Page 1 of Paradise (Alphas Forever 4)

Gemma

Ican practically smell the coconut oil and conch fritters already.

My plane has just landed in Key West, and to say that I’m excited would be a laughable understatement. I’ve been so focused on school that it feels like I haven’t seen the sun for freakin’ years. As of last week, though, I’ve finally got my diploma. And, bonus, I’ve already got a job lined up as an elementary school teacher starting this fall. In the meantime, though, all I want to do is soak up some sun and relax.

Thank God my big brother lives in paradise and loves his little sis.

I’ve only got one bag in the overhead bin, so when the plane’s doors open, I grab it and rush down the skybridge. Brandon said he’d be waiting for me in the passenger pick-up area in his Jeep. And knowing my brother, he’ll be idling there with the top off, checking out every girl under thirty who walks by.

Sure enough, when I step out of the terminal and spot Brandon, he’s sliding his sunglasses down his nose to get a better look at the redhead in the crosswalk.

“Ew, Bran,” I say, as I heft my bag into the back of his Jeep. “Could you at least try to keep it in your pants while I’m around?”

“Gemma, Gemma, bo bemma!” Brandon shoots me a huge grin and reaches over to open the door. “Get your butt in here! We’ve gotta go.”

He gives me a brotherly fist to the shoulder and guns the engine before I even get my door closed. As we take off down the road, the radio blasting and my hair streaming behind me in the salt-scented wind, I can barely make out what Brandon is trying to tell me. All I can hear is marina and ready to mate and I hope to high heaven that Brandon isn’t talking about his girlfriend du jour.

By the time we get to the marina, I’ve managed to figure out that there’s some type of eel mating going down that Brandon has to be out on the reef for.

Oh, yeah. I should have mentioned that my loud, obnoxious, Jeep-driving, hard-rock loving, twelve-years-older-than-me brother is a marine biologist. And a damn good one, too, if all his appearances on the Discovery Channel are any indication.

We reach the marina at top speed and I shriek as Brandon practically drifts his Jeep into a parking spot.

“Come on,” he commands. He grabs a dive bag from behind his seat and heads toward the docks.

“Hang on!” I run after him and pull at his arm. “Give me your keys. I want to go to the condo.”

Brandon snorts. “No way, baby sis. You can’t drive a stick. Now come on. Let’s go. My captain buddy, Ryan, is waiting for us. We have to get out to the reef before sunset so I can catch this spawning on video.”

Brandon turns and continues his march toward the docks. I look around, gnawing on my pinkie nail. The marina is a commercial one, with shrimp boats and fishing charters. There’s no pretty harborside bar I can waste the afternoon in while I wait for Brandon and…who did he say? Captain Ryan?

Dude’s probably some grizzled old fisherman with a peg leg.

Anyhow, there’s nowhere for me to wait except the Jeep, parked on the hot asphalt in the middle of the lot. While I don’t exactly want to spend the rest of my day with slimy eels and an old fisherman who probably smells like his last catch, I don’t have much of a choice. I grab my bag from the Jeep in the hopes that maybe I can at least change into a swimsuit and start on my tan. Then I run after Brandon, my short legs doing double time to catch up with him.

My brother is already at the end of the pier, one leg hiked over the gleaming white hull of a sleek commercial charter boat. It’s gotta be forty feet long and there are no dingy nets or stinking fish barrels lashed to the deck. Damn. This boat is sexy. It’s all curves and shining brass.

The afternoon might not be a complete waste after all.

Brandon boards the boat and heads over to talk to someone who’s already on board. Some guy I can only partially make out, someone with dark hair. Since it looks like I’m not going to get any help, I toss my own bag onto the boat and follow it with my leg.

And I promptly wind up on my head, one foot caught in a tangle of rope.

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice growls above me.

“Just trying to…um…” I kick my leg to try and free it from the rope. I think it’s working until my foot connects with something that makes a fleshy thump and a string of colorful words erupts from above me.

Mouth like a sailor, indeed.

A hand grabs my ankle. “Stay still.” The rope slips from around my foot and a strong pair of hands hefts me into an upright position and puts me on my feet.

“Thank you,” I say and brush furiously at my clothes, trying to hide my embarrassment. “I’m…”

My words strangle in my throat as I look up. And up. Into the most gorgeous sea glass green eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re sitting in the middle of a face worthy of a sculptor. High cheekbones, a lushly full lower lip, and dark, slanted eyebrows.

Which are furrowed. And the green eyes look pissed. Pissed at me, that is.

“Go over there and stay there,” the big, beautiful man says, pointing toward a cushioned bench seat at the back of the boat. “I don’t need you falling off the boat. And put on a damn life jacket while you’re at it.”

Jesus. Okay. He doesn’t have to be a jerk about it. I didn’t ask to fall over the edge of his boat. Maybe if he or my stupid brother had bothered to help me, I wouldn’t have wound up ass up on the deck.

But no, let the short girl fall and then treat her like a child.

Nice seaside manners.

“I guess you’re the captain, then,” I say. “I’m Gemma.” I try to give him a smile, but my stomach churns just from being near him.

“Yep,” he says. He turns to walk away. Then he turns back, his eyes sweeping up and down my body before he says, his voice still sharp, “You’re gonna want to put some sunscreen on that ivory skin.” Then he clomps away to do whatever it is charter boat captains do.

I wonder if I can heave his pirateness overboard.

---