Dangerous Passions Read online

  She sighed wearily.

  Michael had promised to do whatever was necessary to protect her—but he was only one man. If what she’d heard about Conroy’s organization was true, there were legions of hired guns ready to do his bidding—ready to kill her. And Michael, too, for no reason other than that he’d already demonstrated a willingness to put himself in the line of fire for her.

  She let her gaze drift over to where he was crouched by the stream—just in time to see him tug his T-shirt over his head. She stared, mesmerized, as he stripped away the garment.

  The action couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, but it held her enraptured as the hem moved upward, inch by inch, exposing hard muscles, bronzed skin and a sprinkling of dark hair that arrowed into the waistband of his shorts.

  Shannon felt her mouth go dry. Her palms tingled with the memory of sliding over that firm body. She continued to watch him, acknowledging that she was just shallow enough to be turned on by the sight of his gloriously muscled physique. The broad shoulders, mouthwatering pectorals and sleek, rippling abs. He was so primal, so perfect.

  And while she wasn’t afraid to admit she was attracted to him, she was cautious about pursuing that attraction. Because what had started as something purely physical was threatening to turn into a lot more.

  She tore her gaze away, nibbled on her bottom lip.

  The problem was that she was starting to like him.

  He’d promised Dylan he would keep her safe, and he’d put his own life on the line to do so, proving that he was trustworthy and fearless. But she knew he would have done the same to protect anyone in danger, because he was innately honorable. And after rescuing her from the snake—she shuddered at the memory—he’d taken the time to comfort her and calm her fears, showing that he was also thoughtful and caring.

  Yeah, she was definitely starting to like him, and the liking scared her far more than the chemistry between them.

  Michael set the water-filled receptacle inside his T-shirt to support the fragile weight, then dropped one of the purification tablets into the condom before picking up the bundle and carrying it back to Shannon. He set it down carefully beside her.

  “I thought I’d take a look around,” he said, “if you’ll be okay by yourself for a few minutes.”

  She glanced around uneasily, looking for snakes and other unknown dangers that might be lurking in the trees, just waiting for him to leave her alone. She was afraid, not just of what might happen in his absence, but of what might happen to him. “Maybe I should go with you.”

  He shook his head. “You should rest—try to rebuild your strength.”

  She couldn’t deny that she was tired, but she wasn’t ready to be left alone.

  “Unless you’re afraid to stay here by yourself,” he said.

  There was no censure in his voice, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to admit it was true. To admit that sometime during the past hour they’d been traversing the island together, she’d come to rely on his knowledge and his guidance in an environment so far beyond her realm of experience she might as well be on another planet. Instead, she said, “Of course not. I wanted to wash some of this dried salt off my body and rinse out my clothes, anyway.”

  He nodded. “I won’t be long.”

  Left to her own devices, Shannon decided that she would take advantage of Michael’s absence to rinse off in the stream. She tugged the shirt over her head and unfastened the button on her skirt, reminding herself that her bra and panties were no more revealing than most two-piece bathing suits.

  She moved into the water and dipped her hands to pick up a handful of sand. She rubbed it over her body, removing any last traces of dried salt on her skin. Then she rinsed out her clothing, scrubbing the fabric against the rocks as women had done through the ages before washing machines. It was a bizarre thought, a surreal example of how far removed she was from the conveniences of her usual life.

  She climbed out of the stream with her dripping clothes in hand and twisted the fabric to wring out the excess water, silently vowing she would never again complain about the two-dollars-per-load machines at the Laundromat. If she ever got back to civilization and had the opportunity to do laundry again.

  She tried to banish the doubts and fears, but she couldn’t see a way out of this predicament. The coast guard might be looking for them, but Rico and Jazz knew exactly where they were. And although she wasn’t ready to give up, she knew that hopes and prayers weren’t any match for the weapons those bad guys carried.

  The sky overhead had grown increasingly dark as Mike trekked around, and the clouds were now low and heavy. When he got back to the stream, Shannon had finished bathing and was lying in the sun—no doubt trying to dry the wet T-shirt and skirt that were plastered to her body.

  And what a body it was—long and lean with curves in all the right places. Except that this was the wrong place for him to be thinking such thoughts.

  He stepped through the trees, striving for a brisk and impersonal tone when he spoke. “We’re going to have to move fast if we want to beat the rain.”

  She immediately rose to her feet. An indication of surprise rather than compliance, he was sure. “Where are we going?”

  “I found a cave not too far from here,” he told her. “It will do until the storm passes. Can you grab the backpack?”

  She did as instructed while he scooped up the water supply. He was grateful for her ready-and-unquestioning assistance, not wanting to admit how much the bullet wound in his arm was starting to ache. He made a mental note to ensure that Jazz was held responsible for that when he returned.

  Peart’s goons would return—of that Mike had no doubt. And although he almost relished the thought of facing off against the two men and making them regret what they’d put Shannon through, he knew his priority was to keep her safe. If he could get her off the island first, that would be best, but eventually Rico and Jazz would pay.

  “Come on,” he said, leading her into the brush just as the first drops of rain fell.

  “How far is it?”

  “Not far,” he said. “But we’ll have to move fast.”

  She picked up her pace.

  Not fast enough.

  The sky simply opened up, dumping torrential amounts of rain upon them. In less than half a minute they were soaked. Again.

  “Here.” He indicated the mouth of the cave he’d scouted out earlier.

  Shannon was shivering already, her clothes sopping wet, but still she hesitated, eyeing the dark entrance warily.

  “It’s uninhabited.” He stepped inside, leading the way.

  She followed with obvious reluctance.

  “Watch your head—the ceiling’s low.”

  “I can’t see anything.”

  The slight tremor in her voice prompted him to ask, “Are you afraid of the dark?”

  “No—just of the creatures that might be lurking in it.”

  “I already told you it’s uninhabited.”

  “Maybe no animals live here,” she acknowledged. “But what if they use it to take shelter from the rain?”

  “Then there would be evidence of occasional visits,” he told her.

  She fell silent.

  “This should be far enough,” he said, carefully setting down his bundle.

  She dropped down beside him, brushing his injured arm in the process. He sucked in a breath, bit back the oath that sprang to his lips.

  “S-sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He willed the wave of pain to subside so his words would be true.

  Shannon shifted away from him, just a little, and bumped into the pile of sticks and tinder he’d collected while she was bathing. She froze.

  “There’s something in here.” Her whisper was strained. “A nest.”

  “It’s only some wood and stuff I gathered to make a fire.”

  He heard her soft exhale. “S-something else you learned in basic training?”

  “Yeah.”

  S
he fell silent again, but he could tell she had her arms wrapped around her knees, trying to preserve her body heat, trying not to shiver.

  He reached for the backpack, his fingers brushing the bare skin of her thigh where her skirt had fallen open. The skin was soft, silky and covered with goose bumps. “I, uh, there’s a blanket in here.”

  “O-okay.”

  Mike pulled the thermal covering out of the waterproof plastic case, then unfolded it and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “Th-thanks.”

  He knew sharing body heat would help warm her up a lot more quickly than a blanket, but under the circumstances, he didn’t think that was a particularly good idea.

  Instead he turned his attention to the contents of the backpack, retrieving the tin of emergency candles and waterproof matches. He set one of the candles in place on the lid and lit the wick. Immediately a soft glow illuminated their space. It wasn’t the same as a real fire, but it would provide a little bit of heat in addition to light, without smoking them out of the cave.

  “Afraid of the dark?” she teased.

  He smiled. No—afraid of the things he wanted to do with her in the dark, although it wasn’t an admission he was going to make. “Maybe I am,” he said instead.

  “Then it’s a good thing you brought candles.”

  Except that the flickering light somehow cast a romantic glow in the darkness of the cave.

  He shook his head. They were stranded inside a dark, damp cave waiting for the imminent return of killers. There was absolutely nothing romantic about the situation—except for the close proximity of a woman who made his hormones run rampant and obliterated common sense.

  He needed to ignore the hormones and retain that common sense if he was going to get them safely off this island. But still he wondered what would be the harm in passing a few hours in the warm softness of her body.

  Of course he knew that the harm would be in getting caught by Rico and Jazz with his shorts down around his ankles. And it was that threat he needed to remember—not the way her lips had tasted or the way her body had arched against his, and certainly not the soft murmurs of pleasure she’d made when his hands had moved over her.

  “What branch of the military were you in?”

  Shannon’s question proved that she wasn’t preoccupied with similar thoughts; the direction of the question effectively cooled his own ardor.

  “I was an army ranger,” he said.

  “I’ve heard about the rangers,” she told him. “The most elite combat soldiers.”

  He tried not to remember how much pride he’d felt to have graduated from the grueling nine-week course beside his ranger buddy, how much it had meant to him to wear the coveted black-and-gold tab on the left shoulder of his uniform, how it had nearly destroyed him when Brent had been killed and he’d lost everything that mattered.

  “How long were you in the army?”

  “Six years.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  He’d braced himself for the question. Since he’d left the service, it had been asked more times than he wanted to count. And it was the question he still couldn’t bring himself to answer, falling back, instead, on his usual response. “I can’t talk about my career—it’s classified.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t want to talk about it, just say you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fine. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He winced at the harshness of his words even before he saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes. He didn’t mean to sound so abrupt, but his reasons for leaving the military weren’t something he talked about. Even if he sometimes wished he could.

  Because after seven years, his memories of that fateful day were still too fresh, his regrets too sharp. In the space of a few hours, he’d lost everything—the man who’d been his best friend in the world; a woman he’d cared for more than he’d expected; and the career that had given him a sense of direction and purpose.

  “Fine,” she responded, her tone matching his.

  For several long minutes, the only audible sound was the pounding of the rain outside. A flash of lightning flickered, briefly brightening the interior of the cave. A few seconds later there was the low rumble of thunder.

  “Sounds like it might be quite a storm,” she finally said.

  He recognized her statement as an offering of peace and, as it was more than he deserved, accepted it. “Afternoon storms are common in the tropics.”

  “Having never been to the tropics before, I wouldn’t know,” she said. “How bad is it?”

  “Nothing unusual.”

  “Oh.”

  He managed a chuckle. “You sound disappointed.”

  “I was hoping the wind and waves might capsize the Femme Fatale and drown Rico and Jazz.”

  “Not likely.”

  Her sigh was heartfelt.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Shannon.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  Still she hesitated. “I believe you’ll do everything you can to protect me.”

  “But you don’t think it’ll be enough.” He didn’t know why her lack of confidence, her complete absence of faith, bothered him so much. It shouldn’t matter what she thought or believed, except that her lack of faith was threatening to undermine his own confidence.

  “I don’t know if you can keep me safe,” she admitted. “And I don’t know that I’m comfortable with the thought of you—of anyone—putting their life on the line for me because it’s their job.”

  It was his job—and it was personal. But at least both motives had the same objective: to keep her alive. And he would do it. He would concentrate on what needed to be done, focus on the essentials and forget that his errant hormones were preoccupied with getting her naked.

  “You’ve never been to the Caribbean?” he asked, redirecting the conversation in response to her earlier comment.

  “I’ve never been outside of the continental United States,” she admitted ruefully. “Until now.”

  “Too bad your first experience had to be under these circumstances.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The Bahamian Islands really are beautiful,” he told her. “But especially Exuma.”

  “What’s different about that one?”

  “It’s still relatively unspoiled, not overrun with vacation resorts and tourists. The beaches are clean, the water crystal clear, and the weather absolutely fabulous.”

  “It sounds like you’ve traveled a lot.”

  He nodded.

  “For business or pleasure?”

  “Both. When I was a kid, I did a lot of globe-trotting with my parents.”

  In retrospect, he could appreciate the incredible experience he’d been given. At the time, however, he’d chafed against the strings that were attached to each opportunity. His father was fond of reminding him that with privilege came responsibility. Mike hadn’t wanted either. It had been the main source of conflict between his father and him—until Mike had proven his determination to walk away from everything by joining the army.

  “Later I moved around frequently with the rangers,” he said. “I do a lot less traveling now, but I still enjoy getting away and seeing new places.”

  “Have you been to France?” she asked.

  He remembered that he’d seen her reading a Paris guidebook on the beach. “A few times.”

  “I’ve always wanted to see Paris—the Louvre and Musée D’Orsay, the Eiffel Tower and L’Arc de Triomphe.”

  “It’s an incredible experience—the art, the architecture, the ambience.”

  She sighed, a little wistfully. “I’ve been offered a job at Lilli Girard—an international cosmetics conglomerate based in France.”

  “Are you going to take it?”

  “I’ve already said that I would.”

  “Then why do you sound hesitant?”

  She shrugged. “Right now I have no idea w
hen or if I’ll get off this island.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to make sure you get to Paris,” he promised. “If that’s where you want to go.”

  “It is. I’ve worked hard for this opportunity. I’m ready for a change.”

  Despite the assertion, he sensed she was still waging an internal battle about the decision to move across the ocean. “Won’t you miss your friends and family?”

  “Probably. Although to tell you the truth, sometimes my family drives me crazy.”

  “Isn’t that what makes them family?”

  She smiled. “Maybe.”

  “Who, in particular, drives you crazy?”

  “How much time do you have?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t sound as if this rain is going to let up for a while.”

  “The most obvious insanity starts with my mother,” she told him. “Deborah Vaughn-Clayton-Morningstar-Turner-Sutherland, and her never-ending search for the illusion of a happily ever after. Her fifth wedding is one of the reasons I came to Florida.”

  “And yet you don’t seem happy about it,” he noted.

  “I didn’t come to share in the celebration. I came to avert, or at least delay, the exchange of vows.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she barely knows the man. I booked a flight into Fort Lauderdale—because that’s where she was living—only to find she’d moved to Miami with him. She met him five weeks ago. And now she’s gone off to some tacky chapel in Vegas to marry him.”

  “Which part is it that you don’t approve of?”

  Shannon sighed. “All of it—although I know it has nothing to do with me and I shouldn’t care that she’s setting herself up for yet another heartbreak.”

  “Is that why you didn’t go to the wedding?”

  “That—and the fact I wasn’t invited.”

  Despite the casual tone, he sensed that she was hurt by the slight. “Even after you came all the way to Florida to see her?”

  She shrugged. “They claimed to want a private ceremony. I think my mother was afraid I’d voice my objections to Elvis.”