Wicked Sexy (Men of Discovery Island 1)

Redirect.

Grabbing his cell from his duffel, he tried a call, but no surprise, he had no signal. The storm would have temporarily knocked out service across the island. He reconned the cabin again and was fiddling with the radio when the bathroom door opened.

This time, she was sporting dry clothes and bare feet as she ran a towel over her hair. He eyed her cautiously. She looked more relaxed—but only slightly.

“I’ve been thinking,” she announced, her eyes widening when she spotted his fire.

“Uh-huh,” he said noncommittally.

“I want to try going back to town.”

Right. She was tenacious. Under other circumstances, that would be intriguing. And possibly a very, very good thing if she brought that determination to bed, but right now, it made him want to growl. Loudly.

“You’ve been outside, you know what the conditions are like.” He said these words carefully. Play nice, he reminded himself.

“I have Mr. Ramsey’s medicine.” She pointed to her purse. “He needs it and, at some point, the storm is going to pass over us.”

He opted for show-and-tell, striding to the front door, unlocking and opening it. That gave her a ringside seat for the rain and wind whipping around Sweet Moon’s driveway. The Jeep, parked not fifteen feet away, was almost invisible. “Exhibit A. You’ve got ten, maybe fifteen minutes of daylight left. Rain. And wind. You’re in for the night. Get used to it.”

She stepped forward and had a long-distance look. He was fairly certain she cursed.

“I drove us here. I can drive us into town.” Her objection must have sounded weak to her own ears, because she pursed her lips and glared at the rain.

He shrugged, shutting the door. “It’s safer to wait until tomorrow morning.”

And since her car was the one currently swimming in the ocean, he figured she was at his mercy as far as transportation went. He flexed his knee. Even if he would make a crappy chauffeur at the moment, he was still the person in possession of the car keys.

He’d let the facts speak for themselves, however. His Dani liked facts. “Listen to the radio.”

While he tuned the dial, she marched around the cabin picking up his wet things. He’d seen soldiers go into battle with less fury. He was tempted to start dropping the odd sock just to tease her. Concentration furrowed her face as the radio cycled through a recorded message about weather conditions, the forecast and a warning to remain wherever you were.

“Fine,” she said and he grinned.

She disappeared into the bathroom. The slap of wet cotton said she was hanging up his things. Forcefully. “Tomorrow morning?”

“More likely than tonight,” he called back. “So there’s nothing stopping you from sitting down in front of this fire.”

She entered the room and eyed the fireplace. Then her gaze went to the love seat parked in front of the flames. He sensed she was still making up her mind about him. “They teach you how to start fires in basic training?”

“Sure.” He pushed back the memories, watching with satisfaction as she moved toward the fireplace.

They’d taught him lots of things.

He’d trained hard. He trusted his mind and body—he knew precisely what he was capable of on a number of levels. His instincts were honed. He reacted when he encountered a situation, but he rarely talked about it ever.

Actually, he didn’t talk much, period. He’d never been particularly smooth with women. Obviously, he loved sex and a woman’s body. But before, it had always been only really good sex. If he were honest with himself, he didn’t know how to give anything else but pleasure to a woman, but his instincts screamed that Dani deserved more than that. Much, much more. So if he wanted this woman, he would have to figure out how to give her whatever she needed.

Plus, he had her chart.

That was his ace in the hole.

Rummaging in his duffel, he came up with a pair of thick, navy-issue socks. Now was no time for bare feet.

“Pull up a seat,” he invited her, and showed her the socks. “Get comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”

* * *

THE ODDS OF her heading back to town now were zero.

The emergency-broadcast channel was static-filled, but the message was clear. She still had hours until the storm passed.

Dani knew a sure thing when the numbers stared her in the face. Inches of rain and hurricane-force winds said she stayed put. The question was: What were the odds she got her spec ops soldier into bed? She was a reformed woman—confident, sexy. Sure of what she wanted. She might be less certain about her sexual wish list, but she was sure about Daeg. He was certainly easy to look at. His hair was mussed, his eyes sparkling and intense. The ancient cotton T-shirt and sweats he was wearing only made him seem more rugged and attractive. She shouldn’t be staring at him.