by Jaci Burton
For someone who ran a sex resort, she sure seemed prim and proper. Except for the lush body in the barely-covering-her-thighs dress. Her body was anything but conservative. She had curves made for a man to worship.
They finally reached a clearing, and Tony was stunned to see a nice sized ranch style house in front of them. The sandy colored siding and forest green shutters fit right in with the tropical surroundings.
Morgan pulled into a covered carport. Tony jumped out and grabbed his bags, following along behind her, watching her nicely rounded rear end sway back and forth. His cock twitched, reminding him once again how long it had been since he’d had sex.
Oh sure, women gravitated to him all right. Except during his last few assignments. Those had consisted of nothing but men. No women around. Jungle, war, politics. And no female within miles.
Now was not the time to be thinking about sex. He never fucked the subjects of his interviews. Well, not after that one time. Too messy and could lead to involvement. Or the loss of a really great story, like what had happened when he’d made the mistake of having a mattress summit with a senator’s daughter. After that disaster, he swore never again to mix pleasure in with his business.
Although he could easily imagine getting horizontal with Morgan Brown, he knew that would never happen. He’d lost almost everything by getting involved with a subject once before. Never again. Fuck ‘em and leave ‘em, that was his motto.
For a guy whose livelihood required traipsing around the world, commitment wasn’t in his vocabulary. He needed to switch his focus from Morgan Brown’s backside to what secrets he could unearth during his week-long stay at this supposed erotic paradise. If he was lucky, he’d not only get the interview for the travel magazine, he’d also dig up some dirt on her that maybe the tabloids might be interested in buying.
Nobody who owned and operated a place like this had a lily-white reputation. He’d bet a million she had some major skeletons in her closet.
He followed her up the stairs, noticing the white swing suspended from the rafters of the expansive front porch. Hanging potted plants filled with purple tropical flowers danced in the breeze. Visions of Morgan sipping a cool drink while lounging on that swing in nothing but a bikini momentarily distracted him.
His attention went on full alert when he stepped through the front door. A white, fluffy thing pounced on his tennis shoe and immediately scurried off behind a rattan sofa.
“What the hell was that?” he asked.
“That’s Phoebe, my cat,” Morgan explained. “You’ve just been officially attack-greeted.”
“For a second there I thought you had big white rat problems.”
She laughed, and his heart thudded against his chest. Damn, but she had one sexy laugh. A little on the raspy side, the kind a man would want to hear in bed. And why did it seem that her laugh was a little rusty? Like maybe she didn’t do it too often?
He shook his head, wondering why that thought popped into his head. Further, why he would even care whether she laughed or not.
Morgan led him down the hall and pointed to two rooms.
“Take your pick,” she said. “Both have views of the pool and the one on the far left also has a view of the ocean.”
He chose the one with the double view. He threw his bag down on the king-sized bed and stepped out onto a small veranda, admiring the breathtaking scenery. The rectangular in-ground pool was surrounded by palm trees and tropical flowers. Beyond the pool was a sandy beach and miles of ocean. Looked like a damn postcard picture.
No wonder Morgan liked living here. Who the hell wouldn’t want paradise in their own back yard?
“Nice place,” he said, sensing her behind him.
“Thank you. I like it.”
He turned to her, watching as the wind blew stray strands of fiery red hair into her face. Without thinking, he reached out to brush it off her face and she backed up a step.
Whoa. The lady did not like to be touched.
“Let me show you the rest of the house,” she said, seemingly calm and composed as she turned and left the veranda.
But for that brief second, Tony glimpsed fear in her eyes. When he’d reached a hand out, she’d paled and practically jumped away from him.
Why? What scared her about his movement? She certainly couldn’t be afraid of him. She’d just invited him to stay at her house, which by the looks of things was smack dab in the middle of fucking nowhere.
Determined to delve deeper into Morgan’s history, he followed her down the hall.
The house had a huge kitchen. Lots of windows, white tile and matching cabinets brightened the room. An island sat in the middle of the kitchen, a bowl of fresh fruit centering the countertop. It sure didn’t look anything like his apartment in New York. Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually stayed in his apartment. Hotels were his home. Sometimes tents in the jungle. Anywhere there was a story.
“Something to drink?” she asked, peeking into the refrigerator.
Tony admired the view as she bent over to reach for something, her ass outlined against the silky material of her dress. Visions of him sliding the dress up her thighs and plunging his cock between those full cheeks hardened him in an instant.
When she turned, her eyes drifted over him and settled on his crotch.
Shit. He felt like a grade school kid who’d just got caught with his first boner in front of the pretty young teacher. Not like he could hide it now.
“I’d love some,” he blurted, meaning the jug of iced tea she held in her hand, but knowing it had come out like he wanted some of her.
Well, dammit, that was true, too. He did want some of her. His penis pressed painfully against his now tight jeans, begging for release.
“Some tea, you mean?” she asked, licking her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue.
He followed the movements of her tongue and shifted, stepping behind the center island to hide his erection. “Yeah. Tea.”
She turned away quickly, but not before he caught the slight smirk that lifted the corners of her lips.
This was going to be one miserably long week.
Chapter Two
Morgan tried to hide her grin behind the pitcher of tea. It wasn’t like Tony was the first guy to sprout an erection in front of her. She’d seen more than most women would in a lifetime.
She’d also suffered more pain and humiliation than most of them ever would. Which was why, no matter how dark and good-looking Tony Marino was, she’d never let him get close to her. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t admire his tall, lean body and devastating dark eyes. And the way he filled his jeans out led her to believe he had quite a package hidden in there.
No. Don’t think about his package or anything else about him. You know what happened the last time you got close to a man. No amount of pleasure is worth that kind of pain.
Not too many years ago, she’d have been dying to sample what was hidden behind that zipper. Now? She tamped down her body’s base urges, knowing she’d never allow that kind of intimacy again.
Her mind knew that, her heart knew that, but her body still craved a man’s touch. Especially when a man tumbled her senses all to hell like Tony did.
His skin was tanned, his hair black. With his Italian features he’d be right at home on the set of one of The Godfather movies. Sexy and brooding. And he sure frowned a lot. She could imagine that brain of his worked overtime. One didn’t get to be as successful a writer as he was without doing a lot of thinking.
She’d done her research on him, even read a few of his articles. The man had exceptional talent at stringing together prose.
And scheming, she’d bet. He also wouldn’t be the first reporter to try and dig up some dirt on her. But she’d buried her secrets deep. So deep no one could ever unearth them.
If only she could bury the memories as well.
Pushing the past into the far recesses of her mind, she led Tony to the backyard. The sky was clea
r, the stars shined brightly overhead, and the full moon reflected off the water in the pool, making it appear almost like daytime. They sat at the table on the veranda and Morgan inhaled, the smell of jasmine filling the air around them.
Then she waited for the questions.
It didn’t take him very long.
“Why Paradise Resort?” he asked.
Surprisingly he had no paper or pen with him, nor had he carried his laptop outside.
“Don’t you need to take notes?” she asked.
“Nah, I have a good memory. Besides, if I need to quote you on something I’ll verify that’s what you said before it goes to print.”
She nodded. “Good to know. I’d hate to be misquoted.”
It took her a few seconds of admiring the rugged beauty of his face to recall that he’d asked her a question. “I bought Paradise Resort because I felt there was a need for a place like this.”
“Why?”
Typical reporter-one word question. She thought about answering because and leaving it at that, but that wasn’t how she’d been raised. She might have thought about being a smartass once in awhile, but she’d never actually acted upon it.
“There aren’t many places where people can feel free to indulge sexual fantasies to their fullest extent.”
“Can’t people have whatever sex they want in the privacy of their own bedrooms?”
“Some can. Some can’t, or choose not to.”
“You have personal experience there?” he asked, his chocolate eyes narrowing.
She smiled at him. “No comment.”
He sighed and rolled his shoulders, turning his neck to the side.
“Long day?” she asked.
“Yeah. Got a crick in my neck and I’m sweating. Mind if I make use of your pool while we talk?”
Where were her manners? Tony’s arrival and her obvious instant attraction to him had thrown her off kilter, making her forget the basics of detachment and cool civility.
“Of course. I’ll start dinner. Go ahead and take a dip in the pool.”
Morgan tried to ignore the sounds of running water and that of drawers opening and closing from the guest bedroom. She busied herself with preparing the fish and vegetables, making every attempt to block the vision of the man in the other room, and how he’d look naked. His body would be muscular, she could already tell by his biceps, broad shoulders and the well-sculpted thighs encased in denim. She’d spied a mat of dark hair peeking out the top of his polo shirt, and she imagined it would lead lower to a vee of soft, dark down, ending with curling black hair between his legs.
And in between his legs would be that magnificent penis she’d seen outlined against his jeans. Thick and long, the kind that took a woman’s breath away. She licked her lips, imagining his groan of pleasure when a woman wrapped her mouth around the head and licked the moisture off the tip.
Using her forearm, she swiped at the perspiration on her forehead, and chose to ignore the dampness forming between her legs. She’d take care of her arousal tonight.
Alone. With her own hand, as she had for the past three years.
But this time, when she slid under the cool sheets of her bed and her hand found that aching spot between her legs, she wouldn’t imagine a faceless stranger whose kindness and patience would somehow awaken her desire to be touched by a man again.
This time, she’d imagine Tony Marino.
* * * * *
Morgan laid the foil-enshrouded fish on the grill, then sat at the table, watching Tony swim. His face buried underwater, he used long, fluid strokes to make his way from one end to the other. Without breaking stride he dove underneath and pushed off, coming up halfway to the other side before continuing his measured stroking toward the opposite end of the pool.
She longed to jump in and join him, but she never wore her bikini when others were around. As it was, she was uncomfortable in the short sundress she’d thrown on. Typically she wandered around naked at night, loving the freedom of having her body revealed and knowing no one could see it.
But not for the next week, because she had stupidly invited Tony to stay here while he conducted his interview.
What had possessed her to invite a stranger, and a man at that, to stay in her home? She never had guests over. Other than an annual summer party for the resort staff, she lived entirely alone.
For three years she’d been satisfied with the status quo. She had enough contact with people at the resort. Typically, by the time the workday ended, she was tired of talking and craved the solitude of her private place.
So why had she invited him to stay with her? Because they’d overbooked the resort and he really had no place to stay? Or was there another reason?
“Why don’t you join me?”
She shivered at his voice, that old, familiar fear resurfacing. For a moment there he’d sounded like. . .no, he wasn’t David.
“No thanks,” she replied.
“Why not?” He’d swum to the side and laid his chin on his forearms. His wet hair curled and with one hand he swept it back, revealing a face Michelangelo would want to paint. Rugged angles, a square jaw, deep set dark eyes with full brows, and a beautifully sculpted nose.
“I’ll just watch you swim. I’m keeping an eye on the grill.”
He shrugged and dove down again, and Morgan relaxed.
She hadn’t thought of David in years. Why now? Simple enough. Because Tony was the first man she’d been attracted to since David. That alone shocked her, because she hadn’t thought of sex for over three years. Hadn’t wanted it, hadn’t desired it, and other than the physical relief she gave herself, the thought of coupling with a man produced only revulsion.
So why now? Because she had one-on-one time with a very attractive man? A man who clearly desired her? Reasonable enough to assume an attraction to any man at all would dredge up the memories.
Memories weren’t so bad. She shouldn’t forget what happened back then. If she didn’t forget, she couldn’t get hurt again. If she was careful, very careful, she wouldn’t make another mistake.
Mistakes had almost cost her life. Falling in love had nearly killed her and made it abundantly clear she had no clue whom to trust. Easier not to trust anyone than make a mistake again. Next time it might kill her.
The easiest way to avoid that happening was to crush the stirrings of desire she felt bubbling to life as she watched Tony. She’d already made one huge error in judgment by inviting him into her home for the week. But she was stronger than she used to be. She could withstand the temptation of a desirable man.
She had no other choice.
“Dinner will be ready shortly,” she announced as he surfaced near the edge of the pool.
Despite her intent, she couldn’t help but admire his body. He jumped out and grabbed for a towel on the nearby chaise. She sighed at his taut, six-pack abdomen, admired his deep tan, and enjoyed the view of his legs. Too bad his long swim trunks hid his thighs. She’d already sampled a tasty view of his fine rear end in his jeans. In the baggy shorts he wore now, most of his upper legs were covered.
“Can I help you with something?”
Oh hell, he’d caught her gawking. “Excuse me?”
He approached her, stopping a respectable distance away. But his grin reached out and touched her heart. His damp, curling hair fell across his forehead, and she pressed her fingers into her palm to keep from reaching out to push it back.
The warning bells sounded in her head. She had to remember that appearances could be deceiving. Good looking men who exuded boyish charm could also hide a heart of evil.
“With dinner. Can I help you with it?”
Oh that. She turned away. “I’ve got it covered. Go change. I’ll have everything set out here when you get back. It’s much too nice to eat inside tonight.”
He tilted his head to the side, then paused as if he would speak. Instead, he shrugged and stepped into the house.
Morgan exhaled. With shaky hands she plac
ed the fish on the table, then went inside to grab the rest of the meal.
Too close. That was just too close. She had to stop looking at him like she was starving for male companionship. He was way too sharp, she didn’t need to give him any more ammunition.
She’d all but drooled all over him and had done a really lousy job of disguising her interest in him. By now, he probably thought she was some kind of nymphomaniac, out to screw every guy she could get her hands on.
She grabbed a bottle of wine. It was most definitely time for a drink.
By the time Tony changed into shorts and a tank top, Morgan had their meal set on the patio table. She busied herself with arranging the fish and vegetables onto the plates, trying her best to ignore how good he looked.
She took a long sip of wine and stared into the glass. Not that long ago she’d have been bold enough to let a man know when she was attracted to him. She’d been so ballsy back then—David had told her that was what attracted him the most. The fact she’d had guts enough to ask him out, to proposition him. How could she have known her daring nature would be her downfall?
“You seem so far away.”
Morgan looked up to find Tony staring at her. “Sorry. Thinking.”
“About?”
“About the resort,” she lied.
He seemed satisfied with her answer and resumed eating, even complimenting her cooking skills. She beamed. How long had it been since a man had something nice to say to her?
Well, nice in the way that didn’t include a sexual proposition. She expected those in her position, and easily fended off the most persistent of resort guests with a smile and a compliment so they wouldn’t feel insulted.
They finished the meal in silence, then carried the dishes to the kitchen. Surprise of all surprises, Tony filled the sink and washed everything himself despite her protestations.
A man who helped in the kitchen? She could almost fall in a heap on the floor in shock. She let out a soft laugh at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” Tony turned around, wiping his hands on a towel nearby.
“You did the dishes.” She leaned against the center island with her arms crossed, mindful of how much wine she’d consumed so far tonight. She still had control, though. She knew her limits.
