelings of confusion and violation. “And this involves me how?”

“You’re one of few connections to Lowell we were able to confirm.”

“Connections?” When her flashy ex-fiancé had suddenly stopped calling, she’d been relieved. She should have known something was up. “You suspect me?”

“To be honest, yes, at first. As his fiancée, our intel included you. On paper the two of you came across as a fast-climbing and ambitious couple. It wasn’t much of a stretch to think you could be involved in his business dealings. Wait—” He held up his hand when she started to speak. “You’ve since been cleared as a person of interest, but we still need Lowell.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “We were hoping he would contact you. Jenna…I know this looks bad. Let me pull on some pants and make coffee. We’ll talk this out.”

“Ex-fiancée, but why quibble. And there’s no need to talk a damn thing out. You thought I could be a criminal.” Her words were whisper-soft as she held his gaze, even while her horrified mind played back their every encounter. “Our engagement ended months before I heard of his arrest. But whatever. You pursued me in hopes that a man I loathe and despise, almost as much as I now loathe and despise you, should climb out from under whatever rock he’s hiding. Pretty words aren’t going to make me feel less of a fool.”

She turned to leave.

“If it helps, only your main area is wired.”

“It doesn’t help. Not one damn bit.” She whirled around and marched to within inches of him. “Is your name even Wyatt Stone?”

“Yes.”

“And what exactly are you? Besides a lying lowlife, I mean.”

His pulse pounded along his clenched jaw, and his voice had lost all inflection, but he held her gaze. “A federal marshal.”

“Federal Marshal Wyatt Stone,” she mocked. “Such dedication. The Agency must be quite pleased with your performance.”

“Dammit, Jenna! Law enforcement is not the aggrandized version of Her Majesty’s Secret Service,” he exploded. “Having sex with you was not part of my assignment. Given the circumstances, I admit it wasn’t the best idea, but sleeping with you had nothing to do with the case.”

When he reached out, she stepped back.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” She enunciated each word with such emotion her entire body quivered.

With one last glance at the monitors, she turned and ran out of the room. Hot tears pressed behind her eyes, but she managed to hold them back until she reached her unit. Vacillating between shock and mortification, Jenna spent the remainder of that day and all of the next in her bedroom.

After the fiasco that was her relationship with Scott, she’d thrown herself into her work. Even if work had been an option now, Jenna doubted it would have provided the same panacea. So she stayed to herself, avoided the small camera she found in a planter in the main area, and struggled to come to terms with Wyatt’s betrayal.

Her inherent fortitude, fueled by a growing sense of righteous indignation, awoke with her on Saturday morning. Excess energy pulsed through her, but the heavy morning shower slapping against her windows made a morning run unwise. Refusing to continue to hide like a criminal in her bedroom, Jenna tugged on a skin-tight Lycra top and biking shorts and stalked into the living room. After unrolling a large beach towel, she cued up Hot Body Aerobics on her tablet and began to move.

As the heady rhythm filled the small area, Jenna’s body undulated and pulsed, and the emotional baggage of the past forty-eight hours started to recede. So much so that, by the time the choreography had moved to butt gyrations and hip thrusts, she’d almost forgotten Wyatt might be watching.

Almost.

Her cell phone chimed just as the pounding on her door ensued. Jenna opened the door with her phone in her hand. Perverse pleasure churned through her when Wyatt barreled across the threshold just as she spoke into her phone. “Hello, Scott.”

Wyatt’s features morphed into hard, implacable angles, but his gaze stayed glued on hers.

“What do you want, Scott?” she asked. “Why would I have dinner with you? I’m sure you’ll agree there is nothing in our history that points to my being able to trust you, and you know how I feel about trust.”

Wyatt started mouthing words.

She rolled her eyes and turned her back to him. “Fine,” she said a minute later. “But let me be clear, Scott. I’ll meet you in the lobby at six thirty, but I don’t owe you a damn thing.” She ended the call.

“When?” Wyatt immediately asked.

She turned back to face him. “Tonight.”

“Good. I’ll contact the locals. We’ll take him when he enters the lobby.”

“I’ve seen enough movies to know the drill, Marshal Stone.” She shrugged. “Knowing that soon I won’t have to deal with either one of you is all the motivation I need.” She walked to the front door and opened it.

“Jenna, I am sorry I had to lie to you.”

“So…no apology for the actual deceit?”

“You’re quick. No, I don’t apologize for doing my job. Sometimes we may do shitty things, but we get good results.”

“Meaning?”

“The situation called for someone getting close to you.”

“Mission accomplished.” She motioned for him to leave.

He walked over to her and took hold of her forearm. “I’m not finished.”

“What I wouldn’t give to be big like you,” she observed, her composure a tenuous thing. “Then we’d see how much you like being manhandled.”

“If you were as big as me,” he shot back, his grip easing, “we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“Funny.” But she was not amused. “I can’t forcibly remove you, so finish what you came to say. Just don’t touch me.”

Wyatt released her, but he didn’t move away. “Again, sleeping with you was not part of the assignment.”

“I believe we’ve established you’re an overachiever.”

“You know that’s not what I mean. I’ve never crossed that line before.”

“Well, hell then, lucky me.” Her words were coated with sarcasm. “You’re a pretty good lover though, so you should consider adding fucking to your spy repertoire.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I disagree. I believe I’m helping more than is warranted.”

“Shit, Jenna. Even if I wanted to, I can’t change how we met.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is this what white-collar angst looks like? I’m underwhelmed. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You’re getting what you wanted, and that’s what’s important.”

“It does matter, Jenna.” He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “Despite how we got together, I don’t regret that we did. I’m asking for your forgiveness here.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Dammit, woman! What more do you want from me?”

“You haven’t been listening, Wyatt. I want nothing, absolutely nothing…wait!” Jenna raised a hand to forestall him. “You did your job and to hell with the consequences. Well this particular consequence has been betrayed too many times. Maybe at some point I’ll get past how things went down between us, but if I were you, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

He leaned in. “You may recall that I walked away.”

She snorted. “If I’d known what you knew, things wouldn’t have developed beyond common civility in the first place, so don’t push your luck, Marshal Stone.”

“Like you’re pushing yours, Ms. Alexander?” he bit out.

“What does that mean?”

“You knew there was a good chance I would be watching you. A one-hundred-year-old eunuch would have gotten a hard-on with that—”

She narrowed her eyes. “Aerobic dance routine?” she proffered.

His laugh sounded hollow. “Maybe at a stripper’s convention.”

She smirked. “And once again what you think no longer matters. Not now that I know who and what you are.”

“Now who’s the liar?” He moved past her on his way through the doorway. “Either way we’ll sort this out once Lowell is back in custody.”

“And you can kiss my ass, Marshal Stone!”

“Consider that a promise,” he tossed over his shoulder before slamming the door shut behind him.

****

Jenna was still smarting from Wyatt’s visit when it was time to get dressed. Her emotions continued to swing between hurt, anger, and all things Wyatt Stone, but she understood that her world wouldn’t right itself until this chapter was over and she was back home.

Recalling that her dress had been a favorite of Scott’s, she surveyed her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Admittedly, wearing it tonight gave her perverse pleasure. The clinging silk caressed her figure while the demur neckline presented a touch of sophisticated decorum.

But that was the front.

The sharp plunge of the back was as unexpected as it was dramatic. Draping her neck and shoulders, the black sheath exposed her smooth skin past her narrow waist to the dimples of her lower back. It was a dress designed to make men drool, which was exactly what her wounded sensibilities demanded.

Jenna applied the apple-red lipstick that matched her finger and toe nails and walked into the living room. Purposely turning her back to the surveillance camera, she dropped her evening bag on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen to fix a drink. The now-familiar pounding on the door coincided with the wineglass touching her lips. She took a deep sip before going to open the door.

Wyatt’s gaze raked over her from the top of the tumble of curls piled high on her head to the bright toenail polish peeking out of black stilettos. “Find another dress.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he grated.

“No.” She didn’t move. “Aren’t I the bait?”

“That doesn’t make me your pimp, Jenna.”

“That’s exactly what it makes you, Marshal Stone.”

Another time she may have been impressed at how swiftly he moved. In the space of one heartbeat he closed the gap between them, using the momentum of his body to press her back against the door. With a large hand on either side of her head, he leaned down until his lips were a hair’s breadth from her mouth.

His eyes were dark, and his breath feathered out against her lips. “Right now I don’t know what I want more—to kiss that smart mouth of yours into submission or tear this walking do-me advertisement to shreds.”

“Doesn’t matter.” The words came out a bit breathless, but she stood her ground. “We both know you’re not going to jeopardize your precious mission.”

“Don’t be so sure, Ms. Alexander,” he muttered. “Just be glad…very glad, that there’s still a camera in here.” Taking his time, he peeled himself off her and stepped back. With an economy of motion, he opened the door and pushed her outside.

She had barely cleared the door when Wyatt shut it behind her.

****

“Princess is en route,” Wyatt barked into his mic, trying to ignore the churning in his gut. Not only were his agents well prepped, local law enforcement was on scene to assist. Still, Wyatt hurriedly counted to one hundred as planned and followed Jenna. He calculated that Lowell was already in custody when the back of the main building came into view.

“Stone at the perimeter. Suspect secure?” His words were met with silence. “Am I clear to enter?” he demanded.

“Sir,” Livingston’s voice came through. “We need a twenty on Princess.”

“Fuck!” The knowledge that Jenna had never made it to the lobby had Wyatt breaking into a run. Several officers had the lobby covered, so he headed to the only building between the cottages and the lobby—the two-story garage where Walton was positioned.

“Walton!” Pounding through the first level, he listened for a response. It never came. Wyatt rapidly cleared the ground level and sprinted up the spiral incline to the second floor of the parking deck, gun in hand and every fiber of his being on alert.

A low moan drew his gaze to his right where he saw Walton struggling to stand. When a high-pitched shriek echoed through the cement structure a second later, Wyatt motioned for Walton to stand down and called for backup and a medic as he raced out onto the top level.

Immediately, Wyatt identified Lowell leaning over what he assumed was an incapacitated Jenna hidden behind a concrete column. Wyatt went in fast and low, tackling Lowell to the hard flooring with so much force he heard the man’s bones crunch.

His sole goal to get to Jenna, Wyatt rolled until he was back on his feet and rushed around the column. A moment later, he stopped so quickly his shoes bumped across the rough concrete. Two feet away Jenna stood with her feet firmly planted and her hands splayed low across her hips.

It wasn’t possible for anyone to look less in need of rescue.

“Did you just kill him?” Her eyes were huge. “I’d already slammed the door into his nuts, and then you…you…”

He grabbed her and crushed her to him.

“I’m not hurt,” she mumbled, but her words were swallowed up by his mouth. Only when agents charged onto their level did Wyatt stop kissing her.

“Walton?” he questioned, looking over Jenna’s shoulder.

“Is luckier than Lowell. Medics are en route.”

Jenna closed her eyes for a moment before shifting to look behind her. “I recognized Kenny just before Scott jumped him, so I figured out he was with Wyatt, but you too, Wendy?”

“It’s Deputy Wendy Livingston, but explanations can wait,” Wyatt interjected. “Livingston, escort Ms. Alexander to her cottage. I’ll follow once we’re clear here.”

It wasn’t until Wendy pointedly glanced at the hold Wyatt still had on Jenna that he dropped his hands and stepped away.

****

Still reeling from the unexpected events, Jenna followed Wendy to the stairwell. They were almost at her cottage when she spoke. “Was I the only one telling the truth?”

“That’s not an easy question to answer,” Wendy evaded. “We had a job to do.”

“And to do that job all of you constructed a lie.”

Wendy didn’t immediately respond. Stopping outside Jenna’s door, she took the keycard and unlocked it before motioning for Jenna to wait. Once she’d walked through every room in the cottage, she came back to Jenna and ushered her inside.

“Yes,” Wendy said, resuming their conversation. “But from the beginning you were nothing like your file led us to expect. Even though the boss cleared you of involvement after that first day on the beach, we couldn’t tell you.”

“Because you still needed me as bait.”

Wendy shrugged. “You seemed like a nice person, but we had to maintain our cover. Would you have helped if you had known?”

It was Jenna’s turn to shrug. “We’ll never know now, will we?”

“We weren’t trying to hurt you, Jenna, and it was never personal.”

“Feels real personal to me,” she contradicted.

“And I get that. Judging by the boss’s, er, reactions in the garage, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you’re not the only one who feels that way.”

“No.” Jenna shook her head. “It’s as you say. All of you were just doing your job.”

****

Adrenaline continued to pump through Wyatt’s veins, forcing him to check the urge to snap Lowell’s scrawny neck. He’d finally asked his last question as Lowell was being loaded into the ambulance ahead of Walton’s transport.

Wyatt considered both men damned lucky.

Stopping at his cottage first, he meticulously logged everyone’s account and finished his report. Only then did he head to Jenna’s place. He had hoped the routine of doing paperwork would calm him, but inside he was still raw with fear and self-loathing.

For what had seemed like an interminable amount of time, he believed he’d lost Jenna. If falling for her during an operation wasn’t bad enough, he couldn’t even convince himself that his actions would have been any different if she had remained a suspect. Bottom line, he had let his emotions cloud his judgment, underestimate Lowell, and put Jenna and his agents at risk.

When Wyatt eventually stood outside Jenna’s unit, he paused. On the other side of the door waited the woman who had done nothing but knot his insides into a throbbing mass of needs and wants. It shook him to the core when he realized there would be no going back if he touched Jenna now.

Livingston opened the door at his knock. Wyatt waited while she gathered the items she had used to take Jenna’s statement. He didn’t cross the room to Jenna until the door had closed behind his agent.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yes.” She spoke softly. “How’s Kenny?”

“I think it’s a mild concussion. He’ll probably stay in the hospital overnight for observation, but he’ll recover.”

“That’s a relief. And Scott?”

“He may be laid up a bit longer. You should know that he regained consciousness enough to spill everything.”

“Did he say what he was trying to accomplish by kidnapping me?”

“He was clear on that part. Of all the things that have happened, he regretted losing you the most. His words, not mine. When he found out through old social media connections that you were here, he rented a villa for the two of you. He didn’t appear to have given much thought beyond winning you back.”

She shook her head. “It all seemed surreal, until he grabbed me and pulled me into the garage. Kenny jumped out and tried to stop Scott but—I would never have believed Scott capable of such violence if I hadn’t seen it myself.”

“Most men are capable…in the right circumstance,” he offered. “You could have gotten away?”

“When they were fighting? I guess. But Kenny was trying to help me,” she explained. “Why would I leave him?”

The simplicity of her words made him feel even more of a heel. The need to touch her threatened to overrun his control. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he turned away.

“I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble from Lowell,” he concluded, walking to the door.

“So…that’s it, then?” she asked, her voice low.

“I believe so. Thanks again for your help.” His chest tightening with regret, Wyatt let himself out without once looking back.

****

Jenna returned home on Sunday without further contact from Wyatt or the other agents. As spring erupted into summer and summer ebbed into fall, her hurt and disillusionment settled into a profound ache relegated to the quiet of her solitary hours.

She was in her office one day in late September when her telephone rang.

“This is Jenna Alexander.”

“Hello, Jenna. It’s Wendy Livingston.”

She willed her voice to remain steady. “What can I do for you, Wendy?”

“I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time, but it’s about the case. You may have heard that the trial for the partners at Mr. Lowell’s firm begins next month.”

“I’d heard. But I thought my part was done.”

“We still believe that to be the case because Mr. Lowell is cooperating fully. That and your statement from Bermuda should be sufficient.”

“I sense a but.”

“A small one. We need to verify and notarize your printed account before your statement can be admissible in court.”

“That’s an easy fix. Messenger it over. We have a notary here.”

“I’m sorry, but chain of custody being what it is, you have to come here for it to be airtight,” Wendy explained.

“No.”

“Jenna, please. We put this off as long as we could, but the case is stronger with your formal statement. And it has to be filed by close of business on Friday.”

“No,” she repeated.

Wendy’s sigh was loud. “It’s either that or we’ll be forced to subpoena you to give your testimony in court.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. “This is not okay, Wendy.”

“I know. But—”

“Wendy!”

“I understand, Jenna. I do,” Wendy soothed. “Coming here is the last thing you want, but the entire trip shouldn’t take more than a few hours, and then you’ll be done.”

All of the control she could muster couldn’t keep the quiver from her voice. “When?”

“Friday morning at ten.”

“Fine.”

“Okay, then,” Wendy speedily confirmed. “2910 Massachusetts Avenue.”

“Goodbye, Wendy.” She hung up.

Wendy’s call soured her mood, which had not improved when Friday arrived. She entered the building housing the US Marshals Service eighteen minutes before her appointed time. She cleared the metal detectors and scanners to sign in and collect her visitor’s badge and was directed to a bank of elevators. Arriving on the ninth floor, she stepped out into a small lobby to face a warren of aisles and cubicles shooting off in every direction.

“Jenna. Thank you for coming.”

Jenna watched Wendy thread through the maze toward her. “I don’t see where I had a choice, so let’s get this over with.” She felt petty as soon as she’d finished speaking, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

Wendy didn’t respond as she led the way in the direction she had come. Passing a myriad of desks and cubes, they traversed a long hallway where the corridor divided offices on both sides to enter a small conference room.

After Wendy introduced Jenna to the attorney, she walked back to the door. Neither Wendy nor Jenna had mentioned Wyatt.

“It was good seeing you,” Wendy said and swiftly retreated.

It took Jenna forty-three minutes to review her statement and have it notarized. She declined the attorney’s offer to escort her out and retraced her steps to the elevator. By the time she’d reached her car, she felt completely numb. Her plan had been to head into her office after her appointment, but the idea of interacting with her colleagues made her stomach churn. Texting her assistant that she was taking the entire day, Jenna got into her car and instead drove home.

Once home, she headed straight to her bedroom. She crossed to the closet and took down the jewelry box she’d had since she was a teenager. After removing the small package wrapped in tissue paper, she peeled back the layers of paper and set the delicate replica of the lighthouse on her nightstand. She continued to stare at it as she lay down on the eyelet duvet, curled into the fetal position, and let the tears come.

She awoke Saturday morning emotionally empty but determined to move on with her life. Sticking to her routine, Jenna thoroughly cleaned her apartment and then took a walk through her neighborhood. After buying a bag of plain popcorn from a sidewalk vendor, she fed the pigeons and people-watched. When the sun started its descent, she picked up a few staples and headed home.

After putting away her purchases, Jenna took a shower, pulled on a loose-fitting top and leggings, and headed back into her kitchen to figure out dinner. Even with fresh inventory she wasn’t impressed with her options, so she ordered a pizza. When her doorbell pealed, she got up, pasted a smile on her face, and opened the door.

Wyatt stood in the entrance, her boxed pizza in his hands. Hurt and anger flooded back, battling for prominence. Anger won.

“This is mine, and you,” Jenna said nastily as she grabbed the box, “can go to hell.” Stepping back, she kicked at the door.

Wyatt blocked it with his shoulder. “Been there, so I think I’ll pass on the roundtrip. Since I’m not leaving until we’ve talked, I wouldn’t say no to a slice of pie.”

For several long seconds, she stared at him. It might have helped if she had been seriously weighing her options, but the surge of emotions rushing through her clouded her mind. With an indifference she was far from feeling, she turned her back on him, walked to the small dining table, unceremoniously dropped the box on it, and headed into the kitchen for utensils.

Their meal passed silently until he was finishing up his third slice.

“I tried to get back for your interview, but military flights out of the Middle East aren’t as consistent as you may think. I also haven’t eaten since before my flight this morning, so thanks.”

She took in the dark smudges under his eyes and wished she didn’t care. “What do you want, Wyatt?”

“You.”

She rose to her feet and began collecting the remnants of their meal. “You should go now.”

He sighed but didn’t get up. “It would mean a lot to me if you would hear me out first.” He rubbed his hands across his eyes before continuing. “I understand why you feel the way you do, and I can’t fault you for it, but I’m crazy about you. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. Do you ever think about me?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to give us another shot?”

Her short laugh held no humor. “I’m not sure there was a first one.”

“You may be right. I need a hug.” Not waiting for a response, he stood up and pulled her in. When she felt the tremor that went through him, she began to soften. She started pulling away when she realized her body was already betraying her.

“Don’t,” he pleaded. “Let me hold you for a bit before you tell me to get lost.”

Encircled by him, she stopped resisting and mumbled something unintelligible against his chest.

“What?” he asked, relaxing his grip enough for her to lift her head.

“I said I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Tell me what?”

“To get lost.”

This time it was Wyatt who leaned back, but only as far as it took to look into her eyes. When he bent to claim her mouth, it wasn’t long before she was kissing him back.

“This doesn’t mean all is forgiven,” she admonished when he ended the kiss, swung her into his arms, and moved to the sofa. As he nibbled across her neck his hands moved over her body. “Control yourself.”

“Too late,” he muttered against her collarbone. “These last months have been hell, and I need to feel you. Don’t make me beg.”

She sighed. She could forgive his deceit, but she needed an explanation. “Just one thing, then,” she murmured, even as licks of pleasure radiated through her. “Tell me why you ran.”

His body stilled. “I did not run.”

“Total honesty, Wyatt. Your hot and cold routine is a deal breaker for me. I either understand all of it or I’m done.”

“I wouldn’t call it running. Okay, okay!” he capitulated when she began to struggle against his hold. “I needed room to think. When Lowell had you, I went through hell in the space of minutes. It hit me that my personal involvement with you could have tragic consequences.”

“But it didn’t, so I don’t see your problem.”

“My problem is I knew getting involved with you in the circumstances wasn’t smart. And rules or no rules, knowing that didn’t make a damn bit of difference. Shit!” he exploded. “I’m thirty-two years old. I wasn’t looking for any of this!”

“Mmmm. Well, I wasn’t looking for any of this either,” she admonished him. “And I didn’t ask you for anything outside of our time on the island. For me there was no problem.”

“Well my feelings for you made it one, and hell, they just kept growing.”

“And now? What’s happening here, Wyatt?”

“I’m surrendering a battle I can’t win.”

His words did not engender confidence. She may not always make the best decisions, but she made a point of owning her feelings. “What exactly does that mean?”

“I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“You’re saying you want us to be together?”

“Yes.”

“Beyond the present?”

“Yes.”

“What if I told you that I’m not sure I want to place my trust in you again?”

Briefly closing his eyes, he rested his head against the cushions. “Then I would be lost. I will do everything in my power to regain your trust and earn your love, but all I have is my word, Jenna.”

“And if I take you at your word…what happens next, Wyatt?”

“You have a say, but I vote for a lot more of this.” Straightening, he ran his hands up her arms and moved in for another kiss.

She turned her face away and let his lips brush her cheek. “You must think I’m awfully easy.”

He smiled for the first time since his arrival. “Hell, woman, nothing about you is easy, but I need to be with you. Give us a chance.”

Her gaze met and held his for several moments. And then she smiled. Relaxing, she leaned in to smooth her hands across his chest before reaching for a button.

“Jenna?”

“Shhh.” Once his shirt was open, her hands slid down to the waist of his pants.

He rested back against the cushions, filled his hands with her breasts, and closed his eyes again. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

More sure of him with each passing second, she paid tribute to his exposed nipples. All the while her industrious hands were angling lower. “All right.”

“I know I’m not the easiest man to deal with, but if you’d—” he continued before her words penetrated. “What did you say?”

“I said all right.”

“That’s it?” he questioned, his handsome features suddenly twisting. “I spill my guts and all you can say is ‘all right’?”

Jenna’s blouse hung open, her bra unfastened, and the zipper to her slacks more down than up. In glorious disarray, she leisurely got to her feet.

“What are you doing?”

She walked to the hall entrance before looking back at him. “I would think that was obvious, but apparently I need a bit more practice.”

One eyebrow arched as he sat up. “What do you need to practice?”

Her gaze locked on his seconds before her blouse dropped to the floor. Her bra soon followed. “Being bait, of course.”

Wyatt lunged off the sofa with such speed she barely evaded his hands. Her laughter filling the apartment, Jenna let him chase her all the way to her bedroom.