Читать книгу Wild And Willing - Joanne Rock - Страница 7

SETH CHANDLER flipped up his eye patch and leaned against the ship mast of the Jose Gaspar to study the throng of milling pirates aboard the main deck. He could think of a thousand places he would rather yo-ho-ho with a bottle of rum today.

His empty office full of paperwork topped the list.

There had to be seventy-five guys and a couple of women in swashbuckling gear sailing into Tampa Bay with him, yet Seth hadn’t been able to pawn off today’s mission on any of them. Not with his company’s name on the line as corporate sponsor of this event.

Damn that lead buccaneer for quitting only two hours before Tampa’s annual Gasparilla festival. Now Seth had no choice but to step in and assume the eye patch himself. He’d spent too many years building his company’s reputation to have it compromised by any screwups with this very public assignment.

Someone had to abduct a wench.

Actually, several festivalgoers would be carried off by the marauding raiders, but the lead pirate at the front of the boat would no doubt be captured on film for the six o’clock news. When the actor hired to play the role had quit, Seth hadn’t wanted to hand over the part to just anyone. What if his last-minute fill-in copped a feel in full view of the media? Or what if the stand-in dropped the person he was supposed to be carrying?

Lawsuit alert!

Without résumés and references in front of him, Seth wouldn’t risk it. He’d strapped on a dagger, stripped out of his shirt, kicked off his Italian loafers and vaulted barefoot aboard the Jose Gaspar at the last minute.

Now, as the ship sailed at the head of a flotilla around Harbour Island toward thousands of waiting festival attendees on shore, Seth wished he hadn’t been born so damn responsible. He didn’t want to spend his Saturday leering at giggling maidens as part of the festival’s entertainment.

Seth scanned the crowds lining the docking area in front of the convention center, searching for appropriate candidates for mock abduction. He dismissed the hordes of tourists braving the mild February weather in string bikinis. The last thing he needed was some racy media photo of himself with a beach babe thrown over his shoulder. He was definitely going for a local—a woman with enough clothes on to ensure he wouldn’t look like a sleaze-ball for touching too much bare skin.

Bad enough he was half-naked. He didn’t need the added trouble—or temptation—of a scantily clad woman in his arms.

All he had to do was find a safe woman, maybe a grandmotherly type, who would enjoy the adventure and generate great P.R. for Chandler Enterprises. He’d carry her off to the boat his brother had waiting for him, then treat her to dinner for her trouble. He could bring her back to the city later tonight.

Simple.

Piece of cake, in fact, for a man who managed international mergers, could read financial newspapers in a dozen languages and had compiled enough venture capital to support himself and a small army for the rest of their lives.

He slapped his eye patch back down over his brow and clamped his teeth around a blunt dagger as the ship moved into position in front of the partiers on shore.

How much trouble could abducting a wench possibly be?

MIA QUENTIN elbowed her way to the front of the string bikini crowd, hoping to catch a peek at the incoming ship full of pirates, her last chance for adventure. Determined to put herself in the path of the first marauding invader she spied, Mia simmered with restless energy and uncharacteristic daring.

Damned if she didn’t feel downright dangerous.

She tucked a red hibiscus behind her ear and draped long brown hair over her shoulder. She just hoped one of those pirates appreciated a more artistic approach to fashion than a bikini made of dental floss. Mia happened to think her long floral sarong and black silk halter-top were much more evocative than the blatant message sent by miles of naked legs.

Then again, her knowledge of seduction was about as limited as the other women’s scanty outfits. She’d been avoiding adventure—and men—for the past three years. Somehow she’d ended up practically celibate in an effort to assure her grandparents she wasn’t following in the footsteps of her reckless mother—a woman who’d missed most of Mia’s childhood in favor of chasing any surfer skimming past her beach lounger.

But Mia wasn’t in her Twin Palms hometown now. She’d carved out a whole week to play in Tampa before she had to get down to business—wheedling a few months’ extension from the bank on a mortgage note for the family tourist shop.

For now, Mia had promised herself she would stop living for her family and start living more for herself.

She’d realized in recent months that she’d slowly retreated from the world because she didn’t ever want to upset the grandparents she adored. This notion slammed home with a vengeance last week when a vendor had brought some sample wares to the tourist shop. As Mia inverted a cheesy, water-filled pen that made a cartoon guy’s pants fall down, it occurred to her that that was as close as she’d come to a titillating experience in too many years.

So this week, she planned to prove to herself she still knew how to have fun, to be adventurous. Once she secured the mortgage extension on the tourist shop, she’d be working double time to make sure the business could really pay it off. So if ever there’d been a time to have fun, the time was now, before she disappeared into a world of work and family obligations again.

And if an opportunity arose this week to see a real man naked, she certainly wouldn’t be averse to peeking.

Mia lifted a small pair of opera glasses to her eyes in order to better drool over the wealth of muscle-bound men aboard the incoming ship. But before she could focus on the testosterone-laden Jose Gaspar, a scratchy voice beside her interrupted.

“You don’t stand a chance in that getup, honey.” The speaker was a woman at least seventy years old with white hair cut short in a sleek, sophisticated style. She wore a long green beach robe belted at her waist, which she slowly unfastened. “You’ve got to show a little leg.”

On cue, the older woman’s terry cloth cover-up fell open, revealing legs that would give Mia’s a run for the money. Mia hoped she looked that good in fifty years. On the other hand, she hoped she could hold her own against grandma today.

Because Mia had her heart set on a sexy abduction scenario with a pirate.

“You’re sure to turn a few heads,” Mia admitted. “But I don’t think my outfit lends itself to—”

The older woman squinted down at Mia’s wrap skirt. “Let me see.” She bent closer, ignoring any polite sense of personal boundaries to adjust the knot at Mia’s waist. “All you need to do is twist this here and turn this—” She tugged and pulled until, “Voila!”

Mia stared down at the new slit in her sarong and the long expanse of tanned leg it showcased.

The older woman winked, her open robe twirling loosely around her legs as she moved. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it, honey.”

Mia wasn’t convinced what she had was entirely flauntable, but she had to admit, the woman’s fashion sense had flair. The sarong had a sexy edge with the newly arranged slit. Now the warm February breeze tickled her skin as it blew the gauzy fabric around her thighs.

And it was still more mysterious than a dental floss swimsuit.

“Thanks.” Mia smiled up at the woman, but the granny fairy godmother was already edging her way closer to the docking area where the boat would anchor.

Not to be outdone, Mia hustled into the slight opening in the crowd in the woman’s wake. It was every maiden for herself when it came to nabbing a pirate.

She needed this adventure today. She’d been suppressing her own dreams the past few years while she peddled seashell necklaces and driftwood picture frames. This might be her last chance for a little excitement before she returned to the watchful eyes of her small-town beachside home.

She’d spent her life always doing the right thing, but not today. In order to get what she wanted, Mia was prepared to be bold and brazen.

And she wasn’t going to let any kindly grandmothers or overzealous beach bunnies stand in her way.

“SEE ANYTHING you like, matey?”

The pirate standing next to Seth gestured to the massive mob of women on the shore, his question thick with a swashbuckling accent. Patrick O’Keefe led the Gasparilla Krewe on the boat. A retired Tampa business professional, Pat could afford to put all his time into the festival.

Seth tried to work up the enthusiasm for a hearty “Aye” in return, but only managed a rather flat, “Yeah. I’ve already got the right woman picked out.”

Pat slapped him on the back and off he went to quiz the handful of other people who were on abduction missions today.

A cry went up from the festivalgoers as the boat bumped into the docking area in front of Tampa’s convention center. Television cameras moved in closer to film the new arrivals, shuffling the crowd as they dragged their equipment around for a better view.

Seth kept his eye trained on his wench of choice—a woman old enough to be his grandmother in an old-fashioned green swimsuit and matching long beach robe.

It was simple enough to keep track of the white-haired lady. Not only did her bright green robe set her apart from the hordes of half-dressed sunseekers, but she was being relentlessly pursued by a lithe brunette dressed in a silky skirt with an oversize red flower tucked behind her ear.

A gorgeous, lithe brunette.

With great legs.

Seth squinted against the glare of a too-bright sun to get a better look. Not that he had any intention of carrying off an exotic, showy woman who could have just stepped out of a local theater production of Carmen. She was too conspicuous, too racy, too sexy.

But damn, she was hot.

Long brown hair fell to the middle of her back—a bare back that he could half see from his raised position on the boat. Her features suggested Italian-American heritage. Maybe Hispanic-American. Something Latin looking.

Her skirt was sort of filmy and Seth guessed he’d be able to see through it if she stood in front of a bright light. Every now and then as she darted through the mob of festivalgoers, Seth caught a view of lean, tanned thigh between the folds of gauzy material.

“Land ho, me boy,” Patrick O’Keefe shouted, gesturing toward the docking area. “I need you to lead the charge off the boat.”

Show time. Seth searched for some enthusiasm for his task, half considering revamping the abduction strategy so he could make off with Carmen instead of her grandmother. He definitely wouldn’t mind an up close and personal perusal of those legs of hers.

And it had been at least…four months?…since his most recent relationship flopped. Margo had marched out the door citing the usual laundry list of his shortcomings—obsessive commitment to his work, single-minded pursuit of success, inability to form a true partnership, etc. No wonder a set of great legs distracted him today.

He closed his eyes in an effort to scavenge some last-minute focus. The only thing that mattered right now was that the Gasparilla event ran smoothly so it would reflect well on its sponsor, Gulf Coast Bank, one of many branches of Chandler Enterprises. Seth would wait until later to worry about the fact that he’d been without female companionship for too long.

Right now, he was grabbing grandma for good P.R. value and making a clean getaway in his waiting boat.

Patrick threw a rope to the men on shore so the Jose Gaspar could be tied off. “Don’t forget to return yer lady of choice to the reviewing stand by 11:00 p.m. tonight,” he reminded Seth. “The local networks are giving us a slot on the late news, and we want all the pirate captives available to talk about their day.”

Eleven? That was still six hours away, even with the festival getting off to a late start this year due to a thunderstorm.

“Don’t worry,” Seth shot back, trying—and failing—to keep his eyes from straying to Carmen. “I’ll have her here in plenty of time.”

Patrick frowned. “The point is to show the lady a good time.” The old man waggled bushy eyebrows. “If you bring her back too early, we’ll think you didn’t do your pirately duty by her.”

Seth nodded, unconcerned. He had a vested interest in making sure his captive waxed enthusiastic about her day for the cameras. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

A buzz of excitement passed through the festival attendees as the final knots were tied to secure the Jose Gaspar. Seth shifted his position onboard to put him closest to his maiden of choice. And the siren alongside her.

He didn’t wait for the lowering of the gangplank. Pirates seldom did, right?

Fully committed to the role he’d taken on, Seth vaulted off the low boat and into the waiting crowd a few feet below. The excited buzz swelled into a roar of approval from the bustling throng. Other pirates swung out over the crowd, the invasion well underway.

He landed farther from his target than he’d intended, but that didn’t stop him from going after the woman he wanted. A Nordic-looking blonde planted herself in his path, and shot him a sleepy-lidded invitation steamy enough to sizzle the shorts off a man.

She was impressive, but she didn’t come close to Carmen. Seth set her aside with a wink and a nod, determined to run away with the green-robed granny and a big headline in tomorrow’s papers.

Too bad he sorely underestimated Carmen’s appeal. No sooner had he turned away the blonde than she was there. The brunette who had been shadowing granny—the one who’d caught his eye before his sea legs even hit dry land.

The crowd surged behind him, pushing him toward her even though his whole body had stopped dead a foot away from her. All at once, she was plastered against him, a slender but curvy-in-all-the-right-places body molded to his for one sensory overloading second before she stepped back an inch.

Heat simmered through his veins, nerve endings he hadn’t been aware of leapt to life, greedy for another round with the devastatingly feminine physique of the woman standing in front of him.

Who was not the woman he was supposed to grab, some annoyingly logical part of his brain insisted on reminding him.

Damn.

His mouth was so dry he didn’t stand a chance of eking out a “pardon me.” Not when her green cat eyes probed over him with slow thoroughness. Bad enough she licked her lips as her gaze wandered over his bare chest. But then she took her perusal a bit lower, and her full, pink lips curved into a smile.

God was not playing fair today. This was surely more temptation than one well-meaning man could possibly endure, wasn’t it?

Seth could carry her off on his boat for a few hours and lose all his cares in the warmth of her blatant invitation. He reached for her, effectively shutting off the practical side of his brain for two seconds.

Until the rolling base of a television camera ran over his foot at the same time a microphone appeared in between them.

Shit.

Cold reason returned, barely nudging out the heat pulsing through him. But he was on a mission, damn it, and he’d always prided himself on putting his company first. Every member of his family had money tied up in Chandler Enterprises and Gulf Coast Bank because they trusted Seth to think with his brain and not his…well, they trusted him.

Swallowing his regrets, Seth spun on his heel and reached for the green terry cloth beside Carmen. He would abduct granny because he was here on business. His wayward attraction to the bold brunette would only get him into trouble today.

Seth braced his feet to hoist the white-haired older woman into his arms, but instead of reeling in green terry cloth, Seth found himself with a red hibiscus tickling his nose.

Carmen had somehow twirled her way into his arms and glued herself to his chest.

Cold reason made a feeble attempt at resistance. His logical brain assured him this was not going according to his well-laid plans.

But before he could do anything about it the television cameras zoomed in on Carmen.

Right about the moment she started screaming.