Hunter rises, the spell broken as he takes in the set of bright-colored pleasure vehicles on thetable.
"Pick another toy from the website,” he commands softly. “Then you and I are going to do thisthing.”
Hunter holds out the Rocket, and I take it, my fingers curling around it oninstinct.
It’s a mistake because now I’m wondering what it would be like to curl my fingers around him. If he’d be this big and hard, only better. “Dowhat?”
His expression is full of intent as he leans in, close enough I can smell his aftershave. “Make them all want what wehave.”
I know he’s talking about the vibe, but for a moment it sounds as if he means what’s betweenus.
Which is why I’mwet.
Because God’s truth is I’ve been fantasizing about Logan Hunter. A man who understands his effect on women. A man who’s my client and, even if he wasn’t, isn’t datingmaterial.
And now he knows I’ve been fantasizing abouthim.
"Enjoy your coffee,” Hunter offers with a smirk before starting for thedoor.
It takes every ounce of grace in me to resist hurling the Rocket at hishead.
7
"Four iPhones, a watch, and"—Montylifts a shoe with a finger—"astiletto."
I pull my mouthpiece out as I drip my way onto the deck of my twenty-eight-foot Parker Sport in the East River. It’s not the cleanest body of water I ever dove in, but the fishing boat feels like home. The sun warms my face after the water, which is cool even with thewetsuit.
"Nice haul for aWednesday."
Monty shakes his head. “What’s that got to do withanything?”
“Hell if Iknow.”
We strip out of our suits. Equipment falls to the whitewashed deck piece by piece in a rhythm we’ve been repeating foryears.
Monty and I dive together at least once a week. We started in high school but stopped abruptly senior year of college—myidea.
We resumed once I returned to New York two years ago—hisidea.
I was reluctant to agree, though now I’ll admit it feels good to be back atit.
No. It feelsgreat. Aside from flying, it’s the best feeling you couldhave.
Under the surface, no one’s expecting things from you or telling you what to do. The rules you follow aren’t man-made. They’re basic physics. Follow them and you’re free to explore, to play, to enjoy a world few human beings get towitness.
"The director sent over a raw cut of your commercial," Monty says. "Did he jerk you off while you were theretoo?"
“Not my type. I like muscles.” I pull out my phone and lean in. "Smile,Montgomery."
I snap the picture of the two of us, then hit a few keystrokes to put it on the Hunter’s Crosssocial.
"We should do a wreck diveagain."
My neck stiffens, and I cut a surprised look at Monty, whose hair springs out like a caged animal as he shoves back the hood of thewetsuit.
"We haven’t done one since senior year. I’d like another challenge,” hesays.
I adjust the wetsuit, shoving a hand through my hair and retrieving my sunglasses from one of the loungerseats.