Mistletoe in Paradise (Wildstone #5.5) - Jill Shalvis Page 0,3

moving with the easy grace of a lifelong athlete.

Something no one had ever accused her of being.

Pushing herself to catch up, she accidentally—sort of—knocked him into a wall. Still laughing, he snagged her arm, yanking her behind him, and kept the lead.

So she pulled out the big guns and fought dirty. She hit the floor with a soft, pained gasp.

“Oh shit,” he said. Whipping back around, he dropped to his knees at her side. “What is it? Your ankle?”

“Nope!” She was on her feet and running, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. She had this! She was going to get the cabin with the porthole. Already grinning in triumph, just before she got to the door, she turned and sent him a smug smile over her shoulder.

Which was when he snatched her around the waist and manhandled her aside to get to the door first.

But the deal was that it was the first person to the bed. So she took a flying leap and hit him in the back, and . . . they both landed on the bunk at the same time.

They were laughing and grappling as they bounced, and suddenly she realized James was flat on his back sprawled with limbs akimbo, and she was on top of him, pinning him down. “Um . . .” She went still and stared at him, heart pounding, head spinning.

As for what he was feeling . . . she had zero idea. He was much better at hiding his emotions, but she sure as hell hoped he was feeling tortured by his feelings.

“Nice hat,” he said.

“Dammit.” She tugged the elf headpiece off. The bow, too.

He hadn’t moved, just continued to stare up at her, the air seeming to crackle around them, and not from the incoming storm. Needing to cut the sudden tension, Hannah scrambled off him, sitting back on her heels on the foot of the bed. “You’ll still do anything to win, I see,” she turned to quip.

He sat up as well, smile long gone. “Good thing, then, that this time all I’m interested in winning is some peace and quiet.” Pushing off the bed, he headed to the door.

“You’re leaving?” she asked his back. “You’re letting me have this cabin without a fight?”

“We’re not kids anymore, Hannah.” His mouth quirked very slightly, but he didn’t smile. “And I’m not doing this with you again. Once was enough for me.” He paused. “Though I’ll admit watching you hitch up that sundress to race me is going to stick with me for many nights to come.”

She looked down at her sundress, mostly as a delay tactic, because he was right, of course. What had happened was all on her. “Look,” she said in a low voice, “I just need to give something to Harry, and then I’ll leave, and you and your parents can have the whole week to yourselves, okay?”

He looked surprised. “Okay.”

So he wasn’t going to try to keep her here. Fair, though also hurtful. She scooted off the bed and then nearly hit the floor when the boat rocked.

They stared at each other in shock.

“Are we—” She shook her head. “No. He wouldn’t. It’s probably just the tide coming in.”

“It’s too early for the tide.” He moved to the porthole. “Shit.”

She rushed to the porthole, too, elbow to elbow with him. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” he said grimly. “We’ve set sail.”

Chapter 2

Both James and Hannah hit the door running, racing back in the direction they’d just come, down the narrow hallway and up the stairs. James had no idea what her thoughts were, but his were hell no. No way was he going to get stuck on this boat with Hannah Banfield. No way, no how.

He’d been thrown off-balance when he’d first boarded and seen her standing there with Harry, as if the past six years hadn’t happened.

Like maybe Jason was still alive . . .

Just his brain messing with him again, of course. Because Jason was long gone.

James was no longer drowning in grief. He had his head above water. He was finally, finally starting to get used to his new normal, living in a world with his two best friends gone. One dead. One—Hannah—gone by choice.

And yet here she was, all five feet seven inches of sexy curves and curly honey-brown hair flying around her face, with milk chocolate eyes he’d happily drowned in more than once—a fact he was doing his best to forget. Above deck, he looked around, stunned to find Miami’s shoreline was