Give Him the Slip (4 page)

Though it had been pretty funny to watch.

"Hush, dog." Luke watched an alligator swim away from
the commotion as he waited for the woman to find her feet. According to his
depth finder, the houseboat floated in just about five feet of water.

While he watched her head emerge, Luke tried to make some sense of
the afternoon's events. He'd handled it poorly in the beginning. Shooting the
tree had been a bit much. But in his defense, he hadn't been thinking straight
at the time. He'd been sound asleep when he'd heard that initial scream. When
he scrambled out of bed, he must have left his brain behind.

He blamed it on the bra. Maddie Kincaid's bountiful breasts had
all but overflowed her lacy hot pink demi-cups.

It was an arguable defense. He'd been dreaming about redheads, and
there she'd appeared, the sexy woman from the dock, a wet-T-shirt-contest gold
medalist sprawled across the floor of his boat.
Of course
he didn't
think straight right off.

And what the hell was with the goldfish?

"Yeek!" she squealed when she'd cleared her face of a
clump of swamp grass. "There's an alligator!"

"Well, we are in the bayou."

She thrashed toward the
Miss Behavin' II,
her eyes rounded
with alarm. "Did you see it?"

"I was too busy looking at the water moccasin," he
drawled.

At that, Maddie froze midthrash. The alarm in her eyes intensified
to true fear. "Sn-sn-snake?"

Luke felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn't figured anyone who
purposefully took a dive into the bayou would be afraid of snakes.

"Swim ladder's over here." He released a catch and metal
steps plopped into the water, creating a splash.

The woman remained frozen in fear, barely moving enough to keep
herself upright.

"Lady..."

"Wh-wh-where...?"

He sighed heavily. "Forget it. I was kidding. I didn't see a
snake."

Within striking distance of her anyway.

When she still didn't move, Luke's sense of guilt escalated. It
wasn't his habit to terrorize women. In a coaxing tone, he said, "It's
okay. There's no snake."

He knelt beside the swim ladder and stretched out a hand.
"Come here, honey. Let me help you. Everything's okay."

She focused on his outstretched hand like it was a lifeline. She
moved forward, their fingers touched. Luke grabbed her hand and pulled her
toward the boat. "Here's the ladder. Put your foot on the rail,
sweetheart. There you go. That's good."

Luke grasped her free hand and yanked her up the ladder and aboard
the
Miss Behavin' II.

She shivered, shuddered, and dripped water onto the deck. Her wet,
transparent clothes were once again plastered against her abundant curves, and
she looked like a drowned... beauty queen. Luke sucked in a breath, made
himself look away, told himself his hands didn't itch to touch her. That would
be a stupid mistake.

The woman had secrets, ones she'd go to great lengths to protect,
since she'd obviously taken that tumble deliberately in order to avoid his
questions. The last thing he wanted to do was tangle with a woman with secrets,
but he figured he'd better find out what Branch Callahan was up to this time.
Damn
you, old man. When the hell will you get the message and give up!

Maybe he should change tactics with the lady, Luke silently mused.
Basic interrogation wasn't working. Maybe he should try something else.

"Jerk," she murmured, wringing the water from her shirt.
Fury glittered in her eyes. "Lying snake."

Luke smirked, his guilt easing at her snarky tone. "You're
lucky you didn't go in head first," he said, grabbing a beach towel from a
nearby storage bin. Tossing it to her, he added, "You could have broken
your neck."

She caught the towel. As swamp water dribbled down her long,
luscious legs, sarcasm dripped from her tongue. "Thanks for the sympathy.
And the help. Why, you really put yourself out to drop the ladder, thus saving
me from alligators and snakes and God knows what else."

Brat.
Luke had to smother a smile. "I try to be courteous to all my
trespassers. Speaking of which, I'm thirsty. Can I get you something?" He
paused a moment, then added, "Another beer, perhaps?"

She winced, and color stained her cheeks. After a moment's hesitation,
she offered him a reluctant, sheepish smile. "I need to apologize for
that," she said, a note of sincerity replacing sarcasm. "It was rude
of me, trespassing on your boat, drinking your beer. Sleeping in your
bed."

Actually, she'd slept in the guest bed. Had she been sleeping in
his bed, those redheaded dreams of his might have evolved into something beyond
fantasy.

"I'd been driving all night, and everything just caught up
with me."

"Hey, no problem." Luke waved a magnanimous hand.
"Mi
casa flotante es su casa flotante.
So, you want something to
drink?"

"A bottle of water would be good."

Luke ducked into the galley and grabbed a couple bottles of water.
As he shut the refrigerator door, movement in the window captured his
attention. When he caught the swing of her hips, right at eye level as she
twisted to dry herself, he hesitated.

Maddie Kincaid was hot. Long, tall, and centerfold curvy. He'd
always had a thing for redheads, and her thick, wavy hair was a rich, vibrant
auburn streaked with strands of gold. Those brown eyes of hers were big enough
for a man to drown in, and the fullness of her lips gave a guy some downright
earthy ideas.

Bet she'd be a firebrand in bed.

Don't go there. Do
not
go there.
He
dropped his chin to his chest and gave his head a shake. The woman was lying to
him. She had secrets. Just because he felt a little bad since he'd
unintentionally frightened her didn't mean he should be stupid. He couldn't
forget who'd sent her here, or that she'd come looking for a DEA agent—rarely a
good sign.

No, he needed to get her to open up, to discover what nonsense his
old man had cooked up this time around.

Since interrogation hadn't worked, maybe he should try being nice
to her. Maybe he should turn on the charm.

Luke pondered the idea for a long moment, then nodded. Okay, he
could do nice. Being nice didn't mean being stupid. Didn't mean he'd start
thinking with his johnson instead of with his brain.

That part of him stirred a bit, as if to prove a point to the
contrary, and Luke shifted his weight.
No way, pal. Forget it. You are SOL.

Being nice didn't mean he'd trust her, either. He was smarter than
that. He'd keep his gun handy, keep one eye open. He wouldn't get distracted
from the goal.

On his way outside, he caught sight of the goldfish once again
swimming in its bowl. Had she filled that bowl with water from his system? Must
have. Stupid woman. Chemicals in the water would kill that fish. Luke grabbed a
jug of distilled water Terry had kept for the battery of his old truck and
saved the goldfish's life.

Back on deck, he saw that she'd wrapped the beach towel around
herself, and with her bounties concealed, he breathed a little easier. Pasting
on a friendly smile, he handed her the water. "Feel free to grab a dry
shirt and shorts from the dresser in my room. In fact, you can take a shower if
you want. I'm gonna rustle up some supper and it'll take awhile, so don't feel
like you need to rush."

"A freshwater shower?" she asked, perking up.

"Yep. I think there's some girl stuff in the cabinet in the
other bathroom, too. Fruity shampoo and lotions."

Luke couldn't miss the relief in Maddie Kincaid's eyes as she beat
a hasty retreat to the head, and he concluded that his suspicions had been
right on the mark. The woman wasn't in any hurry to answer his questions and
finish her story. Why?

Why should you care?

The thought came out of nowhere, and Luke blinked in surprise.

Well. Hmm. Why
should
he care?

Staring at the doorway through which she'd disappeared, he blew
out a long breath and gave the question serious consideration. She'd come
looking for a DEA agent, but she wasn't screaming her innocence. In Luke's
experience, an innocent woman would have thrown herself down on the deck rather
than overboard, begging for his help and answering any question he posed. No,
she was damn sure guilty of something.

He didn't, however, think she'd been sent by a Colombian cartel or
the Miami coke ring he and Terry had busted.

Luke turned away and crossed to the railing, where he stared out
across the moody bayou, his thoughts in a whirl. So, if drugs and the DEA had
nothing to do with bringing her here, could it be that this was simply another
one of his father's crazy schemes?

Yeah. Something like this was right up Branch Callahan's alley.

So, the next question was, did he give a damn what mischief his
father was up to this time?

Luke watched a heron glide gracefully mere inches above the water.
Yeah, he did. He had to. His father was a damned canny man, and if Luke didn't
pay close attention, the son of a bitch might slip something past him. That
simply wouldn't do.

He let out a long, unhappy sigh. He didn't want to get involved
with one of Branch's schemes. Not now, not after a day like today. Not after
the bullshit of the past few months. Luke needed peace and calm and a fish on
his line.

Instead, he had an uninvited woman on his boat. A woman he didn't
know and damned well couldn't trust.

He did need to solve the puzzle that Maddie Kincaid presented, and
he needed to solve it tonight. Because come hell or high water or secretive
sexpot, the day after tomorrow he'd rendezvous with Matt, climb aboard his
brother's new boat, and head out into the gulf for some serious tarpon fishing.
The most important decision they'd make was what brand of beer to pull from the
ice chest.

It sounded like heaven, and since he'd spent his recent days in
hell, Luke didn't want anything interfering with the plan.

So, he'd turn up the charm. He'd feed her, ply her with wine, and
seduce her secrets right out of her. He'd find out the who, what, when, where,
and whys of one Ms. Maddie Kincaid while he filled his mouth with a nice rib
eye. That way, he could haul her sweet ass back to the marina in the morning
and dump her.

"Sounds like a plan," he murmured.

Luke made his way to the galley, where he prepared potatoes for
baking, pulled steaks from the fridge, then took a moment over his wine
selection. This certainly wasn't a dinner date with a woman he was trying to
impress; however, the meat market butcher had bragged of the steak's exceptional
quality. Food like this deserved a decent wine. Yet, he shouldn't raid the gold
medal bottles he'd laid in for his brother Matt-the-wine-snob, because if they
ran short, he'd have to listen to a bunch of griping and whining.

However, when he grabbed a bottle, he chose the best he had on
board. It had been a bitch of a day, and he
was
having dinner with a
beautiful woman. Tomorrow they'd say their good-byes and he'd probably never
see her again.

Unless she's really in trouble, and then what will you do?

The taste in Luke's mouth turned sour. "Nothing," he
snapped as he yanked the cork from the wine bottle, trying to convince himself
it was true. He was nobody's hero. Not anymore. He wanted to spend his days
fishing and his nights getting drunk.

Besides, what were the chances she truly was in trouble and not
one of his father's pawns? Slim and none, to his way of thinking.

Luke carried the food up the spiral staircase to the roof bar and
the oldest item on the boat—his beloved charcoal grill. He built a fire, then
put the potatoes on to bake. He dropped the metal lid shut with a bang when he
heard the shower shut off downstairs and a mental picture of a naked and
dripping Maddie Kincaid flashed through his mind.

An interesting thought occurred. If she
was
part of one of
his father's harebrained schemes, then getting Luke into bed might be part of
the plan. He'd need to be on guard against such a ploy.

Though, as an agent for the Drug Enforcement Administration, Luke
had been taught to investigate thoroughly and completely.

Maybe he should see just how far she'd go.

Clean, dry, and dressed in a Texas Rangers T-shirt and gym shorts,
Maddie leaned against the boat railing and gazed out at the otherworldly beauty
of the bayou. The last time she'd worn a man's shirt, she'd been with Cade in
Rio, leaning against the balcony of their hotel room watching the surf slap
against the beach.

A different world, that. She'd been a different person.

All in all, she liked this Maddie Kincaid better.

Before her, tattered gray beards of Spanish moss dangled from
branches of live oaks, while red maples challenged tupelo trees and the bowed
boughs of willows for patches of solid ground. Green water lurked beneath a
deceptive raft of purple water hyacinths, cattails, and lily pads, and from the
muddy bank, half hidden by a tangled skein of creepers, a snake, long and thin
and as black as a killer's heart, slithered into the water.