Paradise Nights: Taken by the Bad Boy

‘Your father and uncle are hauling the last of it into the freezer. The timing’s perfect.’

‘For what?’ she whispered.

‘This.’ He brushed his lips over hers, a fleeting touch, nothing more, and pulled away. He planned to end it then, to say goodnight and get the hell out of temptation’s way, but her eyes were still closed and before he knew it his lips were on hers again, questing, cajoling, because this time, this time he wanted a response.

He got one.

Serena had played his game because she wanted to. Because she was curious as to what this man with his come to bed eyes and go to hell grin could bring to an evening, a moment, a kiss.

He brought plenty.

A taste so wild and delicious she shuddered. A mouth so firm and knowing she responded instinctively, following his lead with lips and with tongue in a dance as old as time. She wanted more, slid her hand to his cheek, to the nape of his neck in search of it, taking the kiss deeper as she sought the recklessness in him, that piece of him that courted danger, revelled in it, and came back for more. She found it.

And the kiss turned wild.

He murmured something, a deep-chested rumble that sounded like a protest but felt like surrender, and took her under.

Her mind had clouded over by the time the kiss ended, the rapid pulsing of her blood at odds with the languid slide of her hand from around his neck. She leaned back, elbows on the table, and watched as he struggled to surface, clawing his way out of the kiss in much the same way she had, and not bothering to hide how hard he found it.

She liked that about him. She liked it a lot.

‘Damn but he’s gonna break some hearts, kissing like that,’ she murmured.

‘So are you.’

She made a small hum of pleasure. ‘Tell him to kiss me again.’

‘No. If he does he’ll be lost and he doesn’t want that. Besides, the porch light has just come on and it’s way past time to be leaving.’

‘Does he come back?’

‘Try keeping him away. It’s your first kiss, maybe his third, but from that moment on there’s a part of him that’ll always be yours.’

She smiled, enchanted by his whimsy.

‘Thank you for the meal,’ he said softly. ‘Serena?’

‘What?’

‘I’ll honour Nico’s trust in me tonight, but next time I see you I’ll be asking you out to dinner. I’ll be holding you at the end of the evening. I’ll be around these next few weeks. I’ll be taking up some of your free time.’

She liked his high-handedness. She liked it a lot.

‘And Serena?’ He stood and looked down at her, looking for all the world like a dark angel fallen straight from the sky. ‘I don’t give a damn how big the shark is.’

CHAPTER THREE

PETE BENNETT lived to fly. Nothing could change that. Nothing ever had. It was simple fact that he was at his happiest with one hand on the throttle and the other on the joystick of a helicopter that responded to his slightest touch. Oh, he had his favourites, everyone did, and luckily old Tomas’s Jet Ranger was one of them. She was no Seahawk—equipment-wise she was a purely civilian fit—but she had a light touch and he was close to the sea, and for now that was enough.

And if at times skimming low across the water put him in mind of other far more dangerous flights and missions, well, that couldn’t be helped. A man like him did his damnedest to ignore the insistent knocking of the past in favour of whatever else was in front of him.

A man like him took great pains to ensure that whatever was in front of him had a certain basic appeal.

Island-hopping with a cargo of two tourists looking to overnight on a sleepy Greek island, for example, had enough basic appeal in the shape of meeting up with Serena again to drive every unwanted memory from his body.

He touched down at Sathi, Varanissi’s picturesque seaport, just on three in the afternoon, unloaded his passengers, and herded them towards the hotel, their bags slung over his shoulder with his own.

The fiery Chloe was nowhere to be seen as he saw them checked in and arranged to meet them again at nine the following morning. He wasn’t as lucky when it came to the boy, Sam. The kid had appeared in the foyer as he’d arrived and had been hovering ever since. When Pete made to leave, young Sam ventured forward.

‘You’re not staying here?’ he said.

Pete shook his head. ‘I’m staying up at Nico’s. In Tomas’s room.’

‘Oh.’ Sam paused, as if weighing his options. ‘I’m heading up that way too. To see Nico. I could show you a short cut if you want.’

He knew the path the boy was talking about. He’d taken it before, with Nico. And opened his mouth to say so.

But Sam had already read him. Pete watched, eyes narrowing, as bleak resignation flashed across the kid’s face, just before he lifted his chin and looked away. How the hell did a kid get to be so streetwise and still be so soft? He didn’t know. But it got to him. ‘Fine,’ he said, perversely pleased by Sam’s surprise. ‘I figured I’d head on up to the Vespas and say hello to Serena after that. Join me if you want. I could use the company.’ This much was true. He’d be far less tempted to reach for Serena within moments of seeing her if he had Sam with him.

Given the wildness of his fantasies about her, that was probably a good thing.

* * *

Four days. Four endless summer days. That was how long Serena had been waiting for that damn helicopter to fly over and land on the island and even then she waited another hour for the pilot of the cursed machine to put in an appearance at her brand-new blue beach umbrella by the rusty Vespa shed. By that time Serena had replayed the memory of Pete Bennett’s kisses at least a thousand times and every cell in her body was screaming for more. The man was a genius.

But he wasn’t alone. Sam tagged alongside him, wary and silent but nonetheless there. So much for wrapping herself around Superman right then and there.

Make that evil genius.

‘Hey, sailor,’ she said, smiling at Sam who’d finagled a morning out on Nico’s boat tomorrow. Tomorrow being Saturday, and that being the deal he’d made with Chloe if he went to school all week. ‘Got a message for you. Nico said he’ll swing by on his way down to the dock at around four-thirty a.m. Speaking from experience, you’d better be ready because the tide waits for no man and neither does Nico. Wear a jumper and a hat and don’t worry about gloves. He’s found some for you that’ll fit.’

Serena watched as Sam’s face lit up like the sun, a fleeting grin, gone almost as soon as it had arrived but she’d caught it nonetheless, along with a hefty dose of hero-worship for her cousin. ‘Meanwhile, there’s a Vespa been coughing and spluttering and I need someone to take it around the paddock a few times to see if it gives any grief.’

‘What’s in it for me?’ said Sam.

‘Experience,’ she said dryly, handing him a helmet.

‘It just so happens that the bike you’ll be trialling could well be the second-fastest bike on the island.’

‘So Aunt Chloe went for it?’ asked Pete as they watched Sam fasten the helmet, start the bike and ride slowly along the fence line. ‘That’s the second-fastest bike on the island?’

‘Well, no. Not any more. Maybe thirty years ago.’ Right now, it was the slowest ride she had. ‘And Chloe caved two days ago after two more trips to the principal’s office on account of our friend here’s somewhat disquieting habit of disappearing from school around mid-morning and failing to return.’ The bike coped with the downhill run easily enough, but coughed and groaned all the way up the hill. ‘I think it needs a new spark plug.’

‘That or a decent burial,’ muttered Pete.

‘We don’t discard our old around here. It’s just not done,’ she told him. ‘And it’s about time you showed up.’

Pete Bennett smiled. ‘Miss me?’