Free Her Sworn Enemy (Men of the Zodiac) by Theresa Meyers

handed me anything.”
    Tuck looked around, took another step closer to her, and whispered conspiratorially, “Which means if it isn’t either of us, then it’s some other lucky bastard.”
    He held out his arm to her. “Shall I show you to the upper deck?”
    Bella curled her hands around his sizable bicep. Lord, the man was solid. Just being this close to Tucker was a rush she hadn’t felt in a long time. Perhaps in protecting herself from getting hurt, she’d also missed out on the opportunity for the heady sensations that only came with risk.
    He led her to the steps, and they climbed upward. Even with as much walking as she’d done aboard the ship, she hadn’t come up here before. The lounge area was like a small outdoor sitting room with several chairs, a small sofa, a wicker and glass coffee table, and a table off to one corner with four chairs.
    Bella leaned her hips against the ship’s rail and stared out at the view. The sunset was stunning. Yellow and orange fire shot outward from the horizon, shattering into a play of coral pink and deeper red on the few clouds that danced at the edge of the sea. Copper light danced on the waves looking like a treasure of new pennies boiling up from down below.
    “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
    “Doesn’t compare,” Tuck replied.
    She turned. “To what?”
    He came up beside her, his eyes intent and focused on her as if there was no million-dollar view on display. Bella’s body pulsed with anticipation. His finger balanced beneath her chin and the pad of his thumb brushed her lips. “You.”
    “Tuck, we can’t—”
    “You’re right. I’m pretty sure this could be classified as fraternization.”
    She spun around to walk away and slammed her shins on a low coffee table, almost catapulting across the top of it. He caught her and kept her from falling, his hands warm and heavy against her bare arms.
    “You okay?”
    Bella winced. “I think my pride is hurt more than anything else.”
    The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “I told you running wasn’t the answer.”
    “Maybe you’re right.” The pain faded quickly, replaced by something more insistent.
    “Are you too injured to dance?”
    “No, I think I could manage.”
    He picked up a remote from the coffee table and the blues beat of zydeco music began to flow through the speakers hidden in the canopy, partially covering the lounge area.
    Bella smiled. He held out a hand to her, and she placed her hand palm to palm against his. He pulled her in toward him and then spun her away in a swing-like move. Bella laughed, letting the music flow through her. They swayed together, and he caught both her hands in his, spun her around, still holding on to her, so that his arms were wrapped around her, her back pressed against his chest. The warmth rolling off him spiked a rush of heat in her. For a second, she had to remind herself to breathe.
    He spun her back around so they were facing again. “You’re a very good dancer,” he said. His lips lifted at the edges, a knowing smile. “Good dancer, two doctorates. Tell me, is there anything you don’t do well?”
    “I don’t cook,” she said.
    “But you’re Cajun. Isn’t that a crime or something?”
    A bubble of laughter swelled up in her chest. “Both Cajun and Creole, but I’m afraid my grand-mère was the cook in the family. Aunt Min has gotten better over the last few years, but nothing like my grand-mère .”
    “You miss them, don’t you, your grandmother and your mom?”
    “Every day. People tell you that it gets easier. It doesn’t. Not really. You just learn to live with the loss.”
    “And let the good times roll when they come.”
    “ Laissez le bon temps rouler. ” She smiled. “Exactly.”
    He spun her in close again, and this time she felt the hardened ridge of him, hidden by the long edge of his T-shirt, pressing against her bottom. The song changed to a slightly slower rhythm.
    She leaned against the hard plane of his chest,