Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“I’m all good. Just a jellyfish sting, most likely. It’s—”
A jab of pain has me clenching my teeth, but it’s fleeting. Already, the throbbing is starting to ebb.
“Key West is filled with moon jellyfish; that’s probably what you encountered. Let me see.”
He’s bending down already, crouching low enough so that he’s eye level with my butt. Just great. “Your left calf?” he asks, gently touching my leg just below my knee so he can turn it slightly and get a good look at the developing rash.
His fingers on me are barely there, whisper soft, and still my heart is thundering.
I clear my throat before giving him a nod, which he doesn’t see.
“Yes?” he asks, baring his impatience. I take back my earlier musings about his cruelty.
“Yes,” I say with a little bite in my tone.
He runs his thumb along the perimeter of the rash. It doesn’t hurt one bit. I can’t even feel the jellyfish sting anymore. Not now that he’s doing that. “I’ll drive you back to the ship so our medic can take a look at you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
His dark eyes look up, displeased with me and my arguments. “I’m not absolutely certain it was a moon jellyfish. Did you happen to see anything in the water?”
“No.”
I leave out the part about me not seeing anything because I was already leaping and jumping around like an idiot.
“So then we’ll proceed with caution. I’d rather not take any chances.”
He turns his attention to my calf again, and then he slowly draws his gaze upward, behind my knee and inner thigh . . . higher. I know he’s checking for any other stings, but it feels intensely hot. So hot, in fact, that I can’t help but mentally throw water on the fire kindling low in my belly.
“Now don’t be silly and miss out on a perfectly good opportunity to get me off your ship for good. You’d love any excuse to send me packing. No need to go to the trouble of fixing me up first.”
There’s an answering spark in his gaze when he looks up at my face, and then he holds my attention captive as he slowly rises to his feet. Once he’s back to his full, intimidating height, he leans in, though barely enough to make it noticeable.
“I would relish the opportunity to send you off, of course. Still, I don’t like the idea of you getting in harm’s way. Have I given the impression that I would?”
His brow furrows as if he’s genuinely concerned that I have the wrong idea of him. Oh, just great. Wonderful. Just when I’ve concluded that he’s bombastically entitled and rude, he has to go and show his kind side. Where am I supposed to file that away? I refuse to start a Reasons-Phillip-Isn’t-So-Bad list. Not that it matters. I’ve already subconsciously begun to compile reasons in my mind. Foremost on that list would be his good looks. Don’t tell him I said that, though.
“No,” I say with blushing cheeks. I feel childish for insinuating otherwise.
“I want to be cautious, but there’s only the minor sting on your calf.”
My chin lifts infinitesimally. “It didn’t feel minor while it was happening.”
“Only two, maybe three inches . . .”
“More like five at least.”
He smiles, and our eyes lock. There’s a fleeting moment of lightness—the promise of more teasing banter—before I regain my good sense and look away.
“Can you walk over to that golf cart on your own?” he asks, pointing over to where we parked earlier.
“Of course.” I bend down to undo the Velcro strap around my ankle; then I stand. “Where can I put my surfboard?”
“I’ll have someone collect it. Don’t worry about it.”
He drops his hand to my lower back, presumably to direct me toward the row of waiting golf carts. Warm, large, possessive—that’s how his hand feels before I step out of his grasp. I doubt he realized what he was doing, touching me in that way. It might not have been an issue if I were in normal clothes, but I’m still wearing my bikini, and it was too much to have his hand on my bare skin so close to the top of my bikini bottoms. Having him touch my leg was bad enough . . .
“Casey!” Sienna cuts in front of us, reaching out for my hand to squeeze it. “Are you okay? What happened?”
I tilt my leg out so she can see the rash on my calf, and she sucks in a sharp breath as if she’s never seen anything worse.
“Just a tiny sting. It’s really not that bad.” I look up at Phillip as if wanting his opinion; then upon realizing that, I frown and turn back to Sienna.
“I’m so sorry.” She grimaces and lets go of my hand. “I bet it’s painful.”
“It’s fine, promise. I’m just going to head back to the ship to get it looked at.”