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Tessa and Hunter, an unlikely duo, infiltrate a high-stakes adventure race of millionaire couples, each with their own agenda to win. Set in the sultry Caribbean, the days are fraught with danger while the nights steam with sexual tension and it is clear someone doesn't want them to complete the race. At any price
Excerpt:
Tessa and Hunter bolted after the intruder. Their race ended on the balcony where a rope tied to the railing dangled emptily into space. It took Hunter a few minutes to unfasten the fancy knot before he tossed the rope as far as he could, to be swallowed up in the roiling blackness of the night sea. Far below, gilded by moonlight, whitecaps churned and crashed onto the rocks, the sea’s disquiet contagious.
Inside, she moved around switching on lights, banishing the shadows and scent of menace from the far corners of the walls.
"You think it was a professional?"
"There are a lot easier targets. Does the President normally travel with bodyguards?"
"He doesn’t believe in them." Tessa wandered through the room, hating to think that someone had been touching her things. In the doorway to the bathroom, she froze. "Hunter, come here."
He filled the space behind her. "Maybe it was about the race after all."
Written in soap on the glass door of the shower were the words, "Go Home."
Restless, she slipped around Hunter and back to the balcony. The air was balmy and warm, faintly moist from the sea and her senses sang as her skin greedily drank in the energy of her birthplace.
Memories flooded through her, good and bad. Some she didn’t want. Some she regretted. She turned, sensing Hunter behind her.
"It’s almost like someone cares about me. And is trying to chase me home before it’s too late."
"Too late for what?"
"For any of it." Restlessness crept through her, demanding she find a way to forget.
She studied Hunter in the moonlight, drinking in the raw masculinity of his features. He didn’t nod, didn’t move, didn’t say a word as she reached for his tie, tugged it loose, then removed it altogether. She slipped his dinner jacket from his shoulders and let it slide to the ground. Slowly she unbuttoned the front of his shirt, unfastened his cuff links and dropped them at her feet.
She tugged the shirttails from the waistband of his pants and ran the backs of her hands across the roughness of hair where it surged down toward his sex.
He linked his fingers through hers, raised above their heads as he backed her to the railing, where cool glass hit the small of her back. The pungent salt air was a fitting background for Hunter’s raw male scent. Her senses thrilled to the intoxicating manwoman connection.
"Have you always used sex to forget?"
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