Dirty Games (Tropical Temptation)

She froze. He cursed. “That’s Eddie. Don’t worry about it.”

Wide, serious eyes stared up at him. She stepped out of his arms and wrapped hers around herself. “I do worry. Luke, I know you think you crossed some kind of line with me, and…look, I don’t know if you’re canceling the contract to make this better for you, or for me, but either way, it’s crazy. It’s not fair to you, and I’m not okay with it. You provided me with your time and professional expertise. I got the benefit of both. You earned your fees. We have a professional relationship—”

“No.” He shook his head. “We never had a professional relationship. We were far over that boundary before we even got started.”

“You didn’t want me as a client.”

“I sure as hell didn’t,” he agreed. “Any more than you wanted me as a trainer. But I wanted you.”

“A neurotic, narcissistic actress,” she said softly.

“Seems I’ve got a weakness for your kind of trouble, Trouble.”

He understood what she was pointing out, though. Not every issue was solved by tearing up a few sheets of paper. She loved what she did. She excelled at it, and he was going to have to deal with her career if he wanted to this to work. If he couldn’t, then canceling the contract really was just a pride-saving sacrifice on his part. “You’re mine.”

He wanted to say more, tell her more, but more wasn’t fair to her. Not yet. Despite being thousands of miles from home, they weren’t on neutral ground. They were on his turf. And despite canceling the contract, they weren’t on equal ground. Telling her he wanted her was one thing. She’d made no secret of wanting him, too. But as long as she was relying on him to attain her goal, telling her he was falling in love with her smacked of emotional blackmail. He’d convinced her she needed him, and used it as a mechanism for gaining her compliance. But forcing his feelings on her now took unfair advantage of that need. He could eliminate the contract, but he couldn’t eliminate the rest of it quite as easily. He’d have to be patient. “You’re mine, and it has nothing to do with a contract. I don’t want it between us.”

Pink crept into cheeks. “Luke, I love a grand gesture as much as the next girl, but this has real consequences for you. For your business. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“It will work out. I have a contingency plan.” He’d have to hustle a bit, cut back on his personal time to take on some additional clients, but he’d manage. “I’m not worried.” He ran a thumb over the line between her brows. “You shouldn’t, either.” But neither his words nor his touch made the line disappear. He eased back and took in the stiff set of her shoulders. Time to tackle whatever had put the anxious shadows in her eyes. “Something else on your mind?”

She nibbled her lower lip, clearly debating.

Frustration roughened his voice. “Tell me, Quinn. You don’t need a contract in place to trust me with whatever’s worrying you.”

“I got a call from my mom this morning.” Then, on a long exhale, she spilled out the rest, ending with, “I probably ought to call Eddie now, since he’s awake, and let him know what’s going on.”

Luke pulled his phone from his pocket, hit the number for her, and handed it over. He waited again while she paced the courtyard and ran through the situation for Eddie, listened to her respond to a few questions, and add a grateful, “Thanks. I really appreciate this.”

Eddie spoke again, and apparently shifted the conversation, because Quinn stopped wearing a path along the cobblestones and turned her attention to him. “Yeah. He told me.” Eddie said something more, and she laughed. Her first real laugh of the morning. “Yes, I realize I still have to do what he tells me to do.” She sent a smirk his way. “For another week. Then he can do what I say for a change.”

He simply lifted his brows in reply, but battled back the smile that kept trying to lift the corners of his mouth at her casual reference to a future with him once she returned to real life. Only an idiot would read too much into the comment—especially one intended more as a joke than a guarantee—but he read it as a good sign anyway. When she said good-bye and handed the phone back to him, he took stock of her. She looked better. Not cool, scratch-resistant Quinn Sheridan by a long shot, but less upset.

He aimed to keep the trend going. “What do you say to a beach day?”

Chapter Fifteen

“This is your idea of a beach day?”

Quinn extended her arms and straightened her legs until she stood on the bike pedals. The position gained her enough leverage to continue her slow ascent up the millionth steep hill. She could see the beach—seen plenty of it, in fact, during their meandering, three-and-a-half-mile run around the resort to get to the bike rental place, and plenty more during their bicycle trek to the other side of the island. Stupid her, assuming a beach d

ay meant parking her ass on a towel and sticking her toes in sun-warmed sand.

Luke looked back at her, his eyes unreadable behind dark sunglasses, but something in the set of his brows told her he was laughing at her. “This is part of it.”

“The worst part,” she muttered under her breath, and struggled to maintain enough speed to stay upright.

“Keep pedaling. We’re almost there.”

“There? It’s an island,” she argued. “We’re surrounded by seashore. The resort has its very own beach right on the property. Chilled drinks, full-service cabanas, and best of all, no bike ride required.”

“I don’t think you really want a bunch of resort guests and staff underfoot when I peel you out of your bikini and apply sunscreen to all your hard-to-reach places.”

Oh. Well, maybe not.

“Besides, the view is worth the trip.” He faced forward again, and she had to admit the current view did not suck. Late morning sun played over a mouthwatering arrangement of bulging delts, angled traps, and strong scapulae before tapering down long, lean lats partially obscured by the dark-blue backpack strapped to his shoulders. The bulk of it shaded the lower half of his back, casting shadows into twin dimples at the base of his spine. Then he raised his body higher on his bike as well, treating her to an eyeful of rock-hard glutes bunching and flexing under a thin veil of blue and white hibiscus print swim trunks. Sweat darkened the waistband just below the small of his back. She had a quick, naughty urge to tug the damp fabric down and lick the salty skin. Licking and licking so the taste coated her mouth, and then spearing her tongue into the tight crevice at the top of his ass until he cursed and threatened her with toe-curling…consequences.

She was so lost in the fantasy, she almost didn’t notice they were cresting the hill. Her speed picked up as she followed Luke down a slight decline, and then squeezed the brake when he said, “This way.” He leaned his body into a turn in the absently graceful way of someone accustomed to riding, and disappeared into what looked like a wall of jungle. Seconds later, she coasted to the same spot and saw he’d steered his bike down a dirt path. She followed, clutching the brakes with white-knuckled intensity as greenery whipped by on either side of the narrow, rutted path. Trees and vines formed a canopy above them. The ocean breeze gave way to thicker air, and thicker scents—rain-soaked soil overlaid with a steaming perfume of wild growing fruits, exotic flowers, and an invisible zoo of animals and insects.