Sand, Sun...Seduction!

by Stephanie Bond

Jack met her stare from across the bar, those amber eyes darkening, shining with something. Humor? Secrets?

  Finally he replied, “That’s not necessary.” Leaning over to look out the open side of the building, he pointed toward a nearby hillside overlooking Vigie Beach. “See that white house? The one within walking distance?”

  Her heart sank. She knew what he was going to say before he said it.

  “It’s mine for the week.”

  The four-letter word that almost spilled out of her mouth would have made her late mother reach for a bar of soap. Somehow Liz held it in, managing to pretend she didn’t give a damn that Jack Beaumont was staying half a mile away.

  “I guess that means I’ll be seeing you around,” he added.

  Not if I see you first, buddy.

  She didn’t say it, of course, not wanting to let the man know he had any power over her anymore. That she cared one bit where he went or what he did.

  “Suit yourself,” she murmured. “Though, of course, there are a ton of other bars in the area. Maybe you’ll find one that serves a weak rum punch you can actually finish.”

  The eyes twinkled. Was he really able to see through her snippy words and read the utter confusion she was feeling?

  God, she hoped not.

  He didn’t pick up the drink and drain it, her words not goading him into any macho display at all. Instead, with a simple nod, he turned and walked out, leaving her staring after him until long after he’d disappeared up the beach.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JACK HAD ALWAYS thought being thrown into a job heading up a major international publishing firm was the biggest obstacle he would ever face. But after spending time in Liz Talbot’s company yesterday, realizing she not only didn’t feel particularly friendly toward him, but downright disliked him, he had begun to rethink that conclusion.

  Getting around Liz’s distrust was a huge obstacle.

  “So why bother?” he mumbled as he drove toward his rented oceanside house the next day.

  The answer was easy. Jack didn’t give up on things he really wanted. Not without at least trying to get them. He’d held off before, of course, when Liz was married. He hadn’t even followed her when she had taken off to heal from the divorce. Now, though, there was no reason to hold back.

  And he did want her. For what and for how long, he honestly couldn’t say. Right now, he only knew he wanted to be around her again, just to see if the spark he’d felt sure had been between them still existed.

  Not to mention the fact that you need her.

  Yeah. He did. She didn’t know it yet, but she might be able to help him in a big way. Cardinal Publications was being threatened with a lawsuit by Desdemona Eros, a reclusive writer of erotic fiction, who had the money and the anger to follow through on her threats. Now that she and Liz’s ex-husband had split up—another infidelity, apparently—she’d decided to take out her anger on Jack and his company. He’d received letters from her lawyers, accusing the magazine of violating her privacy by purposely insinuating Talbot into her life. And of printing libelous untruths in the subsequent article Talbot had written.

  In most states, it wouldn’t be an issue. But according to his own lawyers, Massachusetts had a regrettably long statute of limitations on libel actions.

  All thanks to a smarmy little prick who hadn’t been worth a strand of his wife’s pretty hair. God, he hated to bring up that whole ugly subject with Liz, but she might be able to help. Her insights about her ex could be of use if Jack had to defend himself and his business against a lawsuit.

  He only hoped Liz wouldn’t hate his guts when she found out why he had really sought her out. Especially since, having seen Liz again, he’d realized his interest in her hadn’t faded one bit.

  Driving along the coastal road with the top down, he had to admit Liz had picked a beautiful spot to lick her wounds. He’d been to plenty of places in the world, including several other Caribbean islands. But until this week, he’d never set foot on this one. Not flat, dry and sandy like many of the other islands, St. Lucia was hilly and green. It boasted both beautiful beaches and tropical areas. Even a pair of volcanoes that were so intriguing he’d had to pull the car over this morning and just gaze at them rising above the mist.

  He definitely wanted to explore, but he’d prefer to do it with a tour guide. And he had exactly the right one in mind.

  Intending to go back to the house, shower and change before making his way to Trinity’s Surfside Bar again, he suddenly changed his plans as he approached the establishment. From up the road, he saw someone walk out its side door. A flash of sunlight brought out the gold highlights in the head of reddish-brown hair as she strode toward a small electric scooter.

  She was leaving.

  Unable to resist, Jack swung the car into the tiny parking lot, packed with hard sand and bits of gravel. Liz, who had just stuck a pair of large sunglasses on her nose and held a small helmet, looked up, saw who it was and frowned.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked as he pulled up.

  The woman was seriously hard on a guy’s ego. “Can’t I stop in for a drink after a rough day?”

  “Rough day? On vacation?”

  “Working vacation,” he reminded her. “Though the idea of a workday obviously doesn’t mean the same thing here as it does in Boston.”

  Her lips widened into a smile that pulled the air right out of his lungs.

  Damn, she was beautiful.

  “You have no idea. The workday starts late, ends early, is cut in half by a two-hour lunch and, if the waves are good, a two-hour surfing break.”

  She was kidding. At least, he hoped she was. Still, considering he hadn’t been able to schedule a firm meeting with the man he’d hoped to talk to, he wondered if she was right. Maybe he should have just let his assistant arrange things from a distance before jetting down here, rather than assuming people would automatically meet with him if he came calling.

  “Any words of advice when it comes to business dealings?”

  She cocked her head. “Go home?”

  “Funny.” Trying to convey how much he really could use some help, he said, “I really am a little out of my element here. I’d appreciate any insight you could give me as to how things work.”

  She hesitated, as if thinking about it. Considering how unfriendly she’d been last night, he knew she was torn between her innate niceness and the desire to hop on her scooter and get out of here.

  “Let me guess,” Liz finally said as she pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head. “You’re trying to meet with the Duke.”

  Confused, he merely stared up at her as she stepped closer to the side of the car. Though it took all his willpower not to allow his gaze to zone in on the soft, curvy body just a few inches from his mouth, he managed it. He kept his attention squarely on her face, wanting to hear what she had to say.

  Besides, it was better for his sanity that way.

  “Ray Marchand,” she explained. “Everybody calls him the Duke.”

  “Excellent guess,” he murmured. “How’d you know that?”

  Interested now, though probably against her will, she leaned against the driver’s-side door. She was so close he could smell the flowery scent of her perfume. “He owns the Royal Grocery chain, which is pretty much the only retail chain on the island. Not to mention a couple of luxury hotels, complete with their fancy gift shops. If you’re trying to get your magazines into the local market, he’d be the place to start.”

  Jack tried to focus on what she was saying. He really did. But she was so close, her jean-covered hip pressed against the car. He let his eyes shift, wondering how those hips would feel in his hands. Despite her words, he found himself thinking only of how much he wanted to pull her cotton top free of the waistband and press his mouth to the soft patch of skin just inside her hipbone.

  Finally, knowing he needed to remove himself from the temptation before he did something really crazy that would either scare her off or
earn him a slap, he reached for the door handle.

  Liz stepped out of the way, turning to lean on the hood of the car while Jack opened the door and stepped out. “The Duke is notorious for living life easy-breezy, even by island standards. He doesn’t particularly like to talk business, and when he does, it’s usually out on his boat.”

  That got his attention, and not in a good way. “His boat?”

  “Yes. He’s a deep-sea fisherman. Goes out just about every day on The Regal Duchess—that’s his yacht. I see him all the time at the Rodney Bay Marina.”

  Deep sea. As in, far from land. Jack couldn’t help it, he immediately started to feel queasy. He gripped the car door for an extra second or two before slamming it shut.

  “Oh, wait, I just remembered,” she said, lifting a concerned hand to her mouth. “You don’t like the water, do you?”

  Don’t like was an understatement. Jack sometimes wondered if he’d been a sailor in a past life. Not because he was good at being at sea, but because he must have hated it so much a propensity for seasickness had been stamped into his genetic code. “Uh, not particularly.”

  “That’s so odd.”

  “As I recall, you don’t like mushrooms.”

  Her eyes flared in surprise. He couldn’t tell whether it was because he thought disliking mushrooms was on par with not voluntarily setting foot on a boat or because he remembered a detail from the night they’d ordered pizza for the entire office.

  He could have enlightened her. Could have told her he remembered nearly everything about the few months they’d worked together. But she was finally having a normal conversation with him, those walls down for the time being. He didn’t want to say anything that might put them up again.

  “I meant, it just sounds strange. Shouldn’t someone with your money like to go yachting with the other gazillionaires?”

  Smiling, he clarified, “Not even close. I work for the company, remember? I don’t own it. And I’m not sure there’s such a thing as a gazillion.”

  She straightened, crossing her arms in front of her and eyeing him speculatively. “What if I replaced the g with an m?”

  He intentionally misunderstood. “A mazillionaire?”

  Her soft laugh made the lame joke entirely worthwhile. Jack wanted to swim in it, to hear nothing but that sound and see nothing but that incredible smile.

  “How your adoring fans would laugh if they knew you were a dork at heart.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He intentionally glowered. “I’m a widely feared and respected businessman.”

  “With a goofy sense of humor,” she pointed out. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten the way you started dancing like Tom Cruise in Risky Business the night after you gave the Redbook interview that made you look like a choirboy.”

  He threw a hand over his eyes in mock horror. “Oh, God, how much is it gonna cost me to make sure that story never comes up again?”

  Dropping his hand and eyeing her again, Jack gave himself a moment to enjoy the fact that they were talking again, laughing again. He and Liz were rediscovering that same sense of warm connection they’d once shared. Her walls had fallen and she seemed to remember that they had once liked each other. A lot.

  But her laughter suddenly faded. The sparkle disappeared from her eyes. Apparently she had remembered…and wasn’t happy about it. The hard set of her jaw and downward tug on her mouth made it appear she’d decided she was laughing with the enemy.

  Why she disliked him so much he didn’t know. But he intended to find out.

  “Well, then,” she said, a hard note entering her voice as her defenses rose, “I guess you’d better invest in some Dramamine if you want to meet with the Duke.

  Good luck not fainting and falling overboard because of your seasickness.”

  There hadn’t been an ounce of malice in the Liz he’d known. Now she was intentionally trying to keep him away, trying to insult him. As if she wanted to make it clear that she really didn’t care what he did, where he went or how he felt.

  One problem. He didn’t believe her.

  Knowing he shouldn’t, Jack couldn’t resist stepping closer, leaning on the car beside her, until his arm touched hers and his trousers brushed her bare calf. He half expected her to straighten and stalk to her scooter, but she didn’t. Her curvy bottom, so nicely hugged by her white jeans, stayed right where it was, pressed against the hood of the car.

  Wicked, sultry images suddenly filled his head. Wild, hungry images of him lifting her by the hips to sit on the vehicle, then spreading her thighs and stepping between them.

  He wondered what she had on underneath the jeans and imagined slowly tugging her zipper down to find out. Despite the road and the bar and the fact that it was broad daylight, he wanted desperately to kiss her. He wanted to explore every inch of her under the bright tropical sky, watch her beautiful skin flush from his touch and the warmth of the sun.

  He wanted her in all the ways he’d thought about having her since the night they’d met.

  “Jack,” she whispered, his name sounding half like a warning, half like a plea on her lips.

  “You really want me to fall overboard and drown?” he asked, torn between amusement and pure want. “Because that would imply some feelings on your part.”

  She swallowed so hard he saw her neck quiver. “Feelings?”

  He dropped his hand onto the hood, close enough for his thumb to scrape the rough jean fabric covering one hip.

  “Definite feelings,” he said. “You’re not indifferent to me, no matter how hard you try to pretend you are.”

  “Keep dreaming.” Her words lacked any punch whatsoever. “I feel nothing at all for you.”

  He ignored her, continuing to stare, trying to read her, get to the real Liz behind the shield of snarky bravado. “Not just any feelings, either. Passionate ones.”

  Her wide eyes narrowed with confusion and Liz’s lips parted on a quick, sucked-in breath. But her surprise didn’t come because he had offended her. Or even because he was wrong. In fact, she seemed almost puzzled. It was as if she honestly hadn’t thought of the word passion in regard to herself in a long while.

  Which was just about the saddest thing he’d ever heard.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, he touched her face, brushing his fingers down her cheek before lifting her chin. Saying nothing, he lowered his head, pressing his mouth against hers in a soft, quiet kiss. He didn’t deepen it, didn’t plunge his tongue into her mouth, didn’t fill his hands with that soft, feminine body.

  He couldn’t do any of those things. Because once he went down that road with Liz, there would be no turning back.

  For now, it was enough just to taste her, one warm, unexpected taste to satisfy the raging hunger he’d had for her for so long.

  He savored it, gave himself over to it, acknowledging one thing.

  It was worth the wait. She was worth the wait.

  Ending the kiss, giving up those beautiful lips and the breath they shared, was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But he somehow managed it, pulling away from her with a regretful groan. He remained close enough to see the way her pulse fluttered wildly in her throat and her mouth trembled. Her eyes slowly opened, and the dreamy, sensual gleam in them almost had him diving back for another taste.

  A car roared by. A door slammed. A shout rolled off the beach. He was abruptly reminded that they were in no way alone.

  He stepped back altogether.

  “What was that?” she whispered after a long moment.

  “That was to prove you were lying.”

  She shook her head, jaw clenched. “I wasn’t lying. I don’t have feelings for you, Jack.”

  “I didn’t say they were good feelings,” he admitted, amused as she sputtered in annoyance.

  “Passion…”

  “Can be a very good thing. But a person can also dislike passionately. Which, I wonder, do you feel the most? Passionate dislike? Something tells me that’
s not it.”

  “You really have one hell of an ego,” she said, glaring as she finally straightened and headed toward her scooter. “Now why don’t you go try out that charm on some woman who’s actually interested?”

  He almost laughed, easily seeing the truth she was trying so hard to hide.

  She’d liked the kiss. A lot.

  Yanking her helmet onto her head, she snapped, “Be sure to wait until you’re over shark-infested waters before falling overboard.”

  This time, he couldn’t contain his laugh. Which only made her glare more fiercely.

  “Goodbye, Jack.”

  Jack didn’t think about it, didn’t plan, he simply put his hand on the handle of her scooter. “Liz, wait.”

  “What?”

  He wanted to say so many things. To apologize for having taken what she hadn’t offered, though he’d do it again in a heartbeat if given the chance. He wanted her to know he’d liked the kiss, too, and would very much like to repeat it. Wanted to ask her how she was, really. If she liked her new life, if she ever regretted leaving her old one. He needed to understand why she was so unfriendly toward him when they had once gotten along so well.

  The biggest question of all: did he have a chance with her? Either before he admitted why he’d needed to see her…or, more importantly, after?

  But he didn’t ask her any of those things, knowing she wouldn’t answer them. So instead, he surprised even himself by saying, “I have a proposition for you.”

  Her shoulders stiffened and she eyed him warily.

  God, the woman didn’t trust him at all. Part of him wanted to grab her by the shoulders and ask her why, demand to know what he had ever done to earn the distrust he saw in her eyes. Other than stealing one little kiss.

  Instead, he did the one thing he could think of that would bring her into his daily life, at least for as long as he was on the island.

  “Well? What is it?”

  The idea suddenly seemed like an excellent one.

  “I want you to come to work for me.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SHE WAS WORKING for Jack Beaumont. Again.