by Linda Conrad
It couldn’t be helped. Irritating as he may be, it was her job to stick with him and make sure he took care of himself. She was nothing if not loyal and trustworthy. But heaven help her, this was a man who stirred her senses like no man had ever done before.
“I’ll go indoors if you will,” she told him when she got close enough to be heard. “The storm is almost here. It’s too dangerous to be outside.”
The waves had grown tall all of a sudden, she noted. Ever since she’d come to the island, Annie had loved the quiet easy way the surf here rolled in, baby-soft against the beach. The waves were usually like a child, tenderly caressing its mother’s hair with long smooth strokes.
But today the adult waves crashed and thundered against the shallow depths of their sheltered cove. Angry white caps rose up to impossible heights and smacked down with fury against the bottom. The beautiful blues and greens she’d grown accustomed to seeing when she looked out at the ocean had disappeared—replaced by tan-colored water that boiled and stirred, and resembled her grandmother’s chicken gravy.
Despite the heat and humidity, Annie shivered.
“The dolphins will be all right, won’t they?” she asked, holding out her hand to him.
“I’m concerned about Sultana,” Nick said roughly. “She is expected to give birth within days and it will be our first live birth at the center. But every precaution that could be taken seems to have been completed.” He didn’t accept her hand, but clasped his own hands behind his back instead.
The storm was in his eyes today, and it made him seem so much more human. And at the moment, much more annoying.
Nick desperately wanted a few more minutes by himself. It was bad enough that the storm had ruined his plans for the day—this day of all days. The thought of being helpless to assist the research team during the storm also made him remember too clearly another time when he had not been able to help.
Absently rubbing his temple, he felt the familiar ache of memories.
But the worst thing about this storm was knowing he had to spend the rest of the day…and night…alone with Annie. Damn the storm. And damn her.
She got under his skin and he didn’t like it one bit. He was a one-woman man and his woman had been violently taken from him. Other women, no matter how inviting, were distractions he just didn’t need.
He needed to remain frozen and apart. Distance let him maintain his emotional balance. Cold hearts didn’t feel guilt. Being numb meant keeping the pain at bay.
Nick had spent two long years keeping his distance from life, and damned if Annie didn’t bring that tempting heat right onto the island with her. Heat and wanting.
Hell, he just hated these emotions. But he knew his mother would have a fit if he fired Annie. She thought Annie was good for him. Another few weeks of Annie’s perky helpfulness, however, and he might just explode.
His only hope tonight was if he could talk Annie into remaining in her room at the back of the house while he spent the long hours of the storm by himself in his office. He was already restless but it had nothing to do with the coming storm.
The anniversary of Christina’s death made him feel unsettled and uneasy. He wanted to be left alone so he could bring back the sharp pain of missing her.
That pain brought her memory into clear focus and reminded him of all his vows and promises. All the promises he had never been able to keep while his wife was alive. He needed those memories to stay focused now.
“But she’ll be okay, won’t she? Sultana is healthy, you said.” Annie withdrew her hand but took a step closer.
Her voice brought him back to the moment with a thud. Nodding, he backed up a step to keep from touching the vibrant personal trainer.
Lately, every time Annie touched him, he burned—and he was surprised by his growing attraction to her. He didn’t want any part of the lustful urges.
Nick had tried desperately to keep his distance from Annie over the past few weeks, and had worked hard to manage his exercises by his own strength. But she was a personal trainer, and had kept her watchful eyes and sensual hands on his body as he exercised in his home gym.
He groaned silently at the very thought. His unruly desire for her was getting so bad, he had actually considered risking his mother’s wrath by hiring someone else in her place.
Though Annie was strictly his employee, on his mother’s frequent visits, the two women had become friends. Coconspirators against him, he supposed.
It was bad enough that his father was furious with him for quitting the business to come live on the island and devote himself to Christina’s project. Nick didn’t want to risk losing his mother’s support, too.
Family was all important. But as much as he loved his mother, she was a meddler.
Since his wife’s death two years ago, his mind was often distracted. That was only one of the several reasons he’d left his home in Alsaca and given up everything he’d ever worked to achieve. He’d come to honor Christina’s memory and wishes in the very place where she had died.
But his mother was unduly worried about his isolation and absentmindedness. And he knew she thought Annie could bring him back to the world of the living.
In his opinion, Annie was entirely too alive.
“Please come with me, Nick,” Annie said as she looked up at him with those spectacular emerald eyes, flashing in both vivid color and obvious heat.
He had never seen a woman with such vibrance and fire. It fascinated him how different from Christina she was. Of how different Annie was from any woman in his experience.
But he couldn’t let her touch him. Not while he was so vulnerable today. He had to find a way to push her away, make her leave him alone.
“All right. You go ahead. I’ll be right behind you,” he said in his most demanding voice.
She screwed up her wide, full mouth in a frown for a second. But then she swung around and took a couple of steps toward the house before turning back to make sure he was following.
He started out, but soon realized that he’d made a huge mistake. He should’ve taken the lead. That way he wouldn’t be stuck walking behind her and admiring the way she looked as she swung her hips in those sexy, too-short white shorts.
Even in the dull light of the prestorm sky, Annie was radiant and energetic enough to make him forget his vows of celibacy since his wife’s death. She made him think instead of how he would dearly love to run his fingers through that mass of fiery red curls. Or to place his lips against the adorable rusty freckles that spattered across her nose like paint spills.
Her energy snapped about her as if she were static electricity during a thunderstorm. He found himself nearly drooling at the thought of capturing her to him and tasting all that vividness.
Instead, he fisted his hands and stuck them in his pockets. Concentrating on what hurricane preparations might be left to attend to and on how ferocious the storm might actually become, he vowed to keep his growing lust a secret.
He’d always thought that sex was a sacred trust. One best shared only once in a lifetime and mostly for procreation. Fidelity and honor meant more than mere bodily urges. And he would not betray Christina’s memory by jumping the first woman that had turned him on since her death.
Annie stirred the stockpot on the range as she heard the first tinkling sounds of rain against the shuttered windows. Before he left for the mainland, the chef had given her instructions for keeping herself and Nick fed during the storm and its aftermath.
The freezer was stocked with things that could be defrosted and heated up on the outdoor barbeque grill after the storm. She was making a big pot of her mother’s Irish stew that could be reheated on a small propane gas stove during the storm if the island’s electricity went out.
Annie could hear Nick in the other parts of house as he rummaged around, locating kerosene lamps, flashlights and candles. She didn’t worry about his physical ability to move through the house anymore. Not like she had when she’d first come and he
’d been so unsteady on his injured knee.
It had taken all her knowledge of anatomic kinesiology and experience with physical conditioning in people with limited mobility to help him reestablish the strength in his legs. And then, of course, there had been the whole problem of motivation. Every time she’d pushed him a little further than the time before, he’d blazed with anger and backed away from her, almost as if her touch had somehow burned him.
Lately, the tension in the air between them was thick enough to make her more nervous than she liked to admit.
“Would you care to join me in a cup of tea?”
The sound of his voice startled her and she dropped the spoon into the stew pot. “Darn. You surprised me. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
He reached for a pair of tongs from the round carousel that held kitchen utensils. “Sorry.” Dipping the tongs in the stew, he retrieved the spoon, wiped it off with a towel and handed it back to her with a polite bow. “Here you are, mademoiselle. No harm done.”
“Pretty slick, Nick, and how very European of you. I didn’t realize you were so familiar with a kitchen. I just imagined you’d always had a chef and would barely be able to find the kitchen, let alone know where things were kept in one.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” he said with a frown. “I’ve been sneaking into the kitchen for most of my life. Ever since I found out that’s where the sweets are kept.”
Annie giggled, put the lid back on the pot and turned the heat down under it. “If you’re serious about making tea, I’d love some.”
“Certainly,” he said with a formal air. He began opening jars and putting fresh water into the tea kettle.
She stood aside to watch him work and waited, she supposed, for him to drop something or in some other way need her help. Which she knew would not make him happy.
Sure enough, her hovering angered him. “Sit down. This will take a few minutes.” The darn man intimidated her, but she couldn’t let him know that.
She did as he asked and sat at the narrow kitchen table, but the nervous energy spilled off her like rapids over a waterfall. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just not used to sitting while someone else works. I really appreciate you letting me stay here with you through the storm. I never would’ve been able to stand being in the U.S. not knowing if you were okay.”
Her words gushed out. “I mean, I’ve never been through a hurricane before. Is it going to be terrifying? I think we’re all set, don’t you? Should I be doing something?”
“Calm down.” He turned away from the counter. “You’re becoming hysterical. Everything will be fine, trust me,” he said with a rare smile.
There it was again. Lately whenever he smiled, an odd feeling that a big change was coming flew through her mind and heart. She’d been having these mystical sensory imaginings for days—no maybe it was weeks now.
It was something her mother would no doubt call Irish intuition. Fate appeared to be poised for stepping in and stirring its own pot of mischief.
But Annie was sure whatever it was couldn’t be connected to the impending storm. The hurricane had been planned for and watched over for days. No, this would be some major change for her and Nick personally, she felt it in her bones.
Hw was much healthier now than when she’d first arrived on the island and better able to take care of himself. Maybe he was considering letting her go. That wouldn’t be too much of a shock, even though it would make her sad to have to leave him. But she’d known all along that this was not a permanent assignment.
“Do you always talk so fast when you’re nervous?”
“Yes. I guess I do.” She watched as he moved smoothly around the stainless steel kitchen, putting together tea and water and then setting china cups on the table.
The man was going to use real china for their casual tea. Wouldn’t Ma think that was something?
He set the silver teapot down to steep on a little cart next to the table, and then he pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. “There’s no need to be worried about the storm, Annie. I’ve been through several hurricanes. Proper preparation is the key. Most storms are not direct hits and end up just being long, boring ordeals.”
She wasn’t nervous about the storm. If she was worried about anything, it was the fantasies she’d been having lately about the man who was her boss and the possibility that soon she might never be able to see him again.
Sitting next to him now was making her thighs tingle. And wasn’t that an odd thing?
“Would you like biscuits with your tea?” he asked.
She shook her head and tried a half smile. He was close enough that she was catching his scent. The smell of salt spray, a whiff of some expensive aftershave and the musk of a light sheen of sweat lingered in the air and made her feel warm and itchy. There was something wild in that combination that she didn’t quite recognize, but today it was definitely doing strange things to her body.
“You know why I didn’t want you to stay here on the island during the storm?” he asked as he poured the tea.
“You weren’t worried about my safety.”
“No. I’d planned to ask you and the rest of the staff to leave me and go down to the village today so I could be alone in the house,” he said. “The storm put a crimp in my plans.”
“You wanted to be alone today?” She knew this was a special day for him. But if it had been her, trying to get through the anniversary of the death of a loved one, she would’ve wanted all her family and friends around for support.
He tilted his chin with a sharp nod. “It’s just a little ritual of honor that I began last year that helps me bid Christina goodbye again. A commemoration I suppose you’d call it.”
“Will that be all ruined now?”
Nick studied her for a moment. “Not if I can help it. Since you have insisted on staying on the island, I want you to spend the balance of the night in your suite alone. You should be able to find things to occupy your time there while I’m in my office.”
He was such an annoying prickly loner of a man. “I guess that would be okay,” she said through gritted teeth. “As long as you promise to call me if you need anything.”
On the other hand, who could complain about being alone in that fabulous suite with her CD player and the luxury of being able to read her books without being interrupted? It had been a dream of hers since she’d been a little girl.
Not that she hadn’t loved growing up in a houseful of kids, but family sometimes became so overwhelming.
“Just try to sleep through the storm, Annie. It’s the easiest way. The whole affair is usually so dull.”
She would never mention it to him, but nothing could ever be dull while he was around. He had created a gray world for himself here, but her world had been full of nothing but exciting living color ever since the day they’d first met.
Two
After dinner, Annie cleared the dishes, put the pans into the sink and ran water over them. “Would you like coffee with your dessert?”
“Yes, thanks,” Nick answered as he stood and backed away from the kitchen table. “Is there something I can do to help?” He needed to get this damn meal over with so he could be alone.
She laughed and the sound lingered in the air, stirring his blood as if she were a real-life wizard with a magic wand. “You volunteering to do the dishes, Nick? I can just see that now. It would be almost as odd as seeing you eating dinner in the kitchen with me has been.”
“Well, perhaps I might be slightly too fumble-fingered to actually wash. But I feel competent enough to dry the dishes if you wish.”
He’d actually liked eating in the kitchen at the same table with her. It had been strangely cozy and warm. And as much as he wanted to be alone, prolonging the intimacy for just a little longer might not be so terrible.
Besides, drying dishes would give him something to do with his hands as he tried to get his needs under control.
Using the back of her suds cove
red hand, Annie flipped the hair back off her shoulder. “I’m going to let them soak. Until you…retire for the duration of the storm. Just let me set the coffeepot up, then I’ll get the lime custard pie out of the refrigerator and flame the meringue.”
“You know how to do that?”
She tsked at him. “I’ve been taking cooking lessons from your French chef. I even wrote down the instructions.”
“I can’t imagine that you’d want lessons in cooking,” he said unwarily as he finished the coffee. “Didn’t you tell me that you came from a big Irish family? I thought…”
“What?” she interrupted as she stood still and glared at him. “That poor kids from the other side of the tracks had better learn to feed themselves? Or maybe that all Irishmen ate nothing but boiled potatoes and wouldn’t be interested in French cooking.”
“No, not at all. I didn’t mean…” Whatever he’d said was the wrong thing and he didn’t know how to make it right.
Annie shook her head and then smiled. “Never mind. I overreacted. Sorry. Sit down and I’ll start the show.”
She lit the small propane torch, ran the flame over the white fluffy top of the pie and the smell of burnt sugar suddenly filled the air. “Oh, by all the saints, how I love the way that smells,” she moaned.
And oh how he loved the way she had closed her eyes and groaned in pleasure. It was a sensual, earthy sound that put stinging darts of desire right down his spine.
But he desperately needed to stop listening and looking…stop everything when it came to her. This was all wrong. He simply could not sit here lusting after her. For him to even promote their burgeoning friendship would be dishonorable.
His feelings toward her ran too strong. If there was one thing he had learned in his life, it was that friendships didn’t last. And when they were ripped away, a huge part of your soul went with them.
No, friendship and love were illusions. He had never in his life been in love and didn’t even have the foggiest idea what that emotion would be like. His one and only friendship had been with Christina and that had obviously worked out in the worst possible way.
