Go Away, Darling - Alexis Anne Page 0,1

the wave, hoping my foul mood would be obvious and the guy would move along.

Apparently I needed to be more obvious because instead of turning around and leaving, the boater pulled up alongside and cut the motor. “Hello!”

The voice was surprisingly high pitched but I didn’t pay much attention. Instead I reeled in my line and jammed it into the holder. Then I grabbed my beer and marched to the opposite side of my boat. And by marching, what I really meant was that I took two angry steps.

“What?” I barked. At this point any moron would be able to pick up my social cues. I expected a quick apology and then to be left alone.

But instead I found myself gaping.

Yes, gaping.

Because he was a she.

A gorgeous she.

Her dark hair was tucked up under a blue Mantas ball cap. Her skin was golden brown. Her lips full and luscious. Her eyes were hidden behind a mirrored pair of Costas. Over her body was an open Columbia fishing shirt, revealing a hot pink bikini and a slender but unmistakably female body.

Damn. Just...damn. I hadn’t been struck dumb by a woman in...ever? Had I ever been rendered speechless on sight alone? I didn’t think I had. Sure I got a little tongue-tied in college a few times, and every so often a woman would catch my eye in such a way that I found it difficult to look away, but never this. This woman standing in front of me with a lopsided grin looking as if she belonged on a fishing boat, had just short circuited my entire body, brain to toes.

Speak you fucking idiot. “Ummm . . . can I help you?”

She smiled. “I didn’t mean to bother you but I saw Marine Patrol working their way through the area.” She spoke with her hand moving through the air. Her voice had a lilt to it. This seemed natural and right.

Here she was, kindly giving me a heads up and I was being a grumpy, rude ass. An ass who now had a racing heart and an inability to speak. “All my catches are legal.” I always double-checked their size before deciding whether or not to keep them for dinner. “But thanks.”

She tilted her head like she thought I was adorably clueless. “That’s good to hear. But you might want to finish that beer.”

I stared at the can in my hand. “Shit.” But instead of chugging the last half, I dumped it over the side, stashed it with the other empties, and grabbed a big, cold bottle of water instead. “Thanks. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Happens.”

“I don’t drink and drive,” I blurted out for some reason. My skin was tingling and I felt like I needed her to know that I might be irresponsible and very buzzed but I wouldn’t power up the boat and move until I was sober again.

“That’s good to know.” She tilted her head to the opposite side and I got the distinct impression she was studying me. “You’re new around here?”

I nodded as a weird tingling sensation crept over me. The way she spoke...the shape of her face...I knew this woman. “Yeah, about a month ago, but I haven’t really had much time at home yet.” How did I know her?

“Your boat looks very new, too.”

“It is. Part of the reason I moved here was the fishing.”

She laughed, sat on top of the puffy white seat and leaned on her knees. “Usually I hear it’s for the beaches or the shells, although I personally prefer the fishing.”

“Well, those are nice too.”

“They are.” Then she smiled. A giant megawatt smile that floored me. Sent my heart slamming into my gut, made me forget how to swallow or breathe.

I know her.

My entire body went on red alert, all my senses firing, my brain searching for the answer. “Have we met before?” Why couldn’t I place her? Was it a simple run-in on the island? Maybe at the grocery store? No. I’d remember that. This physical reaction wasn’t the kind of thing I’d ever forget.

Like ever.

Which was why I knew we’d met somewhere...

She shook her head slowly. “Maybe? What is it you do...I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

And that’s when it hit me. The way she shook her head, the lilt of her words (despite my inebriated state) triggered a very old memory. It slammed into me like a ton of bricks dropped from a crane above my head. Like hitting a catcher blocking home plate when you’re screaming toward