Page 4 of Silver-Tongued Devil
She didn’t answer. She was looking past him, and he turned in the water and saw Jerry Richards checking them out, his hands on his hips.
“Shoot,” his new friend said, nearly under her breath, through teeth that had started to chatter. “Is that security?”
“Yeah. Head of security.”
“Jerry? Shoot. Look, I’ll go in first, swim around to the left, up to the beach. You go on over to the right behind the rocks. There’s a place you can slip out of the water there. Give me five minutes. I’ll either talk my way out of it, or he’ll haul me off. He’ll leave, and you’ll have a chance to get out.”
“Uh…” He didn’t even know how to answer that. “I don’t generally let women take the fall for me.”
“He knows me, and he doesn’t like me. As soon as I get closer, he’ll recognize me no matter what. But he’ll just call me a name or two, look me up and down, and threaten me some, because he’s a sleaze. With you—who knows. I have a feeling you don’t respect authority, and Jerry isn’t too good on ‘reasonable use of force,’ especially when he feels disrespected. And he feels disrespected a lot.”
Just what he’d thought. He was going to have to do something about his security department. “I tell you what. We’ll call it Opposite Day. Go on behind your rocks. I’ve got this.”
He didn’t wait to hear her answer, just swam for shore. Stupidest argument he’d ever heard anyway. She must have met some real princes if she’d known any guy who’d go for that.
Unfortunately, she followed him. She might have the kind of mouth he loved both ways, she might have a body that made his palms itch and the kind of spirit that called his name, but she was lousy at following directions.
Taking her to bed would be a power struggle all the way. Of the most delicious kind, because you never wanted to play the easy game. The best wins were the ones you fought for, and the best opponents were the ones you had to work on. Long and hard.
No more bad girls,he reminded himself.No more wild rides. You’re looking for sweet. We’re going for classy here, remember? It’s time to find wife material.
But there was one part of him that tended to talk the loudest in these situations, and unfortunately, he’d never yet succeeded in making that be his brain.
Dakota followed him in to shore, mentally slapping herself around some.
She’dknownthis was a bad idea. She took responsibility; that was her deal now. Besides, she couldn’t stand to get somebody fired just because she’d longed to leap off those rocks like she was sixteen and… and life was different.
Or more like she was twenty-nine, had longed to do something reckless, and had found somebody who seemed to long for exactly the same thing. Which didn’t mean she should be leading him, all unsuspecting, down what sheknewwas the wrong path. He wasn’t going to like her much when he was unemployed.
He was pulling himself up and onto the rocky shore, she could see that much. She climbed up behind him, and he put out a hand onto her arm and steadied her, which was nice of him.
His briefs were sure-enough red, and… well, there was this pouch. Outlined with black, in case you’d missed it. This close up, she could see that just fine. If there were any shrinkage going on there, she’d just say that the un-shrunk version must be…
She jerked her eyes back up to his face, and there was that half-smile again, like he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. He was still holding her arm, too. She wrenched it away and paid attention to Jerry, because of course he’d come to bust them. And whether Mr. Hotness liked it or not, she was taking this one.
“My fault,” she said, talking right over whatever Jerry was saying. “I jumped off the rocks and did a bellyflop, and he… uh… thought I was in trouble and jumped in to rescue me.”
She wished she could see Jerry better, because he wasn’t talking, just staring at her, she thought. “Hang on,” she said abruptly, and stumbled her way across the rocky ground to the spot where she’d stashed her bag. It was under a big bush, which she saw as a fuzzy circle of green. She always picked a landmark like that to avoid wandering in circles and having to quarter the ground for her belongings.
“This some kind of ritual? Pacing the area off?” It was her dream guy. He’d followed her, still wearing only his briefs. For some reason, Jerry had let him go. Not like Jerry at all.
Ah.Red bag spotted. She patted around the top of it, found her glasses, and shoved them onto her face with a sigh of relief. Then she stood up, took a look at her companion, and just about fainted.
“Oh, sh—shoot,” she stammered. “Tell me I did not just do that.”
“Do what? And I’ve got to say—I’m kinda digging the librarian look here.”
She barely heard him. She saw Jerry clearly enough now, coming up to join them and saying, “I’ll just take off, then, Mr. Orbison, go check in with my evening shift.”
“Yeah,” he—friggin’ BlakeOrbison—said. “You go on and do that.”
“You take care, Dakota,” Jerry said with what she guessed was supposed to be a paternal smile but instead was just sleazy. “You want to watch out jumping around those rocks. I know you wouldn’t want Mr. Orbison to be sued, and your—well, I guess we’ll call it your family—doesn’t need any more accidents, do they?”
She didn’t slap him, but she sure wanted to. She didn’t look at him at all, just went for her towel, then realized that she was giving both men a great view of her butt, which wasn’t the part of herself she liked to lead with. So to speak. She stood up again, wrapped the towel around her waist, tried to ignore them while still talking to them, and said, “You’re right. We don’t need any more accidents on Mr. Orbison’s property.” And picked up her bag and left.
She was still barefoot, and the rocky ground was bruising the soles of her winter-tender feet. She didn’t care. She was out of here.
“What the hell?” Blake muttered, then went for his jeans and hauled them with difficulty up his still-wet legs.
