Shelter In The Tropics. Cara Lockwood

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       CHAPTER FIVE

      CATE FELT TACK’S strong arms around her. For a second, she froze, wondering what would happen if Tack pressed his lips to hers. Would she let him kiss her? Would she slap him? Did she want him to kiss her? Then she got the impression they were both starting to sink. With neither of them able to touch bottom, kicking alone—even with fins—would not keep their heads above water for long.

      “You’d better let go of me or we’re going to drown,” she cautioned him.

      “It would be worth it,” he said, the flirting tone unmistakable.

      Cate grinned, but then splashed him once more. He let go and she swam away, laughing. She realized she was actually having fun.

      Swimming next to Tack, she wondered if a little fling would be good for her, after all. He was a tourist, so it’s not like there could be anything serious. A week at most? What was the harm in that?

      Plus, there was something about the man that made her feel both at ease and anxious at the same time. He was built like a Renaissance statue, complete with chiseled abs. His muscles simply couldn’t be real. That’s what Cate told herself over and over again as they swam together in the fish-filled cove. She tried not to stare, but everywhere she looked, she saw his muscles working. His broad shoulder muscles tensed as he swam along the surface, and she wondered how easily he might be able to lift her up. Or carry me to his bed.

      The thought popped up in her mind completely unwelcomed, and she squashed it down instantly. I can’t have a fling. I’ve got Avery to think about. And Tack’s a perfect stranger. Can’t be trusted.

      For all she knew, he could be on Rick’s payroll.

      The thought was paranoid and probably not true. She wondered when she’d stop thinking every stranger worked for Rick Allen. Maybe never.

      Besides, if he were working for her husband, he’d have called in the cavalry by now, and Rick would be banging down her door. Right? He wouldn’t take a morning off to go snorkeling.

      He dived down to the silty bottom and brought up a small shiny piece of metal. Trash from a fishing boat, most likely. He broke the surface of the water and Cate followed. He spat out his snorkel as he held out the hook and line.

      “This doesn’t belong there,” he said, and grinned.

      “You’ve probably done enough cleaning,” Cate said, nodding with approval to Tack’s small mesh bag, which he’d filled with trash. “Ready for a break?”

      Tack nodded, and the two of them swam back to the boat. The wind kicked up, and as the boat rocked back and forth, it was a little bit harder to get the ladder, especially with the swells about three feet instead of one.

      Tack nodded to the rocking boat.

      “Ladies first,” he said. Cate felt like arguing. After all, he was her guest, but somehow, she knew she wouldn’t win. She swam for the ladder, which was bucking up and down, and she managed to get hold of it. The wind blew harder and the boat dipped dangerously to the right, and she slipped, bumping her head hard against the second rung. Stars blurred her vision and for a paralyzing second, she thought she’d black out...go under...drown.

      Suddenly, though, Tack was there, keeping her from falling off the ladder, pressing his body against hers, his strong arms cinched around her, holding her in place. Cate felt the hardness of his muscles, the safety of his thick arms. They felt so...right. She leaned into him, her vision returning. She glanced up at him and saw the salt water dripping from his chin, his eyes trained on hers, worried.

      “You okay?”

      “Uh...yeah,” she managed to say as she worked on climbing awkwardly up the ladder—fins still on, wondering why she turned into the world’s biggest klutz anytime Tack was near her. Normally, she wasn’t so clumsy or careless. But how come every time Tack was around she found herself in peril? First the near car accident and now this. Honestly, he was going to think she was the clumsiest woman on earth. Tack eased himself on board, kicking off his fins on deck.

      “You should sit down,” he said, taking her by the shoulder and maneuvering her to the nearest cushioned bench. She sat, still feeling a little bit dazed. Tack knelt in front of her, and she was more than aware the man was half naked, wearing only swim trunks. She glanced down at his navel, and immediately realized her mistake. The expanse of bare, tanned skin, with that tantalizing V running down like a welcoming arrow to his lap, made her want to reach out and touch it, feel just how taut the muscles were beneath the skin. СКАЧАТЬ