Free Captain's Paradise by Kay Hooper Page B

him draw one of her legs across his, stroking the slender thigh left bare by her shorts. With a mind of its own, her body arched into his, driven to be closer.
    A wild sound tangled in the back of her throat as his mouth slanted across hers, deepening the kiss, and heat jolted through her like wildfire. What did it matter, she wondered dazedly, that there would have to be a reckoning for this, that she would pay dearly in tattered emotions. What did it matter that this time she was drawn to a man stronger than any she had ever known, with a force of will that would inevitably deepen her own sense of failure.
    Nothing mattered except now, this moment,and the feelings he was drawing from her deepest self.
    It was Michael who pulled back suddenly, holding her away from him with iron hands on her shoulders. His face was pale except for the hard flush on his cheekbones, his eyes glittering. “I didn’t plan on you,” he said hoarsely.
    Robin was staring at him, dazed. She forced her arms to let go of him. “Oh, damn,” she muttered, realizing only then that it was too late for her to fight this. Far too late. “I didn’t plan on you either.”
    He released her and drew away slowly, rising to his feet and staring down at her. His eyes were violent, but his face remained hard and still.
    Robin spoke before he could, fighting to hold her voice steady. “You may not know which I am, a sure thing or a long shot, but you know what this is, don’t you?” She didn’t have to elaborate; he knew that “this” was the explosive attraction between them.
    Michael nodded with stark control. “I know.It’s a long shot. One chance in a million. And I don’t bet on long shots.”
    She watched him move away and begin preparations to leave the marina, feeling hot and restless. And despite what Michael had said, she was still afraid.
    She didn’t bet on long shots—usually. And Michael didn’t bet on them—usually. But here they were, getting ready to sail off on this small boat alone to try to rescue women being held by armed men on a large yacht.
    And if that wasn’t a long shot … then what was?

F OUR
    I N A LUXURIOUS condo high above Miami’s famous gleaming white strip of beach, Dane Prescott turned away from the bar in the sunken living room and abruptly went still. Seconds passed. His preoccupied frown slowly faded, a smile taking its place.
    “For someone who’s reputedly out of the business,” he murmured to the apparently empty room, “you sure creep around on cat feet. And I’ve never known a retiree more inclined to pick locks and disable security systems.”
    “You ought to change that system,” Raven Long said, stepping down into the living room. “It’s lousy.”
    “I’m a guest here,” Dane told her politely. “The place belongs to a friend.”
    Raven looked around, then gazed at him with a lifted brow. “Broke this week?” she asked him dryly.
    “No. But near enough.” He shrugged, dismissing what was obviously an unimportant problem. “What brings you down to sunny Miami? Last I heard, you’d married Joshua Long and had retired from the world of shadows and secrets.”
    “You know what they say about retired agents. They just can’t keep out of the dark. I need some information, Dane.”
    “Ask away.”
    “Do you know Michael Siran?”
    “Yes. Would you like a drink?”
    Raven’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Will I be here that long?”
    “You might.”
    “Okay. Brandy.”
    He poured her drink, then carried it to her and gestured for her to sit down. When she had, he joined her at one end of the plush gold grouping in the center of the room. “Why are you looking for Michael?” he asked.
    “I might need his help. A friend of a friend could well be in trouble down here. Very likely is in trouble. She hasn’t checked out of her hotel, but her things are still there and she hasn’t been seen for the past few days. She’s a reporter, and she was looking into a white slavery