Like a Hurricane

by Roxanne St Claire

  The flush caused by Mac’s little air kiss deepened, but Nicole said nothing.

  “I’ve always heard people used whipped cream for that sort of thing.”

  “Aunt Freddie! You’re imagining things.”

  “I am?” Freddie leaned forward and chucked Nicole’s chin. “Sweet pea, I could have separated molecules with all the chemistry between you two. The only one imagining anything is that hunk of man who is imagining you in every imaginable way.”

  Nicole fought a little smile as she started to put the picnic away. “What gave it away?”

  Freddie leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “I suspected something the minute I saw you’d finally given up the fight to hide your gorgeous figure. No, that’s not true. I smelled trouble when I saw Apollo taking a water-bottle shower in the sun.”

  Nicole laughed. “Quite a sight, isn’t it?”

  “But the fact is I guessed it the minute I saw that ad.” Freddie looked at Nicole from under the brim of her hat. “He’s a gentleman. I approve.”

  “He’s trying to steal my property. Don’t approve.”

  Freddie shook her head. “He’s coming around. Give him time. And peanut butter.”

  A bubble of laughter teased Nicole’s lips. “That’s an inside joke.”

  “I gathered.”

  Nicole sat back and looked at her aunt, more than a little relieved to talk about it. “He’s making me feel…things. And not just the obvious, Aunt Freddie. Things that are way deeper. Way more unexpected.”

  “Unexpected? Don’t you expect to fall in love, someday? Dear girl, you’re twenty-eight years old.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “No. When I was twenty-eight, I—”

  “When you were twenty-eight, I landed on your doorstep.”

  “That’s right. The best gift I’ve ever received in my life.” Freddie leaned closer and tucked a strand of Nicole’s hair back to her pencil-bun. “But just because I never found Mr. Right doesn’t mean you won’t.”

  Nicole shook her head. “I liked the way you lived, Aunt Freddie. Unencumbered, free and solitary.”

  “Unconnected, alone and lonely.”

  “Not true. You had me.”

  “Yes, I did,” Freddie agreed. “I loved having you. You filled a tremendous void in my life and still do. But, darling, a man is a very good thing in one’s life. Don’t you remember how happy your parents were?”

  Oh, yes. She certainly did. How happy they all were. Happy, and close and secure and…poof. Gone.

  Freddie took Nicole’s hand and ran her fingers over the knuckles. “You deserve a chance at love or lust or just plain fun, sweet pea. Don’t fight what you’re feeling for this man. He is quite obviously mad about you.”

  “He is?”

  Freddie notched a knowing eyebrow skyward. “He looks at you like you’re the only woman in the world.”

  Nicole let the words wash over her.

  “Nicole!” The urgency in Sally’s voice broke the mood. The redhead came jogging toward them waving a piece of paper. “My uncle just called. He needs the copy for the next billboard ad. They are going to do the work on it this afternoon.”

  With a start, Nicole skidded her chair over the concrete. “I have to go back to work.”

  “Tell me,” Freddie said. “What will the ad say this time?”

  Nicole just grinned and took one quick sip of lemonade. Finally, she knew. “It’s a surprise.”

  Quinn spent one more solitary night in his villa, fighting the urge to jog across the sand and find Nicole. But that, he decided the next morning as he pounded a roofing nail with way more force than required, was the last time. He didn’t care that she hadn’t given him any indication that she wanted to see him. Since when did Quinn McGrath wait for a woman to call?

  He narrowly missed his finger with a solid rap of the hammer.

  He didn’t need an invitation. He needed to issue one. He needed to hold her and kiss her and see what color underwear she had on. And then remove it. What he really needed, he admitted, was to talk to her and hear her laugh. Just catching glimpses of her gliding across the grounds, sending a few unreadable glances his way—well, more than a few—wasn’t enough.

  This time the hammer slammed his thumb. Mac swore and sucked on the throbbing nail, leaning back on his heels. His gaze swept the expanse of roof, reminding him of how much more he had to do. Including the broken soffits that he wanted to get to today. For that, he needed some materials.

  Shaking his wounded thumb, he grabbed his water and bandana and decided to head for St. Joseph’s’ version of Home Depot.

  A truck would have been a more appropriate rental vehicle for the unusual vacation he’d ended up taking. But Quinn let the warm breeze whistle through his hair and eased the convertible Mustang up to eighty as soon as he hit the causeway. Might as well enjoy the stimulation of a sporty car.

  Not that he needed stimulation. Nope. Stimulation was his constant companion. And yet, every minute he thought of Nicole, it wasn’t sex that flashed in his brain. Well, maybe for fifteen seconds or so. But that left forty-five others wide open and he filled them all with the sound of her laughter and the sweet rosy scent of her perfume. He thought of her endearing smile and the way she handled a stepladder and tools.

  Only then did his mind return to the luscious curves he’d barely touched and the smooth skin he’d just started to explore. He practically groaned at the thought.

  Traffic snarled on Route One, forcing Quinn to slow down the minute he reached the highway. He turned up the radio and dropped his head back, rubbing a pulled muscle in his neck. The call from Dan that morning had left him with a shadow of a headache and the gut-level knowledge that he had to do what he came to Mar Brisas to do. And it wasn’t fix the roof.

  A truck rumbled next to him and he stared at the lettering on the side, not reading it. It moved forward and Mac’s gaze fell on the words that filled his line of vision. The words on a billboard. In blue letters.

  Mac… Meet me in the silver waters of moonrise on Mar Brisas beach tonight. Our first-class resort features your favorite flavors on the menu. Come and taste them all.

  The Lady in Blue.

  He managed to avoid hitting the truck that passed him as he slowed down and read the message twice, the impact of it sending a deluge of rushing blood straight through his already-achingly aroused body.

  No doubt the reservation line would be ringing off the hook with those kinds of promises. He tried to be mad about her tactics. About using his name again for promotional purposes.

  But he just grinned and slid over to the next lane, his favorite flavors already teasing his tongue. He’d start with strawberry lips, move to mocha-tipped breasts and end up with…

  Oh, yeah. He firmly believed in truth in advertising.

  Nine

  The roof was eerily empty as Nicole made her way across the pool patio. She scanned the expanse of red clay tiles, noticing how nice the newly completed section looked, but the view was bereft without the inclusion of hot, sweaty, glorious Quinn.

  Sally was at her desk, on the phone, when Nicole arrived. “And here’s your confirmation number, Mrs. Young.” She looked up at Nicole and tossed a quick thumb’s up, before she frowned into the receiver. “The beach picnic? Uh, yes, I’m sure we can arrange something for you.”

  At Sally’s vague response, Nicole’s heart flipped. The ad had gone up. “Where’s Ma—Quinn?” she asked as Sally hung up.

  “Gone to Lumberland.”

  “Lumberland?” Nicole shot a hand up to her mouth. He’d have to take Route One. At Sally’s curious look, she added, “What does he need there?”

  “I’m guessing lumber. Or whatever men buy in those mysterious warehouses of wood. Hey, I just took two more reservations for tonight.”

  A broad smile broke across Nicole’s face. “Son of a gun. We’re nearing capacity.”

  “Damn right.”

  “Things are looking up, Sal.”
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  “Well, you have been.” At Nicole’s questioning look, Sally pointed skyward. “At least up to the roof.”

  Nicole picked up two messages from Sally’s desk. “It looks good, doesn’t it?”

  “Mmm. Gorgeous.” Sally grinned, but Nicole let it go and headed into her office. Sally was right behind her. “This last lady asked about a beach picnic. Is that a new service we’re offering?”

  Nicole turned and tried for her most professional look. “Can you do me a favor and get me the name of that new gourmet-sandwich place everybody’s been talking about?”

  “Taste Sinsations.”

  Perfect. “Can you get me their phone number?”

  “If you tell me what’s up.”

  “I’m going to try our new private beach-picnic service tonight. If it works out, we may just add it to our ever-expanding list of guest amenities.”

  Sally raised an eyebrow, then walked past Nicole and lifted a large manila envelope from her desk. “By the way, a courier delivered the bank papers that Quinn had requested. Apparently, Tom Northcott couldn’t hold him off anymore. He said Quinn’s office called from New York and demanded the papers.”

  A trickle of perspiration danced between Nicole’s shoulder blades. “Really?”

  “Everything’s in here. I checked.”

  Nicole bit her lip as she took the envelope from Sally and willed her hands to stay steady. Why would he force the issue of the paperwork? Didn’t he say…well, he hadn’t really promised anything. But over lunch with Aunt Freddie, she could have sworn he was starting to back off the sale a little. She sighed and rifled through the documents, her gaze falling on the infamous insurance policy.

  “You still want that phone number?” Sally asked softly.

  Nicole looked up and saw the sad expression on her friend’s face. “Yeah. The guy’s been killing himself on the roof. I owe him dinner, at least.”

  But until she found out exactly what his intentions were, dessert would wait.

  As dusk fell that evening and the promised hour of “moonrise” approached, Nicole realized she hadn’t planned well enough. She had the food and wine from Taste Sinsations, but she’d forgotten she had to move out of her villa and into a room for guests arriving late that night. She had just enough time to dress, shove her clothes and personal belongings into some suitcases and fling them into the back of her car. She’d have to get a key to the room Sally held for her later.

  As she descended the wooden stairs, she checked the horizon. The sun dipped halfway into the Gulf, splashing tangerine-and-scarlet streaks over the water in its bid farewell. Nicole slipped to the south side of her villa, away from Mac’s view. There, a private garden faced the water, embraced by a circle of palm trees and a wall of gardenia and oleander bushes. Amidst the foliage sat a round stone table. It was the perfect, secluded location. Too bad they’d have to evacuate by ten o’clock, when the guests were scheduled to arrive in her villa.

  By then, she’d know where Mac stood on the property sale. And she’d decide whether or not to invite him into her temporary room in the main building. After a few trips to set up the picnic, she made one final run into the house, added a dash of lip gloss and took one long look at herself.

  She twirled in front of her dresser mirror. Before she’d packed, she’d picked a long, gauzy, white skirt that rested low on her hips and was sheer enough to show the outline of her legs. Feeling daring, she abandoned the loose, flowing blouse that came with the skirt, choosing instead a short black-and-white top that left her waist bare. With her only front-clasp bra and a whisper of silk panties underneath, she felt spine-tinglingly sexy.

  Oh, she hoped Sally was wrong about Mac’s behind-the-scenes work on the property sale. Not that it should matter. She wanted him. He wanted her. If Mac weren’t buying Mar Brisas, then some other mogul from New York would be down there, sniffing around for a deal. Why should she punish herself on principle?

  Because she wanted it to be right. She wanted to trust him, not just lust after him.

  For once, she wanted to give someone a real chance at her heart. Maybe he’d take it, maybe he wouldn’t. But Freddie was right. She was twenty-eight and it was time to live.

  She did a quick check of the villa, which had been thoroughly cleaned that afternoon. Flowers on the coffee table, a bottle of wine in the fridge. These guests ought to be happy. She’d kept this villa up very well, even after the storm.

  She grabbed the manila envelope on the kitchen counter, hoping she wouldn’t ruin the mood of her meal by getting the unpleasant stuff out of the way up-front.

  Checking her picnic area, she lit some candles to ward off mosquitoes and tiptoed barefoot through the maze of stilts under her villa. She saw him before he saw her. Walking the beach, wearing khakis and a soft blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He carried his shoes in one hand and something else in the other and strolled in the sea-dampened hard sand, his gaze locked on Nicole’s villa. His hopeful expression touched her heart.

  Anticipation sang through her nerve endings as she watched him move with slow, animal grace. She studied the breadth of his shoulders, the ease of his gait. His hair shone black as night, slightly ruffled by the sea breeze; his chiseled face looked clean shaven and she imagined the intoxicating aroma of his aftershave and soap. Her heart thudded in time with each of his steps, her breath trapped in her throat. God, she’d never wanted anything so much.

  Nicole stayed in the shadows under the house, holding on to one of the support stilts, purposely hiding from him. He paused at the foot of her wooden stairs, his attention mistakenly upward instead of twenty feet away where she waited.

  His bare foot hit the first stair without making a sound.

  “Are you here about the ad?” she whispered into the night, a teasing lilt in her voice.

  She heard him suck in a tiny breath and freeze in his spot. He squinted into the network of two-by-fours that formed the stilts. Silently, he snaked through the maze toward the sound of her voice, his gentle smile deepening to a sexy grin.

  He stopped in front of her, inches away. “I’m looking for someone in blue.” The expected masculine scent of him hit her almost as hard as the hungry look on his face. Her legs nearly buckled. Dear God, she’d never make it through dinner let alone dessert.

  “You’re not mad about the ad?” She arched an eyebrow.

  He reached out and held up a single rose, letting the petals graze her chin and the sweet aroma tickle her nose. “You have quite a way with words, lady. This time, I took them for the absolute truth.”

  She attempted a shaky smile. Where was her wit and brilliant repartee? Why did this man reduce her to shivering, dancing, gyrating hormones with one touch?

  “Consider it my way of thanking the roofer.”

  He looked over her shoulder at the garden. “Candles? A table? I didn’t expect anything so formal.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Just my favorite flavors.” He leaned closer, a breath from her face. “Starting with this.”

  He brushed her mouth with a kiss, the tip of his tongue parting her lips and tickling her. She heard his shoes hit the soft sand and then felt the heat of his hand on her waist, burning her bare skin instantly. He deepened the kiss, but remained a chaste few inches away from her body, breaking their contact after less than thirty seconds.

  “I’ve missed you.” His voice was low, sweet.

  She wet her lips, still tasting him on them. “Not enough to call off your dogs in New York.”

  Instantly, he backed away, a question in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “The paperwork from the bank. It arrived today. Evidently someone contacted Tom Northcott and put a squeeze on him yesterday.”

  He frowned thoughtfully at her. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “Really?”

  “Honestly. I believe it, though.” He slipped a casual arm around her shoulders, picked up his shoes and led her towa
rd the garden. “I’ll look at the papers tomorrow.”

  “No.”

  He sighed, laughing a little. “You know, I hate it when you say no.”

  They reached the table and Nicole picked up the manila folder. “Let’s get this over with. Is there anything in here that can make you change your mind?”

  His gaze dropped over her, lingering on the abbreviated top and the way the skirt skimmed her hips. In one smooth move, he picked up an edge of fabric and let the moonlight shine through the gauze and reveal the outline of her legs.

  “No. But something in here might.”

  She ignored the tingle of excitement that ricocheted through her. “I’m not a bargaining chip, Quinn.”

  He let the skirt fall with a sincere, warm expression. “I was playing with you. Truthfully, I wish we could keep these two issues completely separate.”

  “What two issues?”

  He held up the folder. “This.” He cupped her chin and lifted her face toward him. “And us.”

  Holding her breath, Nicole suddenly crossed her arms and made an impulsive decision. It was forcing his hand. It was an ultimatum. It was her only chance. “As long as there is a this,” she said tapping her fingernail on the package in his hand, “there isn’t an us.”

  Disappointment darkened his eyes for a second, but his gaze stayed riveted on hers. “I know you well enough not to doubt you, Nicole.” He moved closer to the flickering candles and opened the folder. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  While Quinn spread the papers in the candlelight, Nicole disappeared into her villa, then returned with a bud vase, arranging her rose and some greenery in it silently. He skimmed Northcott’s cover letter while she poured two glasses of wine. Taking the crystal she handed him, he automatically held it up for a toast.

  She shook her head. Denying him even the pleasure of touching her glass. He sighed and set the glass on the table without drinking it. Later. He’d toast her later. He lifted the thick packet of mortgage paperwork with a quick glance at the bottom line.

  She owed a lot on the property. The payments weren’t outrageous, but she definitely needed to keep this place hopping to make them. He sensed her settling in next to him, close enough to read along, far enough away to avoid physical contact.