Faced with a choice between bad-boy detective Dean Ryker and sexy power player Parker Anderson, Sage Reece fought the law–and the law won. But while Ryker’s sizzling touch may rule her nights, Sage’s days belong to Parker’s cool, calculating intensity. . . .
Both Ryker and Parker are determined to protect Sage from a brutal enemy who’d use her to pay for their mistakes. Yet when the usually on-point Ryker is distracted by ghosts from his past, Parker seizes his opportunity to get Sage’s attention–and keep it in ways beyond her wildest dreams.
Now, caught between a mobster out for revenge and two men who were once best friends, Sage
Another boat was docked next to ours and I glanced over to the deck. A man stood opposite us, maybe thirty or forty feet away. He had on an unbuttoned white shirt that blew in the wind and his dark hair ruffled with the breeze. He was striking, a charisma about him drawing my eye as Ryker pressed kisses to my bare shoulder. Then he turned, and though he wore sunglasses, I knew he was looking at me, and I realized why he looked so familiar.
It was Parker.
His chest was deliciously bare and showing the six-pack of muscles usually hidden underneath his suits. The loose-fitting linen pants he wore hit low on his lean hips. He was holding a glass of white wine, and once he saw me, he froze. I wondered if he knew who I was. Probably not, not at this distance with my hair tousled by the wind and wearing sunglasses. No doubt the bikini had caught his eye—he was a man, after all.
But then he dipped his head, just a little, just enough that it couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than an acknowledgment. He took a drink of the wine, still looking my way.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Ryker’s growl forced my gaze away from Parker.
“Out on his boat,” I said. “Just like us.” I’d forgotten about the bill, deducted from Parker’s account every month, for docking his boat here. I’d never seen his boat before, though I’d known he had one.
“I don’t like how he’s looking at you.” Ryker’s arms pulled me further back into him.
“He’s looking at us,” I said mildly. “And may I remind you that I’m his assistant. He looks at me every day.”
“Not wearing that bikini, he doesn.t”
I was distracted from the argument by someone else on Parker’s boat. A woman. She’d just come up the steps from the cabin below
She was tall and lean—Victoria’s Secret model type lean—with long, dark hair and sporting oversize designer sunglasses. Wearing a black bikini that made mine look like a modest vintage piece, she strutted up to Parker, blocking my view of him. She slid her hands around his waist and tipped her head up. The three-inch heels she wore put her only slightly shorter than him. I saw his lips tilt in a half-smile, then he kissed her.
Good for him. Really.