Whirlpool (Cutter Cay Book 6) Page 2

Yeah. I know the feeling. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

  In her mesmerizing sea-glass colored eyes, he saw the confidence of a woman who recognized, and was comfortable with, admiration from a man. A woman who enjoyed a light flirtation.

  There was fuck-all light about this flirtation. He wanted her. She couldn't possibly mistake his intent. His visceral response to her was so powerful, he imagined he lit up in the fucking dark.

  "It's an. . . intriguing thing." Her direct appraisal said seduction wasn't a fait accompli. Still, it was impossible to miss the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat, or the small shiver that moved through her as her gaze rested on his face. Lowered to his mouth, then captured his eyes again. After a moment a slow, delicious tilt appeared at the corner of her mouth.

  Good. She wasn't backing away. Better - she didn’t rip her hair from his hands. Best - he thought he detected a challenge in her gaze. As in - exactly how far are you going with this?

  All the way. All the fucking way.

  Working his thumb over a silky strand, he searched her expression. "It feels cool, I almost expected it to singe my fingers. I've never seen hair this color. MC1R, a gene mutation, causes red hair and affects only about one percent of the world’s population. This is a shining example." Probably dyed, but still, mesmerizing.

  Unable to stop touching he let the strands sift through his fingers. Static electricity made the filaments cling to his hand as if they couldn't bear to let go either.

  "It's just hair." Her sassy smile carried the force of a sucker punch. Her hair was an O classification star color. The hottest, brightest, fastest burning star out there. The stuff of Finn's new fantasies. "Awesome hair, but just hair."

  Finn smiled back. "Not just hair, it’s spectacular. Otherworldly." His pulse raced. He noticed the small, dark freckle on her clavicle, bared by the open collar of her crisp white shirt, and the way her long, dark lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. "Never has the phrase 'crowning glory' been more apt.”

  Water-clear eyes danced with amusement. "God's reward for my fortitude in resisting so many of His deadly sins over the years."

  "How many?" he asked, voice thick.

  "Ten minutes ago, I was at fifty-fifty."

  Inhaling the heady fragrance of lily, he held it greedily deep in his lungs, exhaled, then drew in the scent again. Desire, detailed, and immediate flooded his body. He needed to strip her naked, and fuck her right there, against the glass case holding a golden challis encircled with emeralds that paled in comparison to her eyes. He wanted to watch them haze as she came apart in his arms. "Have dinner with me."

  Pushing up the cuff of her shirt she glanced at her bare wrist, then smiled up at him. "Don't you mean lunch?"

  His breath snagged. She was so damned beautiful she made him forget civilized behavior. There was no need to ask if she felt the same gravitational pull. Her pulse pounded at the base of her throat, and her pupils were dilated. Even more telling, her nipples peaked the thin cotton of her shirt.

  "Dinner." He splayed his hand on her hip, felt her muscles tense, then relax, felt the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her jeans. "Tonight."

  Holding his gaze, she acknowledged his blatantly dominant declaration, by not stepping away from his light hold. Instead, she gave him a challenging look. A look that said- I can walk the fuck away anytime I want, and leave you holding your painfully erect dick in your hand. She was in the driver's seat, and the fire under all that jade coolness in her eyes said she damn-well knew it.

  "Are you married?"

  "No. You?"

  "No." She tilted her head, giving him an assessing look. "Are you loyal, brave, and trustworthy?"

  Finn held up two fingers. "As a Boy Scout."

  "Oh, I sincerely doubt you were ever a Boy Scout." She scanned his face, mouth soft and inviting. "I think you were the rebel. You hated the uniform and thought the rules were made to be broken. Are you always prepared?"

  Very intuitive. "Always."

  "To keep yourself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight?" she teased. "I have a brother, I know my Boy Scout lingo." She sobered for a moment. "You're not a serial killer are you?"

  He shook his head. "Sailor. You aren't a siren luring me to the rocks, are you?"

  She shook her head. "Can't carry a tune in a bucket, you're safe with me."

  "About that dinner--?"

  "It's two in the afternoon. What will we do until then?"

  "I have about sixty-nine ideas."

  Her smile was slow and sensual. "Do you now?"

  It was impossible to stop touching her. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, brush kisses over the tender skin of her nape, fill his hands with her breasts. "Here's one. . ." Wrapping his hand in her hair, Finn tugged her close, then bent his head to her lush mouth. Without a nanosecond of hesitation, her velvety smooth lips were instantly responsive and as eager as his as he stroked his tongue slow and deep. Her mouth tasted sweet, she'd been eating chocolate, and the scent of her skin made every muscle in his body tense with ravenous need.

  The pleasure of kissing her shot to Finn's head like fine whisky, then raced through his veins in a heated rush to pool at his groin. It wasn't the kiss of strangers, it was carnal, mind-blowing and dick-raisingly intimate.

  Rising on her toes to slide her arms around his waist, she slid her fingers under the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. The feel of her smooth, cool hands on his bare skin was electrifying. He felt the hard peak of her nipples against his chest, and his fingers flexed in her hair.

  The cavity of her mouth was hot, the slick glide of her tongue as it came out to duel with his, eager. Addictive.

  Combing his fingers through her hair at her temples he let the cool fall drape over his arms as they kissed hungrily. They were both breathing hard when Finn broke away.

  Sliding her hands free as he stepped back, their eyes locked. He felt as though he'd run a marathon, and her eyes looked glazed as her chest rose and fell.

  Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he held up a finger. "Give me a minute."

  He turned, then strode back across the hall. Not just for privacy, but because he couldn't trust himself not to strip her and take her on the floor. Or against an exhibit case.

  When his assistant answered after one ring, he instructed, "Get me a room in the closest hotel. No. Right now. No, not a suite. Leo Major, regular room. You go ahead, I'll see you on board. Send the plane back for me. I'll contact Kathleen directly when I'm ready to leave. Oh, and – call off security. I don’t want to see them. Give me the name- Great, thanks." Leo Major was one of many aliases he used to avoid the press following him everywhere he went. Today, it would serve a better purpose.

  With a jolt of excitement, he hadn't felt on a personal level in a long time, Finn realized he had a unique opportunity to be with a woman who had no idea who he was, or any idea of his net worth.

  He stalked across the marble floor like a lion approaching a gazelle. Except she wasn’t prey, nor was she a victim. She'd had ninety seconds when she could've run. Instead, she waited, exactly where he'd left her.

  "Shouldn't we exchange names?" she asked, as she slipped her hand into his, they walked towards the door.

  Charmed by the innocent gesture, Finn couldn't remember when he’d last held hands with a woman. Unfortunately, his body wasn't getting the 'innocent' message and reacted as if she'd reached out and wrapped her fingers around his dick instead of just threading hers through his.

  "You can be whoever you want to be."

  They exited the historical building housing the museum into the early afternoon heat and headed down the cement steps to the street. Her hair was even more vibrant in the sun, and her smile shot through his body like an electrical current.

  "I like being me."

  God, he had it bad. He was transfixed with the way her lips moved as she spoke. By the way the sunlight showed her lightly tanned skin, overlaid with freckles as if sh
e'd been dusted with cinnamon. Discovering the location of each one would be as irresistible a challenge as discovering new stars in the cosmos.

  Passersby, male and female turned to give her a second and third look. A mild southerly breeze played with the long strands, transforming it into dancing, living flame. His libido responded with the certainty that once wasn’t going to be enough.

  "Be you. But let's maintain the fantasy. Make up an alter ego." He wanted the same freedom to be whoever he wanted to be with her. No expectations, no preconceived ideas. “Let’s freefall for the weekend.”

  Laughing, she skipped a step to keep up with him. "Wow, you are optimistic. A whole weekend? You have that much stamina?"

  Ignoring his waiting car and driver, Finn flagged a passing cab. "I told you sixty-nine reasons. Sixty-eight to go." Taking out his phone he glanced at the text before returning it to his pocket. "Four Seasons," he told the driver, as they got in. "We're in a hurry." He immediately wrapped his arm around her, tugging her close against his side as they pulled away from the curb.

  Yes," he told her. "I have that much stamina. A few days might not even make a dent."

  Splaying her hand on his chest, she stroked him through the linen of his shirt. "Do you always get your way?"

  Finn captured her exploring hand to hold it still. Already on the razor's edge of insanity, her light touch was enough to drive him over the fucking edge. "I hope it'll be your way as well in a few minutes. Second thoughts?"

  "I'm a full speed ahead kind of woman. No second thoughts." Resting her head against his upper arm, she slid her arm around his waist, hugging him against the soft pillows of her breasts. The hard point of her nipple against his arm had him stifling a groan.

  The traffic was light as it always was at this time of day as they headed to the La Recoleta district. Modern buildings interspersed with hundreds-of-years-old stone structures housed businesses, homes, and hotels on either side of the wide boulevard. Pedestrians clogged the sidewalks, walking in packs, or enjoying the sunshine at outdoor cafes. Buenos Aires was famous for soccer, the tango and its raunchy nightlife. Been there, done that. Even during daylight hours, the city pulsed with a musical beat that put a spring in people's steps even as they performed their mundane daily activities.

  The city was an interesting mix of old and new. Finn didn't give a damn. He was fixated on the way the sunlight pouring through the smudged side window illuminated her skin, and set fire to her hair.

  She looked up at him for several seconds without speaking, then said softly, "You can call me Persephone."

  "Ah, Goddess Queen of the underworld. Excellent choice." He would've thought she'd have chosen Aphrodite considering where they'd met. Either was a mouthful and since he planned to have his mouth full of some part of her for the foreseeable future it didn't matter what she wanted to be called.

  "What should I call you?"

  "Leo." Low Earth orbit. It would do. He tightened his arm around her as the driver, taking Finn at his word, screeched around a corner at a breakneck speed. Two elderly women shook their fists as the cab careened past them with inches to spare.

  "That's not very –fantasy-like."

  "It trips more easily off the tongue than Persephone," he teased, brushing a long, fiery strand of hair behind her ear, then lingering to trace the shell with the tip of his finger.

  Cheeks flushed, she shivered in response to his touch. "How about shortening it to Peri?"

  "I like it." His driver, with his two personal bodyguards, pulled his rental car up discreetly behind their cab. After a glance at the meter, Finn pulled out a wad of pesos and handed it to the driver.

  "Keep the change." He suspected he’d just tipped the guy the equivalent of his annual salary. Worth the speedy trip.

  Handing her out of the cab, he wrapped an arm around her waist and led her into the hotel. He checked in as Leo Major and was handed a small folder with the room number and the key tucked inside. He glanced at the envelope as he returned to Persephone's side. "Second floor."

  She tugged his hand to steer him toward the sweeping staircase off the marble, gilt and palm-filled lobby. "If we don't walk off some of this energy we might kill each other when we get to the room."

  “Trust me, darling, walking’s not going to make a dent in this energy.” Finn tucked her more firmly against his side and redirected her to the bank of gilded elevators. "I have to kiss you again. And if I do that on the stairs I might lose my mind completely and forget we're in public." The doors opened silently, and he pulled her inside. For a man known for his control, he was out of his damn mind. The doors hadn't even closed before he started kissing her ravenously.

  Their floor chimed. Reluctantly they broke apart. He'd kissed off her lipstick, and her mouth was pink and slightly swollen. Her eyes, more aqua than green now, looked dazed as the doors opened.

  About to step out, Finn was surprised when she grabbed him by his shirt front and tugged his head down for another mind-blowing kiss. The door bounced on his back as they blocked it from closing.

  Drunk on the smell of her skin, the taste of her, the feel of her slender body in his arms, he was a starving beggar at a feast. "We might not make it to the room," he murmured, mouth too occupied to make the words coherent.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered, "Don't care."

  TWO

  8 days after Buenos Aires

  Onboard Blackstar

  Holy shit. Holy shit, holy freaking shit! Persephone Case's excitement had nothing to do with being onboard the luxurious gigayacht hosting the party, or the illustrious, deep-pocketed, influential guests attending the event––bigwigs, museum people, buyers, the usual groupies who gathered around a major salvage like this. No, her excitement had everything to do with the reason for this swanky celebration.

  The anticipation for the spoils of the "Cutter Salvage" had been hyped in the press as the biggest antiquities haul in history. Expected to far surpass the wealth and prestige of the Atocha wreck off the coast of Florida––a salvage that had been going strong for more than thirty years, to the tune of over four hundred million dollars.

  Now all people could talk about were the Nuestra Señora del Marco, Santa Ana and El Crucifijo.

  But, four ships lay at the bottom of the freaking ocean. They didn't mention Napolitano.

  Had any of these people contacted her during the last five years while she was salvaging Napolitano? To offer investment money? To interview her? To get her take on what she'd already salvaged? Not a one. No one knew her name, but everyone and their uncle knew the damned Cutters.

  Peri didn't want fame and fortune- or no more than the average salvager- what she wanted was recognition. She wanted to finally be seen. This was the closest she'd ever come to achieving that goal.

  Dizzy with exhilaration, she hadn't felt this much of a rush since she'd stolen that first artifact - a pretty little gilded silver flask - from right under Zane Cutter’s nose seven years ago.

  That had been the beginning of her life of piracy against the brothers. She'd started off subtly. Targeting a Cutter’s dive location, waiting for him to return to his ship for the night, then diving in, and helping herself to a few choice pieces before they could be brought to the surface.

  They couldn't miss her sleek black boat, Sea Witch, as she lay at anchor well within the legal limit of one mile. Each damned brother had ignored her antics as if she were a pesky fly they couldn't be bothered to swat. Their blatant indifference had resulted in Peri's thefts becoming dangerously bolder. She'd think, do you see me now? as she stood on the deck of her ship, giving them a good long look at her.

  She'd dreamed of this confrontation for seven long years. The anticipation, and constant disappointment, had been exhausting. She'd miss the adrenaline rush, but she wouldn't miss the constant battle with herself as to the right and wrong of what she'd been doing.

  Given this opportunity to meet them all at the same time, in her own backyard as it we
re, she was fine knowing her pirating days were over for good. Bearding the lions in their own den was even more of a thrill than stealing from them. It would be impossible for them to ignore her now.

  This was the last step of her rehabilitation.

  "Dios, have you ever seen such a ship?" Dr. Thiago Núñez whispered as they entered the crowded salon of Blackstar for the dive’s inaugural party.

  The elegantly appointed room was crowded with well-dressed guests who'd apparently had no issue making the two-hour trip from the mainland to attend a party. Wide windows and open French doors framed lights that glittered on the calm water surrounding a yacht the size of a small island, casting a pale purple wash over rippling navy-blue water. Spring in the Southern hemisphere brought dusk late, and at nine at night the violet and apricot sky wrapped around the ship like a diaphanous silken scarf in a showy display of color.

  "Incredible." Understatement. "I need a big glass of wine and about a dozen of those shrimp canapes. I'm starving." Discreetly, Peri removed Theo's hand from her ass. On the rare occasions they appeared in public together, he "forgot" that they'd broken up more than a year ago, and became possessive and handsy. They were the same height when she was barefoot, and if he wore lifts in his shoes. Since he was self-conscious about his five-foot-six height, she’d worn flats when they dated. Tonight, she wore five-inch sandals and towered over him.

  Distinguished, with classic Latin features, and dark hair, prematurely graying at the temples, Theo looked like the professor of Antiquities that he was. But it had been his intensity and love of relics that had attracted her, and that shared interest had kept her distracted when the gloss of their relationship had worn off.

  No matter how attractive he was, she didn't want seconds. He made a better associate than a lover. The only reason he was the Minister of Antiquities was because when Peri had discovered the four ships off the coast of Patagonia five years earlier and had to register the find with the Ministry of Cultural Affairs, Theo had been a mid-level employee with an archeological background. Because of the anticipated dollar, and cultural, value of what Peri had discovered, they'd given Theo a title and his own department to oversee the salvaging of the four ships.