Page 17 of One Reckless Night

8

AMELIA

Istood on the beach, arms crossed over the puffy life jacket Jared had insisted I wear, watching him try to explain how to drive a jet ski. He was gesturing animatedly, his words coming fast and confident, like he was giving a lecture on brain surgery instead of explaining how to operate what was essentially a glorified motorized surfboard.

I didn’t know how I was supposed to pay attention when he was the one giving the tutorial. Did he know how attractive he was? He peeled off that T-shirt that I personally felt was a size too small on purpose and put on a life vest that left plenty of skin exposed. His chest was broad, his shoulders even broader. I could see the faint lines of muscle that ran down his torso, disappearing into the waistband of his swim trunks. His arms were strong, veins running along his forearms as he gestured toward the jet ski. He had one of those all-over tans. I assumed living on a Florida beach made it easy to maintain his sun-kissed skin.

He had to know he was a Greek god incarnate. Not that I had met one of them, but I was a very avid reader of fantasy romance. More than one author had taken some liberties with Greek mythology and brought them into the modern world. I couldn’t decide if he was an Apollo or Ares.

“Just hold on,” he was saying.

His eyes met mine for a brief second. He knew he was a lady-killer. Panty-dropper. Fantasy-inducer. No one looked like that and didn’t know. And yet, there he was, explaining how to operate a jet ski with the same intensity and focus he probably used in surgery, completely oblivious—or maybe just indifferent—to the fact that I was standing there, trying not to stare.

“Pritchard,” he said suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Are you even listening?”

“Yes,” I lied quickly, my cheeks heating up as I realized how long I’d been staring at him. “I mean, no. Sorry, what were you saying?”

He smirked, obviously knowing what had me distracted. “Just don’t go too fast until you get the hang of it.”

“You know,” I said, cutting him off, “I’m a TBI specialist. And while jet skis aren’t exactly a thing people in England often use, I’m sure plenty of catastrophic brain injuries have come from these machines.”

Jared just grinned, that infuriatingly charming smile that made my stomach do a weird little flip. “Relax, Doc. I’ll keep you safe. Now, hop on.”

“Fine,” I said, climbing onto the jet ski.

To my shock and horror, he settled in behind me, his thighs bracketing mine.

I whipped my head around. “What are you doing!”

“We’re riding the jet ski.”

I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut. “I thought I was riding this one and you were riding that one.”

“Not until I know you can handle the thing,” he said. “Like you said, I would hate to have my top researcher bang her pretty little head.”

My heart was beating wildly. Inappropriate thoughts flooded my brain. I felt like I might have a stroke.

“Isn’t this… inappropriate?” I said.

He shrugged, his smile never wavering. “Maybe. But it’s just us out here. I want to show you the island. So, why not? This isn’t a new thing. Welcome to America. Lighten up. Let go of the stiff upper lip.”

I scowled at him and turned back around. I immediately felt hotter than I thought was possible. It wasn’t just the sun—it was him. His proximity, his confidence, the way his body wrapped around me as he reached around me to grip the handles.

“Hold on,” he said, his voice low and close to my ear. And then we were off, tearing across the crystal-clear water at what felt like the speed of light. I let out a surprised laugh, the wind whipping through my hair. We sped away from the lab’s private beach and toward the main beaches of Key West.

The water was packed with boats and swimmers, the sand crowded with people soaking up the sun. It was a far cry from the quiet, secluded beaches back home. I had my hands next to his on the handlebars. All of the contact was making me dizzy.

He slowed down, letting us bob up and down in the water. “Well, what do you think?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I meant the ride,” he said. “Scared?”

“No. It’s fine. It’s so… I’m just so amazed at how gorgeous this place is. I’ve never been anywhere tropical before.”

Jared glanced at me, his grin widening. “This barely counts. I could take you somewhere like Fiji or Bora Bora on my jet. All you have to do is ask nicely.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Do you use that line on all the girls?”