Amanda Stevens - Unauthorized Passion

But that wasn’t the real reason Cassie kept silent. To be honest, there was something deeply thrilling about being the object of Jack Fury’s attention. And once he found out she wasn’t Celeste, she’d be about as interesting to him as yesterday’s catch.

He was just so different from anyone Cassie had ever met before. She’d known there was something special about him the moment she’d set eyes on him at Metro. But she’d thought at first her attraction stemmed from the effortless way he blended into the arty world to which she’d always hoped to belong. Now she realized it was something else. Her thirst for adventure—for something more —drew her to him.

She’d been starved for life for far too long, and now Jack Fury, with a story as improbable as his hair color, promised her a feast.

Cassie thought back to that night at the restaurant, the little game they’d played with one another, and she shuddered.

The attraction was still there, no question about it. She just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Her mind raced with the possibilities. “What about the boat?”

“What about it?”

“Do you think your jewel thief had something to do with the explosion?”

He hesitated. “That’s what I intend to find out.”

He turned away from her then, and Cassie saw his hand snake out to grab something from underneath a towel on one of the seats. He was so quick about it that she had only a brief glimpse of something dark and metallic, but she knew instinctively that it was a gun.

So he was armed and, for all she knew, dangerous. And here she was alone with him on the high seas.

A measure of common sense returned. Adventure was one thing, but deliberately placing herself in imminent peril quite another.

What did she think she was doing? How could she even consider starting something up with Jack Fury? She knew nothing about the man. She didn’t even know if he was a real cop. What if he’d made up the whole Interpol-jewel thief story? What if, instead, he was some kind of…stalker?

Maybe he’d blown up the boat, just so he could rescue her. Get close to her.

Cassie had seen a similar scenario in a movie once. A psycho who’d set up all kinds of bizarre situations just so he could be near the object of his fascination.

Jack Fury might be a little on the strange side, but to be fair, he hadn’t done anything truly psychotic. Although Cassie was pretty sure he’d been staring at her breasts earlier, but she could hardly blame him for that. Her new Brazilian swimsuit was pretty skimpy, and truthfully, she might have been a little disappointed if he hadn’t snuck a peek.

Still, why had he told the man in the other boat that he’d called the coast guard when he obviously hadn’t?

Unless…he hadn’t wanted the others to call…

Because…he had something to hide…

Come to think of it, Cassie wasn’t all that keen on involving the authorities, either. Ethan Gold had made arrangements for Celeste to have the use of his boat, but Cassie wasn’t Celeste. Technically, she’d taken it out without Professor Gold’s permission, which meant that if he pressed charges, she could end up in jail. Or be forced to cough up the dough to reimburse him for damages. In either case, she’d be in deep doo-doo.

But back to Jack Fury…

He didn’t appear crazy or perverted, thank goodness. Then again, neither, apparently, had Ted Bundy.

But try as she might, Cassie just couldn’t picture a psycho killer in a pair of lime-green board shorts.

She couldn’t exactly picture an Interpol agent in a getup like that, either, but that didn’t stop her from appreciating the way those shorts hugged his lean hips and accentuated the ripple of subtle muscle in his abs and chest. The way they rode so low that with just a little tug…

What in the world had gotten into her? She’d just destroyed someone’s boat, barely escaped with her life, and now here she was, moments later, lusting after the guy who’d pulled her out of the water.

A guy who claimed to be an Interpol agent on the trail of an international jewel thief.

If Cassie bought that, he probably had a nice little bridge in Brooklyn he’d like to sell her, too.

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