“Thank you, thank you,” the woman gushed. “You were so right! He found that spot and it was miraculous!”
Fascinating. Logan watched Grace glancing around the beach, probably checking to see if anyone had overheard the effusive woman. When she spied Logan standing ten feet away, she shook her head and closed her eyes in resignation.
Grinning, Logan continued to observe the exchange with interest, listening to every word as the woman gleefully described her husband’s successful foray. It was clear now that Grace had instructed the young honeymooner on how to make love with her new husband. Very interesting.
His gaze narrowed and focused on her. It appeared that all those years Grace Farrell had spent studying the sexual and reproductive habits of spores and other creatures-including humans, obviously-had given her a level of sexual expertise he wanted to explore.
The thought made him grit his teeth. He wanted her right now. It was taking every ounce of control he had to not drag her into the palmetto grove, back her up against a tree and give in to the desire he knew they both felt for each other.
Grace hugged the woman and congratulated her, then watched her skip away. Once she was gone, Grace turned to Logan. “I suppose you heard all that.”
“Pretty much.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Yeah?” he said. “Because I’m thinking you pretty much made her day. And night, apparently.”
“Yes, well.” She brushed her hair off her forehead, then fiddled with her sunglasses. “I didn’t do anything she couldn’t have… Well, I just…” She glanced up at the sky. “It’s late. I really should get to my spores.”
“Wait.”
She froze and he took immediate advantage, stepping closer, invading her personal space.
“What is it, Logan? Is something wrong?” Her pink tongue slid across her lush lips again and he almost groaned.
“If you lick your lips again,” he warned, “I’m going to haul you over my shoulder and take you to my room.”
She swallowed slowly. “I-I can’t help it. You make me nervous.”
“Do I?”
She glared at him. “You know you do. And I think you do it on purpose.”
“Yeah, maybe I do.” He skimmed his fingers across her shoulder and was gratified when she shivered. “That was a nice thing you did for her.”
She tilted her head, clearly baffled. “You think so?”
“Yeah.” His smile grew. “Do you often go around explaining the G-spot to clueless women?”
“Um, no.” She shook her head slowly. “That was definitely a first.”
He studied her, taking notice of the small scar over her left eyebrow, another smattering of pale freckles on the upper ridges of her cheeks, the perfect cupid’s bow of her upper lip. “What the hell makes you tick, Grace Farrell?”
Puzzled, she said, “I might ask the same of you.”
“Hey, I’m an open book.”
A frown line marred her brow. “Not to me.”
“The thing is,” he said, “I’m usually a pretty easygoing guy. But ever since you showed up, I’ve been feeling a little edgy.”
“That’s not my fault,” she said heatedly, poking her finger at his chest. “And I’m not leaving the island.”
He grabbed her finger to stop the jabs. “It’s not that kind of edgy.” He kept hold of her hand, rubbing his palm against hers, shaping it and molding it to his.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Awareness had her licking her lips again and a bolt of pure heat lit up his insides.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
“This.” He leaned forward and kissed her, wrapping his hand around her nape to press her closer to him. Her mouth was as sweet as anything he’d ever tasted and he had to fight to keep the contact light. But his control was slipping as the heat of her body invaded his own. Visions of her lush, naked skin danced through his mind and he groaned.
He would’ve stopped, but a delicious sigh escaped her throat and her lips parted for him. He plunged inside her warmth and her tongue met his instantly, eagerly. Logan felt his heartbeat stagger and every muscle in his body hardened with need.
He wanted her, wanted to strip her clothes off and touch her breasts, her thighs, her slick core. He wanted his hands and mouth on every inch of her body. Now.
The images jarred him back to reality and he remembered they were standing outside in view of anyone who walked by. That’s when he pulled back, but not completely. He took his time, kissing the corners of her mouth, her cheeks, the line of her jaw, the silky length of her neck.
“Let’s go to my room,” he murmured against her skin, then took her hand and started walking back to the hotel.
She stopped and pulled her hand away. “I can’t do that. I have to go.”
He turned and looked at her. “No you don’t.”
“I do. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” She paused to catch her breath. “You don’t know me.”
“No,” he said carefully. “But I do know you want me and I want you.”
She looked so serious. “You don’t, really.”
“You’re wrong, Grace,” he said, reaching for her.
She put both hands up to stop him. “If you really knew me, you never would’ve kissed me. You would’ve run for the hills.” She took two steps backward. “I’m saving you the trouble.”
“Nice of you.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” Then she gave a firm nod. “It’s definitely best that we stop right now.”
“Yeah?” He closed the gap between them. “I say we test that theory.” Yanking her close, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her roughly at first. Then he softened his lips against hers and they moved together, deepening the kiss until they were both shaking with need.
When she moaned again, he let her go, then watched her lick her lips and taste him there. The move was innocent and skilled at the same time, and he scowled as an irrational wave of tenderness washed over him.
Finally, she opened her eyes and stared at him in wonder. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Well, don’t ever say I didn’t warn you.” Then she turned and jogged away as swiftly as her feet could move in the deep white sand.
He didn’t follow her, just watched as she disappeared through the thick fronds at the far end of the beach.
What the hell was she talking about? He’d never had to work this hard to convince a woman to make love with him. If you really knew me, you never would’ve kissed me. He shook his head at the memory of her words. Oh, he knew her, all right. She was a woman and therefore a master manipulator. She could give lessons, no doubt about it.
That didn’t seem to negate the fact that he was currently sporting a massive hard-on, thanks to her. Now that was something his entire staff would notice if he strolled into the hotel at that moment. So instead, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it on a chaise, then walked straight into the water to cool himself off.
Four
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Logan said to the others participating in yet another conference call. “With the opening of the new Alleria sports center, the island will become a premier destination for world-class sporting events such as tennis, gymnastics and boxing.”
Aidan, sitting in the brothers’ penthouse offices two thousand miles away in New York City, picked up the conversation. “As you’ll note in the prospectus we’ve sent you, the main court will have a tiered seating capacity of five thousand. We’ll have ten deluxe private-viewing suites, a press booth, locker rooms, a four-thousand-square-foot commissary and private dining rooms for players and visiting dignitaries.”
Eleanor, their senior vice president who was working out of the New York office with Aidan, jumped in. “There are six adjacent practice courts, as well. And the main court is easily converted to a boxing ring, gymnastic floor, a concert stage, or whatever is required. Thi
s project is shovel-ready, gentlemen. As soon as the contracts are signed, construction can begin.”
“We’ve more than proven the viability of Alleria as a sports destination,” Aidan said. “The Alleria Palms Golf Tournament is now third in worldwide television viewing audience, surpassed only by the Masters and the British Open. Our airport is world-class and we’ve recently expanded the resort by another five hundred rooms.”
Part of the prospectus they’d sent their handpicked investors included a pictorial story of the island itself. It mainly featured their own bayside resort as well as the tiny Victorian port town of Tierra del Alleria. There, attractive shops and eclectic restaurants lined the beach and pier that formed the harbor where multimillion-dollar sailboats docked side by side with the local fishermen who sold their daily catch.
Logan and Aidan had created a ten-year, slow-growth plan to attract small businesses and specialty tourist groups. The sports center would attract the type of high-end traveler who, in theory, would appreciate the eco-friendly environment and rustic charm of the island.
There was silence on the line for a moment, then Tex McCoy spoke up. “You boys have got yourselves a pretty decent situation down there.”
Logan had known Tex forever and could hear him puffing on his Cuban cigar as he participated in his favorite sport: wheeling and dealing. Logan could almost smell the thick, expensive cigar smoke. The billionaire Texan was one member of the consortium of wealthy investors who had invested in the brothers’ past projects.
“You know you can count on me and my boys,” Malcolm Barnett said amiably. “The wives are all itching to get back to Alleria since visiting this past year.”
“That’s always nice to hear, Malcolm,” Logan said to the man who was regularly featured on the pages of Forbes and Fortune. Malcolm’s two sons had gone to college with Logan and Aidan.
“Count me in, too,” Tex said. “I’ll have my people look over the contracts and get back to you.”
Aidan said, “You know we appreciate it, Tex.”
“Thank you, Tex,” Logan chimed in. “You won’t be sorry.”
“You can both thank me by shaving a few points off my next golf game with y’all.”
“Not sure we can do that, sir,” Logan said with tongue in cheek.
“Sorry, Tex.” Aidan chuckled. “We know you’d never want us to cheat.”
The older man grumbled. “Damn your straitlaced father for raising such a pair of sticklers.”
Everyone laughed, then several other investors jumped in to voice their desire to get in on the action. The conference call ended fifteen minutes later and Logan quickly called his brother on his cell phone.
“I think that went well,” he said, grinning as he stated the obvious. Eleanor was probably in the New York office kitchen, popping open the champagne as they spoke.
Aidan ignored the statement. “What’s going on with you?”
“What’re you talking about?” Logan asked, stretching back in his chair. From here, he could see a catamaran drifting across the bay and wondered how soon he could get out of this suit and tie and into a pair of running shorts. “Everything’s fantastic.”
“I hear it in your voice, man. Something’s bugging you.”
“You’re delusional,” Logan drawled. “Everything’s fine. Perfect. We’re about to close on a billion-dollar deal. Life is good.”
Aidan paused, then said, “I’ll drag it out of you eventually so you might as well save us both the trouble and tell me now.”
Logan stared at the phone, wishing for once that he and his twin brother didn’t have quite so tight a bond. It had been that way all their lives. They often finished each other’s sentences and there were times when they could practically read each other’s minds. They usually used it to their advantage, but right now, Logan didn’t need anyone homing in on what he was thinking. Namely because he wasn’t so sure of what was going on himself.
“Nothing’s wrong, dude,” he said, trying to convey a relaxed attitude he no longer felt.
Aidan snorted. “Fine, keep it to yourself, but I’ll be back next Thursday and I expect to hear the whole story.”
“Great,” Logan said with a scowl. “I’ll be sure to dream up something interesting to make you think you’re right.”
He disconnected the call and felt a twinge of irritation. He hadn’t fooled Aidan one bit. But what was he supposed to tell him? How could he explain that a hot, sexy, spore-hunting research scientist had invaded their island and sucked up every last ounce of Logan’s common sense?
He couldn’t explain it. But once Aidan got here and saw Grace for himself, he would reach his own conclusions. Whatever his brother concluded, Logan intended to make it clear that Logan had seen her first and Grace Farrell was his.
Logan jerked forward and sat straight up.
“What the hell?” He shook his head in disgust. Where had that thought come from? He was rarely possessive when it came to women. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he and his brother had been jealous of each other. It helped that they’d rarely ever gone after the same woman, but the few times they had, one of them had always acquiesced to the other. It just wasn’t that important and, after all, there were plenty of women to go around.
But with Grace, Logan was willing to draw a line. It was mostly about business; after all, he and Grace had a deal. It was his responsibility to handle her situation. Aidan had nothing to do with it.
Okay, fine, he might be willing to admit that something about Grace tugged at him. The passionate way she’d defended her actions that first day still intrigued him. Logan sort of admired her quirky but logical way of thinking, even when it drove him nuts. And, he admitted, there was the basic fact that the woman was gorgeous.
“And scheming, and a liar,” he added aloud, then shook his head in defeat. The schemes and lies didn’t seem to matter. He still wanted to bury himself inside her.
Ever since that damn kiss he’d been unable to get her out of his mind. Several times he’d caught himself daydreaming, for God’s sake, wondering what she was doing. Was she conducting a class in the joys of the G-spot to a new group of unsuspecting honeymooners? Was she hunting down spores in the rain forest? Was she balancing twenty-seven strawberry margaritas on her slim shoulders?
He thought about the other night in the bar, when Clive had trained her how to balance those heavy trays and she’d picked right up on his advice. Logan frowned with the sudden thought that Clive might be watching her a little too closely. He hoped not. He would hate to have to fire his top waiter.
He clawed his hands through his hair in frustration. Hell yeah, he was distracted, as Aidan had been quick to notice. But he was also discreet. Aidan would be the only person in the world who would have ever heard it in his voice. No one else would have a clue, and that’s the way he wanted it. He didn’t want or need anyone on his staff knowing his personal business. And, frankly, right now that included Aidan. Yeah, they were twins; but that didn’t mean he was willing to kiss and tell, especially over the phone.
The main thing was, he didn’t want Grace’s reputation damaged. Not that he particularly cared about the woman one way or the other. He just wanted her. Once he’d had her, all these idiotic distractions would fade away and he would be able to get his head back on business and complete the sports-center deal.
In the meantime, Aidan would be home in three days and Logan was determined to have Grace Farrell for himself before that. It would help if he could just figure out a way to keep her from running in the opposite direction the next time he kissed her.
“Tequila, triple sec, sweet and sour, squeeze of lime,” Dee said, and handed Grace a shot glass.
“Oh, I know this one,” Grace said, taking a tiny sip. “Margarita, right? Mmm, that’s good.”
“That was too easy,” Dee said, her tanned arm flexing as she lifted another bottle and poured. “I still can’t believe you memorized the entire bartenders’ guide but never taste
d the drinks before.”
Grace downed the rest of the margarita. “I suppose I’ve always been more of a reader than a doer.”
“Guess those days are over,” Dee murmured, grinning.
They faced each other at the small table in Dee’s hotel room. Between them was a cocktail tray filled with different bottles that Joey had smuggled out of the bar for their enjoyment. But this was business as far as Grace was concerned. On the tray were chunks of fruit and several shot glasses, as well.
She had already taken sips of a martini, a gimlet, a Brandy Alexander, Sex on the Beach and a whiskey sour. She’d written the names down, followed by her own descriptions and reactions to the flavors of each drink, but her notes were looking a little fuzzy. Still, she was determined to learn as much as she could from Dee.
Mixing a new concoction in a clean shot glass, Dee slid it across the table. “This one’s vermouth, bourbon and bitters.”
Grace frowned as she tasted. “It’s too strong.”
“It’s usually shaken with lots of ice and a cherry on top. Makes it really tasty.”
“I hope so.” She made a face. “Is that a Manhattan?”
“Yes,” Dee said, sitting back in her chair and fluffing her long, dark hair. “You won’t get a lot of orders for that down here since it’s more of a big-city winter drink. But it’s a classic.”
“Then I should know how it tastes,” Grace said firmly, and forced herself to take another sip. After almost a week of working together, she had finally confessed to Dee that she didn’t have much experience as a cocktail waitress. Dee had wrapped an arm around Grace and revealed that everyone in the bar already knew that. Grace had begged for a few more tips about the job.
When Dee questioned her further, Grace had confessed that she rarely went out to bars and didn’t really drink. That’s when Dee had gleefully suggested they have a cocktail quiz.
“You might like this one better,” Dee said, and handed her another tiny glass filled with a bright pink liquid. “Vodka, cranberry juice, lime juice and triple sec.”
An Innocent In Paradise Page 5
