Then again, her knowledge of seduction was about as limited as the other women’s scanty outfits. She’d been avoiding adventure—and men—for the past three years. Somehow she’d ended up practically celibate in an effort to assure her grandparents she wasn’t following in the footsteps of her reckless mother—a woman who’d missed most of Mia’s childhood in favor of chasing any surfer skimming past her beach lounger.
But Mia wasn’t in her Twin Palms hometown now. She’d carved out a whole week to play in Tampa before she had to get down to business—wheedling a few months’ extension from the bank on a mortgage note for the family tourist shop.
For now, Mia had promised herself she would stop living for her family and start living more for herself.
She’d realized in recent months that she’d slowly retreated from the world because she didn’t ever want to upset the grandparents she adored. This notion slammed home with a vengeance last week when a vendor had brought some sample wares to the tourist shop. As Mia inverted a cheesy, water-filled pen that made a cartoon guy’s pants fall down, it occurred to her that that was as close as she’d come to a titillating experience in too many years.
So this week, she planned to prove to herself she still knew how to have fun, to be adventurous. Once she secured the mortgage extension on the tourist shop, she’d be working double time to make sure the business could really pay it off. So if ever there’d been a time to have fun, the time was now, before she disappeared into a world of work and family obligations again.
And if an opportunity arose this week to see a real man naked, she certainly wouldn’t be averse to peeking.
Mia lifted a small pair of opera glasses to her eyes in order to better drool over the wealth of muscle-bound men aboard the incoming ship. But before she could focus on the testosterone-laden Jose Gaspar, a scratchy voice beside her interrupted.
“You don’t stand a chance in that getup, honey.” The speaker was a woman at least seventy years old with white hair cut short in a sleek, sophisticated style. She wore a long green beach robe belted at her waist, which she slowly unfastened. “You’ve got to show a little leg.”
On cue, the older woman’s terry cloth cover-up fell open, revealing legs that would give Mia’s a run for the money. Mia hoped she looked that good in fifty years. On the other hand, she hoped she could hold her own against grandma today.
Because Mia had her heart set on a sexy abduction scenario with a pirate.
“You’re sure to turn a few heads,” Mia admitted. “But I don’t think my outfit lends itself to—”
The older woman squinted down at Mia’s wrap skirt. “Let me see.” She bent closer, ignoring any polite sense of personal boundaries to adjust the knot at Mia’s waist. “All you need to do is twist this here and turn this—” She tugged and pulled until, “Voila!”
Mia stared down at the new slit in her sarong and the long expanse of tanned leg it showcased.
The older woman winked, her open robe twirling loosely around her legs as she moved. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it, honey.”
Mia wasn’t convinced what she had was entirely flauntable, but she had to admit, the woman’s fashion sense had flair. The sarong had a sexy edge with the newly arranged slit. Now the warm February breeze tickled her skin as it blew the gauzy fabric around her thighs.
And it was still more mysterious than a dental floss swimsuit.
“Thanks.” Mia smiled up at the woman, but the granny fairy godmother was already edging her way closer to the docking area where the boat would anchor.
Not to be outdone, Mia hustled into the slight opening in the crowd in the woman’s wake. It was every maiden for herself when it came to nabbing a pirate.
She needed this adventure today. She’d been suppressing her own dreams the past few years while she peddled seashell necklaces and driftwood picture frames. This might be her last chance for a little excitement before she returned to the watchful eyes of her small-town beachside home.
She’d spent her life always doing the right thing, but not today. In order to get what she wanted, Mia was prepared to be bold and brazen.
And she wasn’t going to let any kindly grandmothers or overzealous beach bunnies stand in her way.
“SEE ANYTHING you like, matey?”
The pirate standing next to Seth gestured to the massive mob of women on the shore, his question thick with a swashbuckling accent. Patrick O’Keefe led the Gasparilla Krewe on the boat. A retired Tampa business professional, Pat could afford to put all his time into the festival.
Seth tried to work up the enthusiasm for a hearty “Aye” in return, but only managed a rather flat, “Yeah. I’ve already got the right woman picked out.”
Pat slapped him on the back and off he went to quiz the handful of other people who were on abduction missions today.
A cry went up from the festivalgoers as the boat bumped into the docking area in front of Tampa’s convention center. Television cameras moved in closer to film the new arrivals, shuffling the crowd as they dragged their equipment around for a better view.
Seth kept his eye trained on his wench of choice—a woman old enough to be his grandmother in an old-fashioned green swimsuit and matching long beach robe.
It was simple enough to keep track of the white-haired lady. Not only did her bright green robe set her apart from the hordes of half-dressed sunseekers, but she was being relentlessly pursued by a lithe brunette dressed in a silky skirt with an oversize red flower tucked behind her ear.
A gorgeous, lithe brunette.
With great legs.
Seth squinted against the glare of a too-bright sun to get a better look. Not that he had any intention of carrying off an exotic, showy woman who could have just stepped out of a local theater production of Carmen. She was too conspicuous, too racy, too sexy.
But damn, she was hot.
Long brown hair fell to the middle of her back—a bare back that he could half see from his raised position on the boat. Her features suggested Italian-American heritage. Maybe Hispanic-American. Something Latin looking.
Her skirt was sort of filmy and Seth guessed he’d be able to see through it if she stood in front of a bright light. Every now and then as she darted through the mob of festivalgoers, Seth caught a view of lean, tanned thigh between the folds of gauzy material.
“Land ho, me boy,” Patrick O’Keefe shouted, gesturing toward the docking area. “I need you to lead the charge off the boat.”
Show time. Seth searched for some enthusiasm for his task, half considering revamping the abduction strategy so he could make off with Carmen instead of her grandmother. He definitely wouldn’t mind an up close and personal perusal of those legs of hers.
And it had been at least…four months?…since his most recent relationship flopped. Margo had marched out the door citing the usual laundry list of his shortcomings—obsessive commitment to his work, single-minded pursuit of success, inability to form a true partnership, etc. No wonder a set of great legs distracted him today.
He closed his eyes in an effort to scavenge some last-minute focus. The only thing that mattered right now was that the Gasparilla event ran smoothly so it would reflect well on its sponsor, Gulf Coast Bank, one of many branches of Chandler Enterprises. Seth would wait until later to worry about the fact that he’d been without female companionship for too long.
Right now, he was grabbing grandma for good P.R. value and making a clean getaway in his waiting boat.
Patrick threw a rope to the men on shore so the Jose Gaspar could be tied off. “Don’t forget to return yer lady of choice to the reviewing stand by 11:00 p.m. tonight,” he reminded Seth. “The local networks are giving us a slot on the