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She’ll never survive the day.
“Let me,” he says, crossing the sand toward her.
Ash regards him, eyes swimming with suspicion, holding the life jacket to her chest. “Why? So you can sabotage me and I’ll plunge to a watery grave?”
“If I wanted to kill you, that’s not the way I’d do it.”
Her sharp brow arches. “I’m intrigued.”
“I’m certified.” He takes the jacket from her, pissed that shedoesn’t trust him. Pissed that she’d blindly launch into an activity without thinking it through. It’s insanely irresponsible. The ocean’s dangerous. Just like those damn boots she wears. Death traps. “On the rig, you have to be certified in scuba.”
“Ah, an expert in everything. Why am I not surprised?”
He closes his eyes briefly, exasperated. “Three in the morning, out on the rig, someone gets hurt, has a heart attack, falls in, I have to go in after them. It’s a basic requirement of the job.”
When her only response is a quiet scrutinizing look, he slips the life jacket over her slender shoulders. “If you were listening, you’d know it’s a buddy system.”
Sharpening the knife of her voice, she says, “I’m not your partner.” She stands on tiptoes, craning to see behind him, bringing her breasts a hairsbreadth from his chest. “What about Tater?”
He bristles, irritation pricking at the back of his neck. “Tate will get two feet down before he panics and flails.” He tightens her life vest. Extra-tight.
Ash, to his satisfaction, gasps a pained breath.
“Might even take you with him. So either you buddy up with me, or you go sit your ass on the beach. Those are the rules.”
Ash glowers at him in utter disdain. “I’d rather have bamboo sticks shoved under my fingernails than spend this vacation with you.” Her husky voice gives his dick a little nudge of encouragement.
He drops his hands, ignoring the electricity that sparks when his fingertips skim against her soft skin. “That makes two of us.”
Scowling at him full blaze, she turns on her heel in the sand and stomps toward the water.
He grinds his jaw as he goes to follow. Immediately, his mouth goes dry. Deepest fantasies unlocked. Still, he keeps breathing. Walking. It’s all he can do.
Two thin stripes run up the backs of her calves all the way to the tops of her thighs. Like the seams on pinup stockings topped with little bows.
Nathaniel scrubs a hand through his hair. Christ. Shejust walks around with those out for anyone to see? It’s getting ridiculous.
It’s the sexiest goddamn thing he’s ever seen.
It’s also the moment he knows he’s fucked.
A violent ringing sounds out across the beach.
Wide-eyed, Ash turns and races back toward him. She crouches over her towel, pulls her phone from her bag, silences it. “Shit.” Attention fixed on her phone, she waves a dismissive hand at him. “Go find another buddy. I’m out.”
“Everything okay?”
Why does he even care? Doctor instinct. That has to be it. That and nothing else.
Her smile is brittle, forced. “My blood’s just…fucked up.”
He scans her pale face. “Your blood sugar’s high.”
“Yeah. Just when I think I’ve got the hang of this thing…” With a groan, she plops onto the towel. Waves again. “Go. I’m a big girl. I’ll be okay.”
The desire to stay with her hits him like a hammer, but he says nothing. Only moves on toward the beach. He and Ash Keller don’t mix.
Still.
