Joel turned to face me, a smile quirking his lips. “I wouldn’t speak so soon, darling.” He stepped backward and opened the fridge, revealing a selection of beverages that must have been left over from the day’s shoot. It was sloppy work from whomever had been assigned to clean the cabin and remove all traces of our time there, but I was grateful for it, now.
I opened the cupboards in search of wine glasses, retrieving two and setting them on the counter while Joel poured our tea.
“Do you want wine with your tea?” I asked.
Joel chuckled. “Sure. Why not? We can double fist them, like college kids.”
“I hardly think you would catch any UCLA students chugging back yerba mate and Pinot Grigio, but sure.” I poured out the glasses and handed him one. He handed me a mug of tea in exchange.
“Do you think there’s a deck of cards around here or something?” I asked, suddenly nervous to be standing in the kitchen alone with Joel.
It was an intimate setting, with the storm raging on outside, and I wasn’t sure if I had the kind of cool nerves the situation necessitated. In a perfect world, romance would flourish from this point, easily and organically. But it wasn’t a perfect world, and I was far from a perfect social specimen. Hence suggesting a game of cards.
“Screw cards.” Joel tilted his head in the direction of the living room. “Let’s just talk.”
Did he have to be so perfect? I headed into the living room, putting the tea down next to my phone on the coffee table and pulling my knees up to my chest on the couch. My clothes were still damp, but I didn’t have anything to change into, so I’d just have to grin and bear it. Joel was clearly going through the same thing, not that I minded. His shirt stuck alluringly to his muscular chest, and I had to be careful not to stare.
“What do you want to talk about?” I took a careful sip of wine, watching him.
“Of course what I want to talk about most is why you’re so desperate to go under the knife,” Joel replied, “but that’s hardly polite conversation when you’ve got no escape, is it?” He took a sip of his tea and smiled. “How about something basic. Where did you grow up?”
I told Joel about growing up in Seattle, and how I’d always dreamed of moving to L.A. to work on sets. He told me about his family’s pressures for him to become a lawyer, and how he had always wanted a simple, pleasant life.
“A lot of people think that plastic surgery is a vocation for greedy doctors,” he explained. “The type who don't care about helping people. That's not the case for me. I know that my skills could be put to use in an emergency room, but this is all I've ever wanted.” He spread his arms out, as if to encompass the whole island. “And I still help people, too. Many of my patients are the victims of disfiguring accidents and such. I won't pretend that I'm changing the world doing what I do, but I enjoy it. Each client is a new puzzle to solve, and the reaction I receive when I do a good job helping them feel beautiful is very rewarding.”
I'd never thought about plastic surgery that way. In fact, I'd never thought much about it at all. But the way Joel spoke about what he did was inspiring to me somehow, even if—like he said—he wasn't changing the world.
“I like that about you,” I said finally. “I also like how you're so honest.”
Joel's eyes flashed mischievously, and his lip curled just enough to make my stomach flutter.
“If only the same could be said for the two of us, eh?” When I struggled to form a reply, Joel laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I'm just messing with you, Megan. Probably more than I need to. I guess I'm still just trying to figure you out.”
I sighed. “You and me both.”
I wished I could figure Chelsea out, once and for all, too. Why would she steal so much money from her employer? Why would she put us both at risk like that, without so much as a thought?
“How's your tea?” Joel asked.
I sipped it tentatively, nodding in satisfaction as the bitter liquid rolled over my tongue. “Good. How's your wine?”
He mirrored my movements but with the wine, nodding and smiling afterward. “Good.”
We both laughed.
The attraction I felt towards Joel was intense and unyielding. I knew that I shouldn't be having such romantic fantasies when I was destined to disappear after Dr. Lockhart had done his work, but I couldn't help myself. I imagined that instead of being stranded in this beach hut because of a storm, we'd come here on a romantic weekend getaway, or something like that. All we needed was some candlelight and the image would be complete.
Gah. If only.
“I'm going to use the bathroom,” I said after a moment, unable to stop staring into the endless green of Joel's eyes. “Excuse me.”
I put my drink down on the table and headed down the hallway to the cabin's one bathroom. After I closed the door, I took a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. Before Chelsea's unwelcome arrival, I'd never paid much attention to the face looking back at me in the mirror. Not close attention, anyway. Now I committed to memory every slope, angle, and curve. I wanted to remember who I was before, and I realized that until we went for the surgery, I'd probably do this every time I stood in front of a reflective surface.
There was a loud bang from somewhere outside, louder than before, and the lights flickered out.
I resisted the urge to scream, but not by much. The inside of the bathroom was completely black, and in the absence of light, the sounds of the storm raging outside seemed even louder. Wind howled and rattled, rain whipped and thrashed, and the whole cabin felt like it might fly away at any given moment.
I found the door handle and opened it, calling out into the dark hallway. “Joel?”
“I'm here.” The voice was closer than I expected. “I was just coming to make sure you were okay.”
“I'm fine,” I said, walking toward the vague shape in the darkness. “You okay?”
“Yeah. But I can't find any candles. Any ideas?”
I reached Joel and put a hand on his arm to cement his existence in my new, inky reality. His bicep was strong and thick, and I felt the urge to wrap both hands around it to measure just how thick.
“I have no clue.” I frowned, though he couldn't see it. “What are we supposed to do? I guess there's the light from our phones...”
The back of Joel's hand brushed over my cheek, a feather-soft touch that caused me to quietly gasp with its gentleness.
“Let's not bother with lights,” Joel said, his voice low and husky. “I kind of like the dark. It heightens the other senses.”
My heart somersaulted in my chest. “Yeah, that's true, I suppose.”
“Megan...” He said my name like a whispered prayer. “Tell me if I'm being too forward, but I just can't resist you.”
Before I could respond, I felt Joel's warm lips brush across mine. That small touch ignited an inferno in my belly. He pulled back a little, as if to give me room to object, but I seized the front of his shirt and yanked him back down.
Joel's arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight against his hard chest as our lips danced together in the dark. His kiss was firm and demanding, but with a sensual edge that left me weak in the knees. I wanted to live in that kiss forever.
“You're beautiful, even in the darkness,” Joel murmured, lips feathering over mine. “I've wanted to kiss you for a long time.”
If my heart raced any faster, it would explode.
“Me too,” I managed to force out. Then I kissed him again, pushing myself up on my toes and sinking into him. His hands traced down my back and along my sides, exploring my body with as much enthusiasm as I explored his.
It didn't matter that in a few days, a few weeks, I'd be gone. It didn't matter that this was one of the worst ideas I'd ever had. I wanted Joel.
Nothing else mattered.
Joel's mouth trailed a path down my neck, nibbling on my collarbone and throat before making his way back to my chin, my lips, the tip of my nose. He kissed me everywhere, as if he were a bl
ind man and the only way he could see me was to kiss my face. It was more intimate and sensual than any sexual experience I'd ever had. The only way to describe what I was feeling was pure bliss.
“Let's find the bedroom,” Joel whispered.
I nodded my head in wholehearted agreement, forgetting that he was still kissing my cheek. My forehead smacked his cheekbone and he laughed.
“Sorry!”
“It's okay.” Joel slid his hands up to my face, cradling it gently. “Being head-butted by you is ten times as exciting as what I originally had planned for my night.”
“And what was that?”
My eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness. I could see the faint outline of his features in the shadows, the curve of his jaw and the arch of his lips.
“I’d probably be sitting at home, thinking about you.” He kissed me again, leisurely and slow, and began walking backward down the hallway, testing doors as we went.
It was a simple two bedroom, so the odds were in our favor. The first door led to a closet, but the second was the bedroom. We stepped inside, the room lit briefly by a flash of lightning streaking across the sky.
Joel began peeling my clothes away, revealing my bare skin inch by inch. I shivered, and I wasn't sure whether it was from excitement or the chill in the air. Joel trailed a finger up my arm, feeling the goosebumps, feeling what he was doing to me.
I returned the favor, letting my fingertips explore his skin with the lightest of touches. A brush along his forearm. A stroke across his face. A press against his lips.
Joel made a deep, throaty noise of satisfaction when my touch trailed down his neck to the top of his chest, and I began slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
It was as if we were alone in our own world, free from outside distraction or disruption. I felt like I could take my time, which was something I unquestionably wanted to do. If I was only going to have this one night with Joel, I wanted to sear it into my memory so deeply that I would never forget the feel of his muscles rippling under my fingers. I wanted to remember the way he sighed as I bent my head to kiss his chest, the way his hands squeezed my waist and held me close.
My lips feathered kisses from his clavicle to his belly button, following my hands while they unbuttoned his shirt. When it was open, I slid it down over his shoulders and ran an exploratory hand over his chest. The man was ripped. What was meant to be a brief exploration became a full-on investigation, both hands now coming into the mix. Joel chuckled, but didn't stop me, as I squeezed and stroked his muscled chest, marveling at his washboard abs. He really was like a Greek god.
“My turn,” he said a moment later, and his voice was so thick with need that I nearly buckled to the floor.
His touch was firmer than mine as he pulled off my shirt and bra, his hands rougher. He cupped my breasts in his palms, squeezing and massaging my nipples, then bending down to kiss them. I leaned back, pleasure swirling with every caress. I'd never felt so treasured before, so wanted. It was a feeling I knew I would crave for a long time afterward.
We moved over to the bed, stripping the rest of our clothes off along the way. Joel was eager to explore my curves, pushing me down against the mattress as he kissed along the plane of my belly and the swell of my breasts. I was so warm and full of need that I thought I might burst. Every nerve ending in my body was sitting up and taking notice of the way he worked me expertly. He was a master musician, and I was an instrument of his own creation, one he could play perfectly.
He left the bed for a moment, pulling a condom out of his wallet in his pants, then came back to kiss me, sheathing himself with one hand while he did. But instead of heading right for the main event, Joel teased me with his fingers first. His swirling touch was divine. Delicious. His mastery of my strings had never been more evident.
I was panting by the time he settled himself between my thighs, slowly joining us. My body had to stretch to accommodate his girth, and once our hips were flush, he waited for a moment, relishing how good it felt to be fully connected.
Joel kissed down my neck as he began to move, our bodies picking up a perfect rhythm. The pleasure was intense. Perfect. It was everything I'd ever hoped to find in sex, but thus far had been clearly missing. We were like two waves on the stormy seas outside, rolling and churning together with the kind of harmony that doesn't exist outside of nature. We were passion and longing; need and bliss. We were together, wholly and completely.
My release rose like a tsunami, until I finally came apart like a thousand fireworks shooting off into the night sky. My hair stood on end. My toes curled. It was the purest of pleasures, and it was Joel’s and mine alone.
He tumbled over the edge after me, panting into my ear and whispering my name, over and over again. I held him close, unwilling to part from him—now or ever—even though I knew I eventually would have to. But, for this moment, this perfect, beautiful, fleeting moment, Joel Lockhart was mine. I was his. And the worlds we belonged to held no claim over our sweaty, naked bodies.
Chapter Six
I awoke to the smell of sea salt and the gentle hissing of waves. As my awareness expanded, I felt the warmth of a body pressed up against mine, the masculine scent of Joel's cologne, and his hand clasped around my own. I was on my side, and Joel was spooning me. We had somehow stayed cuddled up like this through the night, even though it had never been a favorite position of mine. I normally liked my space when I slept, but for whatever reason, that rule didn't seem to apply when it came to Joel. I felt like I couldn't be close enough to him if I tried. I had him, and I wanted more of him, still. How was that possible?
His slow breaths tickled at the back of my neck. He was still asleep. I decided to savor the moment for as long as possible, even though the storm was clearly over and we had no reason left to stay there. Who was I kidding? He was the only reason I needed.
I closed my eyes, fully intending to go back to sleep. Then, Joel's hand squeezed mine.
“Are you awake too?” he asked. His voice was thick with sleep, which made him sound even sexier.
“Unfortunately.”
His laugh rumbled through me. “I've got appointments this morning, but I don't want to get up.”
It warmed my heart that he was facing the same dilemma I was. I had no idea what last night meant for us, and I knew that as soon as we left this cabin we'd be entering back into the real world, but for now, we were on the same page.
“There's also the minor problem that this isn't our house and we aren't supposed to be here,” I joked.
“Wouldn't it be nice if it were, though?” Joel rolled onto his back, turning me in his arms so my face rested against his chest. “I could picture myself living in a place like this.”
“Really?” I eyed him skeptically. “Based on your clinic, I assumed you were more of a ‘luxury digs’ kind of guy.”
“Mmm, you're right. I am.” He squeezed the band of his arms around me. “Way to call me out.”
I laughed. “I'm here all week.”
Silence lapsed between us. I shouldn't have said anything. I wouldn't be here all week, and we both knew that. Even if Joel didn't know that Chelsea and I planned to leave as soon as possible after the surgery, or at least lay low for a while, he had to realize that we'd be parting ways, sooner rather than later.
“We should get up,” he said, after a moment.
I groaned. “You're right.”
The two of us disentangled and rolled over to opposite sides of the bed, then started retrieving our clothes from the floor and pulling them back on. Once dressed, the only thing left to do was tidy up the place and get out of there.
Joel flashed a smile before we left. “I hope my car is still intact.”
It was, thankfully, as was mine. We said a slightly awkward but warm goodbye, then got in our respective cars to make the long trek back into town. As I drove away, I took one last look at our little retreat on the beach, and wished I could have last night over again. I would give up almost an
ything just to experience that magic once more.
I drove back to the hotel in silence. I figured Chelsea would be waiting, excitedly anticipating hearing about my night. We'd always loved gushing about boys together. Despite my sadness about my ‘never-to-be’ relationship with Joel, I was at least looking forward to this one piece of my relationship with my sister which hadn't changed in recent years.
Opportunities to bond were rare these days, especially with what she'd done. Even though Chelsea had essentially ruined my life as I knew it, I wanted our relationship to grow stronger. Was that stupid of me? Maybe. But I'd missed her. I'd missed us. And I wanted to hold on to our sisterly bond as tightly as I could. Maybe then, she would give me some warning before she did something stupid next time.
I walked through the door, and Chelsea was waiting for me. Just not the way that I expected.
“What is this?” I asked, surveying the packed bags sitting on the foot of the bed.
Chelsea's face was ashen and I could tell that she had been crying. I rushed over and pulled her into my arms.
“I don't want to stay here any longer,” she said softly. “I think we should leave today. Right now.”
A bolt of adrenaline sliced through me. Today? Now?
“But we've got our surgery tomorrow,” I reasoned, pulling back to examine her face. “Why leave now?”
Chelsea's eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I don't think we can trust your doctor friend. I'm spooked, Megan. He'll hand us over to the authorities the first chance he gets.”
Where the hell was this coming from?
“Chelsea...” I murmured, rubbing her back. “Joel's a good guy. He's not going to rat us out.”
Chelsea ignored me, pulling out of my grasp and slumping down onto the bed. “I want to catch a flight tonight.”
“Where to?”
“Anywhere but here.” Her stare was like daggers. I doubted she had a good reason, but I didn't doubt her conviction. “Mexico, maybe? It doesn't matter. Let's just go.”
Let's just go.
Chelsea had apparently already decided that I was coming with her.
The Boss's New Plaything Page 32
