Were-Devils' Revenge [Were-Devils of Tasmania 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read Free Page A

was coming, too. Ostensibly to help serve the food.
    Mac squashed his feelings. Mitch had always been a ladies’ man. Of course Gabriella would be drawn to Mitch. He just didn’t want him to hurt her. Thoughts of the prophecy came to him again. The were-devils would only find salvation through overcoming their instincts. Just as not trusting the right ones had brought the curse down on them. Were-devils were notoriously protective of their women. He thought of Becc with the Tremain boys. The looks she had given them both were certainly not sisterly. Was that the tension he had sensed? Was this attraction to Gabriella there as a taunt? To perhaps distract him from the task he had set himself? Mac didn’t know, but he knew it would be a long, lonely evening when he would be wondering about Gabriella and Mitch.
     
    * * * *
     
    Gabriella didn’t usually go on the evening cruises—one of the junior staff did. But there was something just not right about her new recruits, and she needed to keep an eye on them. Particularly Mitch, who was about as trustworthy as a crocodile. Same damn big eyes and readiness to pounce. The sort of guy she normally had no time for. Yet despite her instincts screaming at her to run, she was drawn to him. Worse still, she was also drawn to his brother, though in a different and less tangible way. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t had a boyfriend or even any interest in one since her fight with Wilson had had half her family wading into her affairs. Now she was interested in two at once.
    The evening sail had long been a highlight at Dream-maker. The boat, an ex–America’s Cup contender, could take twenty-five people. They started with champagne, sailed as the sun got low in the sky, and then docked on the other side of the island for oysters and Chablis. There was time for a quick swim before lobster salad and a sail home. A perfect evening.
    Gabriella wasn’t much of a sailor. Her cousins were right into it, but in general she liked to be either in the water or on the land. While she loved the feeling of the wind in her hair, making her mass of curls even more unmanageable, rough seas and rocking motions made her queasy. But she knew enough about sailing to recognize immediately that Mitch knew exactly what he was doing. She breathed a little easier. It had occurred to her that they might have lied or at the very least exaggerated their expertise, but she’d rung their referees and they had been nothing less than glowing about their physical prowess.
    “But are they safe?” asked Gabriella.
    “Well, Mitch likes the girls,” the gym owner had said. “More’s the pity really.”
    “Does he harass them?” asked Gabriella pointedly.
    The gym guy laughed. “Loves them and leaves them, if you call that harassment. But always leaves them wanting more and with roses and chocolates. I don’t think he ever lies to them.”
    Gabriella watched Mitch sailing the boat. There were five single women there in the right age group, the rest older or couples. They gravitated to him like a magnet.
    “Can I do that? Please let me,” said the plump girl who looked no older than fifteen, but Gabriella had checked her driver’s license and she was actually twenty.
    Mitch grinned at her, for a moment eyes for no one else. The girl all but swooned as he put his arms around her to show her how to manage the ropes. But he also pulled back quickly enough, talking to the others, trying not to show favor.
    “Where did you learn to sail?” This one was thirty-five and trying to look ten years younger. Her hand ran down Mitch’s arm, making Gabriella squirm. Mitch was taking it in his stride.
    “The Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race.”
    That got him a captive audience for the next fifteen minutes. Gabriella went to ensure her older clientele were enjoying themselves.
    The boat made good time, a wind picking up as they got out of the sound. Mitch was temporarily off the social scene as he maneuvered the sails.