Code Name: Blondie

Code Name: Blondie
Christina Skye

Miki is living every woman's fantasy–stranded on a desert island with a rugged navy SEAL. But little does Miki know she's a suspect in an international high-tech robbery, and her steely-eyed companion is ready, willing and able to do anything to make her talk….Navy SEAL Max Preston doesn't buy one word of his gorgeous captive's rambling story as he carries her up the beach. Yeah, she's got curves in all the right places, but Max has a nose for a con–and there's no way he'll let his iron control waver.Now a hurricane's headed their way, and for Max and Miki time is running out fast. Can they team up as friendly forces–and use Max's amazing canine companion to escape before a deadly villain takes his twisted revenge?

Code Name: Blondie

Christina Skye

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER ONE

17°30’ south latitude

18°52’ west longitude

WHY DID SEX SOUND so noisy when it wasn’t happening to you?

Miki Fortune steadied her digital camera and tried to ignore the grunts and groans from the nearby tent where her two models were doing the nasty again in full audio. There was no mistaking the sharply heaving canvas where her gorgeous six-foot-one Scandinavian model was getting screwed up, down and sideways by an equally gorgeous male model from Montana.

Satisfied with two shots of the pristine cove, Miki shouldered her camera gear and headed back up the beach. White sand crunched beneath her feet and a warm wind ruffled her hair, but all Miki saw was camera angles and F-stops. Paradise meant nothing when you were trying not to screw up the biggest opportunity of your life, a full-color calendar called Best Beaches of the World.

Behind Miki the tent walls shook harder. Panting voices carried on the wind. “Oh, Looogan. That way. Harder—harder!” The canvas snapped and the sound effect grew more obvious.

Miki scowled. If people wanted to have sex, they should do it in another state.

Logan Brooks, Miki’s tanned male model, ground out an urgent curse. Something crashed to the ground beyond the canvas wall.

Disgusted, Miki stowed her camera and lenses, then glanced at her watch. After all the time zones she’d crossed between her home in New Mexico and this beach southwest of Bora Bora, her body clock felt permanently out of synch. But tired or not, she had finished the day’s shots without a hitch. Now that her new digital cameras were stowed and their precious memory cards transferred to a portable hard drive, Miki couldn’t wait to get back in the air.

Paradise was fine when you were eighteen and crazy in love, enjoying a clothing-optional vacation. When you were working, paradise felt like salt in an old wound, reminding you of all that was wrong with your life.

Which, in Miki’s case, could have filled most of Montana.