Page 12 of The Anchor Holds

My mouth went dry, and my body tightened with arousal. Smiling slowly, sensually, I stepped forward on the dock, knowing that it was a dangerous move in heels. I leaned over so I could put my forearms on the smooth hull—?—of the boat, inches from his face. I smelled the ocean and a musk that was so deep and unique, it could’ve only had to belong to him, the bitterness of his coffee accenting it all perfectly.

“You’d remember every second of my presence, trust me,” I informed him in a sultry voice. “This is for services rendered, which I don’t charge for, and if I did, you most certainly wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

The insult slid off my tongue like honey, and I waited for him to realize that I’d said it, changing his smile to a sneer.

But it didn’t happen. That casual, playful smile tinged with masculine arousal, remained on his face.

“You have teeth. I like it.” He leaned forward, unafraid of the intimate distance between us.

Seeing that I didn’t bring out the worst in him, the way he smelled, the way he hinted like he could handle me… It had me on unsteady footing.

But I was used to that. I recovered quickly.

“And claws.” I tapped the side of the boat with my nails. “But I need my money. Or more accurately, my brother and Kip need your money. I’ve given you an additional thirty days on your invoice. Consider that the last courtesy you’ll be getting from me.”

I pressed the envelope to his chest, not missing the brush of our fingers as he reached up to clasp it.

His eyes slowly traversed my body, fire shooting through my blood at his visible swallow.

I also didn’t miss the slight furrow of his brow at the mention of the money. It almost made me feel bad. Almost. The furrow didn’t last for long before it gave way to a wrinkle of determination. “I’m going to make it my business to ensure that this won’t be the last I see of you.”

I pursed my lips against that promise, the strong tug in my chest telling me that something was beginning there. It couldn’t. It wouldn’t. This man had disaster written all over him. Or, more correctly, this man had peace written all over him. At least he did until Calliope Derrick fucked it all up.

“You’re a fisherman, right?” I asked him.

An easy grin curved his lips. “Process of deduction works well with you, I see.”

I appreciated the dry joke but didn’t make that obvious, my scowl remaining no matter how much the man made me want to smile.

“Well, understand the metaphor that I’m far too big of a catch for you or your boat to handle.” I eyed him in a way that pretended I found him lacking before turning on my heel and walking away.

I thought I’d gotten the last word, given I was well practiced at dressing men down.

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at just what me and this boat can handle,” he called to my back.

I didn’t miss the innuendo.

Not exactly eloquent or original, yet my step stuttered on the dock, nonetheless.

I wouldn’t be seeing him again. Most certainly fucking not.

Not even if my life depended on it.

At that time, there were enough things my life depended on; I didn’t need to add an attractive, smiling, cinnamon bun fisherman to the mix.

ELLIOT

“Well,thatwas Calliope Derrick.”

I heard the thump of my father’s well-worn boots as I watched the most striking woman I’d ever seen get into what was likely a $100K Porsche.

It roared to life, then she sped from the lot, not even slowing down at the stop sign at the exit to the dock before hurtling down the main road. It didn’t surprise me … the fancy car, the disregard for laws. It landed with what little I’d learned of Calliope Derrick with her sharp tongue, a gaze that could tear a man to shreds, and a mouth that invited destruction. Not even to mention the body encased in expensive fabric, likely costing more than everything in my entire closet. Heels—wildly impractical and what I thought were an insane thing for a woman to torture herself with… Calliope strode in them like slippers. A goddess in black who could cut through me like butter with nothing but a look.

Trouble.

Calliope Derrick was trouble, her debt collecting role notwithstanding.

Someone I should stay far away from. I knew better than anyone the damage the wrong woman could wrought.

---