by Alison Kent
"I feel like such a slug." Pushing her bangs from her forehead, Sydney ran both hands back over her ponytail. "I've thought more than once that I need to find the time or make the time to go back. Chloe's going back this fall, did you know that?"
Ray shook his head. He didn't keep tabs on any of the gIRL-gEAR partners except for the one who held his interest. "It's a good thing. A feeling of having accomplished something. Having stuck it out, which sometimes I think is all a degree really means."
"Better than the feeling of accomplishment you get from your work?" she asked, her hands moving back to the railing.
"Not really." He wasn't sure he could explain. "Just different. I like to feel I'm doing something positive with my time and my life. Work gives me that. School did, too." He wasn't sure he could clear it up enough for her to understand. "It's a lot better than feeling like I've failed."
"Is that how you feel about Patrick? That you let him down somehow?"
"I didn't just let him down." Ray looked away from Sydney and off to the side, where the moon shone on the tops of the coconut palms. "I failed him a hundred ways to Sunday, plain and simple."
"I don't believe it's that simple for a minute," she said, shaking her head. "I don't know you as well as the best of your friends, but I do know you would've done whatever you could do to find him."
She couldn't know. No one knew. No one had any idea of the dead ends he'd hit, the leads he'd exhausted. "I've spent so much time looking. So much time. And nothing. Not a single clue. It's like he vanished off the face of the earth."
"What happened?" she asked softly.
He felt the rush of words before he could figure out how to stop them. "We'd rented a sailboat and were making our way through the Virgin Islands. We had a guide, the boat owner. We weren't totally stupid. We'd planned to do a lot of drinking and needed someone to keep us from taking ourselves out across the Atlantic. Besides, he promised us he knew all the best places to find warm, willing women."
Sydney crossed her arms and shook her head with mock disdain. "Booze and women. I suppose boys will always be boys."
He liked the way she sounded all high and mighty, because he knew she was nothing of the sort. "We drank and screwed our fair share, to tell you the truth. Patrick thought he'd died and gone to heaven."
"What happened?" Sydney prompted again. "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand. But I'd really like to know."
"We were boarded by pirates."
"What?" she gasped.
"Unbelievable, right? But it's true. Another boat. They waved us over. We thought they were in trouble. They were signaling that they had no radio. And there was some serious black smoke billowing from the hold."
"And your instincts and training kicked in."
"I guess. But the fire was all contained. A fifty-five-gallon drum of who knew what set to produce as much smoke as possible. Definitely not amateurs. They robbed us blind. And they took Patrick as insurance. He was cutting up, laughing. Telling us he'd be okay. We were supposed to wait twenty-four hours. Then we could follow. And pick him up at a designated location. But when we got there…"
"He wasn't there," Sydney finished for him.
Three years, and the pain still ripped him apart. He swallowed thickly. "I don't know why I thought he would be. We could all ID the bastards. Patrick especially. They would never have been as successful as they obviously were if their MO had included releasing their hostages."
Ray was silent for several long, lonely heartbeats. He drew a shuddering breath. "I'm guessing they shot him and threw him to the sharks. That makes the most sense, considering in three years we haven't turned up so much as a shoelace.
"Goddamn. He was only twenty-two years old." Ray sat forward and dragged both hands down his face. "He was having the time of his life and then it was over. Just like that. I only hope it was fast. And that he didn't suffer."
"Oh, honey, don't do this to yourself." Sydney moved closer and eased down to sit in his lap, pressing both palms to his chest, as if she could absorb his hurt. "If I'd known the Caribbean reminded you so much of bad times, I could've had the crew take us anywhere."
"Yeah? And where would we have ended up?" Ray asked with a short laugh. "Floating twelve miles out to sea? Besides, I love the Caribbean. And being here actually helps me work through a lot of the bad staff." A statement he hadn't realized was true until he put it into words.
Or maybe it was the feel of a soft woman in his lap that soothed his memories. He would drown in those compassionate blue eyes if he didn't lighten the mood. He tilted his head. "Besides, I had to be sure wherever we went I'd get to see you in a bikini."
"What?" she asked in mock insult. "You don't like me in a one-piece?"
"I like you any way I can get you. And right now I'm liking you a whole lot right where you are."
"Unless I'm reading you wrong, Ray Coffey, that sounds like you're hitting on me."
He didn't know how she could be reading him any way but right, because his lap was beginning to stir and harden. "I don't make it a habit of hitting on defenseless women. And that's all I have to say about that."
"Good," she said, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm glad we got that cleared up."
He wasn't sure what exactly she now saw with more clarity, but he hoped she was telling him she wasn't the least bit defenseless. He draped one arm across her legs and moved his other hand into her hair. Not kissing her didn't even cross his mind.
Her lips pressed to his in tentative exploration. They weren't the lips he'd imagined. They were soft and slow-moving, testing their way, reliving, remembering, realizing that nothing was the same.
Her taste was richer, her scent a headier mix of perfume and arousal. And her subtle movements raised the stakes, an underlying question asking him if he wanted her. Even had she been blind, she wouldn't have needed Braille. Not if her sense of touch had risen anywhere close to his heightened level.
The hand she had splayed over his chest she now moved up to hold his jaw still. As if he was going anywhere. But he let her keep him right where she wanted him, anyway. He liked that she wasn't defenseless. He also liked that she was bold, that she had no trouble feeling her way toward what she wanted.
She nipped lightly at his lower lip to let him know she wanted him to open up. He smiled and he opened, because he'd been waiting for this too long not to let her have things her way, any way. Whatever she wanted, he was patient.
The slats of the cedar chair creaked. A gentle breeze lifted strands of Sydney's hair, blowing it to tickle Ray's face. He caught a whiff of coconut, of wild grass, of air that blew in from the sea. The sky above was spotted with balls of cotton clouds and a moon that seemed to take up half of the tropical night.
Ray closed his eyes and went to heaven, sitting back and sitting still while Sydney used her tongue to feel her way through his mouth. The surface of his teeth, his lips, his palette, his cheeks. His texture and his taste and his own tongue, which she finally engaged.
She kissed as if it was an art, as if the more time she spent in methodical, paint-by-numbers practice the more pleasurable the sensory result. Ray wasn't sure his senses could take much more of the way she'd decided to ease her way into an embrace.
How was a man supposed to rein in a desire that burned from the inside out, that made a joke out of the control he maintained over his emotions, that reminded him how human he was when he worked his ass off to be above and beyond? Ray was in trouble, big trouble, deep-down-to-the-bone trouble, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
Sydney's fingers on his face were cool, her lips on his warm. But her tongue mating with his was fire-hot and liquid in the way it flowed over and under, caressing and stroking and rubbing along his. He held her head fast and increased the pressure and intensity of the kiss, taking the embrace to another level when he moved his hand up her thigh to her belly before covering her breast.
The sound she made wasn't the least bit soft or sweet,
but rather brutally hungry, and Ray couldn't help but lift his hips and grind against her. What he wanted was to grind against her while buried deep in her honeyed warmth, to have her grind back, finding the pressure, the angle, the rhythm of the stroke she needed to get off.
Her mouth was taking him to the edge, and she wasn't doing anything more than kissing his. Ray wasn't sure he'd ever known a kiss so incredibly, so amazingly arousing. And when Sydney moved her hand from his face to press against his where it covered her breast, he thought he was going to come right then and there.
"Sydney." He half muttered, half whispered her name into her mouth. She moved a breath away and he said, "This isn't working."
"Everything feels in working order to me." She wiggled her seat in his lap.
"That's what I'm talking about." He pressed his lips to hers firmly, kissed her with a hard and solidly aimed intent. He might be breaking off this contact, but the separation was to be only temporary.
He wondered if they could make it to his bedroom unseen. "I need to get out of this chair and stretch my, uh, legs."
She was slow to move, but she was gentle, which he greatly appreciated. Once she was back on her feet, he pushed up to his. He shook off what he could of his binding discomfort and then backed Sydney into the corner of the deck. She retreated until she ran into the railing. Then, bracing herself against it with her hands, she invitingly lifted her chin.
"About that time you're supposed to be finding us to spend together…" Ray let the thought trail as he moved in closer. He covered both of her hands with his—hers, so delicate and feminine, yet strong—and lowered his head. Time to take up where they'd left off.
"Sydney, Ray? You two up there?"
At Jess's shouted question, Sydney chuckled, then ducked out from under one of Ray's arms. He hung his head, staring at the deck between his feet and the empty space she'd left behind. He wasn't sure his luck could get any worse. But then he felt Sydney's hand in the center of his back.
"Up here, Jess," she called before she leaned in close to Ray and whispered, "Good things come to those who wait?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?" he growled back as Sydney headed for the staircase.
"Neither one," she said, waiting for Jess to finish climbing up so she could climb down. She patted his shoulder as he walked past, then called back to Ray, "I'm making you a promise."
Ray watched her bobbing blond ponytail disappear, then he sank back into the cedar deck chair and, loud enough for an obviously curious Jess to hear, grumbled, "Women."
* * *
5
« ^ »
"So, Sydney. What else is there to do around here?"
Standing at the kitchen counter and sipping her first cup of coffee, Sydney glanced over at Doug who was shoveling the last of Auralie's cheese-and-bean omelette into his mouth. "Are you saying you're bored already?"
"Hell, no. But I'm still waterlogged from yesterday. I was thinking of doing some sightseeing. Something that's dry. At least until my ears finish draining." He wiggled the finger he'd stock in his ear.
"Just like a kid." Sitting at Doug's side, Kinsey shook her head, her feet on her chair and her knees drawn to her chest, while she cradled and sipped from her own stoneware mug. Dozens of tiny blond braids hung down her back, the result of Poe's handiwork from the evening before. "You think you're going to miss out and you ended up overdoing."
"I am a kid. Or at least I'm a kid when I'm on vacation." Pushing away from his plate, Doug sat back and stretched.
"You're a kid all the time. Just ask any of our contractors." Anton came into the room in time to catch Doug's declaration. "Why do you think the firm is called Neville & Storey, rather than Storey & Neville?"
Arms high overhead, Doug glanced behind him at his partner's approach. "I thought we decided to put the brains second, so the brawn would get some of the glory, too."
"Yeah, that's it," Anton said, reaching out and jerking back Doug's chair, nearly sending him tumbling to the floor.
Doug caught his balance in the nick of time … and with a little help from Kinsey, who flew forward and grabbed him by one wrist just as he reached out flailing wildly. He gave Anton a one-eyed glare, then leaned forward and kissed Kinsey full on the mouth.
Pulling away and leaving her momentarily stunned, Doug smacked his lips and headed for the kitchen. "Mmm. Coffee. I think I'll have a cup."
"Coffee?" Kinsey fairly screeched, looking from her cup to Doug's departure as if weighing her need for caffeine against the pleasure of seeing the liquid splattered across his back. "I've been trying to get you to kiss me for months and, when you finally do, all you can say is 'Coffee'?"
Doug had been halfway to the kitchen and now Sydney watched as he jolted to a stop. The choice between coffee and Kinsey wasn't one that took him more than half a shake. He quickly put himself in reverse and returned to the table, grabbing Kinsey's coffee mug in one hand—prying it free from her death grip—and taking hold of her upper arm in his other.
Then he propelled her from her chair and toward the villa's front door, disappearing while Sydney looked on with a sigh and remembered last night's kiss she'd shared with Ray. A kiss that had been a long time in coming and had been cut too short too soon. She'd barely had time to savor his texture or rediscover his taste; she'd been too busy offering him what he seemed to need, what had been her pleasure to give.
Now, of course, here she was again surrounded by friends whom she wryly wished would find an island of their own. She couldn't even find private time to think about Ray, much less time to spend with him alone. Her plans to work him out of her system didn't stand a chance of coming to pass if she never found time to spend with him alone.
And if she didn't accomplish her goal while on their shared vacation, she wasn't sure when she'd have another opportunity.
Work was going to be a bear when she got back to the States. Soon it would be holiday season, and the gIRL-gEAR partners had to prepare for yet another restructuring and the launch of Chloe's mentoring program. Business had to be Sydney's number-one priority at all times, well above her personal life.
The success of gIRL-gEAR meant more to her than her partners would ever know. More than was probably smart for her to let it mean. The company offered her the acceptance she'd never found as the Ice Queen, the respect she'd never earned from her free-spirited mother Vegas Ford—a mother who'd called her only daughter a gloomy Eeyore.
But most of all, gIRL-gEAR was Sydney's baby. A baby that fed off the creative types with which she'd surrounded herself, but a baby nurtured from day one by her business acumen. The success of the company rested solely on her shoulders. And had nothing to do with her world-famous artist mother or her venture-capitalist father.
Sydney shook off the thoughts as Anton, having poured himself a cup of coffee, took up his place beside her and stared after the exiting duo of Kinsey and Doug. Giving Anton a small shrug, Sydney lifted her mug. Interesting, finding out that Doug and Kinsey hadn't yet kissed.
That left only Jess and Poe as the possible first-floor veranda culprits from the other night.
Unless it had been Doug and Poe.
Or Kinsey and Jess.
Damn. Sydney was no closer to solving the mystery than she'd been yesterday. She slid a glance toward Anton. "Where's Lauren?"
Blowing across the surface of the steaming brew, Anton shrugged. "Still sleeping, I guess. I'm bunking with Doug, remember? You should've asked Kinsey before she went chasing after him."
"Chasing after Doug? If you think Kinsey was the one doing the chasing, no wonder you and Lauren can't get it together," Sydney said, treading where she had no business treading but doing so, anyway, wanting to see how Anton would react, wanting to see if he shared any of Lauren's confusion or if he had his mind made up.
"What're you talking about?" He frowned down into his coffee mug, then down at Sydney. "Doug might've been the one on his feet, but that doesn't mean he wasn't the one being pursued.
You heard what Kinsey said. About wanting him to kiss her. That's chasing in my book."
No wonder relationships were in so much trouble, Sydney mused, what with the way men and women saw things through such hormonally tinted lenses. She sipped at her coffee, swallowed, then opened her mouth to answer.
Anton cut her off. "Besides, I'd like to think that whatever is going on between me and Lauren is between me and Lauren. Though I have to admit I wasn't sure at first how it was going to work out having both her and Poe on this trip." Anton hesitated. "They seem to be getting along."
Sydney nodded. Men were so cute when they were dealing with women. "I think they are. I know they've talked."
"About me?"
She glanced up and over and smiled. Anton's expression was the epitome of a nervous little boy waiting to find out if he'd been picked for the team. She couldn't help feel a touch of pity, though her first loyalties had to lie with Lauren.
"You probably need to take that up with Lauren. Or with Poe."
"Take what up with Poe?" Poe asked, walking into the room, scrunching her head of black hair with her fingers as if she'd abandoned conventional grooming while on vacation.
The swimsuit she wore was one Sydney recognized from Kinsey's gO glRL sportswear collection, a two-piece set of low-cut shorts and a matching halter top. The color was a rich jade-green, a perfect complement to Poe's complexion.
"Wow." Eyes wide, Sydney shook her head. "Has Kinsey seen you in that suit?"
"What suit? Where? Oh, Poe! You look fantastic," Kinsey said, returning through the same door from which she'd exited earlier. Doug followed, looking glassy-eyed and more than a little bit frustrated.
Poe turned to model the suit, stopping and raising both brows as she caught sight of the duo. Her hands went to her hips. "Okay. What have you two been up to? What am I missing? And why do I feel so left out?"
"I seem to recall you getting yours a couple of nights ago," Jess said from where he stood in the door to the hallway. He crossed the main room and slapped Poe on the butt as he walked by. She yelped and rubbed her fanny, then frowned at Jess as he leaned across the kitchen's wide counter.
