Tempted

1

FORMER AIR FORCE pilot Teagan Carmichael didn’t do cruises.

And yet, here he was, handing his boarding pass to the attendant, about to board the Nautica cruise liner, still a little unsure as to how his brother, J.T., had convinced him this was a good idea.

Mexico of all places. Two months ago, he and his buddies were flying into South America to rescue his brother J.T. after he’d accepted a charter flight gig to Mexico that had started out simple enough, but had ended up with J.T. and his female passenger crash-landing near the Guatemalan border.

They’d ended up in Sao Paulo, and somehow, by the grace of God, they’d made it out alive with all fingers and toes still intact, but Teagan was fairly certain luck had been a factor.

Maybe their guardian angels had cashed in some chips, because there were times Teagan had been fairly certain their goose was cooked.

Against all odds, they’d managed to not only escape, but to come out on top, which was the biggest surprise of all.

J.T. had made a lot of boneheaded decisions, but hiring on with Dr. Hope Larsen had been an unexpected blessing in several different ways.

Welcome aboard, Mr. Carmichael, the sharply dressed male attendant said as he scanned the ticket electronically. "Enjoy your stay aboard the Nautica."

Gulls squawked a racket, screeching at one another as dirty waves lapped at the dock, the smell of brine salting the air. Los Angeles harbors weren’t known for their beauty, but then no one was flocking to LA for the beaches, either.

Teagan nodded and walked up the gangplank to board the massive liner. Like most cruise ships, it was a city on water with every amenity, every luxury.

Bright pennant flags flapped in the wind, snapping like colorful towels, signaling something festive was about to happen on this boat, but Teagan was still questioning his decision to go through with the cruise.

He probably could’ve talked his buddies Kirk Addler or Harris McGoy into taking the cruise instead, but J.T. had felt strongly about Teagan going, so he’d caved.

And thanks to the fat payment from Tessara Pharmaceuticals from J.T.’s last charter—the one that’d subsequently trashed their only plane and nearly gotten them all killed—Teagan was staying in an upgraded stateroom.

Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water. An older, curvy, auburn-haired goddess wearing a fancy outfit and dripping with rings, was eyeing him with open appreciation. If you’re representing what we have to look forward to on this singles cruise, then I’m all in, sugar.

Oh, that’s another thing. J.T. had booked him on a cruise meant for hooking up.

Like Teagan needed a relationship right now. With rebuilding Blue Yonder Charter, revamping their business plan and generally trying to start over, he didn’t have time for slap and tickle on a regular basis.

Teagan chuckled, blushing only slightly because attention from a beautiful woman, even one considered a cougar, was still flattering as hell. But he wasn’t looking for a hook-up. No matter what J.T.’s advice had been before dropping him off at the dock.

You need to loosen up, big brother, J.T. had said, admonishingly. You’re wound tighter than a drum. You’d think that almost dying would’ve reminded you that life is for the living.

You’re giving me advice? Teagan had joked. Is this a sign of the coming apocalypse?

Because, yeah, Teagan was the cool head and J.T. was the screwup.

At least, J.T. was until he’d met that saucy redhead scientist, Hope. Now his little brother was becoming responsible and thinking with his head and not his...well, you know.

And maybe Teagan had been a little bit envious of how happy J.T. was with Hope, but seeing as he wasn’t about to do anything to change his relationship status, there wasn’t much he could do about that.

The woman gave Teagan a final, bold up-down appraisal and then clucked her tongue with approval as she sashayed down the hallway to find her own room.

That was definitely a cougar sighting.

And a pretty fine one at that.

But as he found his room, his neighbor found hers and he forgot all about the cougar.

Teagan wasn’t much of a believer of insta-love but he was a big fan of insta-lust, and he’d just been hit square between the eyes with a double dose.

Long dark hair curled in lazy loops and waves to the small of her back, shapely, tan legs that went on for days and the most pert, rounded breasts that he craved to touch—all he could do was stare like an idiot.

Deep blue eyes framed by incredibly lush black lashes met his stunned gaze and she graced him with a sly smile, as if she knew good and well just how primal her effect was on men.

This was a level ten hottie and she knew it.

A tremor of excitement rocked his spine as his insides did a weird tumble and roll. To be truthful, he’d never been so knocked on his ass by a single look.

He’d been around the world and seen plenty of gorgeous, exotic women but every single one of them paled in his memory the minute he saw her.

And then she was gone.

One coy look and she disappeared behind her door.

He didn’t know her name.

Didn’t know anything about her.

But he would.

Suddenly, this cruise was the best idea ever.

He’d have to thank J.T. for forcing him to take the trip, because he’d just stared into the eyes of his destiny.

Or at the very least, his next adventure.

He was down for either.

* * *

HARPER RILEY CLOSED the door behind her, her heart dancing a flurried tippety-tap at the enigmatic stranger with the arresting eyes and magnificent build.

With all that solid muscle and those rugged good looks, he probably knew how to make a woman forget her own name.

Probably a player.

Most beautiful people were.

Not that she held that against him.

Hell, Harper played with the best of them.

But, whoa, she’d have to steer clear of that man for the duration of her trip.

This wasn’t a pleasure cruise for her.

It was work.

Her target was Stuart Buck, recently widowed, incredibly wealthy.

And very vulnerable.

Harper had plans to become the next Mrs. Stuart Buck.

She’d been tracking the older man’s activities for months. Harper knew everything that needed to be known about him.

A self-starter, Stuart was responsible for the rubber flush valve inside toilets. Not very glamorous, but mega lucrative, because everyone used toilets, right?

And while Harper didn’t love the idea of becoming Mrs. Toilet Queen, she’d probably just have to console herself by spending all that lovely toilet money.

So why was a multimillionaire hitching a ride on a commercial liner when he probably had a handful of yachts at his disposal?

Well, Stuart liked to think of himself as an everyman’s man. As in, he liked to surround himself with people who were still hungry, made him think he was still one of them.

Even though he wasn’t.

But Harper didn’t begrudge the old man his illusions. Everyone had something they liked to hold on to.

The plan was a relatively straightforward, if not classic, old-school seduction.

Stuart was still mourning his wife, but her death wasn’t so fresh that Stuart would find Harper’s interest offensive.

In Harper’s experience, men were simple creatures. At their core, they needed to be wanted, they needed someone to coo and aww over their accomplishments and laugh at their jokes.

A man was putty in a woman’s hands if she knew how to work those basic triggers.

And Harper had honed her skills to a knife point.

Tonight was the mixer dinner where she would set the plan in motion.

Everything was planned down to the smile. Seduction was about more than just dressing the part—it was making a calculated decision to steer conversations, reacting to body language and adjusting accordingly.

She mentally went over her game plan, ticking off items on her to-do list as she usually did before going after her target.

But this time, her neighbor kept interrupting her thoughts.

Harper frowned when she couldn’t quite stay on task.

The warning tingle in the pit of her belly should’ve been enough to shut down any meandering thoughts about the alluring stranger, but there was something about that man—jeez, she’d only caught a glimpse—that wouldn’t let loose.

And it was seriously messing with her game day ritual.

He was obviously single and ready to mingle.

Even though he was hot as hell and probably a fun time in the sack, Harper wouldn’t indulge.

A pretty face was a lie she couldn’t afford.

Her mother might not have absorbed the lesson in time but Harper sure as hell had—pretty mouths spewed convenient lies.

And now her mother was in a care facility without a cent to her name, because someone had fleeced her out of her savings with promises he’d never intended to keep.

Harper shook off the distasteful memories and hardened herself to the budding attraction that’d had the gall to spring up uninvited within her.

In another life, Harper could definitely see herself pressed up against all that lovely man-meat, but not today.

One glance and she could already tell he wasn’t worth her time.

He had that blue-collar ruggedness about him. Wind-chapped cheeks meant he worked outside in some capacity, or spent a lot of time skiing or sailing, but his hands were big and strong as if he was accustomed to hard work.

The man could probably bend her into a pretzel, but he couldn’t keep her in riches.

So, sorry, Mr. Cutie-pie, not going to happen.

Harper sighed. Oh, well. Time to focus on Mr. Buck.

Thin, bearded and balding Mr. Buck.

Just think of all that wonderful money.

2

TEAGAN CLOSED THE door to his stateroom, still thinking about the hottie with the body next door.

A cursory glance around the room confirmed it was nice—luxurious even—but he was more interested in getting to know why a woman like her was on a singles cruise, much less single.

Yeah, because let’s face it...you get a girl like that...you lock that shit down tight.

Not that he was a caveman or anything, but a woman with smoking curves like hers could turn any levelheaded man into a ground-pounding, chest-thumping gorilla.

Maybe J.T. had booked him on a...swingers cruise or something. Like that trip in Jamaica where all the people in a certain lifestyle flocked to get their groove on.

J.T. had mentioned he wanted Teagan to whoop it up, whatever that meant. And knowing J.T., that could mean virtually anything.

Plus J.T. would laugh his balls off sending Teagan on a swingers cruise without his knowledge.

A laugh a minute, little brother.

God, he hoped not.

He wasn’t the sharing type.

And J.T. knew that.

Okay, let’s go out on a limb and assume that J.T. is not that big of an asshole—particularly to the brother who’d saved his ass in Mexico—and safely assume that this cruise is exactly as it was booked.

Singles looking to mingle.

Ugh. He cringed at the very idea of walking around, acting like a horny dog, sniffing after eligible ladies in the hopes of a hook-up.

J.T., you’re an ass, he muttered, glancing around the room, wondering what his next step was. Was he supposed to do something? Go somewhere?

Was there an itinerary?

Teagan checked the nightstand, the bathroom and the small coffee table but found nothing to tell him what was in store for the next week. He sure as hell didn’t want to sit around twiddling his thumbs in his room.

It was bad enough he was going to be floating around without any work to keep him busy, but the threat of completely idle time gave him the willies.

His gaze traveled to the opposite wall, knowing Little Miss Hot Stuff was on the other side.

Either fate had one damn fine sense of humor or was a mean bitch, because that woman was going to be hard to put out of his mind.

Teagan didn’t know anything about her aside from the fact that he wanted to know her better.

But there was something cheesy about knocking on his neighbor’s door with such an obvious pickup line, right?

Well, she did board a singles cruise, so that implied she was interested in meeting up with people, he reasoned.

Or maybe she’d been roped into this gig, same as Teagan, and just wanted to get through it.

Guess there was only one way to find out.

Hell, there was no harm in being friendly.

Teagan smoothed his hair and then exited his room to knock on his neighbor’s door.

She opened it with a subtle frown until she saw him. Yes? A slow quizzical smile followed, and he started stuttering like a jackass who’d never been around a female in his life.

Uh, so here’s the thing... I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing. And...forgive me if I sound like a perv, but...is this by any chance a swingers cruise?

Way to lead with something nonthreatening, dude.

Her smile faltered but she didn’t slam the door in his face—good sign—then answered, No, it’s for singles. Why? Were you looking for a swingers cruise?

No, not all! Teagan smiled with relief. Thank God. I’m not into that swapping business. I mean, no judgment for those who are, but I’m not the type who enjoys sharing.

Good to know, she said, mildly amused. Was there anything else...?

Well, he was batting a thousand. Had he completely forgotten how to flirt?

Apparently.

The rust was practically grinding his gears. At one time, he’d been damn near the cat’s meow. Now he couldn’t even make simple conversation. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

Time for some damage control.

My brother booked this cruise for me and I’m...sort of flying blind, he said by way of apology.

A spark of reluctant interest lit up her blue eyes. Does your brother always book your vacations?

Hell no. I don’t usually have time to vacation, but even if I did, I wouldn’t let J.T. take on that job. He and I have different ideas of what constitutes fun.

She crossed her arms lightly as if amused. So why did your brother book you on a singles cruise?

It’s not a story you want to hear standing in a hallway. It’s more of an over-dinner conversation, he said with a grin. Maybe with some wine, good food, excellent company.

Oh, is that so? she said, one eyebrow lifting. And what makes it worth all that?

Teagan held up three fingers then said, "Three words—plane crash, corporate intrigue and danger."

I see math is not your strong suit.

I don’t know... I can count quite clearly how you plus me equals a cozy dinner for two. How about it? I know you want to hear this story.

She laughed. No doubt you’re the hero in this tale.

I don’t mean to brag, but I did my part.

Let me guess, you’re a covert operative in the CIA and you were on a super secret international mission, she teased, clearly not buying an ounce of his story. The irony was that his story was absolutely true. Although, he wasn’t supposed to talk about it. Confidentiality and all that.

Sorry to disappoint, but not the CIA, Teagan said with a half grin. Just a private pilot with a charter who got lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.

Where’d you learn to fly?

The US Air Force.

Hmm.

Usually that sentence prompted more interest. He wasn’t one to use his service to open doors or drop panties, but he was a bit surprised by her lack of reaction. Got bad history with a flyboy? Teagan asked.

No. Not at all. I just don’t like people lying about time in the service. Some things should be sacred.

Teagan lost his smile. She thought he was lying? That was a new one. He straightened, quick to set her mind at ease, because it didn’t sit right to be accused of doing something he abhorred. You’re right, he agreed, seeming to surprise her with his firm tone. People who lie about serving their country are the lowest scum and I can assure you, there is no stolen valor here. I served my country willingly, as did my brother. Now we own a private charter plane business here in Los Angeles.

What is your name?

Teagan Carmichael. And yours?

Again that enigmatic smile but no reciprocal answer.

Not gonna share? he asked, drinking in every bit of her. She was so pretty, looking at her nearly hurt his eyes. There was something so untouchable about her, like a queen gracing her people with a glance and a subtle wave. Seems kinda the point of this trip, right? Getting to know people?

At that, she answered, Harper Riley, and he nearly crowed with happiness. He had a name!

Nice to meet you, Harper.

Likewise, Teagan.

They were off to a decent start.

So...about that dinner...

But Harper wasn’t as charmed as Teagan had thought because she flat out turned him down.

And then she closed the door firmly in his face.

Well, hell, that was not a good sign at all.

* * *

HARPER CLOSED THE door with a frown.

Why were the charming ones always broke as hell?

His idea of a good time probably included a monster truck rally and convenience store hot dogs.

Definitely not to her standard.

But, he was certainly nice to look at.

Damn, when was the last time she got to choose based on chemistry?

Boohoo, life’s rough. Stop crying and start focusing.

Stuart Buck was the real