Free Desperate Measures by Linda Cajio Page B

stare.”
    “Okay,” she said, clearly humoring him. “As long as they don’t have great big jaws.”
    “Not a single great big jaw.”
    They had no sooner stepped out onto the board-walk when Ellen pulled back. Joe turned around.
    “What?” he asked.
    “I don’t think I want to look at some fish, Joe.”
    He smiled in challenge. Dammit, he’d get her to take a stroll on the boardwalk if he had to carry her.
    “What’s the problem with fish, Ell?”
    “They smell.”
    He glared at her through the gloom of the erratic street lighting. “Now that you’ve taken any romance out of the evening, you can relax.”
    “As long as we understand each other.”
    He didn’t know whether to laugh or get angry all over again when she really did relax. He finally settled for a silent chuckle. In a way, it was kind of nice to be thought of as a sex maniac ready to hustle her into the nearest bed. At least it meant she was thinking about him in physical terms.
    He bowed and waved his hand with a flourish. “After you, my friend.”
    She eyed him for a long moment, then began to walk.
    “At last,” he muttered as he strode, without touching, beside her. Not touching her did nothing to stifle his awareness of her. He sensed that she, too, was aware of him.
    Only a few people were strolling the boardwalk at this hour of the night, and Joe didn’t plan togo far from the casino entrance. The sky was clear enough to see the stars, although the half-moon played peekaboo with several lazily drifting clouds. In the distance, the waves lapped one after the other against the wet sand. The breeze coming off the Atlantic was fresh and clean and cool.
    They stopped by the railing and gazed out over the water. Ellen lifted her face, as if scenting the air like a wary doe. “I’d almost forgotten,” she murmured.
    “What did you forget?” Joe asked quietly, leaning his elbows on the rail.
    “How soothing the ocean could be.”
    He smiled at the contentment in her voice. The distance between their bodies was inches, and yet they might as well have been miles apart. He shouldn’t touch her, he thought. She wasn’t ready. That she was actually standing alone with him was enough.
    He gritted his teeth as her skirt fluttered against his legs. So close …
    She turned around and leaned back against the railing. His internal conflict mounted at an alarming rate, for her stance thrust her breasts outward just a hand span away. He closed his eyes and decided she was torturing him. Somehow she had found out that he had brought her here under false pretenses and had set out to torture him in revenge. She was damn good at it too.
    “Thank you, Joe.”
    He opened his eyes and turned his head. She was gazing at him, a slight smile playing around her lips.
    “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice raspy with the need that was overtaking him.
    She turned to look back at the glittering casino on the other side of the boardwalk.
    She was killing him, and she didn’t even know it. The hell with it, he thought, giving up the fight. One kiss. Just a taste of her was all he wanted, to confirm the kind of attraction that existed between them. He’d deal with any consequences later.
    Suddenly, she gripped his arm, throwing him off balance.
    “It’s him!”
    “What?”
    She glanced at him sharply. “The man from the rink! The reason we’re here. It’s him!”
    “But it can’t be!” Joe exclaimed, his gaze sweeping the boardwalk. Nobody leaped out as distinctive to him.
    “Of course it can!” she said in exasperation, pointing toward their left. “Over there. In the white windbreaker.”
    “But, but—”
    She tugged on his arm, pulling him with her. “I’m almost positive it’s the same man. I better get closer, just to be sure.”
    Joe had no choice but to allow himself to be dragged along with her at a near run. It couldn’t be, he thought. Mario was back in Philadelphia, loaded with paperwork. He’d seen to that himself. Nobody