Swept Away (46 page)

Snapping it off with a click, she marched into the house, deposited the radio on the nearest
table, grabbed up the keys as she slipped on her pink flip-flops, then locked the door. Without
ever making eye contact with Brock, who still stood looking bewildered, she started through
the woods on the path to the boat dock.

“Kitten, wait, damn it,” he said, hurrying to catch up on the sandy trail.

She kept walking.

“You can’t do this. You can’t marry that guy. You know that, right?”

She spoke over her shoulder. “Maybe I just know where I belong. And it’s obviously not with

you.”

“You don’t love him, remember? You told me that.”

But she couldn’t hear that right now, couldn’t let herself. She stopped and turned to face him in
the shade of the jungly overgrowth. “It’s none of your fucking business, Brock!” Then she
stormed on.

As she emerged from the tree cover onto the grassy ridge above the dock, bits and pieces of her boat still scattered across the ground, she peered out over the water, praying to see her family
coming for her. Only the horizon met her gaze, but they’d be here soon—they had to be.

She plopped down on the grass and wrapped her arms around her knees. Brock sat down a
foot or so away.

When he spoke, he suddenly sounded very calm. “Can you tell me why you’re doing this?”
“Doing what?”

“Acting like you hate me and telling me you’re gonna marry a guy you don’t love.”

She kept her eyes on the water, the late-day sun creating a sparkling line across the rippling
waves. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”

“I thought you didn’t want things to end on a bad note.” “I didn’t. But that seems impossible now, doesn’t it?”

“Not if you’d act sane and tell me what the hell is going on.”

How dense was he? Then again, he was a guy, and when it came to matters of emotion, Kat
had found the male species could sometimes be extraordinarily thick. Even so, if he didn’t
know what was wrong, no way was she humiliating herself any further by telling him. I wanted more with you. So much more. I wanted forever.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she finally said, her voice too soft.

“Kitten, this, us—it was amazing, okay? I loved it. I’m sorry I’m not into the relationship thing,
but I don’t see why that has to ruin this.”

“You wouldn’t,” she muttered. “What?”

“Nothing. I told you, I’m tired of talking. I just want to sit here and be quiet and wait for my
mom and dad. Okay?”

Next to her, he let out a sigh, sounding disgusted. “Fine. That’s how you want to play it, go
ahead. I don’t give a shit.”

“But listen to me, Kat. When they get here, you still have to let me do the talking and go along with whatever I say, understand?”

She jerked her head around to meet his gaze. Was he serious? “Why should I?”

Brock narrowed his gaze on her sharply. Damn it, he couldn’t believe this—none of it. How
the hell had things turned to crap so quickly? One minute she’s naked and riding him to orgasm and the next she’s stomping away and talking crazy, and now apparently threatening to—
frankly—defy the order of a federal agent.

He’d been iffy on what he was going to tell Clark Spencer before he’d stumbled across the
Mayan artifacts—but now that he’d found them, no room for honesty remained. No way could
Spencer find out he was FBI. And it wasn’t gonna be easy pulling that off, but Kat had to go
along with him; there was no other way.

“We’ve discussed this before,” he said pointedly. “The more any of you know, the more
danger you’re in. Do you want to endanger your mother and father?”

Looking insolent, she shook her head.

“Then you can’t let your parents know I’m a federal agent—it’ll only create questions I can’t answer, and if I know your dad, he’ll go digging for them. I can’t have that, and neither can
you. So you let me handle this—got it?”

Just then, the sound of a boat engine cut through the stillness, and they both shifted their eyes
to the water. In the distance—around the spot where Francisco’s yacht had sunk—a pristine
white cabin cruiser plowed through the ocean toward the island. Kat’s back went rigid, and her
eyes filled with mixed emotions—enough to tell him it was the boat they’d been awaiting.

Still looking pissed, she turned to him and said, “I have one demand.”

“Name it.”

“Whatever you tell them, you can’t let on that anything happened between you and me.”
“I hadn’t planned on it—that’s your information to share if you want.”

“Well, I don’t.”

He gave a short, disgusted nod, assuming this meant she was still persisting in this idiotic plan to marry Ian.

As the boat grew nearer, leaving a wide wake in the otherwise calm water, Brock said, “I really
am sorry you’re mad at me, kitten, because being here with you really was a special time.”

She met his gaze, her eyes glassy, but she never replied. Just looked back out at the
approaching boat, pushed to her feet, and started toward the dock in those sparkly pink flip-
flops.

Chapter Seventeen

Hell. He wasn’t quite sure how, but somehow he’d ruined this.

And as the cabin cruiser eased up to the dock, Brock’s day managed to get even worse.
Because the cleaner-than-clean-cut guy who stood on the deck, too damn good-looking for
Brock’s liking, had to be Ian. Brock hated him on sight. And it was more than just jealousy, or
worry for Kat’s future—there was just something about him. Nobody was that perfect.

Clark Spencer was parked at the captain’s wheel, his hair grayer and his face more wrinkled
than when Brock had last seen him, but he still carried himself like the confident, wealthy man
he was—even if he defined wealth in far different numbers than Brock did. His wife—Debra, Brock remembered—looked equally well-groomed and sophisticated in a gauzy blouse and tailored blazer. Another woman stood at her side, and Brock didn’t recognize her right off, but
he’d bet it was Nina.

Great, the entire freaking cavalry had come to save Kat from his clutches. Or that’s how it
suddenly felt anyway. He was pissed as hell at Kat, but he didn’t know what he could do about
it, so for the moment, he could only hope they’d make it through the next few minutes without
things getting any shittier.

No one seemed to notice him at first, which suited him fine. He hung back on the shore and let
Kat run to greet them all. “Oh my God, thank goodness you’re safe!” her mother said as she
moved toward her.

“Kat, what the hell?” Nina asked. “I’ve been trying to call you forever.”

“Forgot my charger,” she said, and everyone groaned loudly enough that Brock knew it was a
typical problem.

Mr. Perfect was busy tying off the boat after it slid gently into the dock’s second slip, just as
any good, responsible son-in-law-to-be would. Fortunately for Spencer, it wasn’t the one where the hull of Kat’s Stingray rested just under the water.

Kat’s mom and friend raced out onto the dock to hug her, her mother saying, “I was worried
sick. It was bad enough when we didn’t hear from you, but ever since we met Nina at the
airport and she told us you came out here by yourself...” She stopped and sighed, then hugged
Kat again.

Which was when Ian moved in for his hug. Brock’s chest tightened, his blood boiling. The
only bit of satisfaction came from knowing he’d been where Ian never had. Well, at least not
yet. Shit—not so satisfying to know the jerk probably would be there in a couple of days and
have a lifetime of her.

“What the hell were you thinking coming here by yourself without telling me?” Ian snapped at
her. “Are you out of your mind?”

Brock’s back went rigid as his hands curled into slow fists. Now he really didn’t like the guy.
Brock knew he was brusque sometimes—it was his nature—but Ian sounded like a father reprimanding a child and, given what he knew about Kat and her dad, that seriously rubbed him the wrong way.

“I just wanted some private time, that’s all. No need to make a huge deal of it.” That’s right, kitten—don’t let that jackass talk to you like that.

“I’d say there is,” Ian replied in an all-knowing manner. “Anything could have happened to
you out here. Nothing happened, did it? I mean, no one bothered you here or anything?”

She cast a glance toward Brock, but Jackass still didn’t notice him.
Nina, on the other hand, did. “Um who’s the dude?”
All eyes turned his way as Ian groused, “Who’s this?”

Clark Spencer, who was just now stepping out on the dock, squinted long and hard in his
direction. “Brock Denton? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s Brock,” Kat said softly.
Nina gasped and said, “Wow.” “Who’s Brock?” Ian asked.

Spencer’s eyes widened in pure horror. “What the hell are you doing on my island with my
daughter?”

“And where’s your boat, Kat?” asked her mother.

Shit. Well, here went nothing. “Good to see you, too, Spencer,” Brock said, starting slowly toward the crowd. “Damnedest thing—I had a little boat trouble a couple of days ago. Was out
when that big rain hit and it stirred up some monster waves and sank my Chris-Craft. I
happened to see this chunk of land and was trying to make my way toward it, but didn’t get
here before the boat went down—had to swim for it. Imagine my surprise at finding Kat here,
after all these years.”

It wasn’t a great lie, but it would have to do. And this next one was a doozie, too—but it was
all he had. “Once the rain stopped and the water calmed down, Kat was going to drive me back
to shore, but herboat caught on fire as soon as we started the engine.”

“Fire?” Spencer boomed. “How the hell did it catch fire?”

Unfazed, Brock held out his hands. “No idea. But we got the hell off it and it’s a good thing—
because the damn thing blew up.”

Brock’s explanation seemed to draw their attention to the pieces of debris scattered on the
ground.

“Dear God,” Spencer said as Kat’s mother lifted her hand to her chest.

“Who are you?” Ian asked pointedly, looking disgusted that no one had answered him yet.

“He used to work for my dad, a long time ago,” Kat replied, meeting Brock’s eyes.

“I’m damn surprised to see you, Brock,” Spencer said, clearly trying to intimidate him with a cold stare. Yeah, right. Those days are over, old man. “I didn’t think you lived around here
anymore.”

Brock met the man’s glower with one of his own. “I’m over in Miami. But I go wherever I
damn well please.” Which didn’t make sense to half the people there, but Brock couldn’t have
cared less. He’d kept his deal with Spencer for far too long and it was done now.

Spencer appeared surprised by his tone, and everyone else went quiet, obviously sensing the tension between the two men, until Kat finally said, “Um, Dad and Brock never got along very
well,” to Ian.

Who replied with, “Well, I’m just glad we’re here and can take you home now.”
Like Brock was some big threat to her. If you only knew, asshole.

“I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” the guy said then, pulling her into a close embrace.
“I’ve missed you, too.”

Brock’s stomach churned at her lie. Don’t do this, kitten. Don’t throw your life away on this
doofus.

As she wrapped her arms around Ian’s neck, her eyes met Brock’ s—just for a moment before
she looked away.

Why was she doing this? Why had she made this ridiculous switch? Well, okay, he knew why,
but damn it, why couldn’t she understand? Hell, if he were gonna be with a woman well,
she’d be the woman. But that just wasn’t in his blood. Why couldn’t she accept that and be
glad for what they’d shared, like he was?

When he couldn’t stand watching Kat with Mr. Perfect for one more second, he shifted his
gaze to Clark Spencer, looking for any worry, or fear. After all, Kat had been on the island for
five days and if the artifact pickup had gone as planned, she’d have been in harm’s way when
the Morales brothers arrived.

But Spencer’s expression didn’t give much away other than general dismay at the whole
situation. Given worry over where Kat had been and the fact that her boat had blown up, and of
course that she’d been forced to share her private getaway with him—the scourge of humanity
as far as Spencer was concerned—the grimace on his face wasn’t particularly telling in terms of
whether he was involved in the smuggling operation.

Yet no matter how Brock looked at it, Spencer had to be in this up to his neck. It was his
island, his house with the locked closet. And he had a history with Mayan artifacts. It all fit.

“Well, let’s get your stuff on the boat and go home, little girl,” Spencer said, and Brock cringed at the endearment. Damn it, wouldn’t the guy ever realize she wasn’t a little girl anymore?

As Ian hauled the cooler on board and Spencer grabbed Kat’s bag, Brock hefted the plastic