Either Waters didn’t care if she stole or he thought she was only joking, because he didn’t make any move to keep an eye on her. He just waved Knigh towards the shelves and returned to the book he’d been reading when they arrived.

The shop was as well-stocked as any he’d seen, although some books had wrinkled pages and bleached covers from saltwater, and they were all coated in a fine layer of dust as if they’d been here a long time.

When he rounded the corner, Vee was bent over a book, features drawn together in focus. One finger traced over the page. What held her so rapt?

He craned to see. “You speak Latium?”

She jumped, and her gaze shot up to him—she really had been so absorbed she hadn’t noticed him approach. Blinking, she huffed. “What, you’re surprised that a woman who swears with the best of them can also do so in Latium?”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “I suppose I shouldn’t be since you seem to—”

The entry bell rang.

“Ho, Waters,” a man’s voice said as a single set of footsteps entered.

Vee’s eyes widened and shot towards the door, but bookcases blocked it from sight.

Knigh frowned. “What’s—”

She launched herself against him, hand over his mouth.

He only avoided slamming into the bookcase thanks to his quick reactions and the strength built through years of drills and hard work. Still, he had to catch her around the waist to keep them both steady.

But that only pulled her closer. Again, her hand was cool but the rest of her body, flush against his, was invitingly warm, pliant, a pleasing combination of angled muscles and feminine curves.

Gods damn it, this was even worse than when she’d searched him on deck. With her height and musculature, she fit against him far, far too well.

She smelled of rain on earth and sweet vanilla pods. That had been the scent in her cabin when he’d first walked in, and he’d had to open the window to blast it away. Now there was no escaping it. It filled his nose, addled his brain, seemed to even seep into his veins, throbbing through his body.

Her gaze was still towards the door, and she breathed hard and deep as if surprised but trying to stay quiet. Each one of those breaths pushed her breasts into his chest, and his traitorous fingers cupped her waist.

Swallowing, he released his grip and shook her hand away, trying to ignore his own heavy breaths. Control.

“Sorry,” she mouthed and lifted a finger to her lips. As if he hadn’t taken the hint!

“Mr Vane,” Waters said, his tone stiff, “how can I help you this afternoon?”

Yes, focus on the conversation. That would be a welcome distraction.