LITMIR.BIZ

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The one who’d saved her from a watery death, apparently. A bronze and godlike hunk of a man with muscular arms and a sculpted chest above the white blanket. Wavy blond hair with the electric shine of a frequent swimmer fell back from a strong face. He wasn’t exactly beautiful—his face was more about character and strength—but it was a compelling face nonetheless.

      She lifted her own blanket and looked down. Whose tank top and shorts was she wearing? At least she was decent. Startled at how wobbly she was, she climbed out of bed. How did she get here? She cast back for details, but it was foggy.

      And then a piece came back to her. Something big and black bearing down on her. The shock of cold. And then darkness. Abruptly, she remembered the terror. Suddenly, she was in the water again, panicked, unsure of up or down, knowing that her time was running out and that she desperately wanted to live. She stumbled toward the door, bumping into the sleeping man’s bed, but not caring in her panic. She had to get out of here! Outside. Into the open air. Sunlight.

      The man’s eyes opened. He asked sharply, “What’s wrong?”

      “Have to get out,” she gasped. “Claustrophobic …”

      He jumped out of bed quickly. Holy cow, he was tall. Even more imposing upright than he’d been in bed. He put a hand on her back and whisked her toward the door. A dim, narrow hallway beyond was no comfort, but the man moved down it swiftly, his big hand propelling her forward.

      Up a short flight of steps, and then they were outside. Blessed sky, big and open and blue and bright, opened up above her. She breathed deeply as her pounding heart slowly returned to normal. She became aware of her surroundings and got her first good look at the vessel she was on. Good grief. This yacht was huge.

      “Who are you?” she asked her rescuer. “Whose yacht is this?”

      “I’m Aiden McKay. And the Sea Nymph belongs to a friend of mine. I’m borrowing it for a little deep-sea fishing expedition.”

      “What are you fishing for … Moby Dick?”

      He smiled briefly, and his face transformed from striking to mesmerizing. Wow. “Apparently, I’m fishing for mermaids.” He paused and then blurted, “What’s your name?”

      “Sunny. Sunny Jordan.”

      He nodded awkwardly. “How is it that ship ran over your boat last night? Was it an accident?”

      She stumbled as last night’s terror rolled over her and she managed to practically fall into him. She didn’t plan it, honest. But all of a sudden, she was plastered against his chest as his surprised arms came up to catch her. He froze and went statue stiff. It was like cuddling up to the Rock of Gibraltar.

      “Are you going to, umm, faint?” he mumbled.

      “I never faint,” she retorted indignantly. But her whole indignation vibe was ruined by the quaver in her voice and trembling of her knees.

      His arms tightened fractionally as if to say he had her now and she was safe. She snuggled deeper into his rigid, but somehow comforting, embrace.

      A sobbing breath escaped her.

      “Who was on that ship?” he persisted. “Did you get a good look at it?”

      She glanced up at him and he was staring fixedly over her head at a distant point on the horizon. He looked acutely uncomfortable. And yet, his arms stayed wrapped around her.

      “The ship was all black. And so big. It came at me so fast….” She shuddered.

      He repeated more urgently, “Was it an accident?”

      The answer scared her almost more than being run down in the first place. Almost more than nearly drowning. She whispered hoarsely, “I don’t think so.”

      He drew back to stare down at her. “Who are you? Why would someone try to kill you?”

       Chapter 2

      Aiden waited expectantly for the woman to answer, but instead she merely shivered in his arms. “Who wants to hurt you?” he insisted.

      Eventually, she sighed and relaxed, her slender body shifting against his and making his chest tighten—but pleasantly. Far too belatedly, dismay flowed through him. He knew better than to indulge himself like this. He’d sworn off women. Changed his ways. Turned over a new leaf … and apparently been lying to himself like a big dog that he’d actually changed.

      “I’m a filmmaker,” she announced as if that answered everything. “I was collecting footage for a documentary on the commercial deep-sea fishing industry.”

      An uncomplimentary portrayal, no doubt. But uncomplimentary enough to kill her over? He frowned. He didn’t recall seeing the giant cranes used for deploying and hoisting fishing nets protruding from the silhouette of the vessel that had sunk her boat. “Are you sure it was fishermen who ran you down?”

      “I’m not sure of anything except my boat is gone, and I’m really glad you came along when you did and saved my life.”

      So was he.

      The moment threatened to become intimate as a sexual charge started to build between them. He was desperate to lean into it, to lose himself in the feeling he knew so well. But he wasn’t that guy anymore. He didn’t party his way into the bed of every hot chick he laid eyes on. He had a purpose now. Focus. At long last, he had some self-respect. Still. This particular hot chick felt pretty fantastic in his arms—

      A voice intruded from behind him. “I see my patients are up and about.”

      He stepped back hastily from the girl. Whether he was more chagrined at the interruption or abjectly relieved by it, he couldn’t say. “Hey, Doc,” he mumbled.

      “Aiden. How’s your breathing?”

      “Fine.” An awkward silence descended. It had been a long time since he’d had need for social niceties, but he roused his rusty skills to mutter, “Sunny, this is Doctor Gemma Jones. Gem, meet Sunny.”

      The two women nodded at one another. “How’re you feeling today?” Gemma asked Sunny.

      “Okay, I guess. My throat feels awful.”

      “It’ll clear up in a few days.” The doctor added, “If you’ve got a little time later, I’d like to run some simple neurological tests on you.”

      Sunny answered, “Give me a shout-out whenever you want to do it.”

      “How about now, then?” Gemma responded briskly. Aiden scowled at the interruption of their time together. He was making good progress—

      He cut off that train of thought sharply. He did not progress with seducing women anymore, dammit.

      Gemma announced, “I’ll get my bag and be back in a few minutes.”

      The doctor’s departure was apparently the cue for the ship’s captain to make an appearance. Aiden sighed. It was a plot to keep him from having any time alone with Sunny. Or more likely, they’d come to enjoy watching him squirm. It wasn’t often these days he interacted with women for this long. “Sunny, this is Captain Steig Carlson.”

      “As in the ship’s captain?” she asked, eyeing the big blond Swede a little too appreciatively for Aiden’s taste.

      Steig smiled and held out his hand to her. “That’s right, Miss Jordan.”

      “Call me Sunny.”

      “Only if you’ll call me Steig.”

      Aiden managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a close thing. “So, Steig. I assume you tracked the ship that wiped out Sunny’s boat?”

      “We followed it until it rounded an island and we lost radar contact. By the time we passed the headland, it had blended in with the other traffic in the shipping lanes. I can tell you one thing,

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