Nicole tipped the golf-cart driver and thanked him as she stepped off. She hooked her bag over her shoulder and squinted to read the signs on the dock despite her sunglasses. The sky was a brilliant blue without a cloud to be seen, and the Mexican sun was brutal. She followed the arrow to the tour boat for the reef dive, and breathed in relief when she saw only adults. She’d opted for the two-tank dive because the age limit was fifteen and older with only adult certification accepted — and she’d only picked the longer dive so she wouldn’t have to deal with kids. There’s nothing worse than being trapped on a boat on the ocean with bratty kids whose parents don’t make them behave.

With a sigh, she acknowledged there are lots of worse things, but she was here to escape the memory of them so she looked around for something else to think about, and grinned when she saw the man she’d met when she checked in.

He looked downright predatory as he walked down the pier, and didn’t slow to step from pier to boat.

“Hello, Nicole. It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

Goodness, but his voice made her want to reach for her clit. And his deep, dark green eyes — something almost unhuman about them made her feel like prey. However, his expression seemed pleasant without a hint he knew anything more about her. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that he apparently hadn’t looked her up. She’d given him the pen name she used for her cozy mysteries, but there was no reason for him to have googled her after a casual conversation while waiting in line.

“Bud, likewise. I was about to find a seat. Would you like to sit with me?”

“I’ve done this dive a few times and the best spot is toward the middle. You never know which direction you’ll have unusual sightings, and the middle gives you the best chance of seeing both fore and aft.”

Nicole was forty-three but often dated younger men. Bud looked ten years her junior, but with the kind of money it took to stay here, guests had the resources necessary to look young and fit. Heck, she could easily see Bud on the cover of one of her racy romance novels. Or even better, one of her werewolf books. Damn, if his hair were a little longer he’d so work for one of her sexy shapeshifters. She couldn’t wait for him to lose his shirt before the dive.

Ten minutes into their conversation, Nicole needed to know if he was available before she made a fool of herself. “I don’t like to take things for granted, but you’re here alone and there isn’t a ring on your finger. Is it safe to assume you’re single?”

She’d still be friendly with him for the dive, but if he were attached then she needed her libido to calm the fuck down.

“No attachments, no girlfriend, no wife. I assume you’re single, since you asked?”

“Yes.”

Bud smiled, but then seemed to remember something and frowned as he looked away. When he looked back, the smile had returned but seemed distant. “This dive is for the more adventurous thrill seeker. I wouldn’t have pegged you for it when I first met you.”

* * *

Bud wasn’t sure what to think of Nicole as the two walked back to the resort together. He knew she’d ridden a golf cart to the pier that morning, and had expected to lose her when she hired one to take her back but she didn’t so much as glance towards them.

Shadow had sent a short text to let him know she was an author and he saw no evidence to point towards her working in law enforcement, but Bud had been careful to stay away from anything personal. Nicole had done the same though, which had him even more on edge.

On the one hand, society women usually did nothing for him. Their views on life were so radically different than his, he often wanted to pop them in the mouth every time they opened it — but Nicole was different. She dressed the part of a rich bitch, but she’d travelled the world and seen true third-world conditions. The woman had depth, personality, and smarts.

Long ago, Bud had found his soul mate and thought he’d found his happily ever after — until a stupid drunk driver had taken her from him. No one had appealed to him since. No woman could ever replace Wendy. Bud had his MC family and his daughter. He had a full life and it was enough, most days.

“I can’t believe all the things you pointed out in the reef — right in front of my face but I didn’t see it until you showed me. Are you one of those people who can see things in nature because you’re color blind?”

“No. I’m just good at spotting living beings inside their natural camouflage.”

She chuckled and Bud asked, “That’s funny?”

She stopped and looked at him, as if debating, and he stood and let her decide. Finally, she shook her head as she said, “I tap danced around the question when you asked what I do for a living. I’m an author, and one of the series I write is about shapeshifters. One of my werewolves impresses a date by picking out dozens of salamanders in the mud around a waterfall. Same thing — she doesn’t see them until he points them out one by one.”

The werewolf thing was probably information Shadow should’ve given him. Bud covered his surprise by asking, “You believe in werewolves?”

“Goodness no, but it’s fun to write about them. What woman doesn’t want a beast in bed?”

Well now, perhaps Miss Nicole might be more fun than he’d assumed. “You want a beast in bed?”

“My readers do.” She turned and walked up the path with a little flip of her hair and an extra bounce to her step, and Bud grinned as he watched her ass. This woman would never be anyone’s ol’lady, but he was down here to get away and she might prove a fun diversion.

Assuming she wasn’t ATF or DEA, but he didn’t think she was. The author-of-werewolves angle had him a little concerned, but he’d just need to be sure he didn’t do anything else to remind her of the wolves she wrote about.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember your last name. I’ll probably need it to look your books up.”

“My last name is Blackthorn, but I write the werewolf series under a pen name. I write cozy mysteries as Nicole Blackthorn, and for legal reasons I can’t let anyone know I write both series.”

“Legal reasons?”

“Competing publishers. I’m not allowed to cross market myself.” She shrugged. “Also, my cozy mysteries are for middle school aged kids all the way to senior citizens, and my paranormal romance books are super-spicy and only for adults.”

“Is Nicole Blackthorn your real name?”

“One of them.”

“What do your parents call you?”

“Nickie.”

“And your friends?”

“Nicole or Nickie.”

“Do you write anything under your legal name?”

“No. It isn’t safe.”

She stopped and turned to him, and Bud suppressed a grin when her hands went to her hips and she tried to look intimidating.

“I’m pretty sure Bud isn’t your real name, and Jones? Really?”

His passport and ID listed him as Buxton Jones. Large sunglasses on the trip to and from Manuel’s would keep the Mexican Federalés from successfully running him through facial identity. He hadn’t been returned directly to the resort, but had taken a twisted route through a restaurant, a bar, and another resort. Three changes of clothes before a late-night walk on the beach brought him back to his room. He was certain no one could place Buxton Jones as the man who’d visited the cartel kingpin’s home.

Unless they’d targeted him upon arrival, or worse — before he left Atlanta. There was no reason to believe anyone had, but Bud had stayed out of prison many times by assuming any strangers who approached him might be LEO or could’ve been strong-armed into working for law enforcement.

“I promise you that Bud is more real than the name my parents gave me.”

If she was a Fed or a reporter she’d already know his name, and it’d be good for her to think he was being honest — she’d be more open to accepting his lies later.

“And what do you do for a living in Atlanta, Bud?”

“Have dinner with me and I’ll consider telling you.”