The Trouble With Paradise

“Sure is, darlin’. Lots of it.”

“Perfect.”

Christian entered the salon just behind Dorie and Andy, who clearly believed he had a shot with her.

For all Christian knew, he did.

The salon was filled with people and tons of food. Dorie moved directly toward the large platters and began piling her plate high, a look of glee on her face, as if she’d hit the jackpot. A woman who liked food. He liked that.

Unfortunately, he liked her. But he wasn’t the only one. Andy was following her around like a puppy on a leash.

A horny puppy.

Oblivious, Dorie caught Christian watching her and blushed, but didn’t look away. There was most definitely something about her, something which Andy clearly sensed as well because the baseball star shifted a little closer to her. “Want a drink?”

“Oh.” Dorie flashed Andy a small smile. “You don’t have to babysit me.” She began to stack up a second plate now, speaking with a slight speech impediment, almost as if her tongue was suddenly too big for her mouth. “I can get it.”

“I’m not babysitting.” Andy was really pouring on the southern charm. “I enjoy your company. What’ll it be?”

“Um… soda?” Her plates had reached Mt. Everest proportions, but she kept piling the food on.

Christian eyed her petite frame. Where the hell was she going to put it all?

“How about something with a kick?” Andy asked her.

Ah, Christian thought. Let the alcohol-plying begin. But Dorie wouldn’t fall for that. She was sweet and naive, but not that naive. Nobody was that naive.

“It’s not like you have to drive home.” Andy leaned in, waggled a brow. “And afterwards, we could dance.”

Her plate wobbled and Andy steadied it for her.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” she murmured.

“All that matters is that you do it.” Andy shot her the smile that probably got him laid nightly. “Come on, Dorie. Live a little.”

Come on, Dorie, slug him a little.

But Dorie nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay, I’ll take that drink with a kick. Your pick.”

Christian shook his head. Unbelievable. She had fallen for it.

“Atta girl.” Moving to the bar, Andy looked over the display of pina coladas, bushwhackers, daiquiris, choosing two rum punches, no doubt for their potency and potential seduction aid.

Christian’s jaw hurt and he realized he was clenching it. Andy moved back to Dorie, taking one of her plates so she could drink.

“Here it goes,” she said. “Liquid courage.”

“What could you possibly need liquid courage for?” Andy asked.

Christian wondered the same thing. Dorie sucked down her drink, then set both her empty glass and her second very full plate on a nearby table. Drawing a deep breath, she tipped her head back to look up at the baseball player. “I’ll have that dance now. If you still want it.”

With a smile, Andy pulled her in close, sliding his hand low on her spine. Then a little lower…

Christian frowned.

Dorie squirmed.

Andy grinned.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Dorie muttered.

“Do you?”

She blushed adorably. “I was in a hurry when I got dressed.”

Andy laughed. “Are you somehow apologizing for not wearing panties?”

“It’s just that-”

“Can I see you later?”

She looked up at him, extremely cute, and extremely flustered, and Christian had the inexplicable urge to pull her away from Andy.

Crazy.

“See me?” Dorie repeated. “As in go out with me see me?”

“Yep,” Andy replied.

“We’re on a boat.”

“In the South Pacific. Nothing more romantic than that.”

She blinked, slow as an owl. “You want to be with me.”

“Say yes, Dorie.”

Say no, Dorie.

“I have to use the restroom,” she said, and hightailed it out of Andy’s arms.

Finally.

FIVE

The rum punch had gone straight to Dorie’s head. Or maybe that was just amazement that she was really here, on a sailing yacht, out of her comfort area.

Make that a couple of time zones out of her comfort area.

Baseball Cutie wanted to be with her. Boggled the mind, it really did. In the bathroom just off the galley, she looked at herself in the mirror. “I’d love to go out with you, Andy,” she told her reflection.

See? How hard was that?

How was she going to do this whole living life thing if she couldn’t talk? Well, she’d be a mime if she had to, because this was an opportunity of a lifetime. He was the opportunity of a lifetime.

She touched up her gloss and headed back to the salon, looking around at the beautiful boat as she did. The interior gleamed with obvious care and pride in every nook and cranny, and the view… unbelievable. She was used to tall buildings, smog, and traffic twenty-four/seven. Here there was nothing but glorious open water.

And gorgeous, tongue-swelling inducing men. Remembering that odd conversation she’d overheard, she stood there a moment trying to put faces to the voices she’d heard.

But couldn’t.

Captain Denny was talking to Christian near the door. Gorgeous Grumpy Doctor had lost his baseball cap, and now his dark hair tumbled loose and free. He hadn’t changed those faded, well-worn Levi’s, and surrounded by elegance and sophistication, he looked like the last holdout.

His gaze snagged hers, and she couldn’t help but notice he seemed rough and tumble and… trouble, pure trouble. Before she could look away, he cocked a brow, and slowly dropped his gaze down the length of her.

Then again, it might just have been her rum punch.

Yet he did it again, definitely eyeing her skirt. Looking to see if she’d put on panties? Something went through her at that. A bit of daring. Bravery. And because of it-and the slip she’d added-she executed a little curtsy, spreading the material of her skirt out with her fingers, inviting him to do his best to try to see through it.

An invitation he freely took.

His gaze traveled slowly down to her toes and back up, and by the time his eyes landed on hers, they were two scorching balls of pure flaming heat.

Yowza.

She hadn’t realized the full potency of the serious sex appeal he was packing behind that edgy, dangerous front. So much so that she nearly staggered back a step. She actually had to look away to breathe, and then, unable