Full Exposure

Would Ariana cooperate? Tasia abandoned the empty plate and flute on a table and draped a cashmere throw over her legs. As much as she would enjoy working with Derek’s daughter, Tasia couldn’t afford to let sentiment impede her goals. The girl’s future also remained undecided.

For now, the pair would remain trapped on the island…until Tasia decided to fetch them.

She stared into the hungry red flames and her lips curled in a slow smile. Or not.

THIGH-DEEP in the cold surf, Dante flung a universal parting gesture at the fleeing speedboat. Muttering, he splashed back to the woman shivering on the beach. Like him, she was soaked to the skin, bruised and scraped. He’d failed her for the second time in twenty-four hours. Rage made him shake. “Are you all right, Ariana?”

“Yes.” She unsteadily brushed aside a wet tendril of chestnut hair. “Heckle and Jeckle tore out of here like you’d sprouted horns. What’s so scary about being ‘a friend of the friends’?”

After almost six weeks, he had yet to discern if she was a bereaved daughter seeking the truth about her father, or a wily operator attempting to run her own game. In either scenario, if she knew who his friends really were, she would jeopardize his goals. Possibly his life. He scooped up his fallen coat.

“Ah. It’s a ‘don’t mess with the mob’ thing, right?”

He’d known from the moment she’d asked her first question at the dig site that she was not only beautiful, but extremely intelligent. Which made her extremely dangerous. “Sì.”

She planted her hands on her hips. Her eyes—as blue and unpredictable as the Mediterranean Sea—sparked. “Well, why didn’t you yell it sooner?”

He threw back his head and laughter rolled out of him. His studious librarian had far more audacità than he’d imagined. And the worse things got, the stronger she became. Forced into close proximity with her bright, alluring heat, his imagination had been working overtime.

Her full lips pursed, and his body tightened. Amusement fled. Allowing her to divert him could get them both killed. He still hadn’t decided if Signorina Bennett was hiding something far more hazardous than a fiery spirit. “A man does not throw the phrase around lightly—and not unless he can back it up.”

“But you can.” As mutual mistrust engulfed their newfound camaraderie, unease chased away her smile. A chilly gust plastered her sodden clothing to her body, and she trembled violently.

His adrenaline rush ebbed and ice crept into his bloodstream. Where were his brains? Mentally castigating himself, Dante caught her by the hand. He knew where. And if he wanted to keep Ariana and himself alive, he’d damn well better retrieve them.

Towing Ariana up the strand, he pulled her into the semicircle of boulders forming a windbreak. He tossed down his coat. Then he turned her to face him, grabbed her sodden shirt by the plackets and stripped it off her.

When he tugged up the hem of her camisole, she shrieked and her knee slammed into his groin. Searing nausea twisted his guts, sent him reeling.

“What the hell?”

“I think that’s my line.” She stumbled backward. “Just because we’re lost on an island in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean we’re going to go native.”

Dante groaned and eased upright. He didn’t retch, so he straightened and stared at the enraged woman. Had stress unhinged her? “Non capisco.”

“I flirted with those goons because it was a life-or-death emergency.” She inhaled shakily. “I am not a party favor.”

His jaw dropped. “San Gennaro, mio bello! We’ve been together nearly six weeks. You should know better.” Dante resisted the urge to inventory vital, perhaps irreparably damaged, anatomy. He’d rather take a fist in the face any day. “You are not a woman who engages in casual relationships.”

She rubbed her hands along her arms. “And you know that, how?”

“Just as you have been safe with me, I have been safe with you.” At least partially. While his attraction had been instantaneous, it was bearable. Resistible. Despite her vibrant coloring and the glint of impertinence in her gaze, she had shielded herself inside a bunker of aloof poise. She seemed coolly unaware of her latent passion…while his senses spun every time he got near her. If her guilelessness was an act designed to intrigue him, it had worked.

He’d never seen her come fully alive. Until fate had forced them into life-or-death peril. And the new determination in her sparkling eyes, the newly resolved set to her full lips intrigued him more than ever. He shrugged. “You have not attempted to use your sensuality to manipulate me.”

“My…” She opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head. “Then what was with the fast track to seduction?”

“I was trying to save you from hypothermia. Believe me, cara, if I seduced you, you would know it.” He dropped his voice to a husky purr. “And it would not be forced. Or fast.”

Her eyes widened. “Uh…you suddenly started ripping off my clothes—” she cleared her throat “—so I’ll be warmer?”

“Wet fabric loses all ability to insulate. The wind makes it worse, like being inside a refrigerator.” He gestured impatiently. While they debated, her lips had paled and her graceful limbs shook uncontrollably. “You are shivering because your body is working too hard to get warm. Exhaustion will soon set in, and combined with hypothermia, will kill you.”

“You’re shivering, too.”

He peeled off his wet T-shirt and draped it over a boulder. “I am also removing my clothing.”

Bemused, he watched her astonished glance slide over him, then skitter everywhere but his bare chest. Sudden warmth infused his chilled skin.

“But if we’re…naked—” she swallowed audibly “—we’ll still freeze to death.”

“My coat is dry. We’ll share it…and our body heat.” He tugged off his boots. “Be sensible, bella. Every moment you delay, you grow colder.”

When she hesitated, he scowled. “I don’t want to have to take your clothes from you. But I will.”

Her wary gaze assessed him far too long. He moved toward her. “Do not force me to choose.”

She flung up a trembling hand. “You win.” She bit her lip. “But I don’t care if I turn into a human snow cone…I am not taking off my underwear.”

Dante chuckled. “I doubt a few scraps of damp silk will cause you harm.”

She wrinkled her nose. “There’s a highly effective technique called communication. Next time, before you grab…ask.”

“A lesson I’m not inclined to forget.” And if he was, the ache in his groin would remind him.

“Sorry. I was a bit on edge after…” She shivered again, and her eyes darkened.

Dante battled the desire to enfold her in his arms. He had to remain detached…for safety and sanity. “I understand.” He’d committed a multitude of sins in the line of duty, but sending Ariana into harm’s way ranked at the top. He’d burned with helpless rage while the bastards had mauled her. Desperately struggled to break free and prayed he would reach her in time. “Perdonami. It killed me to put you through that.”

“I knew what I was risking. I don’t outsource responsibility for my decisions.” She circled her finger. “Turn around so I can undress.”

He half turned to offer her the illusion of privacy. Being naked was as natural as breathing to him, but since she was self-conscious, he left his briefs on after removing his pants.

Their clothes should be dry by morning, draped in the wind outside the rocky semicircle. He donned his leather trench coat before sitting in the sand.

Propped against a boulder, he looked up at Ariana. Heated desire steamrollered over him. San Gennaro! A few scraps of damp silk may not cause her harm, but they might be his undoing.

Adorned in a strapless apricot satin bra and matching panties, she stole his breath. He’d kidnapped her wearing only the clothes on her back and he had bought her new ones. He’d chosen the lingerie, tormented by the knowledge of how lovingly it would cup her generous curves.

The moonlight burnished copper highlights in her hair and bathed her creamy skin in luminescence. Still and perfect, she stood before him a glowing alabaster sculpture—Venus rising from the sea.

When it came to the intriguing Ariana Bennett, his body bypassed his brain. It made him crazy in more ways than one, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. His arms opened for her. “Come here, Ariana.”

“I suppose it’s better than hypothermia,” she muttered.

Put firmly in his place, he laughed. “The sentiment every man awaits from a woman’s lips.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” Stiff and reluctant, she lowered herself to his lap.