Carly Phillips - Under the Boardwalk

“No frigging way,” he muttered aloud. Hadn’t he taken care of Zoe Costas himself?

He calmed his thoughts and suddenly the other possibility dawned, this one more frightening than the last. If it wasn’t Zoe he was watching beneath Islet Pier, it was her twin, Ari, the college psychology professor who Zoe had sworn was safely in Vermont. Who Zoe had promised wouldn’t return to Ocean Isle and get in the way. Not on a bet. No matter how grief stricken Ari would have been when she heard of her twin’s presumed death, Ari wouldn’t desert her students mid-semester and fly home. She’d grieve in her own world, the sane world she’d escaped to years before. Zoe had promised.

Shit, he thought, shaking his head. Obviously, because of their estrangement, Zoe had no idea what her twin would or wouldn’t do. Because Ari was here.

And Quinn had a problem.

Before he could decide what to do about it, the distinct sound of a male voice yelled above the crashing waves. A split second later, a shot rang out. Acting on instinct, Quinn jumped from the pier and tackled Ari to the ground.

• • •

Ariana hit the sand hard, grunting on impact. Pain shot through her chest. But even with the wind knocked out of her, she was keenly aware of the hard male above her and the too real knowledge that someone had taken a shot.

At her.

Waves beat against the shore and seagulls screeched in the air, but in her ear, she felt hot, heavy breath. Every last nerve ending came alive with a female awareness she hadn’t felt in so long.

Seconds passed in which neither of them moved. Not only was Ariana covered by a heavy male body, but he smelled extremely good. He was a combination of muscle and determination. And he’d either saved her life or fired that gunshot. She wasn’t about to wait around to find out which.

As soon as he rolled away from her, she rose to her feet and took off at a run, zigzagging across the beach. The sand slowed her effort and she hadn’t made it more than halfway to the main road before he grabbed her around the waist. Hauling her into his arms, he pulled her behind a vacant snack shack.

“What the hell kind of run was that?” he asked, breathing too easily considering she was huffing and puffing.

“Serpentine,” she managed to explain, through her wheezing and fear.

Behind her, she thought she heard him laugh. “From The In-Laws?” His amused voice held utter disbelief.

But Ariana wasn’t laughing. She had escaped into old movies to get away from her family’s antics, and she’d obviously learned something. “If you ask me, you ought to be applauding my ability to think on my feet. When someone shoots at you, you don’t give them a straight place to aim. You give them a moving target instead. It makes sense to me.”

He obviously didn’t agree with her thinking, because he burst into a full-blown laugh. She tried to wriggle forward and out of his grasp, but he merely tightened his grip. He yanked her against him, pressing her solidly against his back.

Panic started to take hold, but before she could fight, he spoke. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice strangely reassuring despite their circumstances.

“Then let me go.” While he debated, she used the time to draw deep, even breaths and regain her equilibrium.

He twisted around, pulling her with him to scan their surroundings. “It looks like our gunman’s gone,” he said at last.

She could have told him they were alone. No sound of footsteps, nothing disrupted the heady masculine breathing in her ear and against her neck, making her tingle.

“If I let you go, do you promise not to run?”

“Not that I have to answer to you, but I won’t run.” Because he’d promised not to hurt her and because she wanted to get her first glimpse at the man with the silken voice.

“Good.” He loosened his hold, then grabbed for her hand instead. “Let’s get out of sight.” He turned and, after kicking the shack door open with his foot, tugged her inside.

To her surprise, she wasn’t afraid to be alone with him. He turned on the light in the old building and she finally looked at him straight on. Sandy blond hair, cropped short yet still slightly messy from the wind, framed a deeply chiseled face. Dimples curved either side of his lips, and a day’s razor stubble covered his cheeks.

He looked as good as he sounded. He was temptation in a black leather jacket as Ariana was now all too aware. And he was studying her with the same intensity she’d been giving him.

She should focus. She had more pressing concerns than whether his hazel eyes were more green than brown, or whether his lips were hard… or tender and soft when he kissed…

“You’re not Zoe.”

That broke her fantasies about the man. “What makes you so sure?”

“That’s easy, sweetheart.” He chuckled, his gaze raking her over head to toe. “You’re dressed like a nun.”

She’d always disdained her sister’s flashy, sexy wardrobe, but at the moment, she’d give anything to be dressed more like her. The pantsuit Ariana had considered her armor earlier suddenly felt stifling and uncomfortable.

He shrugged. “Not to mention you’re missing the second hole in your right ear.”

She narrowed her gaze. He’d noticed little details about Zoe others might have missed, and she could have kissed his razor-stubbled cheeks. Ariana had found someone she could question about her sister’s disappearance, and she was nearly giddy with relief.

But when he reached out and toyed with the single pearl in her ear, relief turned to desire. His calloused skin rasped over hers. Her body trembled, and it wasn’t the cool air causing the sensation. “I’m glad to see you’re observant.”

“I’m also persistent,” he said in a cocky voice that seemed to suit him.

A combination of arrogance, certainty, and suave charm, he was the complete opposite of any man she’d been with in the past. He definitely was a marked contrast from Jeffrey Boyd, the man who’d given her a taste of young love, then betrayed her by demanding she choose between him and her unconventional family. Ariana had done the only sensible thing. She’d left them all behind in search of her own life.

Unlike the men she dated in Vermont, this man was a package of pure testosterone and all-male sexuality, which probably explained the liquid rush of desire and the sudden attraction she felt for a perfect stranger. Though she sensed his need to be in control, the distinctive trait seemed to suit him. Whereas Jeffrey, she’d come to realize, had just been a pompous ass.

“If you’re not Zoe, you must be-”

“Ariana.” She licked her dry lips, her breath finally coming in even cadence. Gut instinct told her he wasn’t a killer. He’d also been close to Zoe. Both factors tipped in his favor. “And you are?”

“Quinn.” He extended his hand for a shake, holding on to her fingers for a few seconds too long to be considered polite. His thumb caressed the pulse point in her wrist before he lowered his arm to his side.

She tipped her head, ignoring the cascading sensations he’d inspired. “Quinn what?”

He shrugged. “Donovan.”

“So tell me, how do you know Zoe?”

His gaze locked with hers. “We worked together at Damon’s.”

The casino. Ariana winced at the reminder of her sister’s life as a sometimes showgirl, sometimes dancer, too-often con artist. “Let me guess. You were the bartender where she stripped? Her escort for ballroom dancing classes? Or her partner in bed?”

“Zoe never mentioned you were a smartass.”

The chuckle in his voice cheered her. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, strong and comforting. She swallowed hard, angry at herself for her conflicted emotions when it came to her sister’s choices.

She sniffed and wiped her damp eyes with the back of her sleeve. “I’m surprised she mentioned me at all.”

“Actually she spoke of you often, Ari,” he said gruffly, using her name for the first time.

Only her family called her Ari. This man knew that. But to the rest of the world, she was Professor Ariana Costas, proper and dignified. She’d come home to face her crazy family and she’d needed the conservative facade she’d built around herself to get through it.

But her normal camouflage wasn’t helping. She hadn’t been home five minutes and the insanity had begun again. Only this time she was embroiled in her sister’s life, someone was taking potshots at her, and the sexiest man she’d ever seen was her only link to Zoe. Normalcy was nowhere to be found.

She met his gaze, the one that seemed to see inside her and read her emotions. “Whatever Zoe said about me, it couldn’t have been pleasant.”

He laughed. “Zoe does speak her mind,” he said without directly replying to her statement.

“And she’s cautious about trusting people.” Ariana narrowed her gaze. “Yet she mentioned me to you.” A fact that gave her another reason to get closer to him.

To this intense, sexy man.

Detective Quinn Donovan didn’t break eye contact with Ariana Costas. That jet black hair framed a gorgeous face with glowing olive skin and sea green eyes befitting her Mediterranean roots. At a glance, she was identical to her sister. But her beauty wasn’t what drew him. He’d worked with Zoe and she hadn’t affected him at all sexually-though he acknowledged she was an attractive woman-and certainly not emotionally.

Yet in one meeting, Quinn had been sucker punched by Zoe’s twin. There was much more to Ari Costas than good looks. In those deep green eyes, he saw a depth of character sadly lacking in his world. Even her federal-agent sister, who knew how to turn off her emotions, had softened when she spoke about her twin. Seeing Ari in person, Quinn understood why. Damned if she didn’t get to him, too.

Despite the rift between the sisters, Ari seemed to know Zoe well. Quinn said, “Zoe’s got good reason not to trust people.” No cop or agent did. But, respecting Zoe’s privacy and cover, he didn’t reveal more.

“Especially me.” Ari glanced away, with seeming sadness and regret.

Quinn hadn’t anticipated Ari’s reaction to her sister’s disappearance or his response to it. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and guilt over his role in this charade hit him hard. As a child, he’d trained himself to experience no pain, yet he felt hers now.

“Aw hell.” Reaching out, he massaged her shoulder, having a damned hard time ignoring the scent of her shampoo and the feel of her feminine softness beneath the suit jacket.

She shivered. For the first time, he realized she wasn’t dressed for the weather. Shrugging off his jacket, he covered her shoulders with the heavy leather, all the while reminding himself he couldn’t afford to let down his guard.

He didn’t know who’d taken the shot or where the triggerman had gone to, but he didn’t want Ari making herself an easy target. Which reminded him of her earlier attempt at saving her delectable behind. Serpentine my ass, Quinn thought. Didn’t the woman know the old Alan Arkin and Peter Falk movie had been a comedy, not a lesson in sniper avoidance?

Another difference between Ari and her twin. If not for the outward resemblance to her experienced sister, Quinn would doubt they were even related. But they were.

And now Ari was here, getting herself mistaken for Zoe, and threatening to blow two years of painfully laid groundwork to take down a drug operation whose money was being laundered through Damon’s new casino. Because Quinn had already ingratiated himself with Damon, the local division of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives had agreed to take Quinn and his partner on loan from their police department. One group was working the drug sting, while Quinn was this close to substantiating the money-laundering accusation.

But as long as Ari stayed near Atlantic City, she was in danger and so was the op he’d spent two years setting up. Both Zoe and his superiors were going to be royally pissed at this turn of events, no more than Quinn himself.

He wanted Ari, her soft body, fragrant scent, and the feelings she aroused in him, gone. “Let me take you home.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Because if the sniper comes back, you’ll serpentine?”

She scowled at him. “I hadn’t thought about him returning,” she admitted.

“Is your car around here?” he asked, even though he’d seen her walk to the beach and knew just how close her parents’ house was located.

She shook her head.

He placed a hand on the small of her back and steered her toward his truck. Once they were seated inside, Quinn laid an arm over the back of her headrest and turned her way. “I assume you’ll be going back to Vermont soon?”