by Anna Durand
"I'm American." I stretched my legs out again, wiggling my feet to iron out the kinks in my ankles. "Is Aidan short for something?"
He shot me that grin — wide and brilliant and full of exuberance, yet heated by an underlying sensuality. "Aidan the Magnificent. It's my full, Viking name."
"Thought you were Scottish."
"Vikings came to Scotland, you know. I've probably got at least a wee bit of Norse blood in me."
Well, that might explain his ruthless determination to seduce me into bedding, loving, and wedding him. No, it wasn't ruthless. It was… sweetly determined.
"What part of Scotland are you from?" I asked.
"Ballachulish. A village in the Highlands, on the shores of Loch Leven." He gazed out across the blue waters of Lake Superior. "Maybe I'll have a swim. The water's making me sentimental."
"Did you bring swim trunks?"
"I don't need them." He sprang to his feet, lifting his shirt as if to shed it.
"What have you got on under those jeans?"
He paused with his shirt partly lifted, revealing half of his six-pack abs. "Skin."
For a couple heart-pounding seconds, I couldn't breathe or blink or tear my gaze away from his belly, away from the narrow trail of cinnamon hair bisecting his abs and vanishing beneath his waistband. No boxers or briefs under there. Nothing but skin. Touchable, lickable skin.
Aidan lifted his shirt a little higher.
I shook off my fantasy and held up a hand. "Hold up, Flipper. That water is frigid. Why do you think we didn't see a single person swimming or wading? It comes straight from the depths of Lake Superior, which is very deep and cold. They don't call it an inland sea for nothing."
He flattened his lips into an oh please expression. "I'm Scottish. Chilly water doesnae scare me."
"Maybe you should dip your toes in first to test how cold it is." When he continued to scoff and rolled his eyes, I said, "Trust me. You don't want to swim this early in the year, unless it's an inland lake or a protected bay. Even then… Well, trust me. Okay?"
Grumbling, he let his shirt fall back down and nodded. Stripping off his sneakers and socks, he rolled his pant legs up to his knees. While he ambled toward the water, I leaned back, braced on my arms, to watch his muscles flex underneath his clothes. He did have a fine body. Unbelievably fine. Better than fine, actually.
I let my head loll to the left and moistened my lips, all my attention riveted to his ass and its sculpted muscles shifting inside his jeans.
Aidan waded out into the gently lapping waves without stopping until the water reached his knees. He froze there, his shoulders bunching and his curled fingers snapping out straight and stiff.
Though he faced away from me, I could imagine his expression. I'd seen it before, on tourists who thought they could handle the frigid water.
"Ah!" he hissed, backing out of the water in quick time. "Bod an Donais!"
I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.
Aidan spun around and dropped onto his beach towel, rubbing his feet furiously. "You think it's funny? I've probably got frostbite."
"I warned you." Canting my head, I couldn't help smiling as he gave an exaggerated shiver. I recalled his exclamation and asked, "What was that you said a minute ago? Sounded like another language."
"Gaelic. I was cursing at the bloody freezing water."
"What does it mean? The phrase you said."
"Bod an Donais. Means the devil's penis."
This time, I couldn't hold back the laughter. It erupted out of me and wouldn't stop until my stomach muscles ached from the exertion and my eyes watered. Aidan watched me with a half smile, half frown until I wiped my eyes and caught my breath.
"You think that's funny too?" he said. "It's a legitimate Scottish curse. Though I could've said bod a' chac, which means shit's penis."
I burst out laughing again and collapsed onto my back on the towel, hands clutching my belly. I was in serious danger of suffocating due to an inability to stop laughing.
My giggles died away when Aidan reclined beside me, his head supported on one hand, his focus squarely on me. "I can teach you plenty of dirty Gaelic phrases — starting with the ones about sex."
Gaelic sex talk? Spoken in his soft, husky voice, the one he used when he wanted to get me worked up? A delicious little shiver rippled through me. I liked the idea way too much.
"Let's eat now," I said, as if he hadn't just offered to talk dirty to me.
"Not yet," he murmured, tipping toward me, his face suddenly positioned over mine and the masculine scent of him wafting over me. "First, I want to kiss you."
"No sex. Rule number one."
His mouth twisted into a half-suppressed smirk. "You keep assuming I'm wanting sex, which makes me wonder if you're the one who can't stop thinking about it."
Good point. Not that I'd admit it. "No comment."
"Let me kiss you." His eyes had gone hooded, his gaze intent on mine. "Unless you're afraid you can't keep from fucking me, right here on the beach."
Naturally, a vivid image of just that flared in my mind, complete with sound effects and phantom sensations. I clasped my hands more tightly over my belly, feeling a heaviness there spreading lower. My lips tingled from the memory of our previous kisses, and dammit, I itched to slip my hand inside my shorts and ease the ache growing in my clitoris.
Aidan's slow smile made me wonder if he could read my mind. "Ready to break your first rule?"
"No." I squirmed, adjusting my position, but the damp ache lingered. "But we can kiss. Only kiss. No clothing will be removed and no parts of you will sneak under my clothes to touch parts of me. Understand?"
"Aye. I willnae stroke your boicionn unless you beg me to."
"My what?"
"Boicionn." He swept a hand down my body, hovering it a bare inch above me, and halted it over my groin. "Your sweet, pink, slippery folds. The ones I'll lick and stroke when I finally have you naked under me."
"Never going to happen."
"We'll see."
"Are you going to kiss me or what?"
He laid a hand on my cheek, his thumb drawing circles on my skin, grazing the corner of my mouth. Slanting closer, he hovered his lips millimeters from mine. "Desperate for me?"
"Patience is not my forte. When I decide to do something, I want to get it done right away."
"I like that about you."
His voice had gone deep and gravelly, his breaths tickled my skin. Blue eyes darkened with desire, he commanded my focus. I let my lips drift apart, as if I might take his breaths inside me and revel in the flavor of him. My mouth watered at the idea of it.
"I like everything I've learned about you," he rumbled. "Even your rules."
Before I could mutter a single syllable in response, he swept his lips across mine — once, twice, three times. His mouth skated over mine, delicate as a breeze, teasing me until I had to fist my hands in the towel beneath me to keep from shoving them into his hair and dragging him in for the kind of deep, unbridled lip-lock we'd shared before, the kind I burned for this time.
When he darted his tongue out to flick it across the seam of my lips, back and forth, a hot bolt of lust ripped through me. My rational brain shut down, and for once, I didn't give a damn about rules or propriety. I wanted him. His mouth, his tongue, everything. Letting out a long, low moan, I seized his head in both hands and pulled him in to meet my waiting, hungry lips. Our mouths fused, I sank my fingers into his hair and opened my mouth wider, beckoning him to take control.
A groan resonated in his chest and throat. His tongue dived into my mouth, lashing and coiling around my tongue, starved for the taste and sensation of him inside me, taking and giving with equal measure, overpowered by the pleasure of kissing him.
When we came up for air, both breathless, we could do nothing but gaze into each other's eyes for a long moment. His blue eyes were glossy and half closed, and I imagined mine looked the same way. I felt the way he looked — dazed a
nd lustful, craving more.
I'd just reclaimed my breath when he bent down for another kiss.
Placing a hand on his chest, I managed to keep him at bay. "Listen, you need to accept I won't ever love you. I do not fall for men called Don Juan."
He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Bloody Jamie. Little sisters can be a trial, that's for sure. When you've got five brothers and sisters, you get used to being called all sorts of sarcastic names. Doesn't your brother annoy you that way?"
"Gavin prefers to annoy me by meddling in my life."
Aidan nodded. "Overbearing brothers. I sympathize."
"Ditto. But about this Don Juan thing…"
"I am not a Don Juan. I like women and I like to flirt, that's all."
My hand still flat on his chest, I could feel the heat of his body. "How many women have you been with?"
"Seven."
I couldn't stop my eyebrows from shooting up. "Seven? That's it? Doesn't sound very Don Juan-ish to me."
"Told you, I'm not like that. Jamie's exaggerating."
Aidan laid his hand over mine, slowly peeling my palm away from his shirt. "I'd like that kiss now, please."
"Okay."
He set my hand on my bare thigh, his fingers grazing my skin, and bent his head closer to mine. Closer. Closer. Breaths whispering on my skin. Lips millimeters from mine. Closer. Closer.
His phone warbled a bagpipe melody.
Muttering what sounded like another Gaelic curse, he rolled away and dug the phone out of his pants pocket. Whatever he saw on the screen made him flinch.
"Have to take this," he said. "Won't be a minute."
I had no time to say anything, because he sprang to his feet and trotted a little ways down the beach to answer his call. Though he faced away from me, I could see his anxiety in the tightness of his shoulders and the way he clasped one hand to the back of his bowed head.
He paced a short length of the beach, head down so I couldn't make out his expression, though he shook his head and gesticulated with one hand as he spoke to the other party.
I couldn't look away from Aidan, my curiosity mounting with every passing second. What kind of call would make him so agitated? What secrets did he hide? I didn't really know him. Maybe I'd indulged in the fantasy we had some kind of connection, a purely physical one, but Aidan MacTaggart was a stranger. I ought to rethink this… whatever it was between us. Inviting him to visit me. Making out with him on the beach. Confiding my secrets to him. Insanity.
Aidan ended his call, stuffing the phone back in his pocket. He stalked back down the beach to me. Settling onto his towel beside me, Aidan reached for the cooler. "Let's eat."
"Yes," I said, rubbing my hands together and licking my lips. "I'm famished."
Head down, he peeked up at me. "I know. You are always famished."
The suggestive tone of his voice shivered a thrill through me. Why I should like his flirtatious talk and erotic ways baffled me. But I couldn't have sex with a man I'd met two days ago. A man from another country, an ocean away. A man who explicitly stated his intention to seduce me.
A man who wanted a wife.
Though I was still married, I didn't think I could use that as an excuse to stay away from Aidan. I had filed for divorce, after all, which meant eventually I'd be an ex-wife and free to marry again. Unease slithered through me. Marry again? Risk being trapped again? I didn't know if I had the courage to try it.
Chapter Eight
While he brought out plastic-wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, I struggled to rationalize my behavior with him. I was lonely, nothing more. Ever since losing my job, I'd spent three months alone in the woods in a secluded cabin with only puppies for companions. Even before that, I'd avoided getting friendly with men because of my unwanted, illegal marriage. The idea of hanging out with Aidan, engaging in strange and oddly enjoyable conversations with him, made me feel almost normal again, not like a fugitive from the law.
I could enjoy kissing him. Talking to him. Basking in his sensual aura. Didn't mean I'd be tempted to sleep with him. Certainly didn't mean I'd fall for him. No way. In a week or so, the novelty would wear off and I'd send him on his way. No harm done.
You will fall for me, he'd said. Ye willnae be able to help it.
Aidan handed me an unwrapped sandwich. Our fingers nudged each other when I accepted the sandwich, and awareness shimmered through me.
Okay, I was attracted to him. Wildly, hotly attracted. But I had self-control. Really, I did.
No sex, no love, no marriage.
I should've told him to take a hike. Should've gone back to my hermitage. Why couldn't I tell him to give up and go away?
Maybe I couldn't speak the words, but I did have a way to discourage him.
"Listen," I said after swallowing a bite of sandwich, "there's something else I need to tell you about me."
He bit off a chunk of his sandwich, chewing with deliberate slowness, swallowing and dragging his tongue across his lips. "I'm listening."
I picked at the crust of my sandwich to avoid looking at him. "Even if I wanted to marry you, which I don't, I can't do it. I'm already married."
Daring to glance up, I found him still as a boulder, eyes unblinking. He held the sandwich an inch from his mouth.
"What?" he asked. "But you don't wear a ring. And you're a virgin."
"I am married, Aidan. Filed for divorce, but still married."
"Filed for divorce?" He set down his food. "Then you're separated. Legally."
"There's no such thing as legal separation in Michigan. But yes, I started the divorce process." I flashed back to my conversations with Rade in the hotel and on the phone earlier. "My husband has been trying to delay the proceedings."
"Are you still in love with him?"
"I never loved him."
"Donnae understand." He glanced at his sandwich, his lip curled, and he set it down. "You don't love him and you've never slept with him. Why did you marry the man? Why not get an annulment instead of divorce?"
"It's a long story." I held up a hand when Aidan opened his mouth to speak. "Please don't ask any more questions. That's all I can tell you, for your own protection."
He squinted at me, lips pursed. "Protection? Why would I need to be protected from knowing about your relationship with your husband?"
"It's complicated."
"Has he abused you?"
"No, nothing like that."
"All right." Aidan picked up his sandwich and devoured another bite. The playful gleam had returned to his eyes. "Then we can kiss and I'm free to seduce you, since you're not really another man's wife anymore."
"Maybe you should go home. I'm bad news."
"You've already been good for me. I haven't had this much fun in a long time."
I stared at him, still holding my sandwich. "Aren't you worried I'm a criminal wanted by the FBI? Or that I'll try to con you into murdering my husband for his life insurance?"
Aidan laughed, shaking his head, and went back to eating his lunch.
If he wouldn't take me seriously, I had no other option except to order him to go away. But I still couldn't make myself say it. Didn't want to. Because I hadn't had this much fun in a long time either.
"Tell me," Aidan said, "can your husband stop the divorce?"
"No. Michigan is a no-fault state, which means the divorce will happen. He can argue about the terms and bring in his team of lawyers to slow things down, but it will go through eventually."
"His team of lawyers?" Aidan's brows lowered. "Is he wealthy?"
I absently drew lines in the sand, my gaze on the lake. "Yeah, he's rich. Inherited a fortune from his parents."
"Does he want to keep you from getting any of his money?"
"No." I dived my fingers into the sand, sinking the tips down through the warm top layer into the cool, damp sand beneath. "I already told him I don't want any more of his money. I want nothing from him except a divorce."
"Any m
ore of his money?" Aidan asked. "He's given you — "
"Yes and no. It's complicated, please don't ask me to explain."
"If that's what you want." He stroked the back of one finger along my upper arm, a faint smile on his lips. "Speaking of what you want… Since I don't want to overstay my welcome, would you rather I go back to Chicago tomorrow?"
My head wanted to say yes, but the rest of me longed to say no. What the hell, urged my mischievous inner voice, have a little fun. For five years, I'd denied myself anything close to fun out of fear and guilt. About time I took Tara's advice and cut loose.
I would not sleep with Aidan. Couldn't fall for him, not in the short time I had in mind.
"Okay," I said, "stay for a week. We can reevaluate at that point."
Aidan smiled, lighting up his face and igniting a brilliant flare inside me.
I might regret my decision later, but for now I planned to enjoy the warmth he engendered in me. I planned to enjoy the company of a sexy man who made me feel wanted.
"Have dinner with me," Aidan said.
My reply came without any hesitation. "I'd love to."
*****
I rested my hands on my lap, spreading my fingers over the floral fabric of my sun dress as I surveyed the restaurant around me. Picture windows overlooked the Portage Canal and the lift bridge, with its two blue towers spanning the narrow waterway. Though it was seven o'clock in the evening, the sun still glowed in the teal sky.
Aidan had received another mysterious call just as we walked into the restaurant, but he'd dismissed the caller with a gruff "can't talk now."
Seated across the table from me, Aidan relaxed in his chair, his focus on my face and a faint smile on his lips.
I fidgeted, a bit unnerved by his undivided attention. "You look pleased with yourself. Are you concocting some kind of plan to get me into bed?"
"No." He picked up his water glass and took a sip, but his gaze stayed on me. "Just wondering how long you'll keep pretending we're not dating."
"We aren't. Dating implies a desire to advance the relationship." I plucked at my dress, resisting the urge to chew on the inside of my cheek. "There will be no advancement."
His eyebrows lifted, his smile ticking up a little higher. "We share meals, we talk about our lives and our plans, and we kiss. That's dating."
