Martinique and was renovating the place by hand.
His older brothers had scoffed at the manual labor, but Delia noticed that Gabe was having a hard time finishing the hotel work because his craftsmanship skills had developed a following, making him in demand for other restoration projects around the Caribbean, all the way to Miami.
“Gabe is outvoted by Damon and me.” He took two more bites before he noticed she hadn’t responded. When he turned toward her, she glared at him.
“Meaning he disagrees?” she asked.
“Meaning Damon would feel the same way I do, so if Gabe chooses to disagree, he’s still outnumbered.”
Delia set her plate aside on the rattan chest, then put her wineglass beside it.
“Damon might have a very different opinion about family after losing someone,” she observed quietly.
Jager went still.
“You have a lot to say about something that doesn’t concern you, Delia.” He set aside his half-eaten meal as well, and turned to face her.
“Doesn’t it?” She shifted toward him, their knees almost brushing. “I could give you an update on my plans for next year’s community garden or how to increase profits at the marina, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that you just turned your back on a family member who looks eerily like your missing brother.”
“It’s not eerie.” His tone softened. “It’s simple genetics. And I find you a whole lot tougher to ignore than my half brother.”
She opened her mouth to deliver a retort and found herself speechless. The air in the room changed—as if the molecules had swollen up with heat and weight, pressing down on her. Making her far too aware of scents, sounds and him.
“That’s good,” she said finally, recovering herself—barely. She needed to tackle his comment head-on, address whatever simmered between them before they both got burned. “Because I don’t want to be ignored. I would have hoped you’d listen to my opinion the way I once listened to yours when I was having some rough times.”
She hoped that it was safe to remind him of the start to their relationship. She’d felt a flare of attraction for him that day too, but she’d been too shredded by her former fiancé and too mistrusting of her own judgment to act on it. For his part, Jager had seemed oblivious to her eyes wandering over his muscled chest and lean hips covered by a sea-washed pair of swim trunks. He’d quietly assessed the situation despite her tearful outburst about her thwarted marriage, and he’d given her direction, plus a face-saving way out of her dilemma at the time.
She hadn’t been able to pay the taxes on the family’s land that year either. Her dad had been injured in a fishing accident three years ago and couldn’t earn half the living he used to selling fresh catch to local restaurants. But Jager had given her a job and the income had staved off foreclosure. Plus, Jager had given her a place to stay far away from her ex, and time to find herself.
Now, he looked at her with warmth in his blue eyes. A heat that might stem from something more than friendship.
“Maybe I liked to flatter myself that I was the one doling out all the advice in this relationship.” His self-deprecating smile slid past her defenses faster than any heated touch.
“I don’t think any of us exercise our best judgment when our world is flipped upside down.” She’d been a wreck when they’d met. Literally. She’d almost plowed right into him on a Jet Ski she’d taken from the dock near where she’d planned to say her vows.
“Is that what’s happening here?” he asked, shifting on the sofa cushions in a way that squared them up somehow. Put him fractionally closer. “The world is off-kilter today?”
The low rasp of his voice, a subtle intimacy of tone that she hadn’t heard from him before, brought heat raining down over her skin. Her gaze lowered to his mouth before she thought the better of it.
“That’s not what I meant.” She felt breathless. Her words were a light whisper of air, but she couldn’t draw a deep breath without inhaling the scent of him.
Without wanting him.
“It’s true though.” He skimmed a touch just below her chin, drawing her eyes up to his. “Something happened in the water today. Something changed between us.”
No, she wanted to protest. To call it out for a lie.
Yet he was right and they both knew it.
His touch lingered, the barest brush of his knuckles beneath her jaw. She wanted to dip her cheek toward his hand to increase the pressure, to really feel him.
Madness. Total madness to think it, let alone act on it.
“We can’t let that happen.” She needed to maintain the balance of power. Rebuild some guise of professionalism before it was too late. “This job is too important to me.”
Shakily, she shot to her feet. She stalked to the window on legs that felt like liquid, forcing herself to focus. To get this conversation back on track. Why hadn’t she simply spoken to him about the community garden?
“And your professional skills are valuable to me as well. But we can work around that.” Behind her, his voice was controlled. Far more level than she felt. “Besides, do you really believe ignoring it will make it go away, Delia?”
She felt him approach, his step quiet but certain. He stood beside her at the window, giving her personal space, yet not conceding her point. The soft glow of a nearby sconce cast his face in partial shadow.
“If we both make an effort, yes. Of course.” She nodded, hoping she sounded more sure of herself than she felt. “We’re both adults with professional agendas. We can keep those work goals front and center when we’re together.”
“Like we did today.” His gaze fixed on some point outside the window, but his eyebrows rose in question.
“Today was an aberration.” It had to be. “Emotions ran high. We were both scared for Emily.” She wanted it to be as simple as that. “Just an adrenaline moment.”
Her heart fluttered oddly as he turned toward her again, taking her measure. Seeing right through her.
“So what about this moment, right now?” he asked. “Adrenaline?”
She licked her suddenly-dry lips. Willed herself to come up with a logical explanation for the way the air simmered all around them. The way her skin sensed his every movement.
Any answer she might have given was a moot point, however, since Jager chose that moment to lower his lips to hers.
* * *
Jager couldn’t walk away from her tonight. Not after the hellish year he’d had. He needed this. Needed her.
Her lips were softer than any woman’s he’d ever tasted. She kissed with a tentative hunger—gentle and curious, questing and cautious at the same time. She swayed near him for a moment, her slender body as pliable as it had been in the water today, moving where he guided her. So he slid his hands around her waist, dipping them beneath the lightweight cotton sweater to rest on the indent just above her hips.
She felt as good as she tasted. Something buzzed loudly in his brain—a warning, maybe, telling him to take it slower. But he couldn’t do a damned thing to stop it.
Instead, he gripped the fabric of her dress in his hands, a tactic to keep from gripping her too hard. He tugged the knit material toward him, drawing her more fully against him.
Yes.
Her breasts were as delectable as he remembered from in the water today. High. Firm. Perfect. And Delia seemed to lose herself in the contact as much as he. She looped her arms around his neck, pressing her whole body to his in a way that made flames leap inside him. Heat licked over his skin, singeing him. Making him realize how cold he’d been inside for months.
Delia’s