Twelve Hours of Temptation Read online

  May let out a hearty chuckle. ‘Don’t you believe it, honey. Coop’s not the polite type. And he usually spends his time peeling the single female clients off him, not offering them a personal service.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re wrong about that.’ Far from stopping, Ella’s heartbeat hit warp speed—stunned disbelief edging out her embarrassment.

  ‘Maybe, maybe not.’ May’s smile took on a saucy tilt, which was about as far from doubtful as it was possible to get. ‘But this is the first I’ve ever heard of the snorkel-buddy safety rule. And that’s after twenty years of coming on this tour.’

  * * *

  Ella bided her time while wrestling with May’s shocking comment, until the captain and his two deckhands had seen off all the other snorkellers. While fitting fins and masks, giving instructions about how far to stray from the boat, demonstrating some basic hand signals, advising people on how long they had before they should head back, and how to identify the paddle wheel from the wreck of the sunken blockade runner they’d come to see, Cooper Delaney appeared to be the consummate professional. In fact, he seemed so relaxed and pragmatic while handling the other passengers, Ella convinced herself May had to be mistaken about the snorkel-buddy rule—and wondered if she should even question him about it. Wouldn’t she sound impossibly vain, bordering on delusional, suggesting he’d offered to partner her for reasons other than her own safety?

  But then he turned from the rail, took off his sunglasses and his slow, seductive smile had all the blood pumping back into her nether regions.

  She fanned herself with her sunhat. Goodness, either she was suffering from sunstroke or that smile had some kind of secret thermal mechanism.

  He crossed the deck towards her, his emerald gaze even brighter than the dazzling expanse of crystal blue water.

  ‘So, Miz Radley, you want to strip down to your swimsuit and I’ll get you fitted up, then we can head out?’

  He leaned against the console, his large capable hand very close to her hip.

  She sucked in a sharp breath as her lungs constricted, only to discover the fresh sweat darkening the front of his T-shirt made his salt and sandalwood scent even more intoxicating.

  Courage, Ella, just make a general enquiry so you know for sure where you stand.

  ‘Is that absolutely necessary?’ she asked.

  ‘’Fraid so. The salt water’s bound to ruin that pretty dress if you don’t take it off. You didn’t forget your swimsuit, did you?’ His smile tipped into a grin.

  ‘No, I meant us snorkelling together.’ Her nipples shot back to the full torpedo as his gaze drifted south. ‘Is that necessary?’

  One dark eyebrow lifted in puzzled enquiry, the smile still in place.

  ‘It’s just that May Preston said she’d never heard of that rule.’ The words tripped over themselves to get out of her mouth before her tongue knotted again. ‘You know, about it being necessary for people to snorkel in pairs for safety’s sake...’ She began to babble, her tongue overcompensating somewhat. ‘I know it matters with scuba-diving. Even though I’ve never actually scuba-dived myself...’ She cut off as his lips curved more.

  Get to the point, Ella.

  ‘I just...I wondered if you could confirm for me, why it’s necessary for us to be snorkel buddies? If I’m only going to be a few yards from the boat?’

  ‘Right.’

  The word rumbled out and seemed to echo in her abdomen. He muttered something under his breath, then tugged off his captain’s cap, revealing curls of thick sun-streaked hair damp with sweat flattened against his forehead.

  ‘What I can confirm...’ he slapped the cap against his thigh, the smile becoming more than a little sheepish ‘...is that May Preston’s got one hell of a big mouth. Which I’m going to be having words with her about as soon as she gets back aboard this boat.’

  ‘It’s true?’ Ella’s eyes widened, her jaw going slack. ‘You really did make it up? But why would you do that?’

  * * *

  Cooper Delaney watched the pretty English girl’s baby blues grow even larger in her delicate, heart-shaped face—and began to wonder if he was being taken for a ride.

  Shy and hot and totally lost, with that tempting overbite, and her lush but petite figure, Ella Radley had looked cute and sort of sad when he’d spotted her at the back of the boarding line an hour ago. Then her skin had flushed a ruddy pink as soon as he’d so much as smiled at her and she’d totally captivated him.

  That nuclear blush had been so damn cute, in fact, that he’d been momentarily mesmerised and the snorkel-buddy rule had popped into his head and then spilled out of his mouth without his brain ever even considering intervening.

  But seriously? Could any woman really be this clueless? Even if she did have eyes big enough to rival one of the heroines in the manga comic books he’d been addicted to in middle school? And her nipples peaked under her sundress every time he so much as glanced at her rack? And her cheeks seemed to be able to light up on cue?

  No way. No one was that cute. It had to be an act.

  But if it was an act, it was a damn good one. And he could respect that, because he’d dedicated his life to putting on one act or another.

  Unfortunately, act or no, she’d caught him out but good.

  Thanks a bunch, May.

  He resigned himself to taking his punishment like a man, and hoped it didn’t involve a slap in the face—or a sexual harassment suit.

  ‘If I said because you looked like you could use the company,’ he began, hoping that humour might soften the blow, ‘would you buy it?’

  The instant blush bloomed again—lighting up the sprinkle of freckles on her nose. ‘Oh, yes, of course, I thought it might be something like that.’ She shielded her eyes from the sun, tipping her chin up. ‘That’s very considerate of you, Captain Delaney. But I wouldn’t want to put you out if you’re busy. I’m sure I’ll manage fine on my own.’

  It was his turn for his eyes to widen at the earnest tone and the artless expression on her pixie face.

  Damn, did she actually just buy that? Because if this was an act, it ought to be Oscar nominated.

  No one had ever accused him of being considerate before. Not even his mom—and he’d worked harder at fooling her than anyone, because she’d been so fragile.

  ‘The name’s Coop,’ he said, still not convinced that he’d got off the hook so easily, but willing to go with it. ‘Believe me. I’d be happy to do it.’ He tried to emulate her earnest expression. Although he figured it was a lost cause. He’d learnt at an early age to hide all his emotions behind a who-the-hell-cares smile, which meant he didn’t have a heck of a lot of practice with earnest.

  Her lips curved and her overbite disappeared. ‘Okay, if you’re absolutely sure it’s not a bother.’ The blue of her eyes brightened to dazzling. ‘I accept.’

  The smile struck him dumb for a moment, turning her expression from cute to super-hot but still managing to look entirely natural. Then she bounced up to pull her sundress over her head. And the punch of lust nearly knocked him sideways.

  Bountiful curves in all the right places jiggled enticingly, covered by three pitifully tiny triangles of purple spandex that left not a lot to the imagination—and had that cheesy sixties tune his mom used to sing on her good days about a teeny-weeny polka dot bikini dancing through his head.

  Damn but that rack was even hotter than her smile. Her nipples did that bullet-tipped thing again and he had to grit his teeth to stop one particular part of his anatomy from becoming the total opposite of teeny-weeny.

  But then she turned, to drop her dress into the purse she had stowed under the dash, and he spotted the patch of sun-scorched flesh that spread out between slim shoulder blades and stretched all the way down to the line of her panties.

  ‘Ouch, that’s got to hurt
,’ he murmured. ‘You need a higher factor sun lotion. The rays can be brutal in Bermuda even in April.’

  She whisked around, holding the dress up to cover her magnificent rack—and the nuclear blush returned with a vengeance. ‘I have factor fifty, but unfortunately I couldn’t reach that spot.’

  He scrubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin, playing along by pretending to consider her predicament. ‘Well, now, that sounds like a job for your snorkel buddy.’

  A grateful smile lit up her face, and he almost felt bad for taking advantage of her...until he remembered this was all some saucy little act.

  ‘That would be fabulous, if you don’t mind?’ She reached back into her tote and pulled out some lotion.

  Presenting her back to him, she lifted the hair off her nape as he squeezed a generous amount of the stuff, which had the consistency of housepaint, between his palms, and contemplated how much he was going to enjoy spreading it all over her soft, supple, sun-warmed skin.

  Well, hell... If he’d known the good-guy act came with these kind of benefits, he’d have given it a shot more often.

  Copyright © 2014 by Heidi Rice

  ISBN-13: 9781460331583

  TWELVE HOURS OF TEMPTATION

  Copyright © 2014 by Shoma Narayanan

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com