Suzie stood in the yacht’s saloon and looked up through the companionway into the cockpit, shading her eyes against the bright sunlight of another beautiful morning.

Her eyes felt grainy because she hadn’t slept well. Most of the night she’d spent berating herself for being too damn proud to take Nate up on his invitation. Hadn’t she wished for a no-strings holiday romance to help her unwind? So why had she turned down a gorgeous man offering exactly that?

Nate was in the cockpit working on the electrics, concentrating so intently that he hadn’t noticed her yet. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt that molded to his body. Unfair. How could he look so good this early when she still felt rough from sleep? She ran her hand self-consciously through her curls, but there was no taming them.

She’d probably been right to turn him down. He was too much like Laura: so smart and successful it made her feel useless in comparison. But did he have to be so tempting? He’d been hard to resist when she thought he was a jerk, but last night, when he’d told her he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her? She’d come within a whisker of letting her pride drop away, along with her clothes.

Nate lifted his head and gave her his crooked smile, which crinkled his eyes and turned his handsome face irresistible. “Morning, beautiful.”

She swallowed, trying again to smooth her hair. “Is there any coffee?”

“Only instant. I would have made you a cup, but I didn’t want to wake you. You look adorable when you sleep.”

“You came into my bedroom while I was asleep?” Please, by all that was holy, let her not have been snoring.

“When you say it like that, it sounds creepy.” He grinned, not looking the least bit shame-faced. “Are you going to make coffee now? Want me to show you how?”

Her back stiffened. “Thanks. I’ve got it.” Did he really think she was so dumb she’d need instructions for coffee?

But when she went into the yacht’s tiny galley, she realized why he’d asked. The kettle was the kind that boiled on the stove, and when she tried to fill it from the faucet, no water came out. Eventually she figured out the foot pump would give her a weak dribble of water. She filled the jug, then pressed the ignition switch to light the stove. Nothing happened. Dammit.

“How do I get the element to work?” she called up to Nate.

“Everything’s off at the switchboard to save the battery,” he called back. “You can switch the stove on to light it, but please turn it off again afterwards. We need to conserve power until I get the engine started.”

“Where’s the switchboard?”

“The door above the radio.”

She’d assumed that was just another cupboard, but when she pulled it open she found a board of electrical switches, all carefully labeled. She switched on the one that read ‘stove’ while she lit the element.

“You want a coffee?” she asked.

“If you make mine an iced mocha.” His head appeared in the cockpit door a moment later so he could flash her his crooked grin.

She rolled her eyes at him and made two strong black coffees. When she took them up to the cockpit, he nodded his thanks.

“There’s a packet of breakfast cereal in the cupboard,” he told her. “But there’s no milk and chewing on it dry doesn’t appeal.”

“Try pouring orange juice onto it. There’s some left over from yesterday’s lunch basket.”

“Juice?” he repeated doubtfully.

She shrugged. “Any progress?” She nodded to the exposed wires on the dashboard.

“I found another fried circuit, but I’m fairly sure I can wire around it.”

“Fairly sure? Did you call for help?”

He grunted in a way that told her she hadn’t. “It’s still early.”

“And we can sail to Port Denarau if you can’t get the engine going?” She glanced up at the mast and frowned. There was barely enough wind to lift one of her curls.

He took a sip of his coffee. “Sailing’s no good. To run my test I need engine power.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “The new flight I’m booked on leaves tonight.” Forget his software, she had to get home. Surely she’d made that clear?

“We have plenty of time. I can fix the engine and get you there.”

“How can you be so sure?” There was a small boat lashed to the deck with a cover over it. She nodded to it. “If we put that dinghy in the water, I could drive it to Denarau.”

“I think on a yacht this size you’d call it a tender, not a dinghy.”

She shot him a narrow-eyed look. “All I care about is whether it would get me where I want to go.”

“It’s outboard motor wouldn’t hold enough gas to get you even halfway there. Besides, what would you do when you arrived? Leave Dalton’s tender tied up to a mooring for anybody to steal?”

Couldn’t he come up with solutions instead of tearing down her suggestions? “Then radio for help.”

“Listen, I’ve got this. I’m on the clock too, remember? And once I have the engine working, I can do my tests and drop you off.” He frowned at the wires. “And if I don’t manage to get it started by this afternoon, I’ll radio the coastguard and ask them to tow us to the mainland. How’s that?”

Not that she didn’t trust him, but she had a better idea. She could phone the resort on her cellphone and ask Dalton to come and get her. Then Nate could spend all the time he wanted getting the engine going and running his test, and she wouldn’t have to worry about missing another flight.

She went into the bedroom and unplugged her phone. Funny, the screen didn’t light up. It didn’t come on even when she kept pressing the power button. Damn.

She found Nate in the galley, pouring cereal into a bowl.

“Want some?” he asked.

“My cell phone’s dead, but it was plugged in overnight.”

“I’ve turned the yacht’s power off, remember?”

“Can you turn it on for long enough that I can charge my phone?”

“Can’t risk it. If the engine goes flat we’re dead in the water.”

Double damn. “Is your phone still going?”

“It’s over there, on the bench.” He pointed with his spoon and she picked it up. Nothing.

“Dead.” She put it down, resisting the urge to scream. “Let’s call the coastguard now. Friday’s wedding is really important to me. I need to get home.”

“Anything we turn on will drain the battery, and that includes the radio. It’s nearly flat and if it dies, I won’t be able to start the engine when I fix it.”

It was obvious all he wanted was to run his stupid tests. She let out a long breath. “You promise you’ll call the coastguard if you can’t get it going?”

His brow creased. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Is that a trick question?”

He put his bowl down so he could clap both hands over his heart. “Ouch. That hurts.” Then he stepped forward to rest his hands on her upper arms. His tone softened. “Listen, we’ve got, what, about fourteen hours before your plane leaves? And we’re only a couple of hours from Denarau. Why don’t you relax and throw a fishing line over the side in the meantime. Catch us a fish and we’ll eat it once we’re on our way.”

Unfair. When he was that close and had his hands on her, she couldn’t think, let alone argue. All she could focus on was the way her muscles loosened when his gaze lingered on her lips. It was a sure-fire way to drain all the fight right out of her.

“Maybe I could try fishing for a while,” she mumbled.

“Thank you.”

Now she’d agreed, she expected him to release her and go back to his cereal. There was no reason at all why he should stay so close to her, with his hands on her arms. No reason for his eyes to soften. And definitely no reason for him to reach up and brush one of her curls away from where it had fallen over her eye.

He was going to kiss her again.

At the thought, everything inside her turned to liquid. And she knew, without doubt, that if he did, she wouldn’t let any more rational objections get in the way. She wanted his hands and his mouth on her. Period.

It wasn’t smart to want him. But she couldn’t live with this ache between her legs and this heat in her veins. Besides, his one-time-only terms suited her too. They could get this inconvenient attraction out of their systems and go back to their regular lives, which, thankfully, were thousands of miles apart. No harm, no foul.

“I’ll show you were the fishing rods are.” He let her go, turned, and went up the steps to the cockpit.

She stared after him, blinking. What had just happened? Had she misread what was happening, or had he changed his mind?

Maybe it was a good thing. One thing for sure, she had to get off this boat before she made a decision she was sure to regret.

“Found them.” His voice floated down from the deck and she squared her shoulders and followed. If he could pretend nothing had happened between them, so could she.

He had a locker open at the stern of the boat, and handed her a fishy-smelling rod.

“I’ve never fished,” she said. “I don’t know how.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you. First we need some bait.”

“Like what?”

“What’s left in the cupboards?”

She went into the galley to check. “A packet of crackers. A bottle of lime cordial. Some noodles. A can of soup. Two cans of tomatoes. A can of spaghetti. Hot sauce. Soy sauce. A can of hot dogs. Some—”

“That’s it. The hot dogs. Cut them into chunks.”

She opened the can, grimacing at the meat inside. She’d never been a fan of hot dogs. Hopefully the fish would like them better than she did.

She sliced them into a bowl and carried it to the deck, her nose wrinkled at the meaty smell.

Nate grinned at her expression. “I’ll show you how to bait a hook.”

She pretended to pay attention while he demonstrated, then took the rod and let him show her how to release the reel and run the line out until it was at the right depth.

“Now what?” she asked, holding the rod awkwardly.

“Now you wait. Hopefully you’ll feel something nibble on your bait. If you do, don’t move. If the fish takes it properly, you’ll know. The line will get heavy.”

A vision of a giant fish dragging her overboard made her clutch the rod tighter. “How heavy?”

He laughed. “I don’t think you’re likely to get anything that big. Relax. Sit down if you like. Fishing’s a waiting game.”

She loosened her grip, and after a few minutes had ticked by, she took his advice and sat on the deck with the rod resting between her legs. The sun felt good on her bare skin, but she wished she’d worn her hat. It was probably only about ten in the morning, but the tropical Fijian sun was already fierce. The breeze was light and the sea was flat, with only a soft lap of water against the hull and the nearby rocks.

Probably a good chance to think about what dish she could offer to tempt the bride to ditch the mini quiches from Friday’s menu. She’d planned to go around the markets when she got home and let the freshest-looking ingredients make up her mind. But she knew what would be in season, so it wouldn’t be so bad figuring it out here.

It had to be perfect. If she could impress the bride, she might be able to convince Marianna to change up their menu. Anything less, and she’d be letting her friend down and blowing her one chance to prove her ideas could work.

Nate had his back to her, tinkering on the wiring. He’d taken off his shirt and the muscles in his bare back kept her transfixed. Every movement bought her attention to a different muscle. First the ridges that ran up his sides. Then the flatter slabs that started in the back of his neck and went to the middle of his shoulders. Then the thick ropes of his triceps that had obviously seen a fair bit of gym time. Her gaze lingered over his biceps. How was she supposed to concentrate on Friday’s wedding when she had those biceps to look at?

Her rod jerked. She’d been so distracted by Nate’s bare torso that it took her a second to register what had happened. Then she scrambled to her feet. “I’ve got a fish!”

Nate came over. “Already? That was quick.”

“Actually, I’m not sure. The rod bent over, but now it’s not doing anything. How can I tell?”

“Let me check.” He took the rod from her and lifted it slowly so some of the wet line came out of the water, showering shimmering droplets. “If you do this and it feels heavier than normal, that means you’ve got a fish,” he explained. “I don’t think there’s anything on there now though. Something might have taken a bite but not gotten hooked.”

She took the rod back and tested it like he had. Then she wound the line in, just in case she’d caught a very small fish that didn’t weigh much. When the hook broke clear of the water, there was no hot dog left on it.

“Something’s been snacking on your bait,” said Nate. “A good sign. Put on another piece and try again.” He looked over at the locker where the rods were stowed, and Suzie could tell he was itching to have a go himself.

She threaded on a piece of hot dog as he’d shown her, and dropped her line back into the water. When she turned back around, Nate was doing the same with another rod.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You need to get the engine going.”

He shrugged. “I’ve almost got it working, so I can take a few minutes to show you how this is done.”

“Nate—”

“I’ll bet I catch a fish before you do.”

She gritted her teeth. The possibility of finally getting to beat him at something was irresistible. He couldn’t be a genius, and good at everything else as well. She’d already had something nibbling at her bait. Surely she’d be able to win the bet?

“As long as it’s only a few minutes. As soon as I pull up a fish, you have to go straight back to work.”

“There should be a prize for winning.” Was it her imagination, or did his gaze flicker down her body?

She flushed, a pulse of hot excitement spreading through her at the thought of making their bet sexual. And if he hadn’t teased her by making her think he was going to kiss her and then walking away, she might even have suggested it.

“If I win, you call the coastguard to come and get me right away,” she said instead. “They can either tow the yacht to the mainland, or just pick me up.”

He raked his hand through his hair, then nodded. If he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. “And if I win I get the whole day to fix the engine and run some tests on my software before dropping you off.” He held up one hand before she could object. “But don’t worry. I’ll get you to the airport in time for your flight, no matter what.”

As long as she caught the flight, it didn’t matter what time she got to the mainland. And this was her chance to prove she could be good at something. This time, she wasn’t going to be second best.

Besides, the fish had to be right next to her bait. It could bite again at any second. She felt a nibble and tensed. Come on, fish, eat up.

“Deal,” she agreed.

Now she had to catch a fish. But the nibbling stopped. Was the fish about to get hooked, or had it already eaten all her bait? If she pulled her line up to find out, she’d scare the fish away. Or worse, it might swim over to Nate’s bait and chomp on that instead.

Dammit, she needed to win this bet.