For one navy SEAL, danger and passion are brewing in paradise

Working on a cruise ship was supposed to be the perfect distraction for chef Cady Crenshaw. Instead, it made her the perfect target. Abducted and thrown overboard into foreign waters, she has only one shot at survival...and it comes at the hands of an irresistible ally.

Navy SEAL Logan Starke’s protective instincts were locked and loaded the moment he met Cady at the ship’s bar. When a violent struggle to take down her captors leaves Logan and Cady stranded on a deserted island, he leaps into rescue mode. But the hot sand and the even hotter attraction between them can’t be denied...and temptation could be the deadliest threat yet.

Logan fell onto his stomach and stayed there, motionless. The two men hauled him upright and pitched him over the railing.

And that was it. He was gone.

She stopped struggling. Tears blurred her vision, and her mind went blank. She didn’t understand what was happening, but resistance seemed futile. There were too many hands on her. One of the assailants gagged her and bound her wrists with rope. He tied her ankles, too. Some kind of bag went over her head.

Then she was lifted and carried onto the balcony. Although she couldn’t see anything, she could feel her body being lowered over the railing. She sobbed into the gag, frozen with terror.

Cady went down and down and down. She didn’t hit the water. There was someone waiting for her on a raft below. The other assailants joined them. After they started moving it dawned on her.

She was being kidnapped.

Dear Reader,

I’m so excited to introduce my first novel as Susan Cliff! I’ve always wanted to write a romance about castaways. This fantasy scenario has all my favorite ingredients: exotic location, danger, forced proximity, outdoor survival...and sex on the beach, naturally!

I grew up watching Brooke Shields in The Blue Lagoon. I adored Scott O’Dell’s Island of the Blue Dolphins. I was mesmerized by the ferocity of Lord of the Flies, and enthralled by the gender dynamics in Swept Away (the Italian version). My formative years were filled with stranded-on-an-island stories, in books and film.

Fast-forward to 2016. When the election cycle was in full swing, I really needed a break from reality. So I went to my happy place, far, far away. I dived into a tale of love and hope and survival. I wrote about two people overcoming impossible odds and learning how to thrive in a beautiful, dangerous place. I wrote about the good guys winning and love conquering all.

I hope this story brings you the same comfort and joy it brought me.

Happy reading!

Susan Cliff

Stranded with the Navy SEAL

Susan Cliff

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN CLIFF is the pen name of a longtime romance reader and professional writer from Southern California. She has a degree in literature and writing, a job in health and fitness and a happy home with two wonderful daughters. She loves outdoor-survival stories and sexy romance, so she decided to write both. Her Team Twelve series features men to die for—hot navy SEALs who live on the edge and fall hard for their heroines. Visit her at www.susancliff.com.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

His gaze kept returning to the beauty at the bar.

Logan had noticed her as soon as he’d entered the nightclub. Sexy red dress, dark hair, rocking body. She’d have caught his attention in any situation. Tonight he did a triple take, because she resembled the woman he’d been hired to protect for the next three weeks on this Tahitian cruise.

Unfortunately, the bodyguard detail had fallen through, leaving him stranded on the high seas with nothing to do.

He took another pull of his fancy microbrew and scanned the rest of the room. It had been months since he’d been in a club. Longer still since he’d enjoyed the comforts of female company. He shifted his sore knee, blaming the injury for the drought he’d been experiencing. Never mind the real culprit.

Telskuf.

Instead of dwelling on a mission gone wrong, he focused on a woman made right. Slender, with smooth brown skin and a lot of curly hair. She sat poised on a bar stool, sipping a fruity cocktail. She looked fantastic in red. He’d read somewhere that men couldn’t resist the color. It triggered an uncontrollable response, like a biological urge to mate. He’d dismissed the notion as pseudoscientific foolishness then.

He believed it now.

It was an eye-catching shade, bright and hot, like fireworks. Most of her back was bare. The straps of her dress crossed prettily between her shoulder blades. He wondered how easy it would be to take off.

She glanced over her shoulder at him as if she could sense his attention. When her gaze connected with his, something strange happened. His breath caught in his throat, and every muscle in his body tightened with awareness. It was almost as if he knew her, but he didn’t know her. He’d have remembered meeting this woman. She was fashion-model beautiful. She didn’t smile or invite him over. Seeming flustered, she swiveled back toward the bar and picked up her drink.

He was captivated in an instant, and he couldn’t even tell if she was interested in him. She might be shy. She might be unavailable. Either way, he had to find out who she was, because all of his senses had come alive. The contrast between her demure demeanor and that sexy dress fascinated him.

Most of the women he hooked up with made it clear they were into him. They approached him first, and he liked that. He could get lucky in any of the San Diego bars that catered to military men. He was young, single and in top condition. He hadn’t become a Navy SEAL by sitting on the couch.

Lately, however, he’d lost his taste for one-night stands. He’d just turned thirty, and he was tired of going out. Tired of being single. It would be nice to have someone to come home to after a grueling assignment, but his work schedule didn’t leave much room for dating. He had to be ready to leave the country at the drop of a hat. He was overseas a lot, and long-distance relationships were hard to maintain.

He was kind of stuck. He didn’t have a steady girlfriend, but he needed companionship, even if it was only for a few hours. He needed a woman’s touch. That was why he’d wandered into this bar. He’d come in last night, too, and gone back to his room alone. Although there was no possibility of a meaningful connection here, he couldn’t leave the ship. He’d spent three days prowling around the decks, swimming in the lap pool and working out in the gym until sweat poured down his body.

He was bored. He was...keyed up.

He’d always been a type-A personality, restless and overactive. Since his surgery, he’d been incapable of relaxing. He hadn’t slept well. He’d been plagued by nightmares. Maybe a pretty face could help chase away the demons.

He left his table and approached the bar, bringing his bottle with him. The woman in the red dress was studying her phone. Not a good sign. He figured his chances of striking out with her were about fifty/fifty. She was drop-dead gorgeous. He was no slouch, but he might not be her type.

She glanced up as he leaned his forearm against the bar. Her expression was expectant, and a bit wary.

“Hey,” he said.

She smiled politely. “Hey.”

“I’m Logan.”

“Cadence.”

He definitely didn’t know her. He’d never heard the name before. She didn’t look that much like the former president’s daughter, upon closer inspection. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She lifted her tumbler, which was half-full. “One’s my limit.”

Damn. He wasn’t sure if she was rejecting him or just the drink offer. “Are you the designated driver?”

“I work here.”

“In this bar?”

“On the ship.”

He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by hanging around, but he also didn’t want to give up too soon. He waited a few seconds, hoping for some encouragement. She set her phone aside and gestured for him to sit down.

Score.

He tried not to get too excited about the courtesy, even though she was offering him the opportunity to advance. Maybe she was interested, just not easy. He could handle that. The idea of spending more time than usual, and working harder to win her over, appealed to him. He didn’t mind a challenge.

As he settled in the empty bar stool next to her, he found himself tongue-tied. She was hot, and his game was rusty. It took a few seconds before his brain started functioning again. “What do you do?”

“I’m a chef,” she said, sipping her drink. “At Fillet of Soul.”

He liked that. He liked food. He liked her mouth. Her lips were nicely shaped, closed around a thin black straw. The cocktail in her hand looked like a combination of fruit and mint. “I ate dinner there tonight. The halibut was delicious.”

“I prepared that.”

“I almost licked the plate.”

She laughed at the compliment. “What do you do?”

“I’m in the navy.”

“My dad was in the navy.”

He was glad to hear it. Navy girls were among his favorites. They were well traveled, well brought up and appreciative of military men. “What division?”

She told him about her dad’s service in Kuwait, before she was born. Logan had been to Kuwait, and plenty of other war-torn places. He lifted his beer in respect. She clinked her glass against his.

“Hooyah,” he said.

“Hooyah,” she repeated, smiling.

So far, so good. He was trying not to ogle her like a snack he wanted to gobble up, but it was difficult. The front of her dress was even sexier than the back. Her breasts plumped against the bodice. His eyes slid down and veered back up.

Too late. She caught him looking.

Focus, Starke. Focus on the conversation. “What does he do now?”

“He’s a police officer.”

Logan raised his bottle again.

She moved her straw around in a mix of ice cubes and crushed mint. “So you like ships?”

He shrugged, because he’d never been on a cruise ship before. After spending so much time in tight quarters on military barges, he wouldn’t have chosen this for a vacation. “I was supposed to be working.”

“Doing what?”

Logan couldn’t disclose the specific details. “Guarding someone.”

“A celebrity?”

He made a noncommittal sound. “My client canceled her trip at the last minute, and I was already onboard, all expenses paid.”

“So you decided to stay.”

“Yes.”

Logan had been a Navy SEAL for six years, five of them under President O’Brien. Now O’Brien was a UN dignitary. Secret Service usually provided security to former presidents and their children for a lifetime, so Logan wasn’t sure why SS wasn’t guarding Maya O’Brien. There was some speculation, behind closed doors, that the current POTUS hadn’t signed the protection order for O’Brien’s family.

Either way, Logan had been happy to step in. It was an opportunity to serve a man he respected, and to make a few extra bucks during his time off. Cruising to Tahiti was no hardship. He was still recovering from knee surgery. He’d completed his physical therapy sessions, but he couldn’t return to regular duty for another six weeks. Inactivity drove him crazy. He’d needed a change of scenery.

His current view was spectacular.

Cadence’s phone vibrated on the bar’s surface, indicating a new text. Logan could read the name of the sender: Andrew. She frowned in irritation and turned off the notifications. His protective instincts stirred.

“Someone bothering you?” he asked.

“No one important.”

“Your ex?”

It was a personal question, but she didn’t seem to mind. After a short hesitation, she showed him the conversation. The photo next to the text bubble showed an Asian guy in a pretentious-looking black uniform.

Him: You took a job on a cruise ship? That’s beneath you

Her: You’re beneath me

Him: I wish

Him: I miss you

“He’s a chef, too?” Logan asked.

“A celebrity chef,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Andrew Yu.”

Logan wasn’t impressed. “Sounds like he can’t let go.”

“Well, he’s going to have to, because he cheated. On TV. With his costar.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

He could tell she wasn’t giving Andrew any second chances. She wasn’t a pushover. He liked that. Maybe she was looking for a rebound, a diversion, or a little revenge sex. Logan was happy to be in the right place at the right time. “You should take a picture of us and tell him you’re already on top of someone else.”

She laughed at this suggestion, as if it really appealed to her. She had a sexy laugh, throaty and uninhibited. But she didn’t pose for a photo with him. She tucked her phone into a little black purse and finished her drink in silence.

He hoped he hadn’t blown his chances by being too aggressive. Subtlety wasn’t his strong suit. When he wanted something, he went for it, and he wanted her. He didn’t see any reason to pretend otherwise.

The club’s reggae band launched into a popular Bob Marley song, interrupting the awkward moment. She perked up at the sound.

His knee told him not to, but his mouth said, “Want to dance?”

Chapter 2

She’d seen him at the restaurant.

And on the Lido deck. And in the pool, doing laps.

Every woman onboard had seen him. You couldn’t not see a man like that. He was built like a god, with a sculpted physique that made her mouth water. He had broad shoulders and powerful thighs. Abs from a fitness magazine. Even his face looked strong. The female employees already had a nickname for him: Adonis.

Cady had admired his form just this morning, during her workout. The gym’s treadmills overlooked the pool. He swam like a gold medalist. She’d watched his muscles ripple in the glistening water. When he climbed out, she’d studied every inch of his body, including the brace around his knee. The injury didn’t appear to slow him down.

Rumor had it that he’d been cruising the bar last night—and he’d left alone. She hadn’t come here with a specific plan to catch his attention, but she’d mentioned him to her best friend, Deborah, over the phone. Deb had insisted that she put on a sexy dress and try to “look available, but not thirsty.”

Too late. One glance at him and her throat went dry.

Apparently the dress was working its magic, because he’d been staring at her. She’d picked up her phone to play it cool. Which was the opposite of looking available, but she’d been nervous. Andrew’s annoying texts hadn’t helped.

Months after the fallout, his betrayal still stung.

It stung a little less now, in Logan’s company. She couldn’t even feel it, to be honest. She couldn’t feel anything except the heat of his gaze.

He wasn’t handsome like a movie star. Not quite. His nose appeared to have been broken a few times. His jaw was square, and his smile was charmingly off center. He had the outdoorsy look of a football player or a mountain climber. He was at least six feet tall. She marveled at his size as they faced each other on the dance floor. His shoulders took up a lot of space. He was very solid, and...not very graceful.

She smothered a giggle while he shuffled back and forth to the music. She didn’t mind his stiffness. She loved to dance, with or without a good partner. He was fine as hell, just standing there. The way he watched her, as if her simple moves were mesmerizing, made her want to rock with him all night long.

He was wearing tan pants and a white safari-style shirt. Nothing fancy, but his clothes fit well. He had close-cropped brown hair and a clean-cut, no-nonsense vibe. Underneath that tight control was a hint of raw sexuality.

He wasn’t shy.

When the band switched to a slow song, his hands went straight to her hips. She shivered at the contact. She could feel the warm press of his fingertips through the thin fabric of her dress. She could feel his boldness. Their gazes met and held. He had great eyes. Bedroom eyes that traveled up and down her body in a slow caress. They drifted from her mouth to her breasts, as if these were his two favorite places to look. She didn’t blame him for looking. She wanted him to do more than look.

He drew her closer, aligning their lower bodies. Although he was at least six inches taller than her, she was wearing heels, so it wasn’t a mismatch. She twined her arms around his neck. Her breasts met the hard wall of his chest. His hands flexed at her hips, and his arousal swelled against her belly.

Cady had been around this block before. There were always men who got too excited on the dance floor, or those who felt entitled to come up behind her and grind on her without asking. She’d shaken off her share of losers. It was tiresome. Never once had she encountered a stranger’s erection and become weak-kneed with lust.

Until now.

Logan wasn’t exactly a stranger, but they’d met ten minutes ago. They’d shared one conversation and two dances. They were also in public, on the cruise ship where she worked. None of that seemed to matter to her body, which all but melted in his arms. It didn’t matter to her mouth, which let out a soft moan. Her nipples tightened, and her skin tingled with awareness. A greedy pulse throbbed between her legs. She rocked her hips back and forth against him. He groaned in response.

He didn’t grind on her. He gripped her hips as if he wanted to slow her rhythm, or maybe move her up and down on him. But he didn’t actually move her. He continued to sway to the music, holding her close. She traced his shirt collar and felt the warm skin underneath. Then she threaded her fingers through his short hair. Putting her hands on him felt like heaven. She wanted to touch him all over.

Then the song ended.

People clapped.

The band started playing a lively dance hall tune, totally killing the vibe. She felt like she’d been doused with cold water. Logan narrowed his gaze at the stage, as if the musicians had broken some secret guy code.

Cady wasn’t sure what to do. She could either stay on the dance floor, sandwiched against him, or break apart and reveal his very obvious arousal. “Maybe I should turn around,” she said in his ear.

He let out a pained laugh. “I don’t think that will help.”

She did it anyway, twisting in his arms. There was a door nearby that led to the outside deck. He stayed close behind her as she walked toward it. His erection nudged her bottom with every step. It was an awkward exit, but seconds later they were gazing at the dark ocean, sucking in the cool night air.

Then they were both laughing. She collapsed against the rail, giggling. She laughed until her cheeks hurt and her eyes were wet with tears. When she regained control of herself, she hazarded a glance at him. He was staring at her like she was a starry sky, infinite with possibility. Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath hitched in her throat. She adjusted her bodice, which had slipped down an inch. He watched her movements with interest.

“It’s the dress, isn’t it?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “It’s not the dress. It’s what’s underneath the dress.”

“Very little,” she admitted.

He groaned, tearing his gaze away. “You’re killing me.”

She grasped the cool aluminum, feeling giddy. She might fly away from happiness and excitement.

Andrew who?

She gave Logan a minute to collect himself. She needed a minute, too. She stared at the moonlit sea, in awe of its immensity. This was her first cruise, her first trip to Tahiti. She’d lived along the coast for years and never seen this much ocean. After a few deep breaths, she turned to face him. He looked calm and in control.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“You want to go back in?”

He arched a brow. “The problem will surely arise again.”

She laughed at his wry expression. “We can avoid the slow dances.”

He glanced toward the bar. The music sounded too loud now, the lights too bright. Although he didn’t reply, she could read his thoughts. He didn’t want to dance. He wanted to take her to his room. She leaned against the railing, tempted.

“Do you do this a lot?” she asked.

“Do what? Get hard in public?”

She flushed at the blunt words. “Pick up women in bars.”

“I’ve done it before,” he admitted. “You?”

“No.” She wasn’t that kind of girl...or she hadn’t been in the past. But she’d never felt this kind of chemistry before, either. “My friends keep telling me to try new things. Live a little. I always play it safe.”

“Taking a job on a cruise ship isn’t playing it safe. Is it?”

“I guess not.” She didn’t tell him that she’d done it to run away from Andrew, not to embrace adventure.

“You don’t dance like someone who plays it safe.”

She smiled in agreement. Dancing was her escape. It was the only time she felt totally free and uninhibited. When he smiled back at her, her stomach fluttered with awareness. He was incredibly attractive, and clearly into her. His admiration was like a shining beacon, lighting her up from the inside out.

She was tempted to leave with him. Her gaze lowered to his hands, which were wrapped around the railing next to her. He had nice hands, with wide palms and long fingers. No ring. “Are you married?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “No,” he said. “Hell no.”

She flushed at his response, aware that her question revealed a distrust of men. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought up his Facebook page. It showed a picture of him in combat gear. Relationship status: single.

“You said you were in the navy.”

“That’s right.”

“Are you a sailor?”

“I’m a SEAL.”

It was her turn to gape at him. “You’re a Navy SEAL?”

He put his phone away, shrugging. “I’m on injury leave right now, but yeah.”

“How did you get injured?”

His eyes became shuttered. “I tore a ligament in my knee.”

She was curious about the details, but his expression told her not to press. He probably couldn’t share confidential information. He hadn’t told her who he was supposed to be guarding on this cruise. The fact that he was a Navy SEAL set off major warning bells for her. His job was the epitome of danger.

Cady was risk-averse, for good reason. She was the daughter of a police officer. Her grandfather had died in a tragic accident right before her eyes. She’d developed a strong sense of caution as a child, and it seemed to grow stronger every year. She liked to feel secure at all times. She never drank to excess. She always wore her seat belt.

Logan wasn’t the kind of man she would normally choose to date. He was too intense. He did terrifying things in the name of their country. Things she didn’t want to imagine. On the other hand, this wasn’t a date. This was a chance encounter. After the cruise was over, she’d never see him again. He might not be steady boyfriend material, but he was an excellent candidate for a night of pleasure.

“We don’t have to go anywhere,” he said. “If you want to stay and dance, I’m game.”

“No.”

His face fell. “No?”

“I don’t want to hurt your knee.”

“Screw my knee.”

She laughed at this, moving closer to him. Maybe she was drunk. Drunk off one smashed-peach mojito, a boatload of sexual chemistry and one devastatingly dirty dance. “What are my other options?”

His gaze darkened with interest. “Anything you like.”

“Let’s go.”

He grasped her hand and walked back through the bar. She picked up her purse on the way out. Despite his injury, she had to hurry to match his stride. Which was fine by her. Now that she’d decided to “live a little,” she couldn’t wait to get started.

His room was only two levels down, so they took the stairs. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her knees felt weak. His grip was strong and reassuring, his hands wonderfully large. When they reached the landing, her heel got caught on the carpet and she stumbled against him. His arms went around her waist to steady her. She felt secure and exhilarated at the same time. It was an intoxicating sensation.

“Thanks,” she said, breathless.

His gaze locked on hers. They were alone in a quiet hallway. She didn’t know where his room was, but she needed to touch him right here and now. His mouth descended, as if he’d read her signals and shared her impatience. She twined her fingers through his hair. Then they were kissing like crazy.

There was no tentative warm-up. No gentle brush of lips or soft, hesitant petting. He buried his tongue in her mouth and thrust his hands beneath her skirt—both hands! With a possessive grunt, he lifted her against him. He had her back to the wall and her legs around his waist in the blink of an eye.

Lord. It was glorious.

He was like a caveman. His mouth was hot and delicious, his tongue bold. She kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, squirming against him. His erection jutted at the apex of her thighs, and his big hands splayed over her bottom.

She whimpered into his mouth, already lost. She was on fire for him. If he ripped off her panties and took her right here against the wall, she wouldn’t protest. She’d sob his name and sing Glory, Glory Hallelujah.

He didn’t rip off her panties. He broke the kiss and removed his hands from under her skirt, glancing around to make sure they were still alone. Then he took a step back. “Sorry. I usually have more self-control.”

She touched her swollen lips. “So do I.”

“I’ll try to go slow.”

“Okay,” she said, swallowing hard.

After that was settled, they both rushed down the hallway toward his room. She burst out laughing at their lack of decorum. He laughed along with her. His hair was mussed, his collar askew. She’d never felt like this before, awash with joy and arousal. He pushed her up against the door and kissed her breath away. All of her senses were heightened. They were standing on the threshold of ecstasy.

But she didn’t get in.

There was a sudden flash of movement behind Logan. He was yanked backward and thrown into the opposite wall. She counted three figures in black masks, circling like sharks. She shrank against the door, but one of them grabbed her and clamped a hand over her mouth. Her scream was muffled by a leather-covered palm. She was shoved into the room next to Logan’s. It was dark. Thin curtains fluttered by the open balcony entrance. Her knees met the edge of the bed and she fell across it with her captor. She kicked her legs wildly and bit at the gloved hand. He didn’t let go.

Logan crashed into the room and got immediately wrapped up by two assailants. They wrestled him onto the balcony. He managed to jerk his arm free and throw a brutal punch, staggering one of the masked men.

Cady watched in horror as the second man swung a blunt object at Logan, hitting him in the temple. Logan dropped to his knees. Blood streamed down his forehead. Strangled sounds emerged from her throat. Logan fell onto his stomach and stayed there, motionless. The two men hauled him upright and pitched him over the railing.

And that was it. He was gone.

She stopped struggling. Tears blurred her vision, and her mind went blank. She didn’t understand what was happening, but resistance seemed futile. There were too many hands on her. One of the assailants gagged her and bound her wrists with rope. He tied her ankles, too. Some kind of bag went over her head. Then she was lifted and carried onto the balcony. Although she couldn’t see anything, she could feel her body being lowered over the railing. She sobbed into the gag, frozen with terror.

She went down and down and down. She didn’t hit the water. There was someone waiting for her on a raft below. The other assailants joined them. After they started moving it dawned on her.

She was being kidnapped.

Chapter 3

Logan hit the water like a ton of bricks.

He was still reeling from the blow to the head. The hard slap against the surface didn’t help him regain his senses. He plummeted into the dark abyss, blood streaming from his scalp. Although he was an expert swimmer, among the best in his BUD/S class, he faltered. He was disoriented. He couldn’t tell up from down.

Panic gripped him, and he let out a silent scream. Bubbles emerged from his mouth. Bubbles that led him toward the surface.

He swam hard and broke through, gasping for breath.

Good God. He’d almost drowned like a rookie. Worse, he’d been easily overpowered by a couple of lightweights—after almost banging a woman in the hallway outside his room. How embarrassing. He wasn’t even drunk. Extreme lust wasn’t an excuse. Neither was his injury. He’d let three unarmed men get the drop on him.

He was lucky to be alive.

He touched his brow, wincing. He felt nauseous. His vision sucked. He had a concussion, no doubt about it. He spent the next few minutes treading water, waiting for his thoughts to clear. He couldn’t seem to focus.

Damn. He might still drown yet.

While he struggled to stay alert, he became aware of a raft in the vicinity. It was dark, and he couldn’t see anything but vague shapes. The black expanse of the cruise ship hull loomed against the foamy breakwater. There was a figure sliding down a rope from the balcony of Logan’s cabin to the raft below.

The raft had a motor, but they didn’t engage it. Maybe it made too much noise for a stealthy getaway. Two men used paddles instead, cutting quickly through the chop. Logan counted four heads on the raft. One was lumpy, as if wearing a hood.

Cadence.

They’d taken her. She was the target of this raid, not him. He didn’t know why...and now he was faced with a tough decision. He could follow the raft and try to rescue her, or stay here and save himself.

SEALs were taught to put the team above themselves, but they were also taught that dead men couldn’t help anyone. Sometimes self-rescue had to be the top priority. Logan knew he couldn’t keep pace with the swift-moving cruise ship. There was no way to climb aboard. These vessels were built to discourage pirates, not give them a convenient ladder. The only way to get rescued was to shout for help and hope someone heard him.

But down here at sea level, no one would hear him. Except the kidnappers.

While he waited for the raft to move out of range, he considered his only other option. The mother ship would be nearby, probably less than a mile away. He could swim a mile in his sleep. If they didn’t fire up the engine, following them would be easy. Climbing aboard the mother ship and fighting off multiple assailants would not be easy, but screw it. If he was going to die anyway, he might as well choose the nobler cause.

So he started swimming.

His mind was fuzzy, but his body worked fine. He swam after the raft until it disappeared in the dark night. The sound of the motor made his spirits plummet. His chances of catching up to the raft narrowed. Even so, he kept swimming. He didn’t look back at the cruise ship, because it was too late to change course. He was committed.

It occurred to him that the kidnappers had mistaken Cadence for Maya O’Brien. They’d broken into the room adjacent to his, which had been reserved for Maya. The two women were about the same size. They had similar coloring.

Logan’s gut clenched with unease. If this was a targeted attack on a former president’s daughter, ransom might not be their endgame. Either way, Cadence was in extreme danger. Because she wouldn’t pass for Maya O’Brien up close, and as soon as they discovered their mistake, they’d kill her.

He swam harder, galvanized to action. It was one of the most grueling swims of his life. Top five for sure. He surged forward, his arms pumping. He’d done a six-mile in Santa Cruz during storm swells. He’d crossed the Persian Gulf in the dead of night. He’d made the trip from Coronado to the San Diego Bay in a flak jacket.

But he’d accomplished all of these feats as a team. He’d never been in the middle of the ocean alone, with a bum knee and a head injury. He had no support, no intel and no visuals. If he reached the ship, which seemed more unlikely now that he’d lost sight of it, he’d be outnumbered by at least three to one.

The stakes were high. The chances of survival were low.

On the plus side, he was making great time. He also had the element of surprise. The kidnappers shouldn’t have been so careless in disposing of his body. They clearly expected him to drown, not give chase.

He was Logan Nathaniel Starke. He didn’t quit. He didn’t sink. He didn’t die. He protected his assets, and he was going to make those bastards sorry they hadn’t finished him off before throwing him overboard.

His perseverance was rewarded by a dim light ahead. He’d found the mother ship, and by some miracle of fate, it wasn’t even moving. He closed the distance as quickly as possible, his muscles burning from exertion. They were pulling up the anchor. The raft had been stowed. He switched to a modified breaststroke on the last stretch, which kept everything from his nose down under the surface. He didn’t want to be spotted.

The ship was a forty-foot deep-sea cruiser with a protected wheelhouse in front. The galley and cabins were in the back. There was a transom door and a convenient swim step. It was an ideal setup for an ambush. He assumed Cadence would be inside a cabin. She’d be guarded by at least one man, although there was nowhere for her to go. The ocean was a death sentence, not an escape route.

As he reached the swim step, the engine turned on. He scrambled aboard and crouched by the transom door, water streaming down his body. His weak knee throbbed in protest, and his stomach roiled with nausea. He struggled to catch his breath. He’d made it here, against all odds, and now the real danger would begin. This was no time to surrender to exhaustion.

He waited for the cruiser to gain momentum. His scalp had stopped bleeding, and his vision was clearer. He counted two men in the wheelhouse. That was good. He didn’t see any blunt objects lying around. That was bad. He needed something to strike with, or this rescue operation would be short-lived.

The transom door was unlocked, so he slipped inside. The galley was empty. He grabbed the only weapon he could find—a mop handle. Unscrewing the top, he set it aside and crept down the steps to the cabin.

Again, he found an open doorway. These pirates were completely unprepared for a hostile takeover, which was kind of ironic, like thieves who left their loot in full view. Logan listened at the entrance for a few seconds. He heard two men arguing in French. Logan didn’t speak French, so he had no idea what they were saying.

One of the men walked out of the cabin, still muttering under his breath. Logan said hello with a sharp blow to the head. The man crumpled to the ground quietly. He was of European descent, midthirties, dressed in black. Logan stepped over him and entered the cabin. Cadence was sitting on the floor. Her wrists and ankles were tied. There was a gag in her mouth and mascara tracks on her face.

Logan didn’t dwell on these details. He had to focus on the guard, who appeared to be the muscle of the operation. Logan guessed he was Polynesian, from one of the local islands. When Logan swung the mop handle, the man blocked it easily. Then he brandished a wicked-looking knife and went on the offense. Logan leaped backward, avoiding a series of wide arcs. His back hit the wall, and he ducked down to avoid the blade. After it missed him, Logan jabbed the end of his stick against the man’s rib cage. The knife tumbled out of his hand. The man staggered sideways and bent to retrieve his weapon.

Logan couldn’t wait for a better opening. He leaped on his opponent’s back and held the mop handle across his throat, cutting off his airway. The man slammed Logan into the wall in an attempt to dislodge him, but Logan didn’t budge. They both went down to the floor. It took every ounce of Logan’s strength to maintain his grip on the stick.

The man struggled to break free. He reached for his knife, which was sitting right there on the ground. Cadence kicked it away.

That little bit of help made all the difference. The man finally passed out. Logan almost did the same. He let go of the mop handle and shoved his limp body aside. Black spots danced across his vision. His head felt like it might explode. Sweat trickled down his temple. Or maybe it was blood.

He couldn’t afford to rest, so he took a few deep breaths and pulled himself together. He rolled over, picked up the knife and cut the ropes that bound her. She untied the gag with trembling hands. Her mouth was raw, her eyes wary. She didn’t seem relieved by his rescue. She looked terrified.

Of him.

This wasn’t an unusual reaction to trauma, but it still unsettled him. He expected her to trust him, not shrink away in horror.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t say anything to put her mind at ease. He touched a finger to his lips in warning. Then he lifted her to her feet, giving her a cursory inspection. She appeared unharmed. Even if she wasn’t, they had to get off this boat immediately. He didn’t have the strength to overpower the rest of the crew. His energy was spent. He pulled her through the door, stepping over the bodies that were piling up. The guy outside was regaining consciousness. Logan hoped he’d lie there for a few more minutes.

They crept up the stairs, through the galley and out the transom door. The raft was hanging from a pulley system on the starboard side. He used the knife to cut it loose, praying they wouldn’t be seen by the men in the wheelhouse. As the raft fell against the railing, his European friend staggered into the galley.

Damn it.

Logan couldn’t let the man reach the wheelhouse and alert the others. He passed Cadence the rope that was still attached to the raft. “Hold this,” he said, because he wanted her to stay put. Then he barged through the galley to take his opponent down. His knee buckled on the first step, which threw off his attack. The European noted this weakness and seized the opportunity to launch his own assault. He tackled Logan around the waist and pushed him backward. They burst through the transom doors and fell right off the stern, into the dark sea.

The man didn’t let go underwater. He clung to Logan like a goddamned octopus. He was trying to drown Logan, and it was working. As soon as Logan broke through the surface, the European dunked him again. Logan’s movements were clumsy from fatigue, but his instincts were still sharp. So was the knife in his right hand. Making a strangled sound, he buried the blade in the man’s belly. Then he twisted it.

The arms around him loosened, and the weight fell away. Logan treaded water, gasping for breath. Cadence was there, in the raft. She’d managed to push it overboard and get inside. He swam toward her and handed her the knife before hauling himself out of the water. Once he was safely inside, he rested on his back for a moment, one hand over his thundering heart. He was nauseous and light-headed. As soon as his stomach settled, he straightened and searched the water for a body.

He didn’t see one.

The cabin cruiser continued on its journey, oblivious. Their escape would be noticed at some point, but now they had a chance. They had to put as much distance between the raft and the cruiser as possible.

The paddles weren’t inside the raft. They must have been left on the deck. He explored the motor with wet hands, looking for a pull cord. What he discovered made his blood run cold. There was a key ignition.

Without a motor or paddles, they were sitting ducks. The kidnappers would circle back and recapture them.

Or recapture her, rather. He had no value to them. If they knew she wasn’t Maya O’Brien, she was equally worthless. Logan didn’t doubt that these men had firearms at their disposal. They hadn’t used them on the cruise ship in the interest of stealth. There was no reason to be quiet now.

“Can you start it?” she asked.

“Not without a key.”

She stared at him in dismay.

“I might be able to hot-wire it at first light.”

“What do we do until then?”

“We wait,” he said grimly. “And hope they don’t come back for us.”

Chapter 4

One of the best nights of her life turned into the worst.

The absolute worst.

She survived it, somehow. So did Logan. They waited in silence for the boat to double back for them, but it never did. Logan said the kidnappers must not have realized they were gone right away. He also said the raft would be difficult to spot in the dark, like a needle in a haystack. The ocean was immense, and frightening. The raft rose and fell with every swell, traveling on a swift current.

What followed them wasn’t a boat. It was the body of the man Logan had killed. He floated on the surface, facedown, his white T-shirt bobbing. It was almost as if the corpse was swimming after them. She watched in horror as his body jerked suddenly. He flailed back and forth, reanimated. Tail fins thrashed on the surface as sharks tore him apart. First one, then two, then a half dozen.

Cady threw up over the side of the raft.

When she leaned too far out, Logan grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back. She wiped her mouth, shuddering.

The night dragged on, never ending. She was cold and miserable. Logan stripped off his wet clothes and wrapped his arms around her, but she didn’t stop shivering. Her mind replayed violent images. Black masks. Glinting knives. Sharks circling.

She couldn’t believe they were in this situation. She couldn’t believe they’d escaped. When Logan had entered the doorway, his face pale and his clothes wet, she’d screamed into her gag. She’d thought he was a ghost, for good reason. She’d seen him get knocked unconscious and thrown overboard. No normal person could survive that. He’d appeared out of nowhere and fought like a man possessed.

One minute, she’d been weeping silently, frozen with fear. The next, she was watching Jason Bourne attack his enemies.

She didn’t understand why she’d been targeted, or how Logan had arrived on the scene. The whole thing was surreal. And sinister. He’d incapacitated one of her captors and gutted another like a fish. She knew he was a Navy SEAL, trained to kill. She also knew he’d acted in self-defense, and he wasn’t a danger to her. Even so, her first reaction to his daring rescue wasn’t relief. It was terror.

The brutality of his actions, and the ease with which he’d executed them, still disturbed her. She hadn’t signed on for this. She wasn’t equipped for it. She was a chef on a cruise ship, sailing toward an uncertain future. She’d been in a slump, personally and professionally. Her idea of adventure was using new spices in a recipe. Leaving the bar with Logan was the wildest thing she’d ever done.

Now she was stranded on a raft in the middle of the ocean.

She shouldn’t have gone back to his cabin. She should have listened to her instincts, instead of her hormones. She couldn’t have predicted this outcome, of course, but she’d known what kind of man he was. He was an elite soldier. He had hero written all over him, along with heartbreaker and risk taker.

She’d only wanted a single night of excitement with a man whose gaze had warmed her from the inside out. Instead she got this stone-cold warrior who watched sharks feed on a corpse without flinching.

Her stomach lurched at the memory. She rolled over and dry-heaved quietly.

Logan kept his hand on her back like an anchor. His touch felt reassuring, despite the fraught circumstances. She didn’t want to be here, but she was glad she wasn’t alone. She was glad they were alive, and relatively unharmed. When her stomach settled, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. Little by little, her tremors subsided.

At dawn, he put on his damp clothes. She sat up and stared at the rising sun. Its reflection glinted across the ocean, illuminating their plight. There was no pirate boat on the horizon. There was nothing. No cruise ship, no commercial barges, no airplanes, no islands. No drinking water. It might as well have been the Sahara Desert.

Her gaze met his. His features were rough-hewn in the harsh daylight. There was a big lump on his temple, and dried blood clumped to his eyebrow.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She didn’t think she was, but she felt numb. She slowly took stock of her condition. Her mouth was still sore from the gag. She rubbed her wrists, which bore rope burns. Other than those minor discomforts, she was fine. “I’m okay.”

“Did you understand what they were saying?”

Cady spoke a smattering of French. She hadn’t caught every word. “They thought I was someone else.”

“Maya O’Brien.”

“The president’s daughter?”

“I was supposed to be guarding her.”

Now it made sense. The kidnappers had made a mistake. They weren’t targeting her. Cadence Crenshaw was nobody. Maya O’Brien was America’s daughter, rich and famous. “Were they terrorists?”

“I don’t know,” he said, frowning. “French Polynesia isn’t a hot spot for terrorism. Their motivations might have been financial.”

“When will they start looking for us?”

“The kidnappers?”

“The rescuers.”

He studied the clear blue sky above them. “Today, with any luck. They’ll know something is wrong when you don’t show up to work. Employees will see the signs of a struggle in the cabin next to mine. Then they’ll launch a search party with air support.”

“Do you think they’ll find us?”

“Yes.”

She hoped he was telling the truth. His expression revealed nothing, and she didn’t know him well enough to judge. Maybe he was honest to a fault. Maybe he was a strategic liar. Maybe that head injury had rattled his brain. He’d already said that the raft would be difficult to spot on the open sea.

“I thought you were dead,” she said in a hushed voice. She still couldn’t quite believe he was real.

“Nah,” he said. “I don’t die that easy.” His smile was wan, belying the boast.

“What did you do?”

“I swam.”

She gaped at him in wonder. Her head had been covered during the kidnapping, so she’d been disoriented. She’d assumed the men had pulled him out of the water for some reason, or he’d grabbed a tow rope. “You swam from the cruise ship?”

He nodded.

“How?”

“It wasn’t that far.”

Her next question was more important. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you risk your life like that? You hardly know me.”

His gaze darkened. “I know you well enough,” he said, squinting at the horizon. “Even if I didn’t, I’d have done the same thing. There was nothing else to do. Staying near the cruise ship wasn’t an option. My chances of getting rescued there were very low.”

She studied his battered face, trying to gauge his sincerity. He might have had no other choice, but he was also downplaying an incredible act of heroism. He’d swum after a motorized raft and overpowered two men—after sustaining a concussion. It was an amazing feat, almost superhuman. Most people couldn’t save themselves, let alone others. They froze in the face of danger. Cady had experienced this phenomenon firsthand as a child. She’d watched her grandfather die and been paralyzed, unable to help him.

It was the most traumatic moment of her life. Until now.

Logan removed his cell phone from his pocket. He took it apart, piece by piece, and set the components out to dry. It didn’t take long; the sun was brutal. Light reflected off the ocean, magnifying the effect. Within an hour, everything was bone dry, including her throat.

He had no service, of course. He couldn’t even send a text. He turned off the phone and tucked it away. “I’ll try again later.”

Cady stayed quiet. She doubted they’d drift into a better service area anytime soon. They were several days’ travel from Tahiti by cruise ship. She didn’t know of any other islands between here and there. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard. Maybe they’d arrive on the shore of a private resort and sip fruity cocktails at noon.

She mixed a fantasy drink with her favorite ingredients. Crushed ice. Fresh fruit. Something really bougie, like a strawberry-basil bourbon spritzer.

Logan emptied his pockets to study the contents. In addition to his cell phone, he had a wallet with cash and credit cards. She had nothing but the dress on her back. Her purse had been lost in the melee. Her shoes had fallen off. So had his.

His next project was hot-wiring the engine. He used his knife to disable the ignition and open the casing. He spent the better part of the morning with his head down, cursing. It reminded her of her father doing auto repairs. He flinched when one of the live wires singed his fingertips. After some trial and error, he twisted two wires together and the engine turned over. He flashed her a victorious grin. Then he disconnected it, killing the motor.

Her spirits fell. “We’re not going anywhere?”

“I have to save fuel,” he said. “We can’t travel far on a gas tank this size.”

“Why did you hot-wire it?”

“Because being able to move a short distance will help us get rescued. If we see a ship in the distance, we can approach it. If a plane goes by, I can fire it up and do some circles to get their attention.”

She searched the horizon for signs of an airplane or a ship, with no luck. The glare of sunlight on the water burned her corneas, and constantly scanning the area exhausted her eye muscles. When she couldn’t continue, he took over. She curled up in a ball, her stomach roiling. She wondered how long it took to die from thirst. She didn’t ask Logan, because she was afraid the answer might be one day.

The afternoon sun was brutal. He removed his shirt and dipped it in the water. Then he wrapped the wet cloth around his head, turban-style. The hunting knife he’d taken from one of the kidnappers was tucked into his belt. He looked like a storybook pirate, with perfectly defined abs and a tantalizing strip of hair below his navel.

She remembered how his body had felt against hers on the dance floor, and how eager she’d been to touch him. Their brief, lust-drenched interlude didn’t seem real. She’d never experienced such a powerful rush of attraction before. Who meets someone at a bar and wants to tear their clothes off after ten minutes? In what alternate dimension do two mature, sober people fall into a sexual trance and make out in public? She might have been embarrassed if she wasn’t so worried about dying.

“You need protection from the sun,” he said, drawing his knife. He motioned for her to move closer.

“What are you doing?”

“Cutting off this extra fabric.”

She held still while he sliced through her tulle overskirt. The serrated blade was sharp, with a wicked point at the tip. She tried not to think about where else it had been. She couldn’t afford to throw up again.

When he was finished, she used the fabric like a veil, covering her head and shoulders. It was blisteringly hot. Her lips were dry. His were already cracked.

They didn’t speak, because it hurt to talk.

After what seemed like ten or twelve hours, clouds gathered in the sky. There was a sudden, intense downpour. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, desperate for moisture. The raindrops didn’t quench her thirst, but the cool water felt like heaven against her skin. When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her. She wondered if he was thinking about the kisses they’d shared. Was it a strange, distant memory for him, too? A moment of passion that had slipped between his fingers?

He pulled his gaze away, flushing. She doubted he felt any embarrassment or shame about his behavior. Men never did. Maybe he was just sunburned, or he couldn’t figure out why he’d been so enthralled with her. She probably looked like a bedraggled sea witch. Humidity wasn’t kind to her hair.

When puddles gathered on the bottom of the raft, they both drank their fill. With the sun behind the clouds, the temperature was pleasant. For a short time, she almost felt comfortable, and hopeful about getting rescued. Then the temperature dropped and darkness fell. They spent another night shivering, huddled for warmth.

In the dead of night, she was awoken by a bump against the side of the boat. She sprang upright, clutching Logan’s arm. He was alert beside her, his muscles tense. It was very dark. There was a sliver of moon, high in the sky.

The bump came again, on the opposite side. A fin skimmed the surface of the water.

Shark.

She let out a terrified scream.

He clamped his hand over her mouth, which only increased her panic. It reminded her of the kidnapping. She’d been silenced with a rough slap during the attack, and she still had a tender spot on her cheek. His fingertips pressed into it, adding to her discomfort. She pushed his hand away, incensed.

“Shh,” Logan warned. He studied the surface of the water intently. She crossed her arms over her chest, her throat tight. She supposed that screaming wasn’t helpful, but it was a normal reaction. There were freaking sharks circling!

“Can they puncture the raft?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

His answer chilled her to the bone. She scooted closer to him.

“They won’t do it as a strategy. But if they decide to take an exploratory bite...”

She gripped the crook of his arm. “What should we do?”

“Stay calm and quiet.”

Although she wasn’t calm by any stretch, she didn’t make a sound. Neither did he. After a few tense moments, his shoulders relaxed. The sharks didn’t bump the raft or flash fins again. Hopefully they’d lost interest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. One of the kidnappers did.”

His eyes glinted in the dark. “He hit you?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

“The one you killed.”

He nodded, as if the man had gotten what he deserved. “Go back to sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

She curled up in the raft and closed her eyes, but she didn’t sleep. She was cold and hungry and sick with fear. She’d applied for a job on a cruise ship because she’d wanted to get away from it all. Her longtime boyfriend had become enamored with another woman on reality TV. She’d watched every episode, just to torture herself. Their breakup had turned her entire life upside down. She’d left San Francisco and moved back home with her parents.

It was a low point, to say the least.

She’d needed an escape. Well, she got one. Now Andrew seemed like a blip of the radar, tiny and insignificant. She didn’t miss him.

She spent most of the night praying for day, and most of the next day praying for night. The heat was unbearable. The sun sucked the life out of her, beating down in relentless waves. There were no ships, no planes, no clouds, no rain.

Logan stripped down to his boxers and used his pants to shade different parts of his body. He gave her his shirt to wear. The fabric kept the sun off her back. She leaned over the side of the raft and trailed her fingers through the water. So much water. Clear, blue, deadly water. She made a cup with her hands.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

She splayed her fingers, letting the liquid fall out. She knew they couldn’t drink salt water. “Why can’t we swim?”

“With the sharks?”

“They only come at night.”

“Salt water robs moisture from your skin. You’ll dehydrate faster.”

“What about urine?”

“What about it?”

She’d watched him pee over the side of the raft this morning. “Should we...drink it?”

“Hell no.”

“Is it toxic?”

“Not as toxic as salt water, but it won’t help you rehydrate. It will just get your mouth wet and taste bad.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m a SEAL. I’ve had extensive survival training.”

She dug her fingernails into her palms. “What if it doesn’t rain again?”

He took his pants off his head, scowling.

“What if we don’t see a plane, or a ship?”

“You want to drink pee, is that it?”

“No, that’s not it,” she said, raising her voice. “I’m just scared. I don’t want to die, okay? Maybe you can take all of this in stride and go thirty days without water and fly around the world like a superhero, but I can’t.”

He draped his pants across his broad shoulders. “We’re not going to die today, Cadence. Is that clear?”

“It’s Cady.”

“What?”

“No one calls me Cadence except my grandfather. And he’s dead now.”

His expression softened. “Was he a military man?”

“Army. Drill sergeant.”

He nodded his approval. “The most important element of survival isn’t strength or intelligence. It’s tenacity.”

She didn’t argue, because that sounded legit.

“People with quick minds and vivid imaginations can struggle in situations like this. Sometimes creative thinkers are their own worst enemies, believe it or not. It’s healthy to be afraid, but you can’t let your fear take over. What you need to do is focus on simple tasks. Keep your thoughts occupied.”

“How?”

“For now, you can be my lookout. If you put that extra fabric over your eyes, it will reduce the glare. Then you can scan the horizon and the sky in sections.”

She did what he suggested, for as long as she could. Even with the tulle shade, it was hard on her eyes, and there was nothing to see. While she kept watch, he used his knife to remove the lining from his wallet. He made something similar to a Zorro mask, with narrow eye slits, and tied it to his face with a piece of fabric from his pants pocket. Then he fooled around with the engine again. Birds circled overhead, waiting to feed.

On them.

When he told her to take a break, she tucked her body into a tiny bit of shade along the side of the raft and pulled his shirt over her head. The task had worked to blank her mind, but it had also exhausted her. Without food and water, she had no energy.

It didn’t rain that afternoon.

She slept.

The next thing she knew, it was full dark, and the raft pitched beneath her. Waves sprayed over the side and threatened to dump them into the sea. She bolted upright, sensing a large presence.

There was an island! That was the good news. The bad news was that it didn’t look hospitable. It looked like a giant cliff in the middle of the ocean. Instead of washing up on a breezy, white-sand beach, they were about to get dashed against some jagged rocks—and there was no way to avoid the impact.

Logan shouted over the din of the crashing waves. “Hold on!”

She gripped the rope on her side of the raft just in time. The raft flipped over, rolling in the breakwater like a surfboard after a spectacular wipeout. She didn’t let go of the rope, and that probably saved her. The raft buoyed upward. She broke the surface with it and managed to take a quick gasp of breath before the next wave hit. Then she was caught inside again, tumbling around in the giant saltwater washing machine.

She endured several more cycles of this before the real danger presented itself. There was an underwater fortress of razor-sharp rocks. The raft got shredded against it. So did her skin. Her legs scraped over a surface that felt like a cheese grater. She cried out in pain, struggling to swim. The raft was snagged on something. She had to let go of the rope, but she didn’t know if she could make it to the shore.

Luckily, Logan was right there. He grabbed her from behind and shoved his forearm under her chin, urging her into a reclined position. She didn’t fight him. With swift, sure strokes, he towed her to safety.

Well, relative safety. There was no safe space here, no easy escape from the wicked rocks and relentless waves. He deposited her at a granite outcropping near the base of the cliffs. She clung there, breathing hard.

Then he left her.

“I have to get the raft,” he shouted. As if the raft was the more useful item, between the two of them.

She managed to keep her head above water while she waited. It took him several tries to unsnag the raft. She looked around for a way to get out of the water. In the dark, she saw only pounding waves and vertical cliffs. They might have to circumnavigate the island in hopes of finding an access point.

But—at least they had hope. Out adrift, there was nothing. So she held on tight to the volcanic rock, grateful for its presence. Grateful for its gritty, porous surface. She’d been terrified that she’d never see land again, let alone touch it. She thought she’d never see anything but endless ocean and the inside of a raft.

As the waves kept rolling in, she rested her cheek against the rock and wept. Because they were here, and they were alive.

Chapter 5

Logan woke up on the beach at dawn.

He had sand all over his face. Lukewarm surf tickled his feet. His mouth was dry, his head pounding. With a low groan, he rolled onto his back and wiped his eyes. A tiny crab scuttled away from his ankle. He was lucky it hadn’t crawled up the leg of his pants.

Cady was lying next to him on top of the deflated raft. It was flat from the impact with the rocky shore. She had her hands tucked under her cheek. The extra material from her dress covered her head like a red wedding veil. Her skirt was twisted around her upper thighs. Her feet were bare and pretty, with unpainted toes.

The crab that had been investigating him touched the heel of her foot. She let out a startled shriek, kicking it away. Then she sat upright and pulled the veil off her face. She looked a little worse for the wear. Still beautiful, because her features were lovely. But dehydrated, with chapped lips and bloodshot eyes. Her hair was a natural style, not straightened. Now it was a wild tangle of curls.

They’d been forced to swim around the island last night after getting slammed into the rocks. She was a strong swimmer, thank God. He couldn’t have saved the raft and her. They’d slogged through at least a mile of rough water before this cove appeared. As soon as their feet had hit the sand, they’d dropped.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice sounded like crushed gravel.

“Thirsty,” she said.

“We have to find water.”

She glanced at the high cliffs behind them. “Up there?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t move.”

He knew she didn’t mean it. She didn’t want to move, but she could do it. She only needed a bit of encouragement. He spotted some coconut trees along the edge of the beach, and a couple of fresh green fruits sitting on the sand. A mature coconut rolled in the surf. He went to retrieve both kinds. The green ones had more juice, so he used his knife to chop off the end and bore a hole. Then he gave it to her. She took an experimental sip.

“Oh my God,” she said, gulping more.

“Good?”

“So good.”

He’d learned about coconuts in his survival class, but he’d never actually had a fresh one. When she passed it back, he drank his share. The flavor was mild, like vitamin water with a hint of sweetness. Although he wanted to down it all, he restrained himself and let her have the rest. His reward was watching her expression of pleasure as she finished it. She upended the coconut to get the last drops. Juice dribbled down her chin and her smooth brown throat. He imagined putting his mouth there and licking the moisture away.

To distract himself, he took his phone apart again and set it on a leaf to dry. Then he went to work on the older coconut. First he removed the dry husk, which wasn’t easy. The nut inside was impenetrable. He couldn’t cut it with his knife.

“Let me,” Cady said.

He handed it to her, curious. She picked up his knife and chopped one of the empty green coconuts in half, so it worked like a bowl. Then she held the brown nut over the bowl and hit it with the spine of his knife. She whacked it five or six times before it cracked. Milky fluid spilled between her fingers and into the green bowl. Another strike split the nut into two halves. The fruit inside was white as snow and smelled like heaven.

“Nicely done,” he said.

She gave him one of the halves and kept working. Apparently there were multiple steps to this process. She had to break the nut into smaller pieces before the fruit could be pried out of the shell. There was also an outer skin to peel away. When she freed the first chunk, she offered it to him. He popped the fruit into his mouth and groaned. Extreme hunger was one hell of an appetizer, because it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. Pleasantly chewy with a mildly sweet, nutty flavor.

“Wow,” he said, eager for more.

She pried the rest of the fruit from the shell and used her teeth to remove the skin. They devoured every morsel. After the meat was gone, they shared the milk, which he didn’t love. It reminded him of warm goat milk, or camel milk. She laughed at the face he made.

The meal was labor-intensive—and ultimately unsatisfying. He needed more than half a coconut to fill his stomach. His main priority was finding fresh water. “We should get going.”

She followed his gaze up the cliffs. “Do you think this island is inhabited?”

He shrugged, evasive. There were thousands of islands like this in the South Pacific, and most of them were deserted, but why burst her bubble? “We won’t know until we hike to a higher vantage point. That’s next on my to-do list.”

She groaned, flopping onto her back. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re too industrious?”

He didn’t answer, because he was distracted by her short skirt. Getting rehydrated had enlivened his senses. On the raft, his desire for her had been squelched by thirst, hunger and a mild concussion. Now it came roaring back. It urged him to stare at her bare legs and imagine himself between them.

Her dress was wrinkled and torn, with a rip from the hem to the top of her thigh. She had various scrapes and bruises from getting dashed against the rocks. She looked like a scream queen from a horror movie. The one who survived, gore-splattered, after battling the bad guys. She was shell-shocked, but still sexy.

He turned his gaze toward the ocean, frowning at his thoughts. Since when had he found bloody knees and torn fabric attractive? He’d gone off the deep end. Maybe the primitive setting had turned him into an animal. Or maybe it was just her. Their chemistry at the bar had been explosive. It was like a punch in the gut, every time their eyes met.

But they weren’t in the bar anymore. They were on an island in the middle of nowhere. Their relationship had changed the moment she’d been attacked. She’d been targeted because she was with him. She’d been taken from him. Now she was his responsibility. He couldn’t ogle her the way he had on the dance floor. He had a professional obligation to protect her, just as he would have protected Maya O’Brien. He had to act like a proper bodyguard.

She was an asset. Not some piece of ass.

He rose to his feet, determined not to fail her. They needed food, water and shelter ASAP. He doubted they’d find people, based on the size and structure of this island. He had to make a fire or they’d get eaten alive by bugs tonight. He wasn’t sure if they’d return to this cove, so he pulled the raft as far away from the shoreline as possible. Then he collected some fire-making materials. The dry husk threads from the coconut were ideal. He dipped some of the longer threads in the gas tank and rolled them up in a palm leaf.

“What’s that for?” she asked.

“To help start a fire. Just in case.” He put his phone back together and offered her a hand. She winced as she stood up.

“Sore muscles?”

“Sore feet. From the rocks.”

He inspected the soles of her feet. She had several shallow cuts. He considered letting her stay on the beach, but that was against survival protocol, and carrying water back for her would be a hassle. What would she do if he got injured or delayed? He also wasn’t convinced the kidnappers had given up. Those men had a much better chance of pinpointing their location than the rescuers.

If there were rescuers. He wasn’t counting on that, either. They’d have no idea where to look. Only the pirates knew they’d stolen a raft. They knew this area, presumably. They could study the currents and wind conditions and estimate a landing zone. They might come back to tie up loose ends.

“I’ll make you some shoes,” he said.

She sat down in the shade again while he gathered several palm leaves. He folded them into squares and tied them to her feet with a narrow strip of the same material. The “shoes” wouldn’t be comfortable to walk in, but they’d protect her from further injury. He didn’t bother making a pair for himself. Even though he’d been off-duty for several weeks, his feet were tough and he preferred going bare.

The cliffs along the edge of the beach were slippery and steep, with no discernible path. He found the safest route and climbed behind Cady, giving her support and instructions when she needed it. She only lost her footing once, near the top. Although he was right there to catch her, his bad knee almost buckled under her weight. His heart pounded at the close call. A fall here would be disastrous. It would entail a swift death or prolonged suffering.

He’d seen a lot of dead bodies over the past six years. Most were men that had been killed by the enemy, or fought for the enemy. Women and children were harder to accept. There was a pregnant woman in Syria who would always haunt him.

He pushed the mental picture out of his mind, with some difficulty. He held on to Cady for an extra second to make sure she was steady. She glanced over her shoulder at him, letting out a ragged breath. Then they continued over the edge of the cliff. He didn’t relax until they were both on stable ground.

When they entered the rain forest, the lush vegetation became a fortress. He took the lead. It was slow going without a machete, but not impossible, and the leaves were pleasantly free of thorns. Unprotected vegetation indicated that there were no leaf-eating animals on the island. That usually meant no people.

She followed close behind him. He knew she was tired, because he was tired. His knee throbbed with every step and hunger gnawed at his belly. He had to stop to adjust his belt around his waist. He’d already lost weight. She watched with wary eyes, saying nothing. She had a dancer’s body, slender and compact. He liked her curves where they were. He needed to provide some sustenance before they both started wasting away.

If this island was deserted, they could be here awhile.

The day wore on, and finding water proved elusive. The rain forest was teeming with life, colorful birds and vibrant greenery. Everything was damp. It was humid as hell. He was soaked in sweat. But a convenient wellspring? Nah.

“I need a break,” Cady declared. “If I take another step, I’ll drop.”

He allowed a short rest, glancing around. He was impatient to reach the summit, wherever that was. He couldn’t see more than ten yards in any direction. While she sat with her back propped against a tree trunk, he noticed a liana vine hanging from the canopy above. Liana vines, like green coconuts, were a source of fresh water. He whacked it in half and let the end drip into his palm. The liquid ran clear, so he lifted it to his lips to taste. It was fine. He drank a few mouthfuls and passed the vine to her.

After two days at sea, they couldn’t get enough fresh water. He watched her throat work as she swallowed. When she returned the vine, he quenched his thirst in greedy gulps. They drank until there was nothing left.

Logan had been worried that they’d die of dehydration on the raft, despite his assurances to the contrary. He was still worried about it. He’d dismissed her idea to drink urine, but at one point he’d been tempted. Anything to get his mouth wet.

He lifted his gaze to the sun-dappled canopy overhead. He estimated it was early afternoon. They were burning daylight.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree trunk. He couldn’t expect her to hike through the jungle all day without proper shoes, on a mostly empty stomach, after last night’s grueling swim. She didn’t have his training, his muscle mass, or his stamina. It was a miracle she’d come this far.

Instead of badgering her, he let her rest. He spent the next few minutes exploring their immediate surroundings. The island was a haven for birds and flying insects. Mosquitos were a constant threat. Ferns and elephant plant grew wild.

He stumbled upon a tree with bumpy green fruits, similar to avocados. The branches were too high to reach, but he picked one off the ground and tucked it into his pants pocket. Then he examined the other trees in the area. He didn’t see any more fruit. A crow-sized bird kept flitting about overhead, squawking in distress. After a cursory glance upward, he noticed what appeared to be a bird’s nest in a crook between two branches.

He climbed the tree and hit the jackpot. Three eggs. He secured them in his shirt pocket before he descended. When he returned, Cady was on her feet. She was hopping around, swatting at her neck and shoulders.

Ants.

That was the problem with taking a break in the jungle: ants. He helped brush the insects off her bare back, hiding a smile.

She bent over to shake out her curls. “I can still feel them in my hair.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t look sorry,” she grumbled.

“Only because I found some eggs.” He took the green fruit out of his pocket. “And a tree full of these.”

She snatched it from him. “This is a breadfruit.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m a chef,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve studied the local produce.”

“Can we eat it raw?”

“It’s not good raw. You cook it like a yam or a potato.”

“I’d eat a potato raw.”

She handed the breadfruit back to him, shrugging. It was rock hard with a thick skin. He needed to make a fire anyway. It was safer to boil the eggs, if they could. His mouth watered at the thought of a hot meal. Any kind of meal.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I guess.”

They continued uphill. His injured knee slowed him down considerably, so she kept up with him pretty well. The foliage thinned out as they ascended, which made the hike easier. He increased the pace, sensing they were near the summit. Soon they broke through the canopy and he could see the island’s high point.

A quarter of a mile later, they were there. She sat on a flat rock at the peak, trying to catch her breath. He stood and took in the panoramic view.

It was majestic.

Stark, remote, dizzying and majestic.

He couldn’t see any other islands nearby, just an endless stretch of calm blue water. They were all alone on a big rock in the middle of the ocean. The summit was at the south end, judging by the position of the sun. They’d landed on the west side, which boasted one small, protected cove. The rest of that coastline was sheer cliffs and crashing waves. It was extremely inhospitable, possibly unapproachable. Sharp points jutted up from the sea around the shore like protective daggers.

The eastern side of the island was less severe, with gentler slopes and softer edges. It had a sprawling white-sand beach, framed by dozens of coconut trees. Beyond that, a sparkling expanse of crystal-blue water, with tide pools and an extensive coral reef system.

It was a fisherman’s paradise—but largely inaccessible, even by boat. There was no convenient shoring area. The island was small, only about five miles long and two miles wide. Getting around on foot wouldn’t be a problem. He spotted a craggy rock formation to the north, with what appeared to be fresh water cascading down its edge.

Overall, Logan was pleased. This spot was like a private tropical getaway, untouched by human hands. People paid big money to vacation at secluded resorts and nature preserves. He could survive here a few weeks.

The company wasn’t bad, either.

He glanced down at Cady, gauging her reaction. She wasn’t admiring the view or counting the island’s resources. She was weeping. Tears rolled down her pretty face. She wiped them away, sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What’s wrong?” she repeated, incredulous. She gestured to the deserted island and the open ocean all around them. “There’s nothing here!”

His stomach clenched with regret. Of course she was disappointed; she’d been hoping for a rescue that wouldn’t come and inhabitants that didn’t exist. She didn’t care what the island had to offer, other than a way out. She only saw what it lacked: visitors, conveniences, transportation and neighboring islands.

Logan didn’t blame her for being upset. She hadn’t signed up for this. She’d been kidnapped, traumatized and lost at sea. Now they were on dry land, but still completely isolated. She didn’t want to stay here and battle the elements. She wanted to go home.

Instead of escaping her nightmare, she was stuck in it.

With him.

Chapter 6

What was wrong? Was he serious?

She couldn’t believe he’d asked that. He’d lost his damned mind. He was standing at the summit of this bug-infested hellhole like the lord of his domain. He wore a relaxed expression, as if the gut-wrenching view invigorated him.

“We’re stranded on a deserted island. You’re not disturbed by that?”

He raked a hand through his hair, scowling. He didn’t look tired, even though they’d hiked for miles. Sweat dampened his face and shirt, but he wasn’t winded. She felt like she might faint from overexertion. He seemed unaffected by the climb. “I’m trained to stay calm in emergency situations, and to follow a specific survival protocol. You see a deserted island, but I see lifesaving resources.”

“I see a jungle fortress surrounded by sharks.”

He nodded, as if this was a fair assessment. Then he pulled out his phone and checked for service. Yeah, right. Shaking his head, he put it away. “I’m sorry. I should have tried to manage your expectations better.”

“My expectations?”

“I assumed the island was uninhabited, but I didn’t want to demotivate you.”

“You didn’t want to demotivate me,” she repeated dully. She’d turned into a parrot. She was a jungle parrot sidekick in a shredded red dress, with leaves for shoes.

None of this seemed real.

Her stomach dropped as she remembered what he’d said about the possibility of a rescue. She’d been dubious about his claims, but she hadn’t pressed him on it. Now she studied him with new suspicion. He stared back at her, cool as ice. “Do you think they’re looking for us, or did you lie about that, too?”

He tore his gaze away. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you lied?”

“I don’t know if there’s a search effort underway,” he said in a clipped tone. “They send rescue teams to reported accidents, like plane crashes or shipwrecks. Kidnappings at sea, without a specific location...”

Her spirits plummeted. There was no rescue team. What would they look for, other than the pirates? A man or woman overboard had no chance of surviving in the open ocean. Cady and Logan would be presumed dead.

“Let’s focus on the positive,” he said.

She threw back her head and laughed.

“We’re alive.”

She stopped laughing, because she sounded deranged, and he had a point.

“Being on dry land is a vast improvement over the raft. Two or three more days at sea would’ve killed us.”

She let out a ragged breath, fighting tears again.

“As deserted islands go, this one is ideal.”

“How?”

“Most uninhabited islands are spits of sand with a few palm trees and no fresh water. They’re uninhabited for a reason. There’s no way to live off them. This place is different. It has everything we need to survive.”

She studied the green landscape with wet eyes.

He crouched down next to her and pointed at the shoreline. “Look there. Tide pools are easy to forage, and full of seafood. Are you allergic to shellfish?”

“No.”

“Do you like it?”

She nodded, because she did. She loved it, in fact. Shrimp, crab, fish, sushi...she even liked sea urchin.

“And over here, check it out,” he said, moving his finger. “That white line in the rock face is a waterfall.”

“It’s far away.”

“It’s close to the beach, which is where I’d build a shelter. I can make an SOS signal right there on the sand that would be visible from the air. There are coconut trees and palm trees. Maybe some more of that breadfruit.”

“I’ve seen taro plants.”

“Yeah? They have roots you can eat.”

“I know.”

He directed his finger at her. “There’s something special here, too.”

“What?” she asked warily.

“You. You’re a great resource. You’re a chef. You’ve studied the local plants. You can cook the hell out of a fish. You’re also in excellent shape. You’re a strong swimmer. I couldn’t ask for a better partner.”

“Now you’re going overboard.”

“I mean it.”

“You wouldn’t rather have another SEAL with you?”

He held her gaze. “There’s no one I’d rather have with me.”

She didn’t know how to feel about this proclamation. The intensity that had excited her at the bar—and terrified her in the aftermath of the kidnapping—was still there, glittering in his eyes. But his brutal actions were no longer at the forefront of her mind. He’d been kind to her. He’d shared his clothing and his body heat on the raft. He was a good man. Although he hadn’t been completely honest with her about their predicament, and she didn’t trust him not to bend the truth again, she felt safe with him. She also knew he wanted her. She tried not to be flattered by his desire, and failed.

He was incredibly charismatic. That was why all of the women on the cruise had been agog over him. It wasn’t just his face, though he had handsome features. It wasn’t just his body, though that was a perfect ten. He radiated strength and confidence. When he focused his attention on her, she turned into mush.

“I’m no survival expert,” she said, glancing away.

“Have you ever been camping?”

“In an RV, with my grandpa.”

“The drill sergeant?”

“Yes.”

“This won’t be like that.”

She laughed again, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “No kidding.”

“How are your feet?”

“Terrible.”

“I’ll rewrap them before we go.”

“Must we?”

“It’s all downhill from here.”

“Ha.”

She spotted an aloe vera plant, so she sent him to pick some for her. While she took care of the cuts on her feet, he applied the slick moisture to his chapped lips and sunburned cheeks. Heavy beard stubble shadowed his jaw. He looked a little rough around the edges, but ruggedly handsome. This environment suited him. It didn’t suit her. She felt sweaty and dirty. Her hair was all over the place. There were oily stains on her dress from the coconut milk. Rugged wasn’t a word used to describe women, so she tried to think of a similar term. Natural, maybe. She was at peak natural right now.

When she was finished with the aloe vera, he rewrapped her feet with new leaves. “We’ll see if we can make it to that beach before nightfall. Then I’ll start a fire. We’ll have a cookout, and sleep under the stars.”

She arched a brow at his fanciful phrasing.

“Too much?”

“Let’s bring it down a notch. You’re supposed to be managing my expectations, remember?”

“Right. Okay, here goes. Let’s try to get as far from the summit as possible before the afternoon rain hits and makes the terrain even more treacherous.”

Well, that wasn’t as upbeat, but she’d asked for it. She noted a few dark clouds on the edge of the horizon and figured this was the likelier scenario. With a low groan, she rose to a standing position. After a quick stretch, she followed him down the hillside. Her arms and legs ached from overuse. She felt like a wrung-out dishrag. Logan, on the other hand, appeared hale and hearty as hell. Damn his rugged ass. She stared at his broad shoulders, remembering how his muscles had bunched beneath her fingertips, and how easily he’d lifted her.

It started raining.

He kept going.

She tried to be strong and brave and a team player, but it was just beyond her. She was soaked from head to toe. Her energy was sapped. Hiking uphill while wearing leaves for shoes was difficult. Downhill, on wet ground...it was impossible. She slipped and fell hard, right on her butt. Although she had plenty of padding there, it didn’t feel sufficient. She felt like she’d gotten spanked by the island, big-time.

She didn’t get up. She rolled onto her side and cried.

He knelt next to her. His hand rested on her waist. Instead of asking questions, he waited for her to compose herself.

“I’m okay,” she said finally. “I just fell.”

“Where does it hurt?”

She gestured to the general vicinity. The back of her dress had ridden up, exposing her sore, muddy bottom. He swept his palm over her abused flesh, squeezing gently. Then he gave her a soft pat of sympathy.

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” he said.

“Are you a medic, too?”

“No.”

She tugged her dress into place, suspecting he’d enjoyed that exam a little too much. He winced as he staggered upright, as if his knee was bothering him. The injury reminded her that he was a human being with real weaknesses. He wasn’t impervious to pain. He schooled his expression quickly and helped her to her feet.

“We need to find shelter for the night.”

Unfortunately, there were no convenient cabanas to duck into. There wasn’t even a dry rock to crawl under. She trudged along behind him, her head down. She was cold and wet and her butt hurt. The only pace she could manage was slow. The rain dissipated. The slope of the hillside became less severe, and the foliage grew thicker.

In the gathering dusk she imagined a lot of creepy crawlers that probably weren’t there. Spiders hanging from the trees. Centipedes scuttling through wet leaves on the ground. Poisonous frogs, pit vipers and tiny, flesh-eating parasites.

Then the mosquitos descended, and she wished for anything but them. She waved the buzzing nuisances away from her ears and wrapped the tulle around her head in an attempt to protect her face.

When a mosquito bit the tender flesh behind her knee, she shrieked in protest. “I’m getting eaten alive!”

“So am I,” Logan said, slapping his neck. “This sucks.”

“Literally!”

He dragged her toward a large rock formation that rose up in the gloom. Its mossy surface was covered in vines, hiding what appeared to be the mouth of a cave. He had to push aside the foliage to gain entry. It was pitch-black inside, and smelled bad. It was the least inviting shelter she could imagine, but she would’ve gone into Satan’s lair at this point. She held his hand in a tight grip as they ducked into the cave.

“I don’t know what’s in here,” he whispered.

“As long as it’s not more mosquitos.”

He stayed still for several moments, breathing hard in the dark quiet. “We can’t explore the interior.”

That was fine with her. She had no desire to explore. None whatsoever. Her eyes adjusted to the lack of light in slow increments. He sat down with his back against the cave wall. She wanted to curl up next to him, but she wasn’t sure which side of him was safer.

What if a wild animal wandered in?

What if one tried to get out?

“Here,” he said, splaying his legs. She settled between them, her back against his front. He put his arms around her. He was wet, but warm. His heartbeat pounded in a strong, steady rhythm. Fast, but not too fast, like hers. He was alert, rather than panicked. That was comforting. She could count on him to stay calm even when she was freaking out.

“What’s that smell?” she asked. “Rats?”

“Bats.”

Ugh. The hairs at her nape prickled at the thought of them flapping around her curls. Their nasty little teeth and leathery wings. At least the cave was free of mosquitos. She’d die of rabies, instead of malaria. “Can you make a fire?”

“Not without dry wood.”

She tried not to squirm around too much, but she was uncomfortable. The ground was hard against her sore bottom. She was hungry and thirsty.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“What do you want to know?”

“Where do you live?”

“I lived in San Francisco, until recently. I left a few months after I broke up with Andrew. It seemed better to make a fresh start. Right now I’m staying at my parents’ house in Long Beach.”

“I still live with my parents.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m overseas a lot, and they have a guest house. It works out.”

“Where is it?”

“Del Mar. It’s a suburb of San Diego.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Born and raised.”

Her grandparents lived in San Diego. She was stranded on a deserted island with a fellow Southern Californian. What were the odds?

“Did you grow up in Long Beach?” he asked.

“Close. Irvine. My parents moved because my mom got a job offer there. She’s a high school principal.”

“A principal and a cop for parents?”

“Sounds fun, right?”

“Were you a rebellious teenager?”

“Not really. Were you?”

“Nah. I was a mama’s boy. Still am.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty. You?”

“Twenty-seven.”

He grunted in response, shifting his injured knee.

“Am I hurting you?”

“You’re fine,” he said gruffly. “You should try to get some sleep.”

“What will we do tomorrow?”

“Find water. Make a fire. Build a shelter.”

She groaned at his overzealous to-do list.

“The beach isn’t far. Tomorrow will be an easier day.”

“I doubt there will be any easy days on this island.”

“Maybe not, but we’ll live.”

“You sound confident.”

“I am.”

“Have you ever failed at anything?”

He didn’t answer. When silence stretched between them, she realized this was a touchy subject. More painful than his busted knee, perhaps. She wondered if he’d failed to complete a mission, or failed to protect someone.

“I should have thanked you for saving me,” she said.

His arms tightened around her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s a big deal,” she insisted. “You risked your life.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said. “You got kidnapped while you were with me. Because you were with me.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I convinced you to leave the bar.”

She hadn’t needed much convincing. She flushed a little, remembering how uninhibited she’d been. How she’d devoured his mouth in the hallway. “I wouldn’t have done the same if our situations were reversed. I wouldn’t have started swimming after you.”

“I’m trained for combat and water rescue. You’re not.”

She didn’t think it was only a matter of training. He was a hero by nature. She wasn’t. She’d been frozen with fear during the attack, and for hours after. The same thing had happened when she’d witnessed her grandfather’s death. She’d been catatonic, unable to move or speak. Unable to help.

She wasn’t calm in emergency situations. She didn’t like taking risks, or stepping out of her comfort zone. Whenever she did, she regretted it. This situation was a prime example. Her first attempt at a one-night stand had resulted in her kidnapping. It couldn’t get any worse than that! She didn’t embrace danger, like Logan. As grateful as she was to be under his protection, his presence set off major emotional warning bells for her.

She had to be careful with him. She was still trying to move on from her last romantic disaster. He was clearly a no-strings type, and a magnet for adoring females. He’d caught the eye of every woman on the cruise. She couldn’t afford to get attached.

But keeping her distance wasn’t an option, so she pushed aside her misgivings and settled against him. He made a warm, steady wall behind her. She felt safe in his arms. Although the chemistry between them was still there, she wouldn’t act on it. They weren’t going to finish what they’d started on the dance floor.

That ship had sailed—literally.

Their almost-hookup had been a once-in-a-lifetime thing. A perfect storm of physical attraction and opportunity that couldn’t be re-created. Even if she’d wanted to take the risk, there was nothing remotely sexy about their current situation. They were in a bat-infested cave. She was covered in mud. So was he.

She closed her eyes, determined to ignore the exciting male contours of his body, and the dull throb of cuts and bruises on her own. She tried not to worry about what might befall them tomorrow. He’d advised her to focus on the present, and think positive. Tonight they were alive. She was exhausted, but unharmed.

Then a dark blanket of fatigue settled over her, and she drifted off.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.