He groaned softly, maybe by accident, but she didn’t care. It only caused her to wind her arms around his neck and step into the pocket of his embrace. He settled his arms around her and slowed his kiss into a long, languid moment.
Volkov’s footsteps approached.
Skeet kept kissing her, turning her away from Volkov, his back to the man. Maybe just lost in the kiss, but she had a feeling it had to do more with her protection.
Skeet braced his arm over her head on one of the tall pillars holding up the boardwalk, the other arm around her waist, and tucked her into him.
And never broke the kiss.
The footsteps disappeared into the tropical sounds.
Skeet lifted his head, met her eyes. Her heart thundered in her ears.
“He bought it.” Skeet’s voice was quiet. He didn’t step away.
“Good.” Her voice came out husky. “Good thinking.”
“Chloe...” He searched her eyes in the lantern light.
And right then,oh—Chloe, get your head back in the game!He was handsome and brave and yes, right now her partner, but they lived very different lives.
The kind of different lives that didn’t make for happily ever after.
And what had he said about getting too emotionally involved? The kind of involved that caused him to make bad decisions? Like following her into trouble...
She probably needed to save the man from herself before both of them got hurt.
She put her hands on his chest and pushed. “We should head back.”
He nodded and tried to take her hand, but she folded her arms, still trembling a little.
Pull yourself together, woman!
They walked toward their villa in silence. When they reached their deck, Skeet sank onto one of the loungers, staring out at the moonlight dancing on the water.
She needed a swim. Something to cool her off. Disappearing into the villa, she donned her swimsuit—a simple black one-piece she’d bought with the dress. The pool beckoned like liquid moonlight. She slipped into the cool water.
When she surfaced and looked around, Skeet’s gaze was on her.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I just . . .”
He came over to the side of the pool and dipped his legs into the water. “It’s going to be okay.”
She came over to the side, near him, folded her arms on the deck to hold herself up. “Sometimes...” She grimaced and set her chin on her arms. “Sometimes I think I try too hard.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re just figuring that out now?”
She splashed him, and the water landed on his white shirt, soaked it.
“Ham is always quoting Bible verses. He loves the forty-sixth psalm. Something about God being our help and refuge when the mountains fall into the sea and the oceans roar... Whatever. But it ends with ‘Be still, and know that I am God.’”
She looked at him. “From the guy who’s still trying to figure out faith.”
“From the guy who can’t seem to shake free of...” He lifted a shoulder.
“Regrets.”