Free Deep Blue by Kat Martin Page B

glowing. She was passionate about helping those people and it occurred to him that passion might surface in far more interesting ways.
    His groin tightened until his erection grew almost painful. A heavy ache built beneath the fly of his pants and he shifted, trying to get more comfortable. Several seconds passed before he noticed that Hope had stopped speaking, that she was looking him directly in the face. He wondered if she could read the desire for her that was humming through his blood.
    Her gaze met his across the table and there was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Heat, he realized. And need. Desire, perhaps as strong as his own.
    Apparently Hope Sinclair wasn’t as immune to him as he had believed.
    “It’s still early,” he found himself saying. “If you’re finished, I know this little place down on the water. We can have an after-dinner drink before we go back to our rooms.” He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t ready for the evening to end. Or perhaps he was thinking that if she continued to let her guard down, maybe they would wind up in bed.
    He liked sex. He wasn’t a monk. And he had a feeling Hope wasn’t looking for any more involvement than he was.
    They spoke little in the car on the way to the bar, a place called the Palms, a small, open-air locals’ joint that faced out onto the sea. Conn knew the owner. He waved to the thin black man as they walked in, then guided Hope over to a table in the corner.
    Willie came to take their drink order, smiling at Hope with obvious approval, then giving him a wink and a grin. He returned a few minutes later with two snifters of Courvoisier but had enough sense not to stay.
    The jukebox was playing. There was a couple on the tiny wooden dance floor.
    Conn turned to Hope. “Why don’t we dance?”
    She only shook her head. “No, I…I don’t think that’s a particularly good idea.”
    “Why not?” He stood up, sliding back his chair, reaching for her hand. Her fingers felt slim and warm as he engulfed them in his. “We’ll dance, we’ll finish our drink, then we’ll go back to the motel.”
    He didn’t let her hesitate again, just drew her to her feet and out onto the dance floor. The juke was playing a slow jazz number. Trying to convince himself he wouldn’t regret it, Conn eased Hope into his arms.
     
    The music soothed her. Hope closed her eyes and let the soft, slow beat wash through her. She knew she was making a mistake. She shouldn’t have left her room in the first place. She certainly shouldn’t have come to a place like the Palms with Conner Reese.
    A place where the lights were low and couples snuggled in corners, where the jukebox played soft, slow jazz songs. All evening she had admired Conn’s tall, athletically muscular body, the confident way he moved; even the smell of him turned her on. Now she was snuggled against him, her head nestled into his shoulder. He was a whole lot taller, yet they seemed to fit comfortably together.
    She inhaled his scent: salt spray, a faint trace of lime, and man. His chest felt like a wall pressing into her breasts, his arms as hard as steel bands. Her heart was thrumming, her nipples tingling. It was lust, pure and simple, and it was the last thing Hope wanted to feel.
    She knew where that disastrous road led.
    She broke away before the song came to an end, stepped a safer distance away from him. “I think it’s time we went back, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a lot of work to do once we get back to the boat.”
    His gaze held hers, seemed to know that she was running, that her body was pulsing, whispering wicked thoughts.
    “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
    She didn’t say more, just walked over and picked up her purse, turned, and started for the door. Conn fell in step behind her, his long strides easily matching her rapid pace. In the car, they barely spoke, but sexual tension seemed to crackle in the air between them. When he turned off the car in