Free Stolen Chances by Elisabeth Naughton

sounded…practiced.
    “There’s no reason for you to apologize,” he said slowly.
    “Yes, there is. I let my emotions rule me yesterday. I was tired, still a little airsick, and overwhelmed. But I won’t let it happen again. We’re both mature, rational adults. We can forget about everything that happened in the past and work together now as professional colleagues. I have complete faith you won’t be anything but one hundred percent ethical where I’m concerned.”
    Thad wasn’t exactly sure how to interpret that. It was the equivalent of let’s just be friends but instead of friends, she wanted to be cold, distant professionals.
    “Fresh start?” She held out her hand in a peace offering, lifted her brows, and waited. And he looked down at her long fingers and slim palm and had an insane urge to wrap his hand around hers, then pull her in for a swift, hard kiss, just to prove they’d always be a hell of a lot more than “colleagues.”
    He took her small hand in his, and as their skin brushed, an arc of electricity shot up his arm. His gaze darted to her eyes. If she felt it too, though, she didn’t show it. Not even the smallest twitch.
    Smiling sweetly, she released his hand, then moved around him toward the front of the Jeep. “Is Nate coming?”
    That urge to kiss her came back tenfold, and as the scent of pomegranates wafted by him again, Thad turned to watch her, only just barely keeping his feet planted in the thin dirt beneath his flip-flops. “Yeah.”
    “Good.” She opened the door and climbed into the front seat, then slipped on a pair of Ray-Bans. “I’m anxious to get started. The sooner we get going, the sooner we can get home. I have people waiting for me.”
    Thad wasn’t sure what that meant, but some deep-seated place inside wanted to find out. She couldn’t be married. She wasn’t wearing a ring, and Lisa or Patrick would have told him if that were the case. And why the hell did the thought of her being married suddenly cause a knot in his stomach?
    He slammed the tailgate closed and moved around to the driver side of the vehicle, more dazed than he’d been in weeks—no, months. Irritated with himself, he looked toward his casita, then leaned into the cab and laid on the horn.
    A loud blare echoed, followed by a muffled, “I’m coming. Jesus, keep your panties on,” from the direction of his hut.
    Maren laughed. And the sound was so sweet, Thad’s mood lifted all over again. “Move your ass, Drummer!” he called.
    Dressed in cargo shorts, a blue dive T-shirt, and flip-flops, Drummer jogged down the steps of their casita with a sandwich in hand and a frown on his face. He tossed his camera bag and backpack into the rear of the Jeep, then climbed into the backseat. “You barely give a man time to shower, let alone grab a bite to eat. All I ever hear from you is ‘do this,’ ‘do that,’ and ‘hurry the hell up.’”
    Thad closed the door and shoved the Jeep in gear. “You should learn to get up earlier, Cinderella.”
    Maren chuckled again as they pulled out of camp. “And eat less. We just had breakfast. How can you be hungry already?”
    “I’m a guy, sweetheart,” Drummer mumbled from the backseat as he bit into his sandwich. “We’re always hungry, aren’t we, boss man?”
    Maren looked Thad’s way and lifted her brows.
    And as he drove, Thad ground his teeth against the wicked shot of heat cascading all through his body. Yeah, he was hungry. But not for food. At least not right now. Now he was hungry for the woman seated next to him. The one he’d vowed never to touch if he ever saw her again. The one he was suddenly plotting to get his hands on as soon as they were alone.

    T he marina was littered with fishermen and a scattering of tourists searching for a chance to dive in some of the best waters in the world. Thad pointed out the boat to Maren as they drew close. The Escapade looked like an ordinary yacht, forty-eight feet long, a wide deck, with a