11. A Liar’s Kiss
11
A LIAR’S KISS
Jake
No matter what Ariel was up to with Eli, it was a crime for her to be that hot.
Because… that bikini.
I didn’t stand a chance. It showcased all her assets. Those legs. Those curves. Those gorgeous breasts.
Wave the white flag. I surrender .
“You deciphered my code,” she said as I crossed the sugary white sand.
“I like a challenge,” I told her. I didn’t realize until I’d said it how true it was, on multiple levels. “Pretty clever. Though once I knew that Happy Turtle was a place, I figured the numbers were a time.” I lifted my wrist as if showing her my watch. “One twenty-three, on the dot.”
She glanced at my naked wrist, then her gaze drifted up, lingering on my ink. I’d had it done years ago, and it still brought me some peace.
“Punctuality is super sexy,” she said with a smile that wrinkled her nose.
Could a liar have a smile like that?
She’d had brunch with my target. That might just mean that it was a small world. But I didn’t trust coincidences, and the Rosalinda fiasco had made me wary of beautiful women in the vicinity of my goal.
“I thought you might get a kick out of it,” she said.
“So, is there a happy turtle in this cove?” I asked.
“More than one. I was just swimming with them.”
Stop. Just stop.
Swimming with turtles was too adorable. Especially with that constellation of freckles splashed across her nose. I hadn’t noticed them yesterday. What other features had I missed that I could discover with a thorough investigation of her fantastic body? Preferably with my tongue, across every inch of her skin.
Focus. First investigate how she knows Eli.
“You were actually swimming with turtles?” I asked.
She tapped the mesh bag on her shoulder. “My snorkel gear is in here. I’m still in my bathing suit. I’ll put on a sundress as soon as this is dry.”
“Don’t bother on my account.”
She laughed. “I’m glad to know you’re pro-bikini, but I should be a little more dressed when you take me to The Coconut Iguana. My friend Tanice runs it. She’s from here, and she’s a chef extraordinaire. As your reward for cracking the napkin code, I’m going to let you take me to lunch.”
Was this a game to her? From the clue she left me to her meeting this morning, it sure seemed that way. “You do like a little mystery,” I said, and there was more than a hint of irony to my statement. But I hoped she didn’t hear it in my tone.
“Bet you do too,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
My mermaid wanted to flirt, but I wanted to find out what the hell she was up to. Lunch was very, very necessary. “With you, I do,” I said, doing my best to play her game.
“Good. This place has the best fish tacos on the island, and absolutely amazing coconut drinks. Maybe I’ll let you try one again.”
My brain swam with images of last night, the drink, tasting it on her lips. But I needed to say something rather than, well, grunt.
“You’re—” I started, but then swallowed the question— you’re hungry?
I needed to shut my fucking mouth.
I’d been so distracted by my attraction that I’d almost asked how she could be hungry when she’d had brunch a few hours ago. But I wasn’t new at this. How did I almost make a rookie mistake?
I quickly corrected with, “I’m hungry too. The Coconut Iguana it is.” I offered her my hand. Lunch was a good idea. Time to ask some questions, find out who she was, and how much she knew about Eli and his investments.
If she was playing me, I could play her better.
She ignored my hand, stepped up, and crushed her lips to mine. Out of the blue, she went for it, sealing her delicious mouth to mine and kissing me like she’d done nothing since she’d last seen me but relive everything we’d done to each other—in the bar, then beside the beach.
She kissed like she was determined to devour all my will, all my reason, every last ounce of my logic.
Maybe she was a liar. But if she was, I wanted this liar’s kiss badly.
The world narrowed to the taste of her lips and the feel of her warm body. I looped my arms around her nearly naked frame and yanked her close, taking the reins and kissing her like a starving man. My hands lingered on her lower back for the briefest of seconds, traveling across skin that was warm from the sun. I trailed my fingertips lower, dropping one hand to her ass and squeezing a round, firm cheek. I groaned, wanting this woman with a fierceness I hadn’t felt in ages.
Or…since last night.
She pressed her lush body to mine, frying my sense of reason, even my sense of public decency. There might be legions of people watching us as she sighed sexily into my mouth. I didn’t care. This was not an innocent kiss. It was somehow hotter and dirtier than our kisses on the lounge chair the night before. She curled her hands into my hair like she wanted to claw at my skull. Like she wanted me to toss her over my shoulder, carry her somewhere, anywhere, then make her see stars again and again. In the ferocity of her grip, my restraint frayed to a thread.
I broke the kiss long enough to growl, “I want to do bad things to you.”
Her eyes lit up. “I like bad things. I want bad things.”
We kissed again. Harder. Rougher.
I pictured her in bed. I wanted to see her spread out, flushed with desire, sated with the pleasure that I’d given her. But I wanted to know her real goddamn name too.
Somehow, I managed to untangle myself. We were both breathless, and her eyes were glossy with desire. My hair had to be a wild mess from her hands in it, and I liked it.
I exhaled deeply and rubbed a hand across my jaw, trying to reset my mind. “So now that I’ve nearly ripped off your clothes, and made you come by a beach, maybe you could tell me your real name.”
“You don’t think it’s Ariel?” she asked as she bent down for her dress and tugged it on over her head. Funny thing. I still wanted her just as badly.
But I was done with this game. “I don’t. But I’d love to know what to call you… in bed. ”
Ha. There. If she wanted to play dirty games, I would too.
“Well, since you put it that way,” she said, grinning, “I guess I can finally share it with you since you’ve passed enough tests now to earn it.”
“So you have been testing me?”
Her smile burned off, replaced by a toughness, a strength. One that said she didn’t feel bad at all for giving me a fake name. “I’m a thirty-two-year-old woman living in a world where anyone can be burned online. You’re a man with one name only who I just met. So, no, I’m not Ariel, but my business is Ariel’s Island Eco-Adventure Tours.”
Why did that sound familiar? Ah, of course. That was the name on the poster I’d spied the night before.
“I studied marine biology in college so I could lead dives and snorkel trips,” she continued. “I live in Miami, but I’ve been rebuilding my business here and in other places—in fact, I have a tour here next week. I’m Ruby Ashley, and it is a pleasure to officially meet you.”
Somehow, I didn’t react to the terribly familiar name. I was stony-faced, but oh hell, did I know who she was. My file on Eli contained the names of all his close associates and his family, including his stepchildren. Ruby—that was who she was to him.
As I processed this, she was looking at me, clearly waiting for me to do the same and spill my bio. “Your turn,” she prompted.
“Jake Hawkins. Former Army intelligence. Now I run a recovery business in Key Largo.”
Her lips curved up curiously, perhaps a touch intrigued that we were both Floridians. “You’re not far away from me.”
“No. I’m not at all,” I said crisply. I didn’t want to get into the implications of hometown proximity. “Let’s get you lunch.”
“What’s a recovery business?” she asked as we crossed the sand to the winding path along the beach. “Like data recovery?”
“Sort of.” I always tried to stay as close to the truth as possible.
“Are we talking IT Crowd or Mission: Impossible ?”
I laughed at the question, despite how far we were in the danger zone. “Definitely the first one.” That was definitely a lie, but besides being safer, it was more plausible, and she nodded.
“Tell me more about marine biology,” I continued. “Are we talking Flipper or?—”
“Please don’t say Jaws . That movie was so unfair to the great white.”
“You rooted for the shark, didn’t you?”
She held up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Maybe a little bit.”
I felt guilty for enjoying her company so much. Because this lunch date wasn’t a date. It was a mission.
If I was going to infiltrate Eli Thompson’s life, his stepdaughter might be the entry I needed.