Barefoot with a Stranger (Barefoot Bay Undercover #2)(33)
“Good, because there are people who’d like to see him behind bars doing ten more years not behind a picket fence mowing the lawn and having backyard barbecues with the neighbors.”
“That’s what you think I want?” She tried to sound put off by the suggestion, even though…it wasn’t far from the truth.
He lifted a brow. “You told me last time you were down here how much you want to have a family. How much you want to settle down and have a life and a home like the one we grew up in. So much you were willing to march down the aisle with douchetastic Matt. Did you think I wasn’t listening?”
“I thought you weren’t impressed by those mundane goals. I figured that’s why you want me down here. So I can learn the business and go all badass like my siblings and cousins.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” he said, leaning against the railing. “Look at Vivi. Badass and pregnant. Married to that stick in the mud Lang, who probably pulls out a rule book every time he takes a shit to make sure everything’s coming out in the right order.”
She bit back a smile. “I like Lang.”
“As you should. He’s the kind of guy who would be good for you, much as it pains me to admit it. But Mal? No. Not what you need, Chess.”
Irritation squeezed her again, but she was more curious than angry at Gabe for making sweeping decisions about her life. “I know he’s got a record and that he went to jail for a serious crime.”
“Yeah, the crime of stupidity.”
“Stealing money from the government is stupid,” she agreed.
Gabe looked hard at her, opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Listen to me,” he said. “He’s never going to have a normal life. He’s a risk.”
“And yet you’re willing to send me to a foreign country on a secret mission with him.”
“He knows every inch of that island, and you won’t be there long. I still think he’s the best guy for the job.”
Of all the bruising former military guys he knew, he had to pick one who turned Chessie’s hormones into a sizzling pot of need. But she’d cool off…every time she thought about why he seduced her.
Gabe put his hand on her shoulder and gave a squeeze, “Don’t fall for him, Chessie. You’d never have a normal life.”
She snorted and wormed out of his touch. “No worries there, big brother.”
And, really, she’d never meant anything more in her whole life.
Chapter Ten
Sunset washed Barefoot Bay in a mellow golden glow, dimmed by a rain shower that drenched the sands and bathed paradise in a dreary gloom. It suited Mal’s mood just fine. Gabe and Nino had gone out, leaving Mal behind with the aroma of the older man’s latest tomato-saucey creation wafting through the little bungalow.
Mal wasn’t the least bit hungry.
He was tense, pissed, and itching to square things away with Chessie before they got on that flight to Cuba. But she’d disappeared and didn’t answer her door when he’d knocked around dinnertime.
When the downpour let up to a misty drizzle, Mal decided to try again. From the cul-de-sac, he walked east through the small farmette that served the resort and along a deserted beach toward her villa, where he’d try one more time to set things straight.
He had to tell her that by the time she’d come to his hotel room, he knew she wasn’t a spy. Would she believe him? Would she understand that he had to be suspicious of everyone?
The rain made his T-shirt stick to his chest and back, so he stripped it off and tossed it on the sand to let the mist wet his chest. It wasn’t quite dark enough to take everything off and swim off his frustrations, but the sunset-tinted water looked inviting.
He got closer to the cluster of the villas where she was staying, smaller than many others on the property, but still luxurious and private. This grouping all backed up to the beach, so their pools had unobstructed water views, and guests could walk right out to the sand.
In the distance, a woman caught his attention, emerging from the water wearing a black bikini.
Not a woman. The woman.
Chessie twisted water from her hair, then scooped up a thigh-length white shirt and slipped into it, the cotton immediately clinging to her wet body. She bent again and grabbed a hat from the sand, perching it on her head, a red scarf around the brim floating down her back.
She stood still, apparently unaware of him, staring out to the water and the lone orange ball about to disappear below the horizon.
Even a football field away, Mal felt a primal response to Francesca Rossi, and it wasn’t just the normal reaction of a man who’d spent four years celibate in prison. This was a deeper hunger. A craving for…more.
Maybe it was better if she believed the worst about him. Better if she thought him a thief who’d tricked her into sex. Because if she felt anything like he did, if she wanted another night in bed as much as he wanted it, then they weren’t going to get from Havana to Caibarién without pulling over and giving in.
She glanced in his general direction, but he noticed she didn’t have her glasses on, so she likely didn’t see him. Or she was just ignoring him—a very distinct possibility.
She walked along the water’s edge in the other direction, her bare feet kicking up wet sand. The hat protected her from the drizzle, but the light rain only made the shirt completely transparent, which made him more anxious to…peel it off her.