No Strings Attached. Susan Andersen

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       PROLOGUE

      Seven years ago. Andros Island, Bahamas

      A HOT, MOIST BREEZE, perfumed by the sea and the faintest exotic whiff of an unidentifiable flower, wafted through the hut’s open window just as Tasha Riordan collapsed atop Diego. Her nose squashed into the damp curve where his neck flowed into a muscular shoulder, and as she silently breathed in his salty, slightly spicy scent, it occurred to her she hadn’t once asked what his last name was during the thirtysomething hours since they’d met. Waiting for her heart to cease its thunderous reggae beat, however, she didn’t dwell too closely on that just-met-yesterday thing.

      Okay, you would think, given she’d spent a good part of her life keeping her chin up while living her mother’s reputation down, that she’d sort of welcome a little soul-searching. After all, diving into bed with a virtual stranger was a big departure for her.

      A big, big departure. Huge. And she ought to be a little concerned about it, right?

      Tough-skinned fingertips ran down her naked spine, sparking back to life nerve endings that by rights should have been incinerated to cold, dead ash. “You okay, cariño?” Diego asked, his voice a rumbling vibration beneath the ear she had pressed to his throat.

      And just like that, her half-assed inclination to whip herself into a lather of self-recrimination melted away as her lips curved into a little smile against his skin. She didn’t know what it was about this guy, but one thing was for certain: he possessed an undeniable magic. In spades. From the instant he’d approached her on the beach yesterday morning, he’d kept her pretty much swept off her feet.

      That was no small accomplishment. Ask anyone back home in Razor Bay, and damn few would hesitate to tell you—Tasha Riordan’s СКАЧАТЬ