Slippery When Wet

Taylor simply smiled at him. Even the torrential downpour didn’t distract him. She’d gone only about three steps toward the beach bungalow when Dev’s arm looped around her, turning her to face him. Then he was kissing her mindless while the warm rains drenched them. Lightning crackled nearby, and they ran inside for cover.

Impatience gouged at her, impatience to feel him hard and hot in her hand. Impatience to have him hard and hot inside her.

He hooked his fingers in the sides of her bikini bottom and pulled it down slowly over her thighs.

Her muscles went weak and she sagged backward into the macramé hammock chair hanging from the ceiling. His eyes looked black, the pupils dilated with desire. He got down on his knees in front of her as she slid to the edge of the chair and hooked her feet over his shoulders. Before she could say anything, he leaned in and put his mouth against her where she was slick and hot.

“You certainly are…” was all she could manage as a response. She let out a soft cry as he went to work with his talented tongue—teasing her, tormenting her in the way that after mere days he’d learned she liked best.

Dear Reader,

All the books in the UNDER THE COVERS trilogy were great fun to write, but Slippery When Wet was undoubtedly the best. You see, I put together the opening chapters while sitting on a beach in Cozumel, soaking up sun and listening to the waves (don’t ask if I dropped top—I’ll never tell). My husband and I took our honeymoon in Mexico, and it’s been a special place for me ever since. I loved the idea of a holiday fling, of lovers exploring the tropics…and each other. As for the things you can get away with doing at a beach resort, well, let’s just say the book let me unleash my creativity.

It’s a summertime book designed to be read on the beach. Still, we can’t always be on vacation. If you wind up reading it at home, I hope you still get the scent of cocoa butter and the feel of sand between your toes. Close your eyes and let me take you where the tropical breezes blow. Drop me a line at [email protected] and tell me what you think. Or visit my Web site at www.kristinhardy.com for contests, e-mail threads between characters in my books, recipes and updates on my recent and upcoming releases.

Have fun,

Kristin Hardy

To Holly, who knows why, and to Stephen, for being my rock.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

ELIOT HAD GOTTEN IT WRONG. April wasn’t the cruelest month, thought Taylor DeWitt as the needle sharp bits of ice whirled down in her face, February was. Late February, more precisely, the month of bone-chilling sleet, the month when winter seemed endless, the month of her worst ordeals.

On the other hand, February had been the month she’d gained her freedom, the month she’d found her strength, the month she’d launched her business three years before. An uncommonly successful launch, she thought, shivering at the edge of the crosswalk in the biting wind that blew in off Baltimore’s Inner Harbor and plastered her chin-length blond hair down to her head. The city’s picturesque Chesapeake Bay location lost some of its charm in winter. Farther inland, powdery snow might blanket the rolling Maryland countryside, but here in Baltimore the winters were just icy, clammy and bleak, making people eager to go somewhere warm.

Small wonder then that February was the busiest time in the local travel industry, especially for an agency that specialized in tropical getaways the way hers did. Or had up to now, she thought balefully. She scowled at the scaffolding and construction barriers surrounding the skyscraper that housed her office. Being downtown kept her close to her corporate clients while bringing her walk-in business from the shopping and conference area. The location had been pure gold for her, but for months now, the loss of business due to construction had her company teetering on financial worry. Meanwhile, Alan Champlin of Champlin Travel kept hanging around to tempt her with flattery and a juicy buyout offer.

Another blast of icy wind whisked up under her coat as she crossed with the light and she gave a heartfelt curse. Thank God she was headed south soon. If construction was going to have her offices closed anyway, it only made sense. Her agents could still work at home. Taylor had warmer plans: two weeks of reviewing properties in the Caribbean, and then a few precious days for herself in Mexico.

She worked her way around the pedestrian detour that led to her office. The agency had only just begun making a comfortable profit the year before. She had a bit of a cushion from that and from the modest trust fund she’d used to launch the venture, but no firm could sustain such a revenue hit month after month. Four weeks, she reminded herself. In four weeks it would be done.