Beachcomber Trouble by Stephanie Queen

Author:Stephanie Queen [Queen, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance
Published: 2016-03-30T04:00:00+00:00

Shana pushed past Dane down the hall and hoped he didn’t notice the tremor of excitement in her hands and gallop of the pulse in her neck. She hoped there was food in this damn Brazilian version of his beach shack.

She found the kitchen, which contained discolored worn linoleum flooring, a wooden table, and three chairs. There was a gas stove and a 1950s-style refrigerator—she recognized it from “Leave It To Beaver” reruns. Dane would probably remember the show—she shouldn’t go there. She turned and smiled at him without even a cinder of guilt.

“We’re going to miss the call from the kidnapper—unless you aim to have Floyd come here—”

“That would negate the entire purpose of coming here to get away from him—off his radar. No. We’ll meet him on neutral turf to talk to the kidnapper.”

“You think Floyd will go along with that?”

“He will if he wants his money.”

“You’re betting an awful lot that there is no kidnapper. What if Oscar—”

“He’s not in trouble. Believe me. I know.”

What he didn’t say, she knew, because it was classic Dane protect the girl from the bad stuff attitude, was that he thought it was she and Dane who were in trouble.

“No, you don’t know. You’re guessing. You have a hunch—or some such Dane Blaise voodoo.”

She probably shouldn’t have said that because his expression went wolfish then. He loved it whenever she gave him credit for his sixth or sixteenth sense or whatever it was he had going on. He got closer. She didn’t back up, but she did look toward the window. The sill was too high to climb out—at least not gracefully.

He stepped around her and yanked open the bulky rounded refrigerator door with the oversized handle.

“Looks like we’ll need to go shopping.” He closed the door. “We have about twenty minutes until David Young and company get here.”

“Call them and tell them to bring food.”

He slipped the phone from his pocket and did as she suggested. He stood a foot and a half away, watching her—like a wolf licking his chops. Then he said, “That gives us thirty minutes and we don’t need to go to the grocery store.”

His words hit her like an arrow zinging her with his special potent excitement. Her heart roared into overdrive as if it were shot by the Goliath of Cupids. Her tight control hiding her desire was draining, as if the arrow had pierced her willpower. She stood mute within the circle of his heat. She smelled his scent, the mingling of sweat and salt air. She was aware of the shallow breaths heaving her breasts up and down because Dane’s gaze flickered to watch them.

She pulled up her ever-present armor of resentment held against men, all the men she’d fought all her life, and threw it over herself like chainmail to protect her from the threat of male dominance, of sexual conquest for its own sake. Her chin lifted and she heaved one last breath, pushing him away from her once again. It was hard.

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