Twelve Nights Of Temptation

Tasha’s problem wasn’t dating in general. Her problem was the thought of dating Matt. He wasn’t her type. There was no way he was her type. She knew that for an absolute fact.

She’d dated guys like him before—capable, confident, secure in the knowledge that the world rolled itself out at their feet. She knew all that. Still, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from dreaming about him.

They’d arrived off Tyree and boarded Orca’s Run shortly after dawn. Tall and confident, he’d greeted the clients like he owned the place—which he did, of course.

Tasha had kept to the background, making sure her toolbox was moved discreetly on board, while Matt had charmed the family, apologizing for the delay in the trip, offering Monty’s Pride as a replacement, explaining that the larger, faster yacht would easily make up the time they’d lost overnight.

It was obvious the client was delighted with the solution, and Tasha had turned her attention to the diesel engine. It took her over an hour to discover the water separator was the problem. In an unlikely coincidence, the water-in-fuel indicator light bulb had also broken. Otherwise, it would have alerted her to the fact that the water separator was full, starving the engine of fuel.

The two things happening together were surprising. They were more than surprising. They were downright strange.

From their anchorage in Tyree, Matt had taken the launch and run for parts in the small town. And by noon, she’d replaced the water separator. While she’d worked, she’d cataloged who’d had access to Orca’s Run. Virtually all the staff of Whiskey Bay Marina had access. But most of them didn’t know anything about engines.

There were a couple of contract mechanics who did repairs from time to time. And there were countless customers who had been on the property. She found her brain going in fantastical directions, imagining someone might have purposely damaged the engine.

But who? And why? And was she being ridiculously paranoid?

She had no idea.

While she’d worked, diesel fuel had sprayed her clothes and soaked into her hair, so she’d used the staff shower to clean up and commandeered a steward’s uniform from the supply closet.

After cleaning up, her mind still pinging from possibility to possibility, she made her way up the stairs to the main cabin. There she was surprised to realize the yacht wasn’t yet under way.

“Did something else go wrong?” she asked Matt, immediately worried they had another problem.

He was in the galley instead of piloting the yacht. The deckhand had stayed with Monty’s Pride, since the bigger ship needed an extra crew member. Matt and Tasha were fully capable of returning Orca’s Run to Whiskey Bay.

“It’s all good,” Matt said.

“We’re not under power?” Her hair was still damp, and she tucked it behind her ears as she approached the countertop that separated the galley from the main living area.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, placing a pan on the stove.

She was starving. “Sure. But I can eat something on the way.”

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”

He extracted two cups from a cupboard and poured. “Monty’s Pride is headed south. Everyone seems happy.”

“You were right,” she admitted as she rounded the counter. “Bringing Monty’s Pride was a good idea. I can cook if you want to get going.”

He gave a thoughtful nod. “This charter matters.”

“Because it’s a German client?”

“It’s the first significant booking out of the fall trade show. He’s a prominent businessman with loads of connections.”

“I’m sorry I argued with you.” She realized her stance had been about her pride, not about the good of the company.

“You should always say what you think.”

“I should listen, too.”

“You don’t listen?”

“Sometimes I get fixated on my own ideas.” She couldn’t help but revisit her theory about someone tampering with the engine.

Matt gave a smile. “You have conviction. That’s not a bad thing. Besides, it keeps the conversation interesting.”

He handed her a cup of coffee.

She took a sip, welcoming the hit of caffeine.

He seemed to ponder her for a moment. “You definitely keep things interesting.”

She didn’t know how to respond.

His blue eyes were dark but soft, and he had an incredibly handsome face. His chin was square, unshaven and slightly shadowed, but that only made him look more rugged. His nose was straight, his jaw angular and his lips were full, dark pink, completely kissable.

Warm waves of energy seemed to stream from him to cradle her. It was disconcerting, and she shifted to put some more space between them. “The engine was interesting.”

Mug to his lips, he lifted his brow.

“The odds of the water separator filling and the indicator light going at the same time are very low.”

His brow furrowed then, and he lowered the mug. “And?”

“Recognizing that this is my first idea, and that I can sometimes get fixated on those, it seems wrong to me. I mean, it seems odd to me.”

“Are you saying someone broke something on purpose?”

“No, I’m not saying that.” Out loud, it sounded even less plausible than it had inside her head. “I’m saying it was a bizarre coincidence, and I must be having a run of bad luck.”

“You fixed it, so that’s good luck.”

“Glass half-full?”

“You did a good job, Tasha.”

“It wasn’t that complicated.”

A teasing glint came into his eyes. “You mean, you’re that skilled?”

“The cause was peculiar.” She could have sworn she’d just serviced the water separator. “The repair was easy.”

Their gazes held, and they fell silent again. Raindrops clattered against the window, while the temperature seemed to inch up around her. Her dream came back once again, Matt cradling her, kissing her. Heat rose in her cheeks.