Drake Sisters 04 - Dangerous Tides

did remember of that day.

    "The rescue. Falling. It's all a little hazy. I don't remember much until I was in the hospital. I swear I saw Joe Fields there. He was standing in the corridor, but if he was really there, why didn't he come in and talk to me?"

    "Who's Joe Fields?"

    "He works in the corporate offices of BioLab and he's a good friend of one of the biochemists working on the PDG."

    "Really? He must have heard about your accident and came to see you. I'm sure you're very important to your company."

    "He couldn't have made it to Sea Haven that fast. Even by plane. He didn't have time. He had to have been here before the accident." Ty shook his head. "Or maybe I was so out of it I just imagined him. On the other hand, I remember that I dreamt about you when I was unconscious." A faint, slightly self-derisive smile curled his mouth. "I do that a lot so it isn't surprising. Then I opened my eyes and saw your face and thought I was dreaming. God, you're beautiful." His voice roughened and his eyes darkened even more.

    Libby felt the rasp of his voice tripping little arcs of electricity through her body. Why was she so susceptible to him? She'd never felt such an overwhelming pull towards one man in her life. Not so all-consuming. Her throat was dry, as were her lips. She wanted to touch him. Her fingers itched to touch him. Libby Drake, always in control, was fast sweeping out of control by the slow burn spreading through her body with every heated look he gave her.

    "I'm not, you know," she said, "beautiful." It took a while to find her voice. No man had ever called her beautiful before, but Tyson couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her. His desire was so stark and raw she couldn't help but believe his sincerity.

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    "You are to me. I really do dream about you."

    He took another drink of wine and she watched him swallow. Even that was erotic. She had it bad.
    "You dream about me?"

    His faint smile failed to reach his eyes. "You don't want to know what I dream, you'd slap my face."

    A slow flush spread over her entire body. His voice was such a turn-on to her. God help her, all she wanted to know in that moment was exactly what he dreamt about her. All she could think about was tasting his skin. She closed her eyes and took a drink of the ice water, hoping it would help. It didn't. She touched her tongue to the beads melting on the outside of the glass, wishing it was his chest.

    "Damn it, Libby. You're killing me. I don't have as much discipline as you think I do. Maybe we should find a bed and get it over with."

    His abrupt tone, almost a snarl, brought her up short. What was she thinking? Libby knew her nature inside and out. She wasn't a one-night-stand woman. She didn't have flings. And she had always, always been far too aware of Tyson Derrick to think she'd walk away unscathed. He wanted sex. Plain and simple and who could blame him with the way she'd been acting? She'd been mentally undressing him most of the evening. She pressed the glass against her burning face.

    "Libby?"

    She cleared her voice. "While I really appreciate the invitation, especially the utter finesse with which you delivered it, I still think I'll have to pass."

    "Why?"

    The challenge in his voice dug under her skin, raising prickles until she felt her temper beginning to stir.
    Or maybe it wasn't his challenge, maybe she just wanted him so bad she was edgy and restless and wanting to pick a fight with him. Need clawed in the pit of her stomach, raging at her so she had to look away.

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    Libby's gaze collided with a man at the table to her left, only feet away. Recognition jolted through her.
    Her breath left her body in a rush and she sat up straighter, her eyes suddenly wide with fear as she turned back toward Ty.

    His reaction astonished him. One moment Tyson could feel the lust of a lifetime raking his gut, hardening his body, hammers driving through his skull until his head thundered and his blood thickened and poured into his lower region with such ferocious heat he feared he might spontaneously combust, and then she looked at him with fear instead of passion. She looked vulnerable and fragile instead of sultry and seductive.

    Everything in him responded on the most primitive, protective level, just as it had on a sexual level. He had never felt protective in