He noticed the curve of her ankle when it swung lazily. The way her collarbone caught the light. The dip at the base of her throat, where sweat still glistened like dew. The way her lips parted when she sipped her wine, just enough to make a man wonder what else might part like that.

She didn't know what she was doing to him.

Or maybe she did.

Either way--Marcus watched. Silently. Carefully.

And every inch of her was beginning to feel like a test he already knew he'd fail.

She wasn't looking at him.

Too busy laughing at something Riley said--something about river safety and tequila, her voice animated,...