by Sara Orwig
When they finally flew over the Caribbean, Camille hovered by the window, fascinated as a child by the bright blue water below. “Marek, it’s beautiful! It’s what I’ve imagined.”
“Camille, you’ve been south and have seen sights like this—Houston, San Diego, Miami.”
“Only Houston—I haven’t gone to Galveston or along the coast. I’ve been on northern coasts and in Europe, but I haven’t been to Miami or San Diego.”
“I’m surprised.” He smiled slightly again, watching her turn back to look, glad she was enjoying herself because he thought this so-called honeymoon in Grand Cayman was cheating her in too many ways.
They landed, and all her attention was on their surroundings as they drove to the villa he had leased. It was within high walls with a gatekeeper. The security wasn’t obvious, but Marek had already hired a company and knew it was in place. When they stepped out of the limo he took her hand to go inside.
“I love this,” she said, inhaling deeply, her gaze roaming over the sprawling villa. “I see we’ll have security here.”
“We will and a full staff who will stay out of our way. Under the circumstances I didn’t see any point in dismissing the staff,” he remarked.
“This is a magic place and maybe magic will happen.”
“You’ve been performing in make-believe stories too long,” he said, still amused by her enthusiasm. “Don’t count on magic. I know you have been places far more exotic and beautiful than this.”
“It’s what captures your fancy that becomes so special. And this does mine more than castles and mountains and bustling cities.”
He swept her into his arms, and her eyes flew wide. For the first time since they had flown away from the U.S., he had her full attention. “I’ll follow an old tradition even though it’s ridiculous for us. This may be the only marriage for either one of us, so I intend to do what I can to make it work and to keep you happy.”
She smiled broadly and wrapped her arms around his neck, her blue eyes ensnaring him in that manner she had. “Watch out, my husband, or you’ll cause me to fall in love with you. Neither of us can cope with that.”
“I don’t think there’s much danger, but if you do, we’re married.”
“If I do, then I will do everything in my power to make you fall in love with me,” she whispered, suddenly looking solemn. “That’s a promise,” she said, tapping his chest with her forefinger while he carried her over the threshold and inside.
He looked at her intently, desire stirring as it had the night he had kissed her. It had surprised him then and it did now. With their gazes locked, he set her on her feet. She still had her arms around his neck and she gazed up at him, fires in the depths of blue, a sultry invitation that made his heart beat faster.
He forgot the past and was lost in the moment. His gaze lowered to her mouth and he remembered her steamy kiss, a kiss that had jolted him and pulled him solidly into the present. He leaned down, placing his lips on hers while her arm tightened around his neck.
She pressed her soft curves against him. She was tall, warm and enticing. The moment his mouth touched hers, thoughts shut down, desire flickered to life. He tightened his arm around her narrow waist, pulling her closer against him. Long-dormant feelings stirred. His body came to life, heart pounding, fire consuming him while she kissed him passionately in return.
Her kisses were fiery and demanding. That energy and zest for life that she exhibited channeled into passion and melted him. His body responded fully. Desire rocked him. She surprised him when she leaned away. “Marek, wait,” she gasped. “Let’s not complicate our lives more. I’m not ready for a purely physical relationship in spite of saying marriage vows today. We’ve both agreed on that.”
Raising his head, he tried to get his breath. His body needed to cool. He desired her and suspected it would take little to crumble her argument and seduce her.
“I want to wait, and our kisses are leading to lovemaking,” she added. “This isn’t what either of us planned.”
Six
Camille tried to catch her breath. Her heart pounded, and every nerve was alive. She wanted Marek, but she had meant her argument. What she hadn’t told him was that she was not going to fall into his arms and into his bed at the first few kisses because it would be totally meaningless to him.
Sooner or later he would overcome his grief and he would want her physically, but it was lust and nothing else. If she succumbed, it was not going to be the first afternoon they were husband and wife, when they had nothing between them except working out this paper marriage and Noah’s care.
She intended to stick to what she had said, even though her body clamored for more. She wanted his kisses, wanted his lovemaking, but common sense said at this point that was the road to disaster. If she went to bed with him, she wanted him to be aware of her as a desirable woman, to remember she was his wife, to truly want her and know her way better than he did at the moment.
His brown eyes had darkened to midnight, and he was breathing heavily. He looked as if he could devour her. She didn’t know whether he was weighing her argument or trying to get desire under control as he stood staring at her.
Walking away from him, she viewed the open living area in front of her.
“This is fantastic,” she declared, trying to focus on something besides Marek and her own desire for more kisses. “It’s perfect and more than I dreamed.” The entrance opened into an airy, large living area with columns dividing the room from an adjoining dining area. Floor-to-ceiling glass doors opened to a veranda that ran the length of the house. Beyond it was the pool with fountains and gardens that overlooked the white beach and clear blue water. Tall palms ran along one side of the veranda, and there were palms scattered between the white beach and the water.
Camille walked outside, inhaling deeply and holding out her arms. “It’s gorgeous.” She spun around to tell him. He stood only a few feet behind her, watching her with such cool speculation in his eyes that her pulse jumped. Was he thinking about their marriage and what it might mean?
“This is perfect, Marek. I’m so happy with it. I won’t want to leave.”
“Yes, you will. You’ll miss Noah. You’ll feel guilty about missing your voice practice and language studies.”
“I plan to do those here.”
“Because of Noah, you’ll be ready to leave, but I’m glad you like it. For now we can change and swim or we can just sit out here, have drinks and then dinner.”
“A swim. I have to get into that water. I’ll beat you there,” she said, rushing past him, and he smiled again.
He was ready first, waiting when she came out. She wore a pink T-shirt that came to mid-thigh and hid her curves. She was aware of his scrutiny, far more aware of him. He wore plaid trunks. His muscled chest was bare; his broad shoulders and arms were hard muscles, probably from the ranch work he did. He had a smattering of dark chest curls and his legs were long. Realizing she was staring, she dropped her things and pulled off her T-shirt, hotly aware that he watched her.
She turned, flipping her head, causing her hair to swing back over her shoulders.
“I’ll race you in,” she said, dashing past him. In seconds he passed her and ran in the water ahead of her, splashing out until it was deep enough to swim. After a few strokes he turned to watch her as she caught up.
“You’re a good swimmer,” he said.
“You’re better. You beat me.”
“I used to compete in swimming a long time ago.”
“Then I won’t challenge you again.”
“You challenge me on a regular basis,” he said in a husky voice. He was flirting with her. A subtle change in their relationship.
“I didn’t think you noticed.”
“I’m not completely numb.”
“Did you say ‘numb’ or ‘dumb’?” she asked sweetly, teasing him. He laughed and splashed her with a wave of water. She shrieked and swam away. In a flash he caught up and swam beside h
er. He grasped her upper arm lightly while he treaded water.
“See that buoy?” he said, pointing at an orange buoy that bobbed gently in the small waves. “They told me that is the farthest out we should swim. It’s much deeper and tides are stronger.”
Glancing back at the beach, she was surprised how far they had come. “This water is beautiful.”
“It’s prettier when you snorkel. I have all-new equipment on the beach.”
“Then, Mr. Expert Swimmer, I’ll race you back to it,” she said, starting to swim as vigorously as possible. For a few seconds, he let her lead and then he passed her. When she walked out of the water, he waited, and she could feel his gaze drifting slowly over her in a long, leisurely look that became almost a caress. She tingled from head to toe. Desire ignited, a flame deep inside. Her awareness heightened of the skimpiness of her two-piece red suit.
“Where’s the snorkel equipment?”
“Maybe we should just stay out here and enjoy the scenery,” he drawled, still studying her.
“I think that’s the way to complications. We discussed this earlier,” she said without moving. She tried to keep her gaze on his face, to keep from looking him over as he was her. He was breathtaking, masculine, sexy.
“Marek, where did you put the equipment?”
“Camille, the best equipment on this beach is what I’m looking at,” he said, walking to her. “You’re gorgeous. I can’t stop looking,” he added.
“Yes, you can,” she said, her words sounding distant to her. “Snorkel equipment or I go inside and dress.”
He walked up to place his hands on her shoulders and she was riveted, her threat of leaving impossible to carry out. His light touch burned as if it had been a brand. Aware of him only inches away, she tingled. Could he hear her pounding heart?
His arm slipped around her waist. “You’re bringing me back to life. I didn’t think it was possible.”
“For that, I’m glad,” she said, meaning it, but barely able to focus on conversation. His hands were on her, his body only inches away and both of them wore very little. All her cool reserve had shattered, and the look in his eyes was something new in their relationship, yet age-old, blatantly sexy. She was breathless, too aware of his body, his arm around her and his mouth so close. She looked up into dark eyes with fire in their depths.
“For the first time in over a year I feel alive,” he whispered. He drew her closer and leaned down to kiss her. His mouth was on hers, his tongue stroking her with slow deliberation that made her pounding heart race.
She slid her hands over his smooth back, pressed against him and felt his arousal. Her arms tightened as she returned his kiss eagerly, unable to resist, knowing they both had just crossed a line.
There would be no going back from this fiery kiss to an occasional peck on the cheek. She closed her eyes tightly, relishing the feel of his hard muscles, his strength, the deepening passion in his kisses.
His hands ran over her back and bottom, down along her bare thighs.
She finally ended the kisses. “Slow down, Marek. This changes everything far too fast. Let’s cool down before our lives take another turn and complications beset us.”
Breathing hard, he gazed at her with longing in his expression. With a pounding heart, she tried to cling to the sensible speech she had just made, but that wasn’t what her heart wanted. She stepped back. “We should swim,” she whispered. She passed him, heading to the water to cool down and to put some distance between them. Their lives had just taken another major turn. Was it already out of her control?
He showed her how to wear her goggles. His casual touches were even more disturbing than before. She had always had a reaction to him, but not as intense as it had now become. Desire was a constant, a hot, running need that she hoped to control.
In minutes, the fascinating sea creatures swimming around her captured her attention. Finally, Marek tugged on her arm and motioned to get out.
As they surfaced, she took off the breathing tube. Marek was beside her. Tall, muscular, appealing—how could she return to being casual, unaffected? Close to shore, they could easily stand in water that was only a little over four feet deep.
“It’s later than you think. Let’s have a drink and then dinner so I can release the staff for this evening.”
“Certainly. That was fascinating. I want to come back in the morning,” she said, thinking Marek was far more fascinating.
He looked amused. “You can snorkel all day if you’d like. The fish won’t mind.”
“When was the first time you came here?”
“I’ve never been to this particular villa, but the Caymans, probably when I was five or six. I don’t even remember.”
“You’ve done it all. No wonder nothing excites you.”
“Oh, yes, there are things that excite me,” he replied, his voice changing as he flirted again.
“I’m not asking what.”
“Who, not what. You already know the answer.”
Pulling on her T-shirt, she wriggled it down over her hips, glancing around to see him watching her.
She picked up all her things. “I’ll change and be back.”
“Sure,” he said, flipping a towel over his shoulder as he headed inside with her.
After a shower, she dressed in a deep blue cotton sundress and sandals and dried her hair, letting it fall loosely over her shoulders. When she went outside, he was waiting at the table. He looked relaxed in chinos and a navy knit shirt. A chilled bottle of champagne was on ice and he had already partially filled two flutes. He handed one to her and picked up the other.
“Here’s to a happy union that blesses all concerned, especially Noah.”
“I’ll drink to that,” she said, touching his glass lightly, watching bubbles rise in the pale golden champagne. She sipped her drink and looked out to sea.
“Sit here, Camille. We’ll have our drinks before dinner.”
She sat in a lawn chair, and he sat in another close beside her. “This is truly beautiful, Marek, and I’m having a wonderful time.”
“I’m glad,” he said, gazing at the water. She was beginning to be able to tell when he was thinking of his fiancée and grief was present because his voice and expression were both remote.
“This is the hardest time of day. Sundown. Somehow it seems a time of loss. The sunshine is gone, the night isn’t here. This is when I’ve had a bad time. You’d think it would be late at night, which sometimes it is, but this time of day really gets me.” He talked, but she thought he had almost forgotten her. He was looking toward the horizon. To the west the sun was a ball of orange fire only half-visible above the horizon.
She couldn’t think of anything to say that would help him. He was wrapped in his own world, and his hurt was understandable, but at least today, he had had moments when his pain had lifted and she had glimpsed the lively man he was before the crash.
She gazed out to sea, still shocked that she was locked into a marriage of convenience with a man who might always love another woman. Would he break her heart if she fell in love with him? She would do exactly as her father had suggested—keep the money tucked away so she could return it if this arrangement did not work out to everyone’s satisfaction.
“Marek, what do you want from life? You’ve already been enormously successful in business. You have the ranch you love.”
“I want to be a dad for Noah. I hope our marriage and this arrangement work out.”
“Aside from Noah, what do you hope to achieve? You have an enormous fortune, so it’s not that. What is it?”
“Still make money. Also to help others. I have certain charities and, of those, there are a few I’m particularly interested in. I’ve established a ranch for homeless kids. It’s not far out of Fort Worth. Some kids are there on a temporary basis, some permanent. I’ve gone through our church.”
“That’s great,” she said, surprised by his answer.
“Don’t sound so startled that I w
ould help someone.”
“I’m just surprised at the particular project.”
“I only put up the money and helped them get established, but I’ve liked working with them occasionally. For my own pleasure I’ve done calf roping in rodeos this past year—and won, amazingly enough. That takes my mind off everything else. Do you like rodeos?”
“I know as much about them as you do opera.”
“Maybe a rodeo is like an opera—you either love it or you don’t like it at all.”
Smiling, she shook her head. “Rodeos and opera—I don’t think you can quite lump them together even in that way.”
“I’ll take you to a rodeo sometime soon. There’ll be one in New Mexico.”
They talked, drifting from one subject to another until dinner was served, delicious blackened grouper.
Over dinner, conversation became more impersonal and she felt better about him. The staff was discreet, keeping out of sight most of the time.
After dinner the dishes were cleared away while they moved to another area on the veranda. Marek spoke briefly to the staff and then joined her again. It was almost dark, and various veranda lights and torches on the beach had come on or been lighted.
“I suppose Jess runs the ranch when you’re not there.”
“Jess runs the ranch when I’m there and when I’m not there.”
“He’s sort of closed off from the world. Or maybe just quiet. Is he married?”
“No. Jess is closed off from the world to a degree. Jess had a wife and son. They were killed in a car wreck years ago. If anyone understands what I’ve felt, it’s Jess. He never married again. He has a solitary life, but he gets along. We understand each other, and I can count on him.”
“That’s dreadful. Both of you with such similar losses.”
“He’s never had to say anything. He’s just been there for me, which helped. After the plane crash sometimes he’d come up to the house in the evening and bring cold beer. We’d sit, drink and maybe not say three words all evening, just sit on the porch and sip beer. It helped just to know he understood and he was there.”
