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"Have you ever skinny dipped, Frasier?"
"No, and I don't intend to. Haven't you ever seen Jaws?"
Vincent shook his head. "No great whites in the Caribbean."
"Didn't you see Jaws, The Revenge?"
He chuffed and nudged her with an elbow. "Chicken?"
"Hell, no. Just smart." Kendall nudged him back. "If you're so antsy, you do it."
"Okay."
She stared after him, stunned, as he walked toward the water's edge, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. It fell to the sand. The soft silver moonlight caught the ripple of his muscles as he walked. He undid the button on his pants and stepped out of them. Clad only in a pair of white boxer-briefs that shone against the darker tan of his skin, he paused and shot her a grin full of pure wickedness.
"Last chance, Frasier."
"I think I'll just watch."
He shrugged, an easy and graceful movement that belied his size. "Okay for you. But that water looks mighty appealing."
He strode to the water's edge and dipped a toe in, then shot her a look over his shoulder. He wasn't going to do it ... was he? Wasn't going to strip ... Oh, wow. Vincent hooked his thumbs in his waistband and slid the briefs over his lean hips, down those thick thighs, and off. For one, heart-stopping instant, she had a full view of his tautly sculpted ass. In the next instant, he ran into the water and splashed beneath the waves.
He came up with a snort and a whoop that made her look around to be sure they were alone. "Water's great, Frasier! You don't know what you're missing."
The problem was she knew exactly what she was missing. Kendall shuffled the sand over her toes wondering what, exactly, was holdingher back. She wanted him, there was no doubt about that, and she didn't doubt that if she asked him to go to bed with her, he'd take her up on the offer. He was a handsome man. Charming. Sexy as hell. And she was on vacation.
But only here for a week. After that, another week at home before she went back to work, and what would happen the next time they faced each other over a spray of bullets? She couldn't afford that distraction. And that's all it would be, wasn't it? All it could be? A pleasant distraction. She might no longer blame him for the death of her partner, but looking at Vincent would always remind her what tragedy a moment's hesitation could create.
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