“Good morning,” she said.

“Same to you.” Logan folded the rigging and secured it to the board with a Velcro strap. Then he pulled the board onto the sand far enough to insure that it wouldn’t slip back into the water.

“Hunting for more spores?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Have you been out long?”

“About an hour,” he said.

She stared at the board, then back at him. “How in the world do you stay upright on that thing?”

Logan ran both hands through his wet hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “It’s magic.”

“It would have to be,” she mused. Her gaze slipped down to his wet, bare chest. “Would you like my towel?”

“No, thanks. I’m okay.”

She held it out for him. “But you’re so wet and, um, well, it’s your towel, actually, since I took it from my hotel room.”

“Well, since it’s mine,” he said, chuckling as he took the towel. Maybe she hadn’t seen many dripping-wet men in swim trunks back at her research lab because she seemed awfully flustered. He hoped like hell that he made her uncomfortable. It would serve her right for manipulating and lying to him.

He took his time drying himself off as he studied her. She’d been on the island four days now and true to her word, she spent each morning hunting for spores, then worked the cocktail lounge in the afternoons and evenings. And she hadn’t dropped a single glass since the first day’s fiasco.

He noticed her cheeks had a rosy pink glow from her mornings in the sun. He liked the glow almost as much as he liked her fabulous legs and perfect rear end. Even knowing the woman was a liar and not to be trusted, Logan found her incredibly appealing. He wanted her in his bed with an urgency that was going to reveal itself any second now if he didn’t get the hell out of here.

“I’ve got work to do,” he muttered finally, and handed her the towel as he walked away.

Grace clutched the damp towel as she stared at Logan’s backside until he disappeared through a door into the hotel. Then she pressed the towel to her face to cool herself off. She was certain she’d never met such a formidable man. Certainly not one with a body like that. Or eyes like that. Or hair, so adorably short and blond and spiky when wet.