Tempted

She couldn’t afford to mess around. Harper needed that payday.

But their gazes locked as if tethered. Her will to cut the contact faltered in the pull of those gorgeous eyes. The man had won the genetic lottery. Handsome without being pretty, rugged without being ill-mannered. Yes, Teagan was dangerous, indeed.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” she announced, rising from her seat.

“You haven’t finished your drink.”

Finally breaking their gaze, Harper said, “I think I’ve had enough. Good night, Mr. Carmichael.”

And then, with the effort it took to walk calmly from the room, Harper thought her heart might explode from her chest.

Only when she was safely in her room did she release the shaky breath caught in her lungs.

Teagan was everything she didn’t want—so why had it been so hard to ignore him?

4 (#u09b05772-6b88-5bd3-a31e-7c25db34b4c1)

THAT WENT SMASHINGLY TERRIBLE, he mused with a wry twist of his lips.

Not only had he chased away two women, he was left with the crazy impulse to follow Harper to her room like a damn stalker.

Clearly she wasn’t interested, right?

No, Teagan didn’t buy that act. Harper was into him, but for some reason she didn’t want to be.

He didn’t like drama or baggage. Hell, he had enough of his own to bother with without dragging someone else’s aboard.

So if Harper wanted to run, he wasn’t about to chase her.

Sounded good in theory.

Sounded damn good.

Except, he was already formulating what he might say to her when he showed up at her door.

Maybe words were the problem. Maybe he ought to just kiss her senseless.

Harper looked as if she needed a little something in her life to muss up that perfectly styled hair.

She was gorgeous, no doubt about that, but he wanted to see her, no makeup, bed head, and in shorts and a T-shirt.

Preferably over breakfast.

That’s the liquor talking, bud. Slow your roll.

Probably true.

He had just enough alcohol in his system to lower his inhibitions, but this whole thing was outside of his comfort zone.

Remember the good old days when you just hooked up with someone at the bar and if things worked out you started the dialogue?

Now he was on a singles cruise. If that didn’t feel like geriatric dating, he didn’t know what did.

He didn’t have the same kind of luck as J.T., meeting the love of his life when she walked into the hangar to hire him.

Forget the part where she almost got them killed. Hey, no one’s perfect.

And maybe if he wasn’t in a bit of a drought, he wouldn’t be fixating on Harper.

Yeah, that was it. It was the drought’s fault.

For the past year and a half, his life had been consumed by Blue Yonder. Trying to keep the business afloat had been harder than either he or J.T. had anticipated.

You know it’s bad when you have to choose between buying toilet paper or food because if you buy both, bills weren’t going to get paid.

Hell, he’d even considered reenlisting.

Thankfully, J.T. had talked him out of that temporary insanity. He had no interest in the soldier life anymore. That was a young man’s game.

And although J.T. liked to remind him that they were neither old nor unfit for duty, both Teagan and J.T. had become accustomed to the luxuries of civilian life.

So, about that drought.

Teagan tried to think of the last time he’d dated.

It took a minute—probably longer than it should have—but his last date had been disappointing. Not because she hadn’t been hot, not because she hadn’t had a great personality, just because his mind had been elsewhere.

Owning your own business had a tendency to suck the energy from every possible outlet.

Including his mojo.

The woman, Clara, had been more than willing to take it to the next level. But his conscience stopped him when things became heated.

Although in hindsight, telling a woman you have to go, after making out for a good solid hour, clothes nearly in a pile, was probably not the best.

But Teagan had known that if he had slept with her, it would have been worse.

Score one for a conscience; zero for his blue balls.

He ought to forget about Harper completely. The whole point of this cruise was to meet up with someone. Maybe he didn’t have to find Mrs. Right, maybe she could just be Mrs. Right Now.

He wasn’t above enjoying himself if the moment was right. But even as he scanned the room, looking for someone who might interest him for the evening, all he could think about was Harper, in her room.

Alone.

It was almost as if he didn’t have a choice. His brain wasn’t going to let anyone else upstairs. Perhaps if he went to Harper, got firmly rejected, he could get the closure he needed and move on.

Just as he was about to make good on his idea, the bar stool was occupied again, only this time, it was with one of the men who’d been clustered around Harper like a drone bee around the queen.