Page 38 of Shark’s Edge

“Extortion might work.” His voice was like a gathering storm, vibrating my senses with wild anticipation. “But I choose . . . exploration.”

I dragged my gaze up to meet his. Sure enough, he was already starting the expedition. His mesmerizing blues raked every plane of my face. “Like a modern Daniel Boone?”

He dropped his voice lower. “Like a modern Bluebeard.”

And again, he sucked the air from my lungs and the stability from my legs. “This really isn’t fair, Shark.”

“Life isn’t fair, Ms. Gibson.”

He stepped back once more. I was swaying. He was swaggering.

“That’s one lesson you can skip,” I said. “Learned it already.”

“Then at least you’ll get a great steak out of all this.”

“And you’ll get my triple chocolate orgasm cake.”

His eyes flared. I’d handed him that one on a silver platter, but it was worth it. No matter what quip he cued up now, I knew he’d have as much trouble waiting for our dinner as I would.

“Uncle Bas?”

A little girl popped into view. I hadn’t met Vela Shark in person yet, but thanks to the photo shrine of her on the credenza behind Sebastian’s desk, it felt like I already knew her. She was even more endearing now, standing in all her I-came-and-conquered glory. Her socks were slouched, her legs were grass-stained, but her face lit up when she saw her uncle.

“Hey there, Vel.” The affection in Sebastian’s voice exposed him at once. “What’s up?”

Vela approached and burrowed against his side, and he affectionately tugged at her ponytail.

The girl bounced back a huge grin. “Guess what?”

Sebastian curled up an answering grin. I watched, enraptured, as the girl’s pinky finger and that man’s soul got tight with each other. “What?”

“The Intrepids don’t just make snow cones.” Wrap, wrap, wrap. Yeah, very tight. “They also have . . . brownies!”

“Whaaat?” The man’s deadpan was, hands down, one of the sexiest sounds I’d ever heard. “You don’t say.”

“I do say. And they. Are. The. Best. Ever.”

As I succumbed to an even bigger smile, Sebastian replied, “Did you know that the Intrepid Entrepreneurs only sell those treats? The person who actually makes the brownies is this lovely lady right here. Ms. Abbigail Gibson.”

Vela broke into a wide grin. “You’re really good at your job, Ms. Gibson.”

“Well, thank you, Vela.” I gave her a little bow while arching an eyebrow at her uncle. “Some people don’t exactly agree all the time.”

“Well, they’re losers,” Vela snipped. “Seriously, your brownies are even better than the ones at Chocolate Bash. And I love those brownies more than my own breath.”

“Wow.” I used my stunned expression to force back my laughter.

“Okay, missy,” Sebastian said. “In my world, this is called trying too hard.”

She pouted. “But you always tell me to try as hard as I can at everything.”

A darker scowl from her uncle. “What do I also tell you?”

She thought for a few seconds. “That asking is half of the getting?”

He pulled her in close and bussed the top of her head. “Do you have something to ask me, Little Star?”

Though Vela kept her smile, she swept back from her uncle with practiced confidence. “Mr. Shark, I’m enjoying these brownies quite a lot—and in light of the fact that I helped the Blue Jays win today, I feel you should buy me another one.” She notched her head higher. “Perhaps two.”