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“I don’t trust either of us near that bed, Mia.”

Seth placed his hand on Mia’s knee, the heat of his palm penetrating her skin. “But I have something else in mind.”

She wondered if it was possible to melt at a man’s touch. If so, she stood a very good chance of pooling at Seth’s feet any moment, because his hand on her knee made her whole body turn warm and liquid. He walked his fingers up the outside of her thigh until his hand landed on her hip. Then he scooted her close to him and angled his lips over hers.

The man planned to drug her with his aphrodisiac kisses and then coax her into orgasmic heaven. All of which sounded delightful, except…

“That’s not fair to you.” She broke off their kiss, much to her lips’ regret.

“It’s perfectly fair,” he whispered, leaning forward to reclaim her mouth.

Mia needed to take action before he had her talked into becoming erotically dependent on him. She slid her fingers down his chest to the waistband of his shorts, smoothing her hand over the ridge there.

“I bet I send you into orbit without ever hitting the sheets.”

Dear Reader,

As much as I love sizzling contemporary romance, there is also a place in my heart for a hot historical, too. Imagine my pleasure when I discovered a way to rope these two loves together in the opening pages of Wild and Willing. Tampa, Florida’s Gasparilla festival allowed me to write a modern-day pirate sailing into harbor, ready to carry off the damsel of his choice.

Of course, this being a Blaze novel, the heroine had to be every bit as bold and brash as her pirate hero. In steps Mia Quentin, modern maiden on a mission! She’s not only ready and willing to indulge in a sexy kidnapping scenario with Seth Chandler, she’s out to make sure he can’t possibly choose anyone but her for potential ravishing.

If you enjoy Seth and Mia’s steamy Florida adventures, don’t miss my 2003 Blaze title, Wild and Wicked, which revisits Gasparilla and all the fun that ensues. Seth’s brother Jesse has his own story to tell—a tale that involves a lusty lady pirate determined to make Jesse see the sensual potential in their friendship! Visit me at www.JoanneRock.com to learn more about my future releases or to let me know what you think of my books. I’d love to hear from you!

Happy reading,

Joanne Rock

P.S.—Don’t forget to check out www.tryblaze.com!

Wild and Willing
Joanne Rock

To Linda Watson, the sister I have forever looked up to for

great advice, a grounded perspective and much-needed

laughter. Thank you for providing a Florida consultation hotline

as I penned this book!

And to Wanda Ottewell, my talented editor,

whose vision and guidance have strengthened my writing

and made my work all the more rewarding.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

1

SETH CHANDLER flipped up his eye patch and leaned against the ship mast of the Jose Gaspar to study the throng of milling pirates aboard the main deck. He could think of a thousand places he would rather yo-ho-ho with a bottle of rum today.

His empty office full of paperwork topped the list.

There had to be seventy-five guys and a couple of women in swashbuckling gear sailing into Tampa Bay with him, yet Seth hadn’t been able to pawn off today’s mission on any of them. Not with his company’s name on the line as corporate sponsor of this event.

Damn that lead buccaneer for quitting only two hours before Tampa’s annual Gasparilla festival. Now Seth had no choice but to step in and assume the eye patch himself. He’d spent too many years building his company’s reputation to have it compromised by any screwups with this very public assignment.

Someone had to abduct a wench.

Actually, several festivalgoers would be carried off by the marauding raiders, but the lead pirate at the front of the boat would no doubt be captured on film for the six o’clock news. When the actor hired to play the role had quit, Seth hadn’t wanted to hand over the part to just anyone. What if his last-minute fill-in copped a feel in full view of the media? Or what if the stand-in dropped the person he was supposed to be carrying?

Lawsuit alert!

Without résumés and references in front of him, Seth wouldn’t risk it. He’d strapped on a dagger, stripped out of his shirt, kicked off his Italian loafers and vaulted barefoot aboard the Jose Gaspar at the last minute.

Now, as the ship sailed at the head of a flotilla around Harbour Island toward thousands of waiting festival attendees on shore, Seth wished he hadn’t been born so damn responsible. He didn’t want to spend his Saturday leering at giggling maidens as part of the festival’s entertainment.

Seth scanned the crowds lining the docking area in front of the convention center, searching for appropriate candidates for mock abduction. He dismissed the hordes of tourists braving the mild February weather in string bikinis. The last thing he needed was some racy media photo of himself with a beach babe thrown over his shoulder. He was definitely going for a local—a woman with enough clothes on to ensure he wouldn’t look like a sleaze-ball for touching too much bare skin.

Bad enough he was half-naked. He didn’t need the added trouble—or temptation—of a scantily clad woman in his arms.

All he had to do was find a safe woman, maybe a grandmotherly type, who would enjoy the adventure and generate great P.R. for Chandler Enterprises. He’d carry her off to the boat his brother had waiting for him, then treat her to dinner for her trouble. He could bring her back to the city later tonight.

Simple.

Piece of cake, in fact, for a man who managed international mergers, could read financial newspapers in a dozen languages and had compiled enough venture capital to support himself and a small army for the rest of their lives.

He slapped his eye patch back down over his brow and clamped his teeth around a blunt dagger as the ship moved into position in front of the partiers on shore.

How much trouble could abducting a wench possibly be?

MIA QUENTIN elbowed her way to the front of the string bikini crowd, hoping to catch a peek at the incoming ship full of pirates, her last chance for adventure. Determined to put herself in the path of the first marauding invader she spied, Mia simmered with restless energy and uncharacteristic daring.

Damned if she didn’t feel downright dangerous.

She tucked a red hibiscus behind her ear and draped long brown hair over her shoulder. She just hoped one of those pirates appreciated a more artistic approach to fashion than a bikini made of dental floss. Mia happened to think her long floral sarong and black silk halter-top were much more evocative than the blatant message sent by miles of naked legs.

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 late news, and we want all the pirate captives available to talk about their day.”

Eleven? That was still six hours away, even with the festival getting off to a late start this year due to a thunderstorm.

“Don’t worry,” Seth shot back, trying—and failing—to keep his eyes from straying to Carmen. “I’ll have her here in plenty of time.”

Patrick frowned. “The point is to show the lady a good time.” The old man waggled bushy eyebrows. “If you bring her back too early, we’ll think you didn’t do your pirately duty by her.”

Seth nodded, unconcerned. He had a vested interest in making sure his captive waxed enthusiastic about her day for the cameras. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

A buzz of excitement passed through the festival attendees as the final knots were tied to secure the Jose Gaspar. Seth shifted his position onboard to put him closest to his maiden of choice. And the siren alongside her.

He didn’t wait for the lowering of the gangplank. Pirates seldom did, right?

Fully committed to the role he’d taken on, Seth vaulted off the low boat and into the waiting crowd a few feet below. The excited buzz swelled into a roar of approval from the bustling throng. Other pirates swung out over the crowd, the invasion well underway.

He landed farther from his target than he’d intended, but that didn’t stop him from going after the woman he wanted. A Nordic-looking blonde planted herself in his path, and shot him a sleepy-lidded invitation steamy enough to sizzle the shorts off a man.

She was impressive, but she didn’t come close to Carmen. Seth set her aside with a wink and a nod, determined to run away with the green-robed granny and a big headline in tomorrow’s papers.

Too bad he sorely underestimated Carmen’s appeal. No sooner had he turned away the blonde than she was there. The brunette who had been shadowing granny—the one who’d caught his eye before his sea legs even hit dry land.

The crowd surged behind him, pushing him toward her even though his whole body had stopped dead a foot away from her. All at once, she was plastered against him, a slender but curvy-in-all-the-right-places body molded to his for one sensory overloading second before she stepped back an inch.

Heat simmered through his veins, nerve endings he hadn’t been aware of leapt to life, greedy for another round with the devastatingly feminine physique of the woman standing in front of him.

Who was not the woman he was supposed to grab, some annoyingly logical part of his brain insisted on reminding him.

Damn.

His mouth was so dry he didn’t stand a chance of eking out a “pardon me.” Not when her green cat eyes probed over him with slow thoroughness. Bad enough she licked her lips as her gaze wandered over his bare chest. But then she took her perusal a bit lower, and her full, pink lips curved into a smile.

God was not playing fair today. This was surely more temptation than one well-meaning man could possibly endure, wasn’t it?

Seth could carry her off on his boat for a few hours and lose all his cares in the warmth of her blatant invitation. He reached for her, effectively shutting off the practical side of his brain for two seconds.

Until the rolling base of a television camera ran over his foot at the same time a microphone appeared in between them.

Shit.

Cold reason returned, barely nudging out the heat pulsing through him. But he was on a mission, damn it, and he’d always prided himself on putting his company first. Every member of his family had money tied up in Chandler Enterprises and Gulf Coast Bank because they trusted Seth to think with his brain and not his…well, they trusted him.

Swallowing his regrets, Seth spun on his heel and reached for the green terry cloth beside Carmen. He would abduct granny because he was here on business. His wayward attraction to the bold brunette would only get him into trouble today.

Seth braced his feet to hoist the white-haired older woman into his arms, but instead of reeling in green terry cloth, Seth found himself with a red hibiscus tickling his nose.

Carmen had somehow twirled her way into his arms and glued herself to his chest.

Cold reason made a feeble attempt at resistance. His logical brain assured him this was not going according to his well-laid plans.

But before he could do anything about it the television cameras zoomed in on Carmen.

Right about the moment she started screaming.

2

MIA PREPARED TO belt out another round of mock terror for the big camera marked Channel 10, but the pirate stud beside her finally took the hint.

She’d been worried that, despite her best efforts, the bare-chested buccaneer would choose someone else to play “ravish the maiden” with. But engaging the media cameras and screaming her lungs out seemed to convince him she would be more fun than the hot-to-trot grandma in green.

Her brown-eyed Captain Kidd scooped her off her feet and into his arms, cradling her high against his chest.

Mia’s artfully tied sarong fell away from her legs to drape over his arm, exposing her thigh to unadulterated contact with one steely bicep.

Mmm.

Playing to the camera—or maybe just playing for the pleasure of it—Mia threw her arms about the pirate’s neck. Her silk-covered breasts grazed against his bare chest, the closest contact she’d had with any man for much, much too long. Heat prickled over her skin, anticipation curled low in her belly. Her adventure had officially begun.

And it felt wickedly delicious.

She winked and waved at the camera before she realized what she was doing. No doubt, someone in Twin Palms would be watching the five o’clock news on Channel 10. And with the way gossip traveled in a small town, her grandparents would think she was on her way to a life of dissolution by 5:05.

She turned her head into the crook of her captor’s neck and whispered into the warmth of his soap-scented skin. “Let’s get out of here.”

He flexed his fingers, squeezing his hold on her just a little tighter. “You stage your own abduction and now you’re in charge of the getaway, too?”

His smooth baritone held a note of amused censure, but he put his feet in motion before all the words left his mouth.

Deftly, he turned their bodies sideways for better aerodynamics to slice through the crowd of onlookers.

“I’d rather not be on the evening news,” she informed him, surprised that her weight didn’t seem to slow him down a bit. He navigated a path to the water’s edge as easily as if he walked alone.

She tried not to notice the interesting ripple of his abs as he moved. The play of muscle along her hip sorely distracted her.

“Could have fooled me. That performance of yours looked tailor-made for TV.” He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the cameras they’d left behind.

“No. That performance was tailor-made for you.” She’d promised herself she’d be bold today, and she wouldn’t back down from her goal, even if the half-naked man she’d set her sights on was a bit more intimidating than the sailor in a striped shirt she’d originally envisioned for this scenario.

She forced herself to recall he wasn’t really a pirate. No eighteenth-century man would have access to aftershave that smelled as sexy as this man’s.

“All that screaming and jumping into my arms was for my benefit?” He slowed his stride as they neared a docking area about a hundred yards north of the convention center. “Does that mean you know me, Carmen? Because I sure as hell would remember if I knew you.”

“Carmen?” Had she missed something? Maybe all those masculine pheromones were distorting her ability to remember her own name.

“You know, the aria-singing gypsy girl.” He nodded toward the hibiscus behind her ear. “I guess it’s the dark hair and the red flower.”

“Oh.” The analogy sounded wildly exciting. No one in Twin Palms would ever think of comparing her to an opera heroine. To them, she was just the Quentins’ granddaughter. “I’m Mia Quentin. And no, we’ve never met.”

Captain Kidd took a few more steps down a pier, his bare feet silent on the wooden planks. “I’m Seth Chandler. Care to tell me why you made it your mission to shriek your way in between me and the woman I planned to steal off with today?”

She hadn’t intended to be quite that bold this afternoon. But once she’d gotten a good view of Seth, she’d grown even more committed to her plan.

“Were you really going for a woman twice your age?” Did that sound too rude? “I mean, she had great legs and all, but—”

Seth set her on her feet with a thud at the end of the pier. “Don’t sweat it. Turns out Granny had her eye on another pirate anyway. Just before we left I saw her lock lips with our Krewe leader.”

“Good.” The knowledge soothed her somewhat as she stared down at a sleek white cabin cruiser tethered to the dock. “I’d hate to think I spoiled a rendezvous for you two.”

“You didn’t.” He stepped off the pier and into the sleek boat. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” He held out his hand to draw her aboard. “Why me?”

His question barely registered in her brain. Some last vestige of her reasonable self chose that moment to rear its head and ask her what the hell she was thinking to hop into a speedboat with a knife-wielding pirate she didn’t know from Adam.

Seth released a frustrated sigh and gestured to the dock behind her. “Unless you want to be tonight’s feature story, I suggest you hightail it into the boat.”

Mia chanced a glance over her shoulder and discovered a small fleet of journalists headed their way. Members of the media jogged down the sidewalk toward the wooden pier, dragging cameras and microphones along with them.

The sight made Mia’s decision for her. She leaped in the boat with both feet. “A cruise on the Bay sounds very inviting.”

Seth popped switches at the helm and fired the engine. “A pleasure cruise.” He flashed her a grin that was pure pirate. His half-naked body brushed against hers as he crossed the deck to untie the boat. “I can’t think of a better way to spend the day.”

Mia urged him to hurry, even as she wondered what she was getting herself into. She had a can of mace in her purse, however, and a crowd of people had seen them leave together. The guy would have to know he didn’t stand a chance of getting away with anything. Besides, she’d long-ago developed the ability to size up a man given the astonishing number of males her mother brought around. And Mia sensed a reassuring nobility in her bare-chested brigand.

Seth untethered them and slid back into his seat on the bridge, efficiently maneuvering out of the docking area with one hand, and peeling off his eye patch with the other.

Mia peered back toward land as they pulled away, but only until she noticed the lens of the television camera trained on them. Trying not to panic, she flung herself onto the bench seat just behind the steering wheel.

And right next to Seth. The man who’d said he was ready for a pleasure cruise.

Now things were starting to get interesting.

Mia straightened the flower in her hair, hoping she hadn’t forgotten how to flirt. She’d done so successfully in college—before her family had nearly run the tourist shop into the ground and her mother had single-handedly given Grandpa an ulcer.

Once Mia returned to Twin Palms from her art program at the University of Miami, she’d forgotten all about dating. Too many responsibilities to worry about as she’d bailed Grandma and Grandpa out of near bankruptcy. Then, after she’d stabilized their finances—barely—and was ready to start seeing people again, she quickly realized her grandparents worried themselves sick any time she went out with anyone but the boy next door.

And as upstanding and polite as Frankie the marina manager might be, Mia had no interest in him.

Thus went her social life. Until now.

“You really think it’s going to be a pleasure cruise?” Mia prompted, not caring if her fishing for reassurance was blatantly obvious. “Can I take that to mean you’ve sort of resigned yourself to me?”

Seth kicked the engines into a higher gear as they moved away from the flotilla and out of the main channels of traffic. Everyone in Tampa wanted to be at the festival but them.

“Depends.” He risked a glimpse at her now that the waterway had cleared out. “Are you ever going to answer my question?”

Had he asked her a question? Mia found it difficult to remember as he pinned her with dark eyes. Without the eye patch, she got the full impact of his intent gaze.

Her temperature climbed a few notches.

“What question?”

He shook his head and checked the channel, easing the boat around a barrier island toward open water. “What gives with the theatrics today? Why make a big deal out of planting yourself in my path if we don’t even know one another?”

“Oh, that question.” Mia created and discarded several answers before settling on the truth. “I’m looking for adventure. I thought being carried off by a pirate fit the bill quite nicely.”

She waited, worried. Would he kick her off the boat now that she’d admitted to scheming? Launch into an offended diatribe about roping him into her plot?

As they left the last of marine congestion behind them, Seth turned up the engines and the boat roared to full speed. Determined not to let her adventure end yet as the wind and water sprayed her face, Mia thought she could at least make a stab at enticing him, let him see her ideas for fun and excitement might be worth pursuing after all.

The scent of the bay, a pungent blend of fish and boat fuel, drifted through the air. The rumble of the engine and splash of water drowned out any sounds around them, insulating their world with white noise.

“I’m not really Blackbeard, you know,” Seth warned her, steering the cruiser into an occasional wave so that the spray kicked back all the more. “You’re not going to find much adventure with me.”

Says you.

Mia rose up on her feet, bracing herself on the broad band of windshield around the helm. She tipped her face into the spray and let the latest white-cap douse her.

Cool water sluiced over her, awakening her senses even though it barely diminished the warmth she experienced any time she so much as glanced at Seth.

All sense of caution washed away, Mia wrung out the water in her skirt as she stared down at him.

“Whoever you are, Seth Chandler, you’re all the excitement a girl could want on a pleasure cruise.”

WATER, WATER everywhere and not a frigging drop to drink.

Seth’s mouth had never been so parched as he tracked rivulets of H₂0 streaming down Mia Quentin’s exposed thigh. She tugged at the soggy floral fabric tied around her hips, revealing more and more tanned leg as she twisted the hem to squeeze out excess water.

He struggled to think, to edge words past his dry lips. “You really don’t know who I am.”