Medusa’s Master

teammate, Aleesha, later this year.

The sun was low in the sky and Kat was tired, sore, hungry and cranky by the time she and Jeff were allowed to leave police headquarters.

Jeff grumbled. “You hungry?”

She replied, “Starved.”

“Want some seafood?”

“Perfect.” Heck, shoe leather and wilted lettuce sounded delicious right about now.

They veered into the first authentic-looking place they came to-a pub crammed with cricket memorabilia and advertising the “Best Fish and Chips in the Lesser Antilles.”

They ordered two plates of the house specialty, which turned out to be excellent. They spoke little. Not only were they in public, there wasn’t much to say about the afternoon’s waste of time. They’d told the truth, stuck to their guns, and no matter how suspicious D’Abeau was, their story had held up.

Kat found herself examining every patron who walked into the bar, comparing facial features against her indistinct impressions from last night. No sign of the Ghost. Of course, if she were the guy, she’d be hiding under the darkest rock she could find and trying to figure out the fastest way off this island. Frankly, she expected he was long gone. Bankrolled by someone rich and shady as he was, surely the Ghost had access to private transportation. She grimly recalled the long row of swanky charter jets parked at Sir Grantley Adam Airport when they’d arrived.

After the meal, Jeff asked, “How about a walk on the beach-or are you too sore for that?”

“It would probably do me good to work out a few of the kinks.”

And so it was they came to be down on the waterfront, reveling in the pristine white sand as the moon rose, casting a pearlescent glow across the serene ocean.

Jeff smiled at her. “Pretty romantic, huh?”

She quirked an eyebrow back at him. “Are you fishing for me to fling myself into your arms and kiss you senseless?”

He regarded her much more seriously than she’d expected. He answered slowly, “No, I don’t think flinging will ever be your style. You’re more subtle than that. More sophisticated. In public, at least. I confess, though, that I am hoping you like to cut loose in private.”

“What if I’m the world’s worst kisser and terrible in bed? It would surely suck to be saddled with me for eighty years then.”

He chuckled and closed the distance between them, bringing him squarely into her personal space. “Most skills can be learned. At the end of the day, it’s all about how you feel, anyway. If you really care for someone and try to express that, nothing you do in bed is wrong. But if you’re worried about it, I stand ready to give you expert instruction.”

“You’re incorrigible.” He was so close she could breathe in his intoxicating scent. Since when had sniffing some guy made her head spin like this? Maybe it was left over from the blow to her head last night. But somehow, she didn’t think so.

He murmured, “I prefer to think of myself as single-minded.”

“Obsessed?”

He leaned even closer. The broad silhouette of his shoulders blocked out most of the ocean behind him. “Focused.”

“You are tempting,” she murmured reluctantly.

“Go ahead. Try me. I dare you.”

Chapter 12

Jeff held his breath as Kat gazed up at him. C’mon, baby. Take the plunge. Let go of all that self-control for just a second.

Moving tentatively, she reached across the yawning chasm that was the last few inches between them to lay her hands on his chest. Her fingertips settled against his shirt, every bit as subtle and evocative as he’d anticipated. His entire being contracted with need. A need for more of her touch upon him. For satin flesh sliding across his, silky hair falling around them, ruby lips sipping at him…

“You know,” she murmured, “I think I ought to bed you just to get it out of the way. Then we can both stop wondering what it would be like.”

Bright fireworks colored by equal parts anticipation and disbelief exploded in his brain. Had she really just said that? She didn’t have to give him that invitation twice. He turned immediately to head back for their car and their hotel room. Or more precisely, his big, comfortable bed in their hotel room.

She said earnestly, “We need to focus on the Ghost. But I’m afraid that until we both scratch this itch, we’ll be performing at less than optimal levels.”

“Brilliant logic,” he managed to mumble. How he held himself back from falling upon her and ravishing her right there, he didn’t know. It was a close thing. No, he wanted his butterfly to come to him willingly and unfold freely beneath his touch.

She stopped and turned to face him. Rose up on tiptoe. Reached up and twined her fingers in the short hair at the back of his neck. He stared down into her dark, dark eyes, surprised as something akin to trepidation flickered through them.

“Don’t you know how crazy I am for you?” he whispered. “There’s nothing to fear from me.”

And that seemed to do it. She tilted her chin up the last fraction of an inch and their lips met. Her mouth was luxuriously soft against his, and he inhaled appreciatively, tasting sweetness on her breath. Their kiss was languid, a warm and easy thing this time, the slow savoring of something rare and exquisite. Gradually, she pressed herself against him, bit by bit losing her inhibition. For him, it was torture. Talk about self-control! But he had to let her set the pace.

Her tongue traced his lips, then ventured beyond, shyly inviting him to deepen the kiss. Groaning in relief, he accepted. His tongue swirled around hers, stroking approvingly. Her hips surged against his, and he blinked down at her in surprise. Her eyes were closed, the look upon her face rapturous in the moonlight.

She was going to be one of a kind when they finally got naked together.

He slipped his hand beneath her shirt, running his fingertips lightly up her spine. She shivered beneath the caress, and her entire body undulated against his. His brain locked up on the spot.

“We’ve got to stop doing this in public,” she mumbled against his lips.

“You’ll have to pull the plug,” he muttered back. “I can’t do it.”

“Me, neither.”

Their smiles met and merged as they became more familiar with one another, found the best angles of approach and retreat, explored more freely with hands and lips and tongues.

While the surf rolled in rhythmically behind them, the moon smiled down on them approvingly and a warm breeze wrapped them in the beguiling romance of the islands. Soft sand beckoned them to stretch out upon its residual warmth and succumb to the allure of the night and the moment.

“We’re in trouble,” she sighed.

“Why? Seems to me like we’re finally working things out the way they’re supposed to be.”

She laughed ruefully. “Allow me to rephrase. I’m in trouble.”

He drew back far enough to look down at her, but not far enough to break the delicious contact of her lithe body against his. “How so?”

“You’re distracting me from being who I am.”

“What if I’m helping you discover who you really are?”

She stared up at him. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“I want to believe you.”

“Why don’t we go scratch that itch and then see what you think?”

She smiled widely. “Let me guess. In your mind that logic is flawless.”