Unauthorized Passion. Amanda Stevens
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about him a lot—the more bizarre his behavior seemed. Everyone on the patio had reacted as though they’d heard a gunshot when the truck backfired. But rather than taking cover, the stranger had lunged straight for Cassie. Why? Why had he been so willing to put himself between her and a bullet? And, even more disturbing, why had he assumed she was the target?
In retrospect, Cassie had to admit that her own behavior that night had been a little on the bizarre side as well. Coming on to a complete stranger was so totally unlike her.
But…was it really?
How did she know what she might be capable of? It had been a long time since she’d had the opportunity to explore the real Cassie. For the past ten years, she’d been a caregiver, a fiancée, and a schoolteacher, but none of those things had satisfied her deepest yearnings, her darkest fantasies.
Somehow, the blue-eyed stranger had tapped into her hidden desires, and for a fleeting moment, he’d unleashed something wild inside of her. Something at once familiar and strange.
He could give her adventure. She knew that instinctively.
He wasn’t like any man she’d ever known. Certainly not like Danny. Her ex-fiancé could be an enthusiastic and ardent lover when the mood struck him, but hardly an imaginative one.
Oh, he knew how to turn a woman on. He could do that just by walking into a room. His bronzed, perfectly proportioned body had reduced stronger women than Cassie to quivering masses of hormones. But how quickly the charm faded once he opened his mouth.
The stranger at Metro…he was hardly in Danny’s league looks-wise. He wasn’t as tall or nearly as good-looking, and his body had appeared leaner and more sinewy rather than muscle-bound. But there had been something about him…something sensuous and mysterious…
He had an air of having seen and done things that Cassie could only imagine. But she wanted to do more than imagine. She wanted to experience those things for herself.
After all, there had to be more to life than the missionary position, didn’t there?
Resting her chin on her arms, she gazed around. It was a hot, still day. The water was unusually calm, which was why she’d decided to drop anchor and relax for a bit in the sun.
“You’ll pay for that when you’re forty,” she could hear her mother scold her. Her mother hadn’t so much as set foot outside without slathering on sunscreen, and even at the beach, she’d always worn a hat and long sleeves. But with all her precautions, Felicity Boudreaux had still died young, without ever having seen much of the world. Cassie didn’t want that to be her fate.
She sighed, feeling melancholy, as she always did when she thought of her mother.
Glancing at her watch, she was surprised to find how long she’d already been out. She would need to head in soon, but for now it felt so good to be on the water after being cooped up in that hotel for over a week. Poor Mr. Bogart. She’d left him all alone at the beach house. To make up for it, she would take him for a nice, long walk on the beach after dinner. Maybe then he’d stop pining for Chablis.
Cassie had tried to break it to him gently that the immaculately groomed Maltese was about as far out of his league as the guy at Metro was hers. But Mr. Bogart wouldn’t listen. Evidently, Hollywood had gone to his little doggie head. Cassie could understand that. The good life suited her just fine, too.
As she watched the activity on the water, she noticed that another boat had anchored several hundred yards to the starboard side while she’d been daydreaming. Far enough away not to intrude on her privacy, but near enough that she felt a vague sense of unease. When she lifted her hand to shield her eyes, she saw someone fishing off the deck.
She reached behind her back to refasten her swimsuit straps, but as she lifted herself from the deck, an unexpected gust of wind caught the top and swept it away. It drifted on an air current for one brief moment before taking a header into the water.
Cassie stared at the bobbing fabric in dismay. Luckily, the extra padding kept it afloat.
* * *
“HO…LY…” JACK’S MUTTERING segued into a low whistle. He’d picked up his binoculars at precisely the right moment to catch a glimpse of a topless Celeste Fortune before she jumped into the water.
Stunned by the flash of skin, he quickly lowered the binoculars, warning himself that he was fast becoming little better than a Peeping Tom. But, pervert or not, he was also a red-blooded male with a half-naked woman in view. How the hell was he supposed to react to that? Ignore her? Look the other way?
He did what came naturally.
Adjusting his cap to keep the sun out of his eyes, he lifted the binoculars again and watched her strike out toward something blue that floated in the water several yards from her boat. Since he’d caught a glimpse of the same color before she hit the water, he assumed that it was her swimsuit top now drifting away on a current.
Man, could that girl swim.
For anyone else, that top would have been halfway to Mexico by now, but Celeste reached it easily. As she turned back to the boat, a wave caught and lifted her, and Jack was given another fortuitous peek before she struggled into her top.
Not bad.
Smaller than he would have thought from her pictures, but not bad at all. In fact, he’d say the view was pretty damn spectacular.
He would wait until she got back in the boat, then he’d make his move. He had it all planned. Every little detail. He would hail her, pretending to have engine trouble, and then when she offered him a ride—
A flare of bright light, followed by a loud boom, caught him off guard, and then the force of the blast knocked him back a step or two.
As Jack watched in horror, Celeste’s boat exploded in flames, and a moment later, the swell of water beneath the hull of his own boat pitched him forward. He had to grab on to the rail to keep from going overboard.
Bracing himself, he lifted the binoculars and stared at the spot in the water where he’d last seen her. He could find nothing now but bits of burning debris floating on the waves.
Sliding behind the wheel, he started the engine and turned the boat sharply, opening up the throttle as he headed for the flaming vessel. Circling the wreckage, he scanned the water, his heart like a drumbeat inside his chest. On his second pass around, he spotted her. She’d surfaced about fifty yards away, and when she saw him, she began to frantically hail him.
Easing back on the throttle, Jack brought the boat alongside her, then leaned over the edge to give her a hand up. She came slithering over the side like a frightened mermaid, all wet and slinky and golden.
If her breasts were smaller than he’d imagined, the rest of her was curvier. Not as lean and toned as in her movies, but sexy, nonetheless.
She wasn’t as drop-dead gorgeous, either, without the makeup and subtle lighting. The harsh glare of sunlight revealed a smattering of freckles across her nose and highlighted an unsightly bruise on her upper thigh. She wasn’t flawless by any stretch of the imagination.
Was he disappointed? Jack wasn’t sure. In some ways, it was a relief to know that she wasn’t quite as perfect as the image he’d seen on the big screen. Because nobody could live up to that.
He knelt beside her. “Are you all right?”
“I…think so. I don’t know what happened…” She lay in the bottom of the boat, not gracefully posed but with arms and legs sprawled all over the place.
Her breasts were barely hidden by her skimpy swimsuit top, and Jack tried to glance away. Honest. He did. But they were right there. Practically in his face. And he’d seen them, in all their glory, just moments ago.
Even though his sunglasses hid his eyes, she must have sensed the direction of his gaze because she quickly covered herself.
Gallantly, he whipped a shirt