He licked his lips and then touched his mouth. The taste and feel of her was still with him and he was still wanting. He knew he could have any woman he wanted. But right now, there was only one he intended to get. She had started a fire in him that he knew only she could satisfy. He closed his eyes and shook his head. One kiss was all she gave him, but he knew it wasn’t going to be enough.
He gazed across the room at the office door. Someone was coming. He thought Sheri was coming back to him. He stood waiting for her to come in. A few seconds later Nolan Chambers walked into his office and looked around to find Jordan staring at him. “Good, you’re here. I was afraid I’d missed you. Traffic was crazy. Okay, let’s get to it.”
Jordan nodded slowly and watched Nolan walk behind his desk and drop his briefcase. He talked nonstop, but Jordan had no idea what he saying. Truthfully, he didn’t really care. He was still thinking about the kiss. Twenty minutes later he got in his truck and just sat there. “Damn,” he said aloud. “What was that?” Unbelieving, he shook his head. He didn’t plan it and certainly hadn’t expected it. It was just an impulse, something he never succumbed to.
Jordan eventually started his truck and drove off. While still in town he decided to make a few stops. He had his truck washed and detailed, went to the local barbershop and then, on another whim, stopped at the local florist. Thoughts of Sheri kept running through his mind. He liked the feel of her against his body and he liked the taste of her in his mouth. He wondered what else he’d like.
It was nearly eight o’clock by the time he got to his condo rental. The meeting with Nolan had taken much longer than he’d expected. He grabbed his briefcase and went inside. He turned on the light and looked around. Monochromatic colors, bland, uninteresting furniture and a weighty emptiness greeted him at the door. Maybe this was why he preferred to work late. But in all honesty, it was the same thing at home in Virginia.
He had bought and renovated an old country farmhouse a few years ago. It was something he always wanted to do. He soon realized it was the journey and challenge of the renovation and not necessarily the end result that appealed him. It was the same with the women in his life. He enjoyed the chase. Once caught, he soon lost interest in them.
He went into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and then headed out onto the balcony. He thought about the kiss. It was nice. He wondered about Sheri. He didn’t know a lot about her, just what little he’d read on the internet. He looked out over the vast landscape, knowing she lived out there someplace.
Sheri was so upset she could hardly contain herself. She hurried back across the street to the museum. When she got to her office she sat down at her desk and closed her eyes. She started thinking about all the things she should have said and done, but didn’t. But what she was really thinking about was the kiss. It was explosive. It was obvious that hunger had ravaged them. They both needed the release.
He had wrapped his arms around her waist as his hand held the nape of her neck in place to deepen their connection. His hand had drifted down to her blouse. He had gently squeezed her breast. Her nipples hardened instantly. She had felt his thumb brush across the tender nib. She closed her eyes as her mind shattered in a million different directions.
An hour and a half later she glanced up at the clock and saw that it was really late. She packed up her briefcase and left hoping tomorrow would be better.
Chapter 8
Tomorrow wasn’t better. And neither was the next day or the day after that or the day after that. She hadn’t heard from Hamilton and she was quickly losing patience. If he had found something on-site he wasn’t telling her. Jack was just as bad, although he did send her an email telling her that he had contacted the Hamilton Development Corporation and they would be looking into it. In other words nothing was being done and she was running out of time.
By Thursday after work Sheri decided to take matters into her own hands. She knew she couldn’t just let it go. This was too important and Jack was obviously going to be of no help. So, instead of going home she drove in the opposite direction and headed to Crescent Point. She needed to talk to Jordan Hamilton once more. She hoped that if she were composed and laid her argument out calmly, he’d listen to her. He had to. There’s no way he could be the coldhearted arrogant jerk Genie’s boyfriend claimed he was. But given their first meeting, he just might be. Still she had to try.
As she neared the construction site her heart trembled. She drove up the street noticing that the cars and trucks she’d seen earlier were all gone. It was late. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might not still be there. She parked close, got out and walked to the front gate. The security guard she remembered from earlier was still there. He walked up and greeted her. “Good evening, welcome back,” he said, smiling evenly.
The insincerity of the expression on his face betrayed nothing. She nodded. “Good evening. Is Mr. Hamilton still here?”
“Let me check,” he said, pulling out his cell phone. After a brief conversation he requested that she follow him. He escorted her to the same trailer she had been in before. As they walked up the steps Jordan Hamilton opened the door.
“Good evening, Ms. Summers,” he said cordially as he stepped outside onto the small deck.
He nodded to Cleveland, who immediately turned and walked away.
He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a white polo shirt. Her heart nearly sputtered upon seeing him. He’d shaved. He looked young, clean-cut and handsome. She wasn’t sure if she preferred the rugged construction-worker look or this suave, sexy look. Either way Genie was right, he was gorgeous. He extended his hand to shake. She looked down at his hand, but didn’t oblige. “I won’t bite, I promise,” he said, joking lightheartedly.
She immediately looked up, completely embarrassed. “Oh, no, I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…”
“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he said calmingly, but realizing that she still hadn’t shaken his hand.
For the first time she noticed that he had smiled and it was radiant. “I don’t…” she began.
“Shake hands?” he guessed. “I understand. My friend and attorney doesn’t, either, he’s a germaphobe.”
“I’m not a germaphobe, I just…” She stopped, realizing how crazy she was going to sound if she told him the truth. She didn’t shake hands because she was afraid she had the same gift her grandmother had. “It’s a long story, a personal thing. No offense.”
“None taken,” he said quietly.
She noted the soft tenderness in his voice. She took a deep breath and resolved that she was determined not to get distracted or lose her temper. “Mr. Hamilton, in our last conversation, you assured me…” she began.
“Perhaps we can start again and this time, dispense with the formalities. My name is Jordan.”
She nodded. “Sheri,” she said.
“Sheri, that’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank you, Jordan.”
“Sheri, about the last time we were together…” he said.
“I think it would be best if we just forget about what happened between us. We were both excited about what’s at stake. The moment got out of hand. So, given that,” she said in one breath, “I think we need to talk and come to some kind of better understanding.”
“I see,” he said as he walked over to the wooden rail and looked up at the evening sky. “Then I’m afraid you came back for no reason. My position hasn’t changed,” he said firmly.
“I just need a few minutes.”
He paused a moment, seemingly trying to decide whether to agree to her request. Then he nodded and relented. “Come on inside.” He opened the door and stepped aside as she walked in. Soft soul music played quietly in the background. She recognized the group. It was En Vogue. “Have a seat, please.”
“No, thank you,” she said.
“Can I get you something? Water, coffee, tea?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks. This isn’t a social call,” she said firmly then wal
ked over to the large slanted drawing table and looked down at the plans, then back up at him. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll be brief. I feel we need to come to an—”
“Understanding,” he said, finishing her statement. She nodded. “But in this case I don’t see that an understanding is necessarily needed. You’ve stated your position. I’ve stated mine. Since what you want is on my property and directly opposed to my interests, there’s no discussion.”
“I don’t understand how you can say that. You’ve obviously come to this island because of what we have here and who we are. Well, what might be in that hole is the beginning of who we are. The importance of knowing that is critical.”
“To you, yes. But not to me. I have a timetable I need to keep. That’s critical to me.”
“One more building more or less isn’t going to change anything. As a matter of fact, less is better. Why be so intent on changing us?”
“That’s it, isn’t it? Change. Lady, history is only for schoolbooks. You’re opposed to change.”
“No,” she said too quickly, and then reversed herself. “Yes. But not for the reasons you think. You’re right. I think Crescent Island is beautiful. It’s perfect just as it is. We don’t need big developers to come here and change us into something we’re not. I look out my window at the museum and see everything I once knew and everything that was charming about this island turning into a strip mall. That’s your change.”
“We’re not trying to change the island.”
“Then what do you call all this?” she said, looking around. “This is change.”
“As a historian I suppose you want this place to be forever frozen in time. Life doesn’t work that way. Time moves on. Things do change whether you want them to or not. There’s a reason people don’t live in huts or thatched-roof houses anymore, or dress in animal skins. Change happens for the good.”
“Not always. We don’t need all this stuff.”
“Perhaps you’d prefer us to live in some other time.”
“I didn’t say that,” she snapped, then watched the corner of his mouth tip slightly into a smile.
“It was implied,” he said. His voice was low and sexy.
“How did we get off the subject? I didn’t come here to talk about real estate development. I came here to talk to you about the artifacts that were found.”
He shook his head. “Repeatedly calling them artifacts isn’t going to make a hole in the ground and a bunch of wood any more important.”
“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying this,” she whispered.
“Aren’t you?” he said just as quietly.
“No,” she said too quickly. She watched the corner of his lips tip upward even more. “No,” she repeated for emphasis.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing you know better,” he said.
They stared at each other a moment until Sheri looked away. The deep penetrating look in his eyes unnerved her. There was more behind every word he spoke, as if he knew something she didn’t. Everything seemed to have a different meaning. They didn’t know each other, but the sense of something more profound was undeniable. “I was wondering when you were going to show up. Tell me, are you always this angry or is it just me?” he said.
“Surprisingly, only around you,” she said.
“Yeah, well, you’d be surprised how many people say that.”
“Actually, I wouldn’t,” she replied, but refused to smile even though he chuckled at her response. She suppressed it then gave in to the burning feeling of a grin pulling her lips wide.
“Aw, look, so you do know how to loosen up and smile.”
“I’m not some stiff-lipped old maid.”
“That’s good to know.”
She tilted her head and looked at him intently. She squinted her eyes as if to see beyond the facade. “What exactly do you want, Mr. Hamilton?”
“I think that’s a question I should be asking you.”
“I’m not doing this for me. It’s not personal. It’s the history of this island that’s going to die if I don’t do anything about it. I don’t have a choice. I can’t let that happen.”
“Neither will I,” he said almost too calmly.
“Let me make something very clear to you—your charms don’t work on me. I just want to take some tests and that’s it.”
“What kinds of tests exactly?”
“Primarily radiocarbon dating tests.”
“How long?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what we find down there.”
“There’s nothing down there.”
Before she responded, the office phone rang. “Excuse me, I’ve been expecting a call this evening,” he said, then walked over to the desk and picked it up.
“Sure, of course,” she said. She needed a break from their conversation, which was going nowhere. She knew he was deliberately trying to get to her. She watched as he picked up the receiver and began talking. Instead of sitting, she got up and looked around the trailer studying the sketches, the framed architectural drawings on the walls and the design plans on the drafting board. One in particular got her attention. She paused in front and examined it more closely. A few moments later Jordan hung up and walked over. She turned to him as he approached.
“Who was your architect on this project?”
“Me, I’m the architect.”
“You,” she said, more than a little astonished.
He chuckled again. “Yes, me,” he said. “Now why should that surprise you so much? I’m not just a pretty face.”
“I wasn’t surprised—” she said awkwardly. He looked at her with a half smile, knowing she wasn’t being truthful. She tried not to smile, knowing that he knew she was lying. “Much,” she added, feeling her cheeks burn hotly. “Did you always want to be an architect?”
“Me, nah. When I was a child I wanted to be an artist. I painted, sculpted and sketched everything in sight.”
“Really? That’s interesting,” she said in astonishment.
“Oh, yeah, I went to school for architecture and even worked in a top firm for a few years.”
“Then you just stopped, just like that.”
“Yes, we all did. I was an architect, Darius was a stockbroker and Julian was a doctor in Boston.”
“What? How? Why?”
“Our dad owned a small construction company when we were growing up. He and our mom divorced and he bent over backward to give us everything. He got sick and died. We didn’t want to see his dream disappear so we changed careers and took over the business.”
“That’s so wonderful. I can see you loved him very much.”
“Yes, very much.”
Their eyes connected and the warmth she felt on her face swept lower. Still, she refused to look away from the intensity of his gaze. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. There was something about this man that did things to her, unsettling things. She began feeling the turbulence of anticipation stir inside of her. Something was coming. He took a step even closer to stand right behind her. He was too close. The muscles in his forearm tensed. He seemed to exude raw power without even trying.
He turned to look at the framed drawing on the wall and spoke. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. His spicy cologne filled her lungs and the warmth she felt on her cheeks was now a sultry burn all over her body. All of the sudden it had gotten hot in the trailer. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He talked, but there was no way she was listening to what he was saying.
Her mouth went dry and all she could think about was touching him, but not to shake his hand. She was way past that. She wanted to really touch him, to feel him, to have him touch and feel her. She wanted to know what it was like to have him hold her in his arms again. To feel the solid hard strength of his body pressed to hers once more. She looked up at his mouth as he talked. His lips were perfect. She wanted them on her.
When he turned bac
k to her, she quickly averted her eyes to look at the drawings on the wall. She needed to distract herself fast. But it was too late.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You look a little flush.”
“I’m fine,” she lied again. She knew her reaction to him was too obvious and he had to know he was unnerving her. She moved away to the next rendering knowing he was watching her now. She could feel his dark, penetrating eyes as they burned all over her body. “These are all very beautiful. You’re very talented. They’re incredibly innovative,” she finally managed to utter in a faint voice.
“Thank you,” he said, stepping to stand right beside her again. Too close. She eased away to the other side of the drawing table hoping he wouldn’t follow. He did and unfortunately she was blocked in. There was no retreating from the space behind the drafting table. She had to go around him to get out. “I’m glad you like them,” he said, leaning back on the raised surface.
“So, you’re an artist,” she said as casually as she could.
“Sometimes, yes,” he agreed.
She shook her head to clear the last of her stray thoughts. “Then I don’t understand, how…?”
He held his hand up. “Allow me, how can I draw and create designs so imaginative and beautiful and not appreciates the museum’s stance and the importance of what you want.”
“Exactly.”
“I appreciate your position, I just don’t agree with it. It’s business, not personal.”
“It’s personal for me.”
“Yeah, I get that. Your passion is…” he began then paused.
“Lacking?” she suggested, having heard it from Jack.
“No way, definitely not, your passion is evident. You’re excited about your work. I knew that the second I saw and heard you going off on Leroy. Which, by the way, takes a lot of nerve. He’s six foot six and weights nearly three hundred and fifty pounds.”
She smiled and felt relaxed. “I see your point. It never occurred to me to be concerned. I guess I should have been.”
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