Page 9 of Hot Pursuit
Nate sighed as the image of her plump, rosy lips filled his mind.
Jo.
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Jo
Jo held her palm over her eyes to block out the sun as she watched the yacht grow larger and larger on the horizon. It was small enough to be manned by one or two people, yet large enough to still look impressive as it slid slickly through the bobbing waves, gleaming white in the sun. The windows were dark blocks of opaque ebony, but Jo didn’t need to see through them to know who was inside. One glance at the words painted across the outside in crisp cursive was all she needed.
My Susanna.
Named for her mother. Only three people were allowed on board, and one of them was standing here.
Unable to stop her curiosity from taking over, Jo slid her gaze from the familiar to the deliciously new. The small fishing boat was far enough away that she could no longer make out anyone on board, but her imagination had always been rather robust, and it didn’t take much for her to imagine Mr. Stiff, shirt buttoned to the collar, light-brown hair ruffled in the breeze, full lips drawn in a determined line as he watched her.
Agent Parker, she mused.What am I going to do with you?
A small grin pulled at her lips as she shook her head.
I wonder if you gave in and tried one of my coopies yet…
Jo sighed and pulled her focus away, letting it drop to the shimmering aqua water lapping up against the dock as her mind jumped to the two people she actually should be concerned with, her father and Thad—the two people who would not be at all amused by the state of the kitchen or the state of her assignment.
It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll get everything done tonight. I’ll say I was worried. My father couldn’t possibly stay mad at me if he thought I was worried. Thad, on the other hand…
Well, Thad would see right through her. He always could. Just one of the many, many reasons they’d never worked out as anything more than best friends.
“Jo!” a deep voice called.
She snapped her gaze up. “Thad!”
He jumped over the edge of the yacht, as graceful as a panther. Before Jo knew what was happening, she was in his arms, wrapped up in a bear hug. Her feet came off the dock as he lifted her into the air and spun her until she was dizzy.
“Okay, okay,” she half griped, half laughed, slapping Thad’s muscular shoulders until he put her down. Jo leaned back, meeting his teasing eyes. His gray irises were usually the color of a storm rolling in over the sea, but every so often, they shone for her, the glinted edge of a steel knife, beautiful and a little bit dangerous. His sinfully dark chocolate hair was matted and tussled, yet somehow on him, it always managed to look just right. Jo grinned. Thad did the same. As always, she couldn’t stop herself from wrinkling her nose and pressing her pointer fingers into his dimples, one perfectly charming spot in each cheek.
“Jo Jo,” he pleaded, the only one to ever get away with calling her that nickname.
She dropped her arms with a satisfied smirk and stepped back. “How was the trip, Thaddy Bear?”
He grimaced, thunderclouds gathering in his gaze.
She’d never quite gotten away with using his nickname…the one she’d crafted at the ripe old age of six, after he’d stolen her favorite stuffed bear to give to his terror of a dog and she’d decided to simply use him as a replacement. Jo had spent the rest of the summer chasing him around, and he’d spent it running away, until the morning neither of them would forget. The morning his mom up and left, seven months pregnant with a sister Thad had never met. He hadn’t truly minded the nickname or Jo’s incessant pestering after that. Not really.
“The trip was successful,” an authoritative yet somehow warm voice interrupted.
Jo spun.
It was her turn for a full-frontal assault as she spread her arms wide and launched into the air before she had time to process. But even though her father was an older man, he was still sturdy and strong, and he caught her easily in his arms, pressing a loving kiss to her brow as she held him tight. After all these years, their homecoming ritual had never changed.
“Hi, Daddy,” she murmured.
“Hi, pumpkin,” he whispered for only her to hear. When she was a toddler, her hair had been a bright-orange mess of curls. Now it was a more muted auburn, but the name stuck for most of her childhood, and even now, on occasions like this, it snuck out of hiding. But Jo loved it because for a brief moment, she was a little girl again, not a care or a worry in the world, safe in her father’s steadfast arms.
She stepped back and looked into his face. Before they’d moved to the isolation of this island, her friends used to tease her by calling him a silver fox. In middle school, the idea had been met with mortification. But now, at her slightly more mature age, she could understand what they meant. His black hair was a salt-and-pepper gray, combed over the crown of his head and set off nicely by the perpetual tan on his freckled skin. Her hair had come from her mother, but her eyes were all Robert Carter. Bright green and filled with mischief, just like the ones staring at her now.
“Any particular reason for the enthusiastic greeting, Jolene?”
Jo grimaced.Damn. “No, not really…”
