Wendy Etherington - Irresistible Fortune

He not only had her motor revving, it was on the verge of blowing. Yet she didn’t do one-night stands. And she couldn’t imagine anything with Gavin Fortune lasting beyond one night.

They were adversaries at best, stone-cold enemies at worst.

This same thought seemed to occur to him at the exact second it did her, since they both jumped back simultaneously.

“We can’t do this,” he said, his breathing harsh and choppy as he stared in disbelief at her.

“You started it,” she snapped, annoyed that she wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms.

“Me? You were all over me.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Delusional. You were the one who proposed the experiment.”

“Which was a complete failure. I don’t want you in the least.”

“Me, either.” Every cell in her body tingled, calling her a liar. “I’ll have no problem doing my duty by the historical society and checking up on every move you and your crew makes.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and attempted to look aggravated, even though she could see the desire lingering in his eyes as his gaze focused on her lips. “It’s summer. Can’t you set aside the overbearing teacher impulses until September?”

“Unfortunately for you, no.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

Breath heaving, they glared at each other. In the next instant, they were plastered together.

Gavin leaned back in his deck chair on board the Heat and closed his eyes against the glaring sun overhead. “I’m in serious trouble, amigo.”

Pablo, lounging in his own chair, needed no clarification on the cause of Gavin’s problem. “She’s a looker. Could use a tan, though.” When Gavin glanced at him, he peeked over his sunglasses, his eyes lecherous. “Why don’t you invite her to sunbathe on deck tomorrow? I’ll watch over her while you pick through all that debris at the wreck site.”

“That’s a great plan,” Gavin said in mock admiration. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“No idea. You’re the one who’s supposed to be brilliant.”

“Sure I am. She can hardly stand the sight of me, so I’ll just call her up, invite her over and ask her to strip down to her bikini while we all drool over her.”

“I’ll be drooling. You’ll be diving.”

“Even better.”

“It is. She likes me better than you.”

“Oh, no, she doesn’t. You’re guilty by association. She thinks you’re part of my gang.”

“I wouldn’t be if you’d tell her you’re not a jerk.”

Gavin shook his head. “I can’t risk it.” He paused, feeling the weight of his lies more substantially than ever. “Besides, she’d hardly believe me now.”

With a sigh, Pablo sat up. “Keeping up your hotshot image gets you a lot of play, and our team a lot of press. Your agent called earlier, by the way. He wants to talk to you about a cameo in the next Dr. McFearsome movie.”

“Dr. McFearsome?”

“He’s the suave archeologist who’s obsessed with Egyptian culture, Tai Chi and hot blondes.”

Gavin winced. “Charming.”

“Could be fun.”

“I don’t see how.”

After a tick of silence, Pablo conceded, “If you’re miserable with your image then dump it. You don’t have to compete with Dan Loff anymore.”

Gavin curled his hand into a fist. “Loff doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Sure he does.” Pablo swatted his shoulder and stood. “Way too much.”

As Pablo walked toward the cooler, Gavin reflected that though Loff had been the catalyst and motivation for much of his professional life, Gavin himself had made the choices that had brought him to the crossroads he now faced.

He’d wanted the spotlight, and he’d gotten it. He could hardly complain about the results at this stage of the game.

“You want a beer?” Pablo asked, holding up a bottle.

“Yeah.” As his friend passed one over, Gavin wondered, “What’s for dinner?”

“Who am I, the little woman? Did you catch something today besides the blues?”

Gavin unscrewed the top of his beer bottle and took a long sip. “No. I got distracted by the buttons.”

“Brass?” Pablo asked as he settled back in his chair.

“Yeah, and with an eagle emblem. By 1863 the metal was hard to come by for the South, so it’s a pretty good find.”

“Could be off a Union uniform. The pirates had better gear than either side.”

“True.”

They drank in silence for a few minutes. Gavin watched a plane cruise by with a banner that read, Cal’s All-You-Can-Eat Seafood. 5-9 Daily Specials.

The Islanders would hate that. Anything interrupting the natural peace of their sandy paradise was met with derision or legal action. Even his expedition was likely to be tolerated more than planes, helicopters, motorcycles or an overabundance of Jet Skis.

Silence was golden.

Since he spent a great deal of his time in the dark and quiet, underwater, he could appreciate the sentiment.

He definitely liked kissing Brenna McGary into silence.

On another gulp of beer, he wished, futilely, for a moment’s peace from thoughts of that woman.

The woman he wanted beyond all reason. The one who tempted him to throw away the caution that—secretly, anyway—guided his every move.

If Sloan Kendrick hadn’t walked onto the deck and interrupted their make-out session, Brenna would have spent last night in his bed.

Which would have been a very bad move.

His body throbbed in protest.

She was determined to demonize him to the mayor, city council and the historical society. Even the damn sheriff had given him a stern look before Gavin had revealed—truthfully, for once—that he’d been raised in Texas and had a serious love for college football.

Charming this place was becoming a serious task. Over the last few years he’d taken for granted that particular aspect of his job.

If Brenna incited picketing or negative media reports, he’d be in a world of hot water with the owners of The Carolina, who needed quick cash for their treasure. As seemed to be the norm, it was up to him to care about the artifacts he found.

Him and Brenna.

She’d appreciate the irony if he ever had any intention of telling her the truth about himself.

“What graves did you dig up today, boys?” a familiar voice called from the direction of the pier.

Gavin’s pulse shot up. “Oh, hell.”

“It’s that attitude that’s making you so hateable.” Pablo leaped off his chair. “I, on the other hand, would be glad to take care of our Irish pixie.”

“Our—” Gavin rolled to his side and gained his feet, rushing after his buddy. “She’s my problem.”

As they moved forward, Pablo nudged him aside. “A woman should be revered and cherished. You don’t deserve her.”

Though part of him realized Pablo was simply messing with him, Gavin still found his blood boiling. No other man was coming within ten miles of his Irish pixie until they’d settled this conflict/passion/craziness between them. “Hey, pal, I saw her first.”

“No, you didn’t.”

They arrived on the bow just in time to see Brenna and Penelope—the society’s teenaged computer guru—walking down the gangplank.

Carrying a cooler, Brenna wore white Bermuda shorts and a bright green halter top. The high-heeled wedge sandals she used to overcome her issues with her stature were also present. And though he didn’t think her size diminished either her power or her beauty, he had to admit they did amazing things for her legs.

Since Pablo seemed determined to best him in the gentleman’s game, he let his friend take the cooler, then Brenna’s hand, and assist her to the deck, while Gavin did the same for Penelope.