Irresistible Fortune

“Then it’s gotta be romance,” Gavin said, sending a commensurate glance in Brenna’s direction. “Only intense attraction can make a lovely, intelligent woman—or irresistibly brilliant man—irrational and despondent.”

Penelope bowed her head. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

After a significant pause, Pablo said, “Don’t worry, honey. You will.”

Behind Penelope’s back, Brenna gestured to Gavin, who joined her a few feet away. “Fix this,” she whispered.

“How?” Immediately, he inhaled the faintly floral aroma that clung to her skin and made all the nerve endings in his body stand at attention. “I’m not allowed to even touch her.”

Brenna scowled. “You can console without touching.”

“How?” he repeated.

“Be verbally supportive.”

The woman was going to literally drive him over the edge. He couldn’t work, he couldn’t think and now he couldn’t relax without her interference. Without her … presence. Her scent and the lure of stroking her velvety skin permeated every breath he took.

“You’re the talker,” he retorted. “You be verbally supportive. Pretty much all I’ve thought about since you stepped onto my boat is how to get you naked.”

Her eyes turned smoky, then cleared. “That’s not helpful.”

“Sorry.”

“I even brought a peace offering.” She pointed to the cooler at Pablo’s feet. “I’ve got flounder and salad on ice.”

“For what?”

“Dinner.”

He pictured candlelight, moonlight, the cozy confines of his cabin. Wine, both of them talking as little as possible. The combination could lead to anything.

Possibly even nakedness.

Though he’d just assured himself it was smart of them to have escaped last night without any more physicality than the vertical make-out session, his resistance when faced with her was crumbling like the wooden frame of the ship she was so determined to defend.

Being near Brenna wasn’t wise, but he didn’t seem to have a choice anymore. She was determined to keep a close eye on him, and there was no way he could continue to resist her for long.

Surrender could be pleasurable, right?

“You brought dinner for us?” he asked, trying to focus on the present rather than the optimistic future.

“Well, for everybody.”

And the bubble of hope burst.

Pablo and Penelope were on board. And the reason Brenna had brought her young friend was suddenly apparent. “You need a chaperone to be in the same room with me?”

“Yes. I’m in charge of supervising you and your crew for the historical society, if you remember. Though consoling Penelope seems to be a greater priority at the moment.”

Gavin glanced at the teen, who had her head on his friend’s shoulder. “Pablo’s got it.”

Brenna looked annoyed. “Your sensitivity needs a lot of work.”

“I’m not the one smothering her,” he said smugly.

“Ahoy!” called an unfamiliar male voice.

“What new hell is this?” Gavin wondered, directing his attention to the gangway.

A cop was boarding the Heat. Young, probably early twenties, he wore a khaki-colored uniform on his tall, lanky frame. His spiky blond hair stood up in stylish tufts Gavin had seen on various teen pop stars, but his eyes were light blue and serious, as if they’d aged out of proportion to the rest of him.

This wasn’t the sheriff, he knew, since he’d met Tyler Landry at the party the night before. A deputy, maybe?

“Miss McGary,” the officer said with a nod as he approached them.

Brenna made brief introductions all around, and Gavin learned the man was Finn Hastings, a deputy, as well as the sheriff’s brother-in-law.

“I just came by to check on you,” he said to Gavin. “There are a few people in town not happy to have you around. I wanted to make sure they weren’t giving you a hard time.”

Somehow, he managed to say this with a serious expression and not glancing once at Brenna.

But then Brenna wasn’t paying much attention to the deputy. She was staring at Penelope, who, in turn, had her wide-eyed gaze fixed on Finn, who was gaping right back.

Well, well. The time-honored tradition to fixing teenage woes had apparently not changed since Gavin was that age. Just plop a hot guy and girl next to one another, and the sun shone from behind the clouds.

“We’re fine,” Gavin assured Deputy Hastings. “Brenna even brought us dinner. Flounder, I believe.”

Finn tore his attention away from Penelope and lifted his eyebrows. “Did she?”

“The seafood stand in the marina parking lot,” Brenna said, and Gavin noticed her eyes narrow in speculation while gazing at the youngsters.

Ah, good. They were on the same page.

Get the kids together, then Gavin could handle getting rid of Pablo, then he and Brenna could be alone.

It was possible, of course, that Brenna was only thinking of consoling Penelope, and not of spending the evening staring across the table at him, but he was betting he could negotiate that little hitch.

“Are you sure you brought enough for five?” Gavin asked her. “I could go get more.” Cooperation and generosity were the ways to her heart, after all.

But he was counting on the teens not being interested in hanging out with the adults.

“Sorry, I can’t stay,” Finn said.

Penelope nodded, though her gaze remained riveted to Finn. “I should really get back home.”

“I could give you a ride,” Finn offered. “I was on my way home, too.”

Penelope’s mouth parted in a shy smile. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

It was great to be right.

“I’m not sure—” Brenna began, but Gavin cut her off by laying his hand at the lower part of her back.

“Escorted safely to her door by the police,” he said. “How could the good Sisters be more pleased by that level of chaperoning? ”

“I agree,” Pablo said, with a definitive nod that Gavin would make sure he received a raise for. “And there should be plenty of food, because I have a dinner engagement at the marina bar.”

A really big raise.

Within two minutes, the trio was walking down the dock away from the boat, leaving Brenna and Gavin blissfully alone in the shadow of the setting sun.

“That happened fast,” she said, turning to him in surprise.

“Didn’t it?” He smiled. Oh, yeah, surrender was chock-full of delight. “But who are we to stand in the way of young love?”

4

“THE FLOUNDER’S WONDERFUL,” Brenna said from across the candlelit table.

“Thank you.” Gavin toasted her with his wineglass. “Cooking skills are mandatory for a bachelor who spends a lot of time alone on the water.”

She leaned back in the bench seat and glanced around the cozy cabin. Moonlight streamed through the windows and waves slapped gently against the boat’s hull. This wasn’t what she’d expected from her peace offering.

This was way too intimate. Romantic. Tempting.

She’d counted on Penelope to give the dinner a neutral, even academic tone. They were going to fry fish and talk about history. Low lights, delicately grilled flounder and fruit-infused wine weren’t on the original menu.

And what had happened between Finn and Penelope, anyway?

Though, frankly, she did understand the mechanics of what had happened. It was happening to her, too, after all. Hormones. Pheromones. Uncontrollable chemical reactions.

But the ex-con and the orphan raised by nuns?

Now, that was an odd combination.

Then again, romance could be a strange …

“Wait.” Her gaze zipped to Gavin. “Alone? When are you ever alone?”

“I like solitude. The crew rented condos on shore, so I—” He stopped, then sipped his wine as if giving himself time to gather his thoughts. “Though I’m only by myself when I’m not hooking up with a babe from the beach.”

Brenna carefully set her wineglass on the table. “Naturally.”

Still, there was something odd about his abrupt bragging. Was it true or just talk? He was gorgeous and successful enough to have anybody he wanted, but was a cute girl in a bikini his only requirement?

He’d sworn he wasn’t interested in the waitress the other night. And, come to think of it, why wasn’t he?

The flirty woman should have been a fantasy incarnate for Dr. Lothario—obvious, easy and temporary.

What was his deal?

“Today, however,” he began, his tone quiet, “I’ve thought a lot about you.”

“So you were ticked off all day?”

He smiled—not the debauched one, but the one that made her breath catch. The one she wished was genuine. “At times.” His gaze moved to hers. “We’re really very … different. And yet I like debating with you. I like your strength and determination. I especially liked kissing you.”

Her lips tingled as if he’d touched them. “Didn’t we agree last night was an impulsive mistake?”

“We did. I didn’t say it was smart to like kissing you.”

“I know why I don’t like having the hots for you. Why don’t you like—”

“Last night you said I was delusional for thinking you had the hots for me.”

The man never let anything go. “I think after the impulsive and unwise make-out session last night, we can stipulate we have the hots for each other.”

He forked up another bite of fish. “Agreed.”

“So why aren’t you happy about our attraction? Given your reputation, you don’t seem overly picky about your romantic liaisons.”

“Romantic liaisons,” he repeated, shaking his head. “That description is exactly why our chemistry is inconvenient. I’ll be here a few weeks, a month at the most. My distractions from work are short-lived, and I never get involved with anyone exclusively. You seem like the long-term, exclusive type.”

“I am.” And the fact that he recognized those qualities about her, and was trying to avoid her as a result, was practically chivalrous. So all the more confusing. “However, my body and my brain seem to be disconnected right now.”

“I know the feeling.”

Certain the frustrated heat in his eyes was reflected in her own, she scooted to the end of the booth. “I should go.”

He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t.”

Her pulse pounded at the point of contact. Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes. The desire, unfortunately, didn’t vanish.

She wanted him beyond reason or practicality. And she sure as hell didn’t care about fleeting—in fact, temporary was best.

As long as he could temporarily satisfy the needy ache that had settled deep inside her, ruling over every thought and action, he could then leave the island and take all temptation with him.

“At least finish your dinner,” he said, releasing her. “You were kind to bring it.”

She moved back in front of her plate and took a gulp of wine. Her heart was pounding irrationally hard. “It was meant to help us get along as professionals.”

“But we probably shouldn’t get along.”

“Good point.” Again, she sipped from her glass. “Why don’t we talk about something we don’t agree on?”

“That’s pretty much everything.”

“Great. Keep your mouth moving.”

His pupils dilated.

“Talking,” she clarified, feeling a rush of panic. He was so close. Too close. “Keep talking.”

“Fine. When we dove today, I found some—”

“Have I ever told you about my grandmother?” She broke in, realizing this was a topic that was sure to divide them.

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