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“What?!” He seethed. His jaw was tight.
“Yeah. Like I said, creepy.”
He placed his hand against her cheek. “Are you sure that you’re okay?” he asked again.
She grinned as she lifted up on her toes and looped her arms around his neck.
“I promise, that I’m okay. A little creeped out. But okay.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up into his arms. She instinctively wrapped her legs around him, her arms resting on his shoulders. His steady strength always calmed her, but there was something protective in the way he held her now.
“He didn’t say anything else?”
“He asked me out for a drink,” Gabby said, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Playboy raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
“But don’t worry,” she added, leaning in closer. “I told him that I was meeting my fiancé.”
She felt the change in him immediately. His lips curled into a satisfied smile, and his grip tightened around her waist. “Your fiancé, huh?” he murmured, clearly liking the sound of that.
Before Gabby could respond, his lips found hers, gentle at first, then deepening with an intensity that made her forget everything but him. The kiss was slow as the cool breeze from the ocean swirled around them, but all she felt was the heat of the moment, the connection between them.
When they finally pulled apart, Gabby rested her forehead against his. Her heart was racing.
Playboy smiled and kissed her nose. “I could get used to being called your fiancé,” he teased, making her laugh. But deep down, she wouldn’t have a problem with it.
“Want to sit on the beach for a little while longer?” he asked her.
She smiled. “Sure. It’s beautiful out.”
Playboy placed her gently down on the sand, and then he sat down behind her with his knees bent and let her lean against his chest.
As she stared into the fading horizon, her thoughts drifted back to the strange man who’d approached her. There had been something unsettling about him, something that made her feel uneasy even now, with Playboy close by. She couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence hadn’t just been random.
But she pushed those thoughts aside, for now, letting the warmth of Playboy’s embrace comfort her as the waves rolled in and the day slipped into the night.
???
Tyson leaned back in his sleek leather chair, staring out of his office window at the DEA Headquarters in Springfield, Virginia. The blinds were half drawn, letting in just enough of the late afternoon sunlight to cast long shadows across the room. His desk was a mess of scattered papers, but his mind was sharperthan ever as he reviewed the intel he had on Gabriella Allen—or rather, the lack of it.
When he’d tried to pull her Coast Guard files, most of it came back redacted, marked “CLASSIFIED” in bold letters. That immediately piqued his interest. A deep dive into her service record had led him to one significant detail. She was part of the MSRT, the elite Maritime Security Response Team. Tyson was impressed, which was rare, but it also made his job more complicated. Ramon wanted every scrap of information on her, but the woman was clearly not someone easily tracked or understood.
His phone buzzed, breaking his thoughts. The nameLucasflashed on the screen. He swiped to answer, pressing the phone to his ear.
“Tyson,” Lucas’s voice was hushed, but there was excitement in his tone. “I got something for you.”
“Make it quick,” Tyson said, his voice cool and detached. Lucas had been tailing Gabriella for a few days now. He wasn’t expecting much, but Lucas was good at his job.
“I talked to her.”
Tyson’s grip on the phone tightened. His jaw clenched.Talked? He’d told Lucas explicitly not to approach her.
“You did what?” Tyson’s voice dropped to a dangerous low.
“I—yeah, I just... I had an opening, you know?” Lucas stammered. “She was sitting all along on the beach painting a picture of the sunset. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get close. I used the painting as a conversation piece.”
“You figured wrong,” Tyson snapped. “Your job was to tail her, not make friends.” His patience was running thin. This was supposed to be a covert operation—Gabriella wasn’t some low-level target.
