DANE BRADEN’S FISHING boat moved swiftly through the ocean. They’d been on the water for more than an hour, and Pete regretted being there for most of that time. The first few minutes were cool, when Dane explained to Evan that the chair secured to the deck of the boat was called a fighting chair, used when reeling in a big fish or a shark. He explained how he strapped himself into it when they had a shark on the line, giving them better control and more power. Constructed of wood and metal, with a foot plate that allowed for more stability, the chair rotated with the movement of the fish. Since they weren’t going to fish for sharks today, Evan was perched in the chair, soaking up the sun in a pair of dark sunglasses and listening to his iPod.
Pete shifted his eyes around the boat. Lacy, Leanna, Bella, Amy, and Jenna were sunning themselves on the front deck of the boat in their bikinis. Jenna’s hair whipped around her face. She looked beautiful with the sun beaming down on her flawless skin. Their laughter carried in the wind, and Pete got lost in the sound of Jenna’s joy. He debated joining them just to be near her, but thoughts of last night with his father held him back. When Charlie joined them and sat down beside Jenna, Pete turned his attention to Kurt, Caden, and Dane, hanging out by the helm. He glanced back at Jenna a minute later, trying to convince himself that he was lucky for their friendship and he should leave it at that. She had Charlie, and he had his father to contend with.
But he still wanted much, much more.
“Who’s ready to chum the water?” Dane called to the women and Evan.
“I’ll do it!” Evan climbed down from the chair.
“Lace?” Dane waved her over. He was Pete’s height, with a body sculpted by years of deep-sea diving. Lacy smiled as she came to his side and caressed his shoulder. Dane’s powerful physique dwarfed her feminine frame.
The others joined them, and when Charlie draped an arm over Jenna’s shoulder, Pete felt a spear of jealousy. Ever since his conversation with Matt, he’d been dwelling on what he’d said. You’ve got to have a life, too, and taking care of Pop is no life. He was so torn over the whole situation. He wanted Jenna—in every way, not just as a friend, and even though the thought brought enough guilt to drown him, he was pissed over his father’s drinking and how it was standing in his way.
Dane whispered something in Lacy’s ear, and she reached for his hand.
“I’m okay,” she said quietly before turning to the others and explaining. “I get a little quivery around sharks, but I can always go belowdecks if I get nervous.”
Dane squeezed her hand.
Bella went to Caden’s side. “I was asking Caden this morning what I should do if I get nervous. Now I know.”
“Evan, come on over and let me go over a few things with you. First and foremost, when you see a shark, never try to touch it, lean too far over, or do anything risky, got it? They’re not dogs. You can’t hand-feed them.” Dane spoke with a serious tone.
“Yes, of course. I don’t want to go near them. I just want to see one,” Evan explained. “I promise, I won’t do anything stupid.”
Dane pointed into the barrel of chum while he explained to Evan how to chum the water. Pete’s attention was drawn to Jenna. She was listening intently, with her brows pushed tighter, her arms crossed over her narrow rib cage. Pete wanted to stand behind her and feel her back against him, warm from the sun. He wanted to whisper in her ear—something, anything, that would make her smile or blush. He wanted to be closer to her.
He wanted to love her. Publicly. Not just in his mind and in his heart. Every day brought the depth of his love to the surface, and he was doing all he could to keep from thrusting it upon her, and because of his father, he knew he shouldn’t.
An hour later, the others were gathered around the edge of the boat, watching the chum slick for sharks and listening to Dane tell stories about his shark-tagging adventures. Pete couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t spend one more second watching Jenna and Charlie. He went belowdecks to get a cold drink. He grabbed a soda from the fridge, flipped the tab, and took a long, icy swig.
“Would you mind handing me one?” Jenna’s voice was different. Stronger.
Pete turned, and Jenna closed the distance between them, her eyes locked on him. Heat rolled off of her and ignited with each step. She didn’t dart her eyes away. Her voice was confident and seductive, so different from the Jenna he usually encountered. He liked her. A lot.
“Actually,” she said, moving in front of him. “I can get it.”
She bent to retrieve the drink, giving Pete a clear view of her incredible rear. She’s better off without me. The thought came quickly but didn’t take hold as she opened the soda and took a sip, then dragged her tongue slowly across her lips. He set his soda on the counter, wanting to do so much more than lick her sensuous lips. He knew he shouldn’t, but he took a step closer, all of his senses on high alert. His heart thundered in his chest. She smelled of suntan lotion, and desire wrapped around them like powerful arms, drawing him nearer as she gazed up at him. He took the soda from her hands, his eyes never leaving hers as he set it aside.
“Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?” He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t care. But every fiber of his being wanted to kiss her.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” She narrowed her eyes.
Pete wasn’t a game player, and if this was a game to her, he had to know. He’d had enough summer flings; he didn’t need to ruin their friendship for one. The lust in her eyes told him this was no game to Jenna.
Voices rang out from the deck and he shot a glance at the stairs, unwilling to move away. He stepped closer, brushing her thighs with his.
“Do you play tonsil hockey with all the guys who aren’t your boyfriend? If so, I must have missed the invitation.” He rested his palm on the wall behind her and leaned in close, testing the waters, his vow to remain in the friend zone forgotten.
“N-no.” She blinked several times. Her chest rose and fell as her breathing hastened. Her eyebrows drew together; then she set her shoulders back, just a fraction of an inch, but Pete noticed. He noticed everything in those quick seconds—the scent of her breath, the way her thighs tensed against his, the shape of her eyes.
She sucked in air. “You don’t need an invitation.”
Desire surged forward, chasing worry, friendship, and hesitation until they bound together and scrambled away, and he lowered his face to hers, their lips a second apart. His hand slid down the wall, and he clutched the back of her neck. His other hand found her lower back and pressed her body to his. They were both breathing hard. Jenna’s body trembled against him, and man did she feel good. He slid his lips to the corner of hers, grazing the edge of her mouth and then further still. His cheek rubbed against her silken skin, and she sucked in air again. He was savoring the moment, because once their lips met, there was no turning back. He pressed kisses along her jaw, and her head lolled back, her lips slightly parted, her eyes closed. She grabbed the waistband of his jeans, holding him against her as he trailed openmouthed kisses down her neck. Her skin was hot from the sun, salty, and so darn sweet, he didn’t want to stop there. He could only imagine how blessed sweet the rest of her tasted. He ran his hand up her ribs.