Ride the Tide (Deep Six #3) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,15

missing a maidenhead by midnight.”

Alex’s expression was one of disgust. “Come on! It’s my first time. At the very least I’d like to know the guy’s real name.”

“There is that,” Chrissy agreed.

Tired of being the subject at hand, Alex slid Chrissy a considering look. “Speaking of sex and alpha men, what’s up between you and Wolf?”

Chrissy frowned. “Nice segue.”

“It’s proven that a person’s ability to steer a conversation is directly proportional to their IQ.”

“Or the fact that they’re a Nosy Nancy.”

“That too.” Alex admitted freely. “But I mean, there for a while, I thought maybe you two might hook up and—”

“Yeah, me too.” Chrissy cut her off. “I mean, how could I not have wanted that? The man is six-plus feet of steely muscles and smooth, dark skin. Not to mention his cheekbones. Have you seen them? They could cut glass. Then again, looks aren’t everything. And besides, it’s worked out. With all the new business I’m getting by teaming up with Deep Six, I don’t have time for penis-sporting humans.”

Alex snorted. “Yeah, but that won’t stop the penis-sporting humans from making time for you. You’re smart. You’re funny. And you can rock a tank top.”

She eyed Chrissy’s cleavage with envy. What she wouldn’t give to have C cups. But she was firmly and decidedly only a B. And without the help of a skilled plastic surgeon, she’d had to give up hoping for further growth.

“You’re really not going to tell me what happened between you two, are you?” she asked after she finished coating her legs with SPF 50 and recapping the sunscreen.

“No way.” Chrissy shook her head. “It’s too embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Alex huffed. “I admitted that no one has ever punched a hole in my V-card! Nothing could be more—”

“Hold that thought.” Chrissy pointed a finger over Alex’s shoulder.

When Alex turned, she found Mason was no longer in the pilothouse. A quick glance assured her Wolf had taken over captaining duties. Now, Mason stood at the edge of the trampoline, looking all brown and brawny and…to steal a line from the Campbell’s Soup commercials…mmm-mmm good.

He should never wear anything but swim trunks, she decided. All those gleaming muscles? All that delicious skin? All that crinkly, black man hair that bloomed across his pectoral muscles and arrowed down his corrugated belly to disappear beneath his waistband? It should be proudly displayed.

Always.

“Alex.” Lordy, she loved the way he grumbled her name. “Can I get a word with ya?” His accent made it sound more like Cannah getta word witya?

She exchanged a glance with Chrissy and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. She felt too vulnerable to be left alone with Mason. She might say or do something highly embarrassing. You know, like tackle him onto the netting and forcibly sit on his face.

Chrissy swallowed noisily before sputtering, “I have to…um…go vote.” And then she jumped from the trampoline and disappeared inside the cabin so quickly Alex felt the breeze of her departure.

Here she’d thought their heart-to-heart had forged between them the strong bonds of sisterhood. Apparently not. Chrissy had cut and run right when Alex needed her most.

The traitor.

Chapter 4

10:52 a.m.

“I’m calling a truce.”

Chrissy’s sexy voice, speaking in that slow island-life way, slid inside Wolf’s blood like brandy, delicious and smooth. Not that he was a big drinker, but a good brandy was his weakness.

Kind of like she was his weakness.

Glancing away from his study of the currents, he found her standing in the doorway to the pilothouse. Sunlight streamed in, creating a halo around her. But it was superfluous. Because Christina Szareck was a beacon all on her own. So bright he was surprised she didn’t draw in flying insects after dark.

I was certainly drawn to her from the beginnin’. Too bad I had to go and screw it up.

An ache bloomed behind his breastbone. He rubbed at it. He coughed. But nothing seemed to make it go away. So he asked, “A truce? Which means you admit we’re at war?”

She straightened from giving Meat a quick scratch behind the ears. The shameless mongrel had wiggled over to her the instant she appeared. Meat knew all it took to find himself on the receiving end of a treat or a good petting was one flash of his ridiculous underbite.

To have been born a bulldog, Wolf thought, remembering what it was like to have Chrissy’s fingers on him.

The woman didn’t have soft hands. Not by a long shot. They were strong and callused from hauling equipment and fixing scuba