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“No, listen, I don’t?—”

“You don’t get to just… use me like some kind of tool on your weird man-squad operation to save the world. Or finish the ‘op.’ Or whatever it is you tell yourself. Whatever you think is happening between us, it isn’t real. This,” she gestures to the space between us, “is the product of hormones and adrenaline. It’s not real. I don’t have energy for your games.”

A single tear tracks down her cheek, and she locks eyes with me briefly before storming off towards the jetty.

“Princess, wait,” I call out.

I can’t help but notice her ass looks really good storming off.

Still, I have no business thinking that.

Across the beach, June walks slowly in the surf playing around her ankles.

She’s right. That’s the worst part. I just treated her like a means to an end.

Exactly like Fiona treated me.

If I’m going to explore the chemistry between June and me, then I’m going to do it right.

If she even still wants me at all.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

JUNE

My hands fistat my sides. The sand is making stomping difficult, but I’ll manage it. Can do attitude for days. Just like my last performance review at the university said. Why in the world I want to help his stupid ass is beyond me, but here I am. Almost kissing him. Like an idiot.

And why? Because Dean Evans is hot? And right there?

Yeah. Those are good reasons.

I scowl at the ocean, like it’s responsible.

Oh, and obviously because of the massive load of adrenaline. It’s just like one of those old action movies said, relationships form faster based on shared terrible experiences. Or was it an oldOprahepisode? Ah, the lazy afternoons of a misspent youth.

I scowl, shaking my hair out, water droplets peppering the sand.

Waves crash into the dark gray granite jetties ahead, sending sprays of seafoam arcing over the cubed stones. If my father left me a message, it would be there. I pause, staring at the circling gulls.

Should I share it with Dean?

Would he rip it out of my hands and take all the glory of finding theSantu Espiritufor himself? I suck in a breath.

Worse, it might prove the worst of his accusations about my father to be true.

I turn around, already in motion to run back to him, to try and put this off.

Momentum sends me crashing against his bare chest, the sensation of his hard body fraying my resolve. His hands catch my waist before I go ass backward into the sand.

“Princess.” He tilts my chin up, forcing me to look into his darkening eyes. “It’s not a game to me. You’re not a game. This isn’t a game.”

Desire curls in me, hot and traitorous. Delicious.

He must have seen it, because he leans closer.

It takes no effort at all to capture his mouth, the tentativeness of our earlier embrace disappearing into heat. My lips part on an exhale.