by Jane Porter
“Speaking of your notebook, Mickey found it in the car. He said he’d mail it, but with the weather, I’m thinking we will be home before it gets here.”
“Then don’t have him mail.”
“We can go buy you a new one today if you’d like. I don’t want you to worry while you’re here.”
“Maybe. Let’s see how I do today. Maybe I’ll be okay. Who knows? It’ll be an adventure, right?”
“You’re in a good mood.”
“I am. I can’t help it. It’s gorgeous here.” She lifted her face to the sun, and sighed with pleasure. “And warm. I don’t hurt. It’s amazing.”
“Feel up to a tour of the place?”
“This place is bigger than this one wing, isn’t it?”
“You’re in the main house now, and then there are four guest bungalows scattered around the property.”
“How big is the property?”
“Five acres.”
“Wow. That’s huge.”
“We’re not going to see it all. I thought after you dress, we’d tour the main house, and then see the pool, so you know where to go to cool off.”
*
Everything about the main house was beautiful, the stone and crisp white wood a nod to the West Indies’ architecture, with an open floor plan and walls of French doors that opened onto plantation-style verandas. Every room in the house had an ocean view, and a generous veranda. There were four bedrooms in the main house, two in each wing, and all four bedrooms had their own connecting bath. The master bedroom also had a mini bar with sink, refrigerator, and coffee pot tucked inside an alcove between the dressing room and bathroom.
The house was luxurious, without being cold or imposing. Ava loved it.
“And this is Jack’s room,” he said as they reached the third bedroom, but Ava stopped him before he opened the door.
“Maybe later,” she said, her smile slipping, her buoyancy fading.
She couldn’t bear to see the room—or life—of the son she couldn’t be with. It’d hurt too much. Just knowing it was his bed, his clothes, his toys on the other side of the door made her want to run, scream, cry.
She’d failed her son. She’d failed all of them.
“I’ve tired you out,” Colm said, sounding casual.
And yet he knew, she thought. He knew she was afraid. Or maybe he thought she really didn’t care. Either way the guilt and shame engulfed her.
“I am tired,” she said, and it was true. Her chest squeezed tight, making every breath a challenge. Her legs were weighted. She wasn’t sure she could move another step. “I think I should go to my room and rest.”
“Don’t go to your room to hide. It’s too early in the day.”
“I’m not hiding. I just need to rest.”
“Then come with me to the terrace. There are lounge chairs where you can put your feet up and relax without being alone in your room. The terrace has access to the pool as well as my favorite view of the bay.”
“Maybe I need to be alone.”
“Or maybe you’re sad, or feeling the need to punish yourself.”
Her head jerked up. She met his gaze. He gave her a look.
“You do that,” he added. “You’re so hard on yourself. I don’t know what you write in that little notebook of yours, but I imagine it’s not always nice things. I have a feeling that along with your shopping lists or to-do lists are things like ‘I’m a terrible person for losing Jack.’”
Her heart fell, and she went hot, then cold. “I abandoned him.”
“I made mistakes that day, too. I left you two alone. I didn’t warn the staff to supervise you. I allowed the situation to happen. But I refuse to spend the rest of my life hating myself, or blaming myself, for being human, just as I refuse to stand by and allow you to hate yourself, either. Things happen. So we deal with them.”
She pressed her lips together, looked away, struggling with the different emotions rolling through her. His words didn’t soothe. They just inflamed. “I don’t want you to be my father. I don’t want you to be this authority figure in my life.”
“I’m speaking to you not as an authority figure but as your friend. Your lover—”
“Ha!”
“Your partner,” he continued, ignoring her short mocking laugh. “We are two equals. Two halves of a whole. We have a responsibility to each other. To care for each other and be honest with each other as well.”
“That sounds miserable.”
He laughed low, the sound incredibly sexy. “It doesn’t have to be. We can play. Have fun.”
The husky note in his voice matched the heat in his eyes. Her pulse quickened. Her tummy flipped. “Not sure how to play anymore.” Her voice was a little too breathless. Her legs felt a little too jelly-like.
“I remember how. I can show you.”
His inflection made her flush. “I have a feeling that you’re talking about sex.”
“Sex is play. Sex is fun.” He reached out and gently tugged on a long dark tendril of hair. “You are so beautiful. You deserve to play and have fun. You deserve to feel good…and gorgeous. When is the last time you felt good, Ava?”
Her heart was racing now. She pressed her knees together, trying to ignore the ache inside of her.
He found another tendril and then another, his hand sliding through her hair, playing with it. “Do you ever make yourself feel good? Do you ever—”
“No.” She gritted, flushing hotly and yet unable to look away from his gaze, transfixed by the intensity and fire in the glowing blue-green depths. It had been a long time since she felt good. It had been forever…
He reached for her, drawing her towards him. “Why not?”
“You’re talking nonsense,” she whispered, fighting to deny his effect on her, and failing. Her body was responding. She was melting on in the inside, her skin sensitive, her breasts tender inside her bra, while deep between her legs she felt empty, hungry.
How could he do this so easily? Reduce her to a puddle of want?
*
He was leaning against the wall, his feet wide, and pulled her all the way between his feet, and, by drawing her forward, he took her weight, supporting her. “Let me make you feel good again, Ava,” he murmured, tilting her head up and brushing his mouth across hers, once, and then again. “Your lips are so warm, so soft.”
She closed her eyes at the fleeting kiss. Her heart galloped madly. “You are playing dirty.”
“I’ve always gone after what I wanted. And I want you, Ava.”
Once more his mouth covered hers, but this time the kiss was firm, insistent, and his lips parted hers, his tongue sweeping the soft fullness of her lower lip waking every nerve in her body. She shivered against him, feeling so much, remembering them, as they had been before she’d been hurt. It felt good—familiar—being in his arms and yet it was also overwhelming. Their relationship had always been so fiery. The physical had consumed both. They’d been passionate lovers, not friends, and maybe that was part of the problem in the months and years following the accident. They didn’t know how to be anything but lovers, and that didn’t work for them anymore.
“You mouth is so warm and sweet,” he said. “It makes me think of how warm and soft you are between your thighs, and how much I love to kiss you there.”
“You can’t say that,” she protested against his mouth.
“Oh, I can, just as I can still make you mine. I know you want me still.” And then he set about proving his point, deepening the kiss, running the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips, applying just the right amount of pressure, kissing her just the way she loved to be kissed, coaxing the response he wanted until she opened her mouth to him with a sigh.
His tongue swept inside her mouth, taking her, tasting her, sending darts of delicious sensation racing through her, as bright pricks of light exploded behind her eyelids, electrifying her from head to toe.
She’d forgotten this, the pleasure of a kiss.
She�
��d forgotten this, how good it felt to be touched, desired.
For the first time in ages, she felt wonderfully alive, tingling all over.
His head lifted briefly, his eyes were dark. “You can’t deny this,” he rasped, sweeping his thumbs across her cheekbones. “You can’t deny us a chance.”
She stared up at him, dazed, her senses stirred, her blood humming. It was virtually impossible to think, much less form a coherent thought. But she tried. She tried to remember why this was wrong, why this wouldn’t work. “It’s just…the physical.”
He ran the pad of his thumb over her tender mouth, stroking ever so lightly in the middle of the soft, swollen lower lip, making her nerves tighten and dance. “Liar. You and I know carnal, babe, but this is more than sex. This is so intense because we’re invested in each other. We want each other. We need each other.” His thumb strummed her lip. “I need you, and you can say what you want, but I know you need me, too.”
She opened her mouth to deny her attraction, deny him, but he wasn’t having it. His head dipped, his mouth took hers, the kiss fierce, almost punishing. His tongue found hers and he drew her tongue into his mouth, sucking rhythmically on the tip, an exquisite tension that made her press against him, craving friction and relief, but he wasn’t interested in soothing her. He wanted her to feel, and ache, and he was making sure she was hot. Wet.
And she was hot, so hot, a thick honey in her veins, her panties growing damper against her skin. If he touched her, she’d be slick, and ready for him. She was always ready for him. It was impossible to resist him. She’d always been putty in his hands. But it wasn’t a good thing. He was her weakness. Still.
If she had any sense, she’d pull away now. She’d utter a sharp rebuke, and reject him soundly.
But she wanted this. She wanted everything she’d missed, and when his hand went to her jaw, angling her head to give him even deeper access to her mouth, she trembled with need.
His palm slid down her throat, fingers finding nerves she didn’t even know she had. Ava leaned against him, dazzled by the riot of sensation and the sharp, insistent desire. It had been over a year since they’d last made love, but the hunger was still there, a feverish wanting that charged every kiss, every touch.
No one had ever made her feel so much.
No one had ever made her want so much.
Sensation rippled through her, followed by waves of bittersweet pleasure. He was claiming her with the kiss, reminding her she’d always been his, and would always be his, and she couldn’t deny it, not when he melted her from the inside out and her body ached for his hands and touch, needing his body and the release.
His head lifted and he gazed down into her face, his features hard, his expression fiercely possessive. “You still want me,” he rasped.
“That’s never been the issue,” she answered, breathing fast, dazed by the explosive chemistry.
“Then that’s a start,” he retorted, gently pulling her away and then stepping back a foot. “I can work with that.”
Ava swayed on her feet, dazed, lips and body pulsing.
From the heat of the kiss, she’d expected Colm to either take her here, in the hall, or carry her off into the nearest bedroom and ravish her, but instead he was backing off. Right when she was ready for more.
She smoothed her sundress and struggled to gain control over her breathing, but it was still ragged. She felt ragged.
As well as hot. And hungry.
He’d made her want more, and yet now he was pulling away.
So not fair.
Frustrated, she looked up at him and their gazes locked. She realized from his expression he knew exactly how she felt. He’d done this deliberately. Turned her on. And then backed off.
“That was dirty,” she said hoarsely.
“Not dirty. We’re playing.”
“In that case, we have a very different definition of playing.”
He laughed softly. “I don’t think so. I just think you’re out of practice. Pleasure isn’t something to be rushed. Desire needs to be stirred—”
“Oh, it’s stirred.”
“And senses need to be teased.”
“You’ve done that as well.”
His lips twitched. “So enjoy the anticipation. That’s half of the pleasure.”
“Mmm. Great. I can’t wait.”
His eyes glinted with amusement. “Go change into one of the swimsuits in your closet, and then meet me at the pool. We can cool off with a swim before lunch is served on the terrace.”
“You’re awfully bossy, Colm.”
“Just wait until I get you into bed.”
Chapter Seven
‡
They swam and splashed about the pool for a half hour and then lay on the plush lounge chairs, soaking up the sun for another half hour. They were still relaxing when staff appeared and set the table on the veranda.
It was a joy to eat lunch outside with the stunning view of the rocky, green hills that gave way to the dazzling turquoise water. It was warm without being too hot. And the seafood lunch was perfectly flavored. Ava ate more than she usually did and could tell Colm approved.
“I’m glad you’re eating” he said, as she finished the prawn salad. “I hate that you have spent most of your life starving yourself to stay ballerina thin. Your life has been about constant deprivation.”
“I try not to think of it that way. It’s not deprivation. It’s a discipline.”
“Do you still count every little calorie?”
“If I had my notebook here, yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s habit.”
“But you’re so slender, Ava. You could stand to gain five, ten, fifteen pounds, and your body needs protein, vitamins, nutrients. You need to eat real food, good for your body and soul, food.”
She grimaced. “You’re a bit of a nag, you know.”
“I refuse to be offended.”
She shook her head, smiling. “That’s fine, but, just know, I can’t spend all four days here eating and drinking. There must be moderation.”
“We did swim, and walk a little.”
“It is gorgeous here.” She glanced around, taking in the lush landscaping of palms, white hibiscus, and bougainvillea in shades of white, pink, and purple. “The view is incredible, but it’s also surprisingly peaceful.” Growing up, her family had a beach house in Mar del Palata on Argentina’s Atlantic coast, but that was truly a house on the beach while Colm’s villa was part of a sprawling estate on a side of a mountain. The beach wasn’t anywhere nearby. In fact, she wasn’t sure he even had beach access. “If you want to go to the beach, where do you go?”
“We have our own beach down below.”
“How do you get there?”
“There’s a little gondola that whisks guests up and down the mountain.”
“You’re joking!”
“No. It was here when I bought the estate, and I’m glad, because what is the point of having a Caribbean getaway if you don’t have a private beach?”
“A five-acre estate, with four guest bungalows and a private gondola must have been a serious chunk of change. Dare I even ask how much it was?”
“You’d be disgusted. A ridiculous extravagance, but it did help a friend.”
“Fifteen million.”
“Far more disgusted than that.”
Her eyes widened. “Over twenty?”
“You’re still off by quite a bit.”
“Colm!”
“I thought you’d like the gondola.”
“Don’t even put that on me. That’s absurd.”
“It’s an investment, and it’ll hold its value. St. Barts is the hot spot in the Caribbean, and has been for years—” He broke off as a young woman in a tailored, dove gray dress approached. “I have a surprise for you,” he said to Eva. “This is Genevieve, and she’s your assistant for the next few days.”
Ava shot Colm a quick, worried glance. “Why do I need an assistant?”
/>
“To make sure you’re comfortable,” he answered.
“But I am already,” Ava protested.
“She’ll make you even more comfortable.”
“Is that possible?”
“Genevieve used to work for a very exclusive spa in Switzerland. She’s an expert in pampering and she has something planned for you this afternoon while I sit in on some conference calls with New York. Don’t be nervous. This is supposed to be fun, so go with her now, and I’ll see you later this afternoon, for cocktails and dinner.”
Colm had meant to be reassuring but Ava’s stomach knotted as she followed Genevieve down a garden path towards one of the guest bungalows.
“You’re here to relax,” Genevieve said cheerfully, leading the way up the steps and into a spacious room decorated in tropical pinks, greens, and coral with a breathtaking view of the turquoise sea. “Mr. McKenzie has insisted everything be perfectly pleasurable, and that’s exactly how it shall be.”
Ava watched Genevieve open a door to an adjacent bath.
“There’s a robe here for you,” Genevieve added, walking briskly through the pink and white marble bath that looked almost like a sweet confection, and gestured to a plush, pale pink robe hanging on a gold hook next to the enormous glass shower. “Why don’t you shower and then slip into the robe. Don’t put anything on under your robe. Once dressed, come out and I’ll take you to the garden?”
“The garden?” Ava repeated, feeling foolish, and terribly out of her element. She’d be better off in New York right now. She wasn’t good at this sort of thing. She didn’t know how to relax anymore. Nor could she afford to relax. Bad things happened if she let down her guard. She missed her notebook and her lists and her focus more than ever right now.
But Genevieve was oblivious to Ava’s discomfort and set about opening the rest of the sliding plantation shutters to allow more afternoon sunshine to flood the high ceilinged bathroom, revealing a private walled garden off the bath. The walled garden teemed with tropical flowers and a linen covered massage table stood in the midst of the lush greenery. “We’ll do the massage outside. It’s perfectly private so you can relax, and then after the massage, we have a pedicure and manicure planned, and then your hair.”
