Shelter In The Tropics. Cara Lockwood

and square. She didn’t steal it.

      “I’m not selling,” Cate said, resolute.

      “Suit yourself.” Terry just grinned at her, showing a row of yellow teeth. God, she hated that man. She could feel Tack studying her, and Cate tried to keep her face neutral.

      Stiffly, Cate returned to her boat, and Tack followed.

      “What was that about?” Tack asked as Cate took the helm of her boat once more, watching Terry pull up the anchor so he could move.

      “Nothing,” Cate said, hoping that she was right.

      * * *

      THE MOOD ON board the boat for the rest of the morning felt muted as Cate struggled to put on a brave face. Tack could see her try to shrug off Mr. Gold Chain’s remarks. She tried hard, but he could read every emotion on her face. He wondered how such a good liar had such a bad poker face.

      Clearly, she was having money troubles, sealed by the fact that Terry offered to buy the place. Tack knew she had a lack of visitors. Anyone paying attention could see the hotel was less than half full, and yet he thought that was by design. According to Rick Allen, Cate stole enough cash and bearer bonds to be set up indefinitely. Millions, if his total was accurate. Had she gone through all that in just three years?

      Maybe she used it all to buy the land that Terry mentioned.

      That’s the only hiding place that made sense.

      She certainly didn’t spend money on herself. Tack looked once more at her frayed jean shorts and worn flip-flops. Even the tour boat they were on had clearly seen better days. Some of the paint was peeling off the side, a few of the cushions had rips. Something about this wasn’t adding up. Did she hide away the money? Was it somewhere she could get it if she needed to flee? Maybe she was just trying not to draw attention to herself. So far, she’d been meticulous in covering her tracks, and spending a lot of cash could certainly raise a red flag.

      Another mystery. Just like the kiss they’d shared earlier. He wasn’t sure how that had happened. He had not been planning it, but the woman was just so damn kissable. She’d been so close to him and so impossible to resist. Yet, he knew it was a mistake. He couldn’t bed a woman who’d tried to kill her husband.

      He shouldn’t feel anything but disgust, and yet...that was not the feeling she stirred in him. He’d been really worried when she’d hit her head on the ladder, and then...when Mr. Gold Chain was being so obnoxious, he had felt protective of her. It was probably just his upbringing by a mother who insisted that it was his job to look after ladies—to open doors, to protect them when he could. And Cate sure did need protection.

      Yet the way she kissed him, it just screamed want. And need. He’d had every intention of kissing her, but once he did, he’d lost a little of himself, lost the tight rein of control he always kept on himself. He hadn’t intended to want her as much as she wanted him. It was supposed to be a game, a ruse, to ensure she let down her guard with him. It was all part of the investigation, until his body decided it wasn’t.

      He kept a rigid control of himself for a reason. When he let emotions get the best of him, bad things happened. Like when he’d hit his commanding officer. That had led to a court-martial. But the weasel had deserved it.

      Adeeb’s brother had died because Derek Hollie refused to let Tack save him. Then Derek conveniently scrapped all of Adeeb’s paperwork for the visa promised to him by Uncle Sam. By the time Tack realized the mistake, the visas had run out, the program had been nixed. There were none left for Adeeb.

      Cate Allen was supposed to be the answer to his problems, but right now, she was making things far more complicated than he liked. He thought he was certain he’d been the one playing her, yet now he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t let himself start thinking she was just your average girl. Nothing about her was average. Or safe.

      “This is our last stop before I get you back to the resort for lunch,” Cate said, pulling the boat into another small inlet. Tack didn’t want the morning to end. He told himself it was because he wasn’t done trying to pry information from her, but the truth was, he liked her company.

      Tack glanced at the small town not far from their diving spot. He saw open-air cantinas and cafés, as well as a string of brightly colored shop awnings. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t we skip the snorkeling and head over there for lunch?”

      Cate shaded her eyes from the bright sun overhead and blinked at the shore. “Smuggler’s Cove? You want to eat there?”

      “Sounds exciting. Will there be pirates?”

      Cate snorted. “Hardly. Unless you call the tourist-shop owners pirates. Though, they will rob you blind for shell jewelry boxes and shot glasses.”

      “Sounds perfect. I thought this was an island tour, after all. Aren’t you going to show me around?”

      Cate studied Tack, wary. “There’s a nice seafood place there. But it’s pricey. All the restaurants in Smuggler’s Cove are pricey. It’s the gentrified part of the island.”

      “I’m paying,” Tack said.

      “I don’t need...”

      “I said I’m paying.” Tack grinned, and he could see Cate relenting.

      “But I’m not dressed for...”

      Tack glanced at the people walking down the small cobblestone streets. “Looks like they’re all dressed like us,” he said. “Aren’t shoes dressing up on an island?”

      Cate sighed, and Tack knew then that he had her. She’d run out of excuses. “Fine,” she said.