Cara Lockwood - Shelter In The Tropics

He kept a rigid control of himself for a reason. When he let emotions get the best of him, bad things happened. Like when he’d hit his commanding officer. That had led to a court-martial. But the weasel had deserved it.

Adeeb’s brother had died because Derek Hollie refused to let Tack save him. Then Derek conveniently scrapped all of Adeeb’s paperwork for the visa promised to him by Uncle Sam. By the time Tack realized the mistake, the visas had run out, the program had been nixed. There were none left for Adeeb.

Cate Allen was supposed to be the answer to his problems, but right now, she was making things far more complicated than he liked. He thought he was certain he’d been the one playing her, yet now he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t let himself start thinking she was just your average girl. Nothing about her was average. Or safe.

“This is our last stop before I get you back to the resort for lunch,” Cate said, pulling the boat into another small inlet. Tack didn’t want the morning to end. He told himself it was because he wasn’t done trying to pry information from her, but the truth was, he liked her company.

Tack glanced at the small town not far from their diving spot. He saw open-air cantinas and cafés, as well as a string of brightly colored shop awnings. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t we skip the snorkeling and head over there for lunch?”

Cate shaded her eyes from the bright sun overhead and blinked at the shore. “Smuggler’s Cove? You want to eat there?”

“Sounds exciting. Will there be pirates?”

Cate snorted. “Hardly. Unless you call the tourist-shop owners pirates. Though, they will rob you blind for shell jewelry boxes and shot glasses.”

“Sounds perfect. I thought this was an island tour, after all. Aren’t you going to show me around?”

Cate studied Tack, wary. “There’s a nice seafood place there. But it’s pricey. All the restaurants in Smuggler’s Cove are pricey. It’s the gentrified part of the island.”

“I’m paying,” Tack said.

“I don’t need...”

“I said I’m paying.” Tack grinned, and he could see Cate relenting.

“But I’m not dressed for...”

Tack glanced at the people walking down the small cobblestone streets. “Looks like they’re all dressed like us,” he said. “Aren’t shoes dressing up on an island?”

Cate sighed, and Tack knew then that he had her. She’d run out of excuses. “Fine,” she said.

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