Uncut by Betty Womack Page A

“My fiancé keeps me busy most of the time. You did mean both of us, didn’t you?”
    His firm lips set in a tight smile, and she noticed a tick of irritation in his cheek. “Of course. We will call it a date, then?”
    “Of course.” She laughed and picked up her camera. “Do you mind?” She snapped several pictures before he could answer. “I want to save every memory of this trip. We probably won’t be doing anything like this again.” She ducked her chin for effect. “We have to watch our pennies.”
    She wanted to pat herself on the back. Antigua’s smile was actually sympathetic.
    He lifted his head to watch Sam, who tried to get away from his female friend on the other side of the pool. “I see your fiancé is having fun. Does he do that often?”
    How should she answer that? Whine or act ignorant. “Oh, yes. He’s a favorite wherever he goes.”
    “I’m sure.” Antigua seemed to be calculating the situation, the tick in his jaw more pronounced. “It seems he’s gotten away from his companion. I’ll speak with him about joining me for a few activities later on.”
    “He’d like that. Sam is always up for doing new things.” Lana snapped Sam’s picture as he hurried toward them. “I just love that man.”
    Antigua stood and waited for Sam to join them. Relaxed, his hands resting on his hips, he seemed like nothing more than a good-looking guy on the prowl for a chick. She watched him, knowing he had a dark side and murder meant little to him. He had plans to spread misery over his own country, and killing a few more people wouldn’t mean a thing to him.
    Her gaze switched to Sam. He didn’t look the bumbling fool at that moment. He walked toward them with a sure stride and a set look of suspicion on his face. Unlike the jokers taking pictures for the contest, his blue and white trunks fit him, showing his fabulous legs and flat, ripped belly. She licked her lips while studying his suntanned muscles and windblown hair. Sam Horn had no physical flaws.
    Only one flaw. He looked mad as hell.
    “Hello, darling.” Lana attempted to diffuse whatever had lit Sam’s fuse. “Did you have fun?”
    “Like a monkey with a banana.” He stared at Antigua and then smiled. “Want to shoot some skeet?”
    Antigua’s face lit up with pleasure. “Of course.” He glanced from Sam to Lana. “Do you shoot?”
    Sam guffawed and slapped Antigua’s back harder than necessary. “Naw. But it looks like fun.”
    Working his shoulder after the hard slap, Antigua nodded. “Meet me at the back of the boat where the sport is allowed.” He gestured to Lana. “Please bring your fiancée.”
    “Sure.” Sam dropped onto his deck chair and grinned. “She’s never handled a gun either.”
    Antigua arched his fine dark brows. “I shall see you in a few minutes.”
    Lana put her hand over Sam’s mouth, expecting him to say something to stir up a problem. “Let’s have one of those pretty drinks, honey.”
    Damn, she even fluttered her lashes.
    He laughed, roughing his hair before waving at the steward. “Don’t worry, Pearly. I won’t kick his ass. Yet.”
    She leaned back and closed her eyes, wishing they were really alone, not on a cruise ship waiting for the time to take someone into custody. She observed Sam from beneath her lashes. Yeah, she couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather be alone with. Tonight. And every night for days. She warmed from her toes to her scalp.
    She wanted him to squeeze the breath from her, bang her into oblivion. He had found every nerve in her pussy, not to mention her ass. She wanted the master of climax to give her a rough ride to that wave of heat. Oh, yes, the pleasure and heat.
    You’ll screw up if this mindset continues.
    “Did you say something, Sam?”
    He turned toward her, resting on his side. “So what did Antigua have to say?”
    She closed her eyes again. “Nothing valuable. He’s concerned about our lack of inactivity.”
    He huffed loud and clear.