EYES OF FIRE

Buried under the ocean, deep within the Bermuda Triangle, lies a treasure worth killing for.

Having already lost two men in her life to the lure of the bounty beneath the sea, Samantha Carlyle wants nothing to do with treasure hunts. She wants to be left in peace to run her dive resort on Seafire Isle.

But unexplained events continue to happen. Adam O'Connor—Samantha's ex-lover—arrives unannounced on the tiny island. Samantha becomes the target of an attempted kidnapping. And she's beginning to realize that none of the resort's guests are who they claim to be.

Caught in an undertow of lies and murder, Samantha confronts the secrets that have, for centuries, been drawing men to their watery graves. And she realizes that the little she knows about the lost treasure is more than enough to get her killed.

An Excerpt...

There she stood.

Samantha Carlyle.

It had been a long time. Yes, a long, long time since he had seen her.

Hank had never actually described her, but from the moment he saw her, even from a distance across the water, he knew it had to be her.

Hank had described her with great enthusiasm without describing her at all. In his scholar's mental, metaphysical lust, if there was such a thing. It didn't matter. Adam had never mentioned in his correspondence that he could easily imagine Samantha Carlyle now because he doubted if she had changed a bit in the nearly five years since he had seen her.

She was one of those women who was simply riveting. Looking half-naked in a two-piece cobalt suit that was actually rather decent, considering how little women's bathing suits consisted of these days. It didn't matter. It was what was inside the suit that made it so compelling. She was tall, legs wickedly long, slim, shapely. Honey-gold tanned. Rounded buttocks, flat stomach, skinny waist. Breasts...enough to create mysteriously shadowed cleavage against the constraints of the bikini bra. Good collarbone, nice long throat...

His eyes slipped down again.

Breasts. Very nice.

Body...very sensual. Long, slim, an athletic build that was still enhanced with...curves. Yeah, curves. Breasts...

Eyes up, old man, he told himself. Study her face. Her eyes. That's where the changes in a woman appear.

She wasn't wearing a hat or sunglasses, so she was easy to assess. She was standing on the bow waiting to tie up at the dock. The boat came nearer, nearer; the engine was cut. She was absolutely gorgeous, almost pagan, barefoot and perfectly balanced on those long, wickedly long legs. Her hands were on her hops as she waited. She defied nature, the wind, the water, like a goddess from the sea. Venus rising, red hair blazing in the wind, whipping behind her with the pride and majesty of a battle banner.

Her face...

Yes, her face.

Sophisticated. Beautifully bones, lightly tanned. Eyes large, bright, an extraordinary vibrant green that both clashed wildly against her hair like a winter's storm and yet seemed to complement it, and the defined features of her face, majestically. Her nose was perfectly proportioned and dead straight. Her face was nearly oval, with just the hint of a heart shape to soften perfection to beauty. Lips sculpted, arrestingly defined. Brows arched, a slightly darker shade than the blazing auburn that topped her head. Standing against the wind, she compelled attention and admiration. She was so dignified.

And yet somehow...

She reeked of sensuality, as well, he realized somewhat irritably, everything that was so perfect and serene about her blending with the fire in her eyes and the wicked length of her...

Yes, this was Samantha.

He hadn't expected to see her quite so soon, nor had he expected her to be quite so vividly arresting. He'd been younger himself, the last time she'd seen her. Too young, maybe. Too impetuous, too quick to rise to anger. Strange what the years, time and circumstance could do to a person. But then, years ago she had been way too proud herself. And she still had that cloak of pride about her now, so it seemed. Ah, yes, she had a look about her. Men probably still feel flat in her path, and she probably still stepped right over them. Sometimes, maybe, she chewed them up, spat them out.

He knew. He'd been chewed up.

Spat out.

Something suddenly seemed to squeeze in his chest. The past hurt. No, seeing Sam hurt. Some part of her had stayed with him, no matter where he had gone, what he had done. Now Justin was gone. And Hank was gone.

And it hurt to wonder, not to know, to envision what might have been.

Well, he was back. And no matter what she wanted this time, she was going to have him on her like a leech.

No spitting him out.

Not this time, baby, he thought. This time, she was going to have to pay attention to him.

Because she had to have the answers he wanted. He knew it.

And she was going to give them to him.

He gritted his teeth, locking his jaw. He was determined that he wasn't going to give a damn how he got his answers.

Because she was in danger.

She didn't know it, and he didn't even know just how or when it was coming. He just knew it was coming

Soon

Very soon.