The Beach Bachelors Boxset (Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in One) (The Beach Bachelors Series)

by Pamela Browning

  "A hot tub?"

  Ponce smiled. "Yes, and once I get that warm water circulating, it will ease away your tension better than any massage. How about it?"

  Her mind was on their earlier breathless love-making in the garden, interrupted just the right side of decency by Troll. "I don't have a swimsuit, and I'm not going in—"

  "Nude? I wouldn't argue if you wanted to, but if you're going to be stuffy about it, there's an assortment of swimsuits in the bath house." He pointed to a door in a shelter built into the corner angle where the walls met.

  Alix returned his smile. "I'll be right back," she said.

  The dressing room proved to be more spacious than it looked. She found a brief black bikini among several swimsuits in a wicker trunk and slipped it on, glad that it was approximately her size.

  When she left the bath house, shivering a bit in the cool air, she saw that Ponce was established in the hot tub and that the water was swirling around him. Two glasses were beside him on the cedar deck. He moved over on the seat to give her more room.

  She paused in a column of moonlight with arms upraised, her breasts clearly delineated but firmly contained in the bra of the swimsuit, and fastened her loose hair up off her neck with a barrette. Then, with Ponce's eyes frankly appraising her figure, her skin shining silver-smooth in the moonlight, she mounted the steps of the cedar platform and lowered herself into the bubbling water beside him.

  She sat down and leaned back, letting Ponce gather her hand in his and entwine his fingers through hers.

  With his free hand he offered her a glass. She drank, enjoying the warmth that spread through her veins. Neither of them talked, nor did they look at one another. To sit, fingers meshed, the skin on their thighs lightly touching, inhaling the fragrant night air, was enough for the moment.

  Alix closed her eyes, rested the back of her head on the edge of the tub, and let her thoughts dissolve, thinking of absolutely nothing but the delightful physical sensation of the purling water caressing her body. The courtyard was rich with deep blue and violet shadows, and as she felt her tense muscles loosen and grow slack, she turned her head to find Ponce staring at her intently.

  "Feeling better?" he asked, his voice a bare murmur over the quiet whisper of the water.

  "Much," she told him, smiling gently. "I was so worried back there in your office when Jessica was tossing questions at me. I was afraid that she'd talk the board members out of any attempt at finding El Primero."

  "Jessica was just doing her job," said Ponce, and she couldn't tell if his defense of Jessica was business or—but then she saw the look in his eyes, their pupils dark with longing, and behind them something more basic, even primal, that had nothing at all to do with Jessica.

  Before she could say anything he swiftly bent his head and touched his mouth to hers while her lips were slightly parted. At the same time he moved his hands underwater to rest lightly beneath her breasts and then to massage her rising nipples between thumb and forefinger through the thin fabric of her bra.

  He fluidly changed position and slid through the water so that she was floating gently in his lap with her arms around his neck. Everything seemed to have speeded up, like the time she'd been given nitrous oxide in the dentist's office. Time was gone, was irrelevant; the only reality was Ponce Cabrera's touch and the flow of the warm water around and over them.

  "This isn't the way to keep it casual," she breathed when she was able. Ponce touched the tip of his tongue to her earlobe, and she could feel his lips curving into a smile against the long tendon in her neck.

  "I didn't think you wanted to keep it casual anymore, or am I misreading the signals?"

  Alix was silent for a moment, letting her hand drape across the nape of his neck and then stroke the back of his head where the hair curved into little damp waves. "No, you're not misreading the signals—you never do," she said, and it was true. Ponce seemed tuned to her wavelength, knowing exactly what she wanted.

  "You're holding back," he observed, kissing her lightly on the chin and leaning away so that he could look at her. Bubbles spurted up in the space between them, left tiny spheres of moisture clinging to the thick hair on his chest. His gold chain glinted in the moonlight. With his dark complexion, black curly hair and aristocratic profile, he could have been a Spanish prince.

  "I'm thinking," she said.

  "At a time like this?" He was teasing her, looking down at her in a fond way. His lips were soft with passion, and his eyes had that smoky look in their depths that signaled his desire for her.

  "We'll be close associates on Minorcan for the next few months, and I'm concerned about the effect on the operation and on the crew if you and I were—involved," she said haltingly.

  Ponce groaned and ran a wet hand through his dark curls so that they sprang up and then dipped faunlike across his temples.

  "You're worried about that as I'm trying to seduce you? What a blow to my ego!"

  "I'm not sure I'm ready, and with the added complication of our close working quarters, well..." She shrugged her shoulders.

  He regarded her steadily. "That's one of the things I like about you, Alix, the way you come right out and state your position. Even though"—he made a wry face—"in this case it's to my detriment. Anyway, what's this business about your not being ready?"

  "Ready for a sexual relationship—again," she said.

  He sent her a look of keen insight. "Sounds like you've been stung," he said, his eyes probing deep.

  "I've loved someone, yes," she said slowly and carefully. "It didn't turn out well. There was a man I met in Barcelona. He ran out on me with no explanation, and I had a hard time getting over it. I—I don't want to be hurt again."

  She wondered what he would say if he knew that her former boyfriend was his other new crew member, and she felt slightly guilty for not telling him. But that was none of Ponce's business, and it would serve no purpose to tell him now. She was surprised at herself for letting down her guard enough to tell Ponce of her pain. She'd never let anyone else see this much of her.

  Ponce watched her face carefully. "I'm sorry you were so ill-treated," he said with deep concern. His eyes bored softly into hers, absorbing her hurt. He wished absurdly that he had been in Barcelona to protect her from the pain of her broken love affair. He felt a helpless flare of anger at the man who had mistreated her, and Alix marveled at his anger. She'd never had a protector before, and yet she knew without a doubt that Ponce would have protected her from her suffering at Daniel's hands if only he could have.

  He spoke again, more softly now. "It's hard for me to imagine anyone being unkind to you. But I understand your not wanting to be hurt. Please believe that I never want to hurt you, Alix." He paused, reading her expression before saying gently, "You must have loved him a great deal."

  She leaned back against the side of the tub, conscious of Ponce's fingers again linked through hers beneath the water. He held her hand on his thigh, just above his knee where the muscle began to swell. It was most distracting, but she went on, wanting to unburden herself after so long. She wanted him to know what she had been through.

  "I loved him completely, so much that I submerged my personality in his. I won't do that again; I've learned my lesson. He chose me in the beginning, and like a fool I let him make me over into what he wanted. When he left it was as though he took me with him—I felt like a husk, a hollow shell. Next time, I want to do the choosing. I want someone who will see my own potential and possibilities."

  "Next time you want it all," said Ponce.

  Her eyes rested on his face, which expressed kindness and understanding. "Yes," she whispered. Then she said hesitantly, "What about you? Are you... involved with anyone?"

  Ponce shook his head. "Not at the moment. There have been women, but they never understand my dedication to my work. Usually I establish some sort of relationship, then I have to be away on Minorcan for a while, and the woman wants me to come home every time she wants to attend a cockt
ail party. Treasure salvage doesn't work that way, so..." Ponce shrugged. "I've more or less given up."

  She looked at this sensational man and saw that he, too, was lonely. Perhaps in his own way he was even as lonely as she was.

  Even though the timing was all wrong Ponce Cabrera seemed to be everything she had ever wanted in a man. Not only did he know her through and through, but it seemed right for him to know her. She had waited for so long to find someone like him. Now, overriding her caution, letting him breach the wall she had built around herself, she had opened herself to an existence she had thought was lost to her. After waiting so long, after wanting so long—how could she let him go? The depth of her feeling for him had taken her by surprise, but she found that she was filled with joy to be able to feel something for someone again. If she wanted happiness, it was up to her to grasp it, wasn't it?

  "This isn't something casual, you know," Ponce said as though the words were difficult for him to speak. "It wouldn't be a one-night stand." His words hung in the air between them, crystalline and intact, part of their history for all time no matter what happened in the future. The future? He wanted to be part of it. In what capacity? It didn't matter, as long as he was there. And in their merging she knew that she would not lose herself, but rediscover a part of herself she had thought was gone forever.

  He ran an exploratory wet finger down her nose and along her chin and jaw line before halting his hand on her shoulder. Impulsively she dipped her head sideways and rested her cheek on his hand. His concerned acceptance of her confidences had made her feel as though he cared about her in a truly special way, and his touch made her feel protected and safe. In a way the resting of her cheek on his hand was a silent assent.

  He gathered her to his chest, damp against damp. She leaned forward into him, feeling yearningly voluptuous, craving his touch wherever he chose to bestow it. His mood changed too, to an attitude far more serious, considering the possibilities that they both now tacitly understood.

  For herself, Alix saw that, given their personalities and their affinity for one another, the changing of their relationship was inevitable. Instead of a reason to keep them apart, working in close quarters on Minorcan now seemed the best reason to first eliminate the sexual tension that vibrated the atmosphere whenever they were together.

  He spoke softly. "Alix?"

  No answer was necessary. She simply glided her arms upward until they encircled his neck and laid her cheek against his.

  The air was cool, much cooler than the water that frothed around them, and they clung together, warming each other where their bodies were exposed to the air. Ponce's damp skin looked glossy in the moonlight. His body seemed stunningly familiar to her, even though it was not. She let her fingers flow down his back to the surface of the water; with only a brief pause she let them sink below the bubbling surface to trace the muscular curves of his sides.

  In the meantime his hands were finding their own way. He fitted them to her rounded breasts, despaired at the fabric that held them captive, and with one swift motion tore away the wisp of a bra and set them free. Her breasts firmed and rose buoyantly above the water in dark peaks, jeweled with drops of water shining phosphorescent in the moonlight. He lowered his head and kissed them, capturing the jewels for himself. Then, slowly and reverently, he took each nipple in turn between his lips and teased it gently and then more forcefully with his tongue.

  When he had taken his fill and she was gasping with pleasure, he rested his forehead for a moment on the damp skin above the creamy mounds of her breasts, exhaling and inhaling feathery breaths against her skin before he slowly raised his head and took her lips with his.

  She laid her head against the back of the tub, floating with the sensations. He found her hands where they rested on his hips, wrapped his own fingers around her thumbs, drew her hands out of the water, and raised them above her head. She moaned in excitement and lay back in the water until only her head was above the surface. She felt totally in his power as he pinned her against the side of the tub.

  Suddenly he released her hands and with one quick motion slid out of his brief swim trunks. He pulled her own swimsuit bottom away before his hands clasped her, lifted her, and resettled her straddling him.

  "Wait," he said, lifting his hands to her hair. Rivulets of water, trickles of luminescence, streamed from his wrists. He found the barrette, released it. Her hair, shiny and pale with the sheen of the night, spilled down around her bare shoulders. He buried his face in it for a moment and inhaled. "Beautiful," he whispered into the hollow below her ear.

  She was glad that he found her beautiful, because she thought he was beautiful, too. Not only on the outside, although anyone would find him handsome, but because of the inner grace he possessed. He had melted the coldness inside her, made her a whole person again, a person with feelings and sensations and a willingness to take whatever life dished out. He had done this simply by caring about her, by listening to her. He had been a friend, and now he was her lover.

  She reached down beneath the foaming water, allowing her fingers to float through the tangled chest hair. Her palms slid silkily along the sensitive skin of his flat belly. His eyes, closed in ecstasy, opened and revealed his raw, feverish hunger for her. Their shared intensity mounted—blind, soaring passion rising toward its goal of mutual possession. When at last Alix could stand her own aching hollowness no longer, they came together and she cried out from sheer happiness, clinging to him beneath the swirling warm water as though she would never let him go.

  * * *

  "I'm very possessive, you know," he said later when they lay naked together in his big bed. "Once I find a treasure, I never let it go."

  Alix smiled up at him in the dim light from the moon streaming through the narrow window beside the bed. "You've found plenty of treasure before," she said, admiring the way his eyebrows curved just so along his brow line, providing a perfect frame for those expressive silver eyes.

  "You're the best treasure I've ever found," he said. "Golden hair"—he tipped his fingers through her hair—"sapphire eyes"—he kissed her quickly on each eyelid—"and pearly teeth." He lowered his mouth to her lips, running his tongue rapidly across her teeth. Meanwhile his hand had strayed to her abdomen, where his fingers plucked gently at her skin. "And skin like—"

  Alix giggled. "Stop, you're tickling me, and anyway, you've used every cliché in the language to describe my charms. There must be something original you could say about me!"

  "Can't think of anything." He sighed, exhaling somewhere in the vicinity of her collarbone and turning her on her side so that they lay length pressed against length. Experimentally she ran her fingers in a rippling motion along his back. "Now you're tickling me," he said, his voice muffled in her hair. "It feels good, too."

  "Better than...?"

  "Well, not better than that, but good."

  They drew slightly apart, and she rested a light hand on his shoulder. "Now you, for instance," she said. "You have these little points on your shoulders. Vestigial wings, perhaps?" She massaged them gently.

  "Oh? You mean everyone doesn't have points on his shoulders?"

  "No, of course not," she told him. "Is that news?"

  He considered this. "I suppose you've known lots of pointless men, so you probably like my shoulders."

  She felt suddenly somber. "What do you mean by that?" she said, and she could tell that he sensed the turning of her mood.

  "Just that you've probably known lots of men, that's all." There was an impatient trace of jealousy in his voice.

  "Known—in the biblical sense?" Her voice in the dim room was shatteringly quiet.

  "Well, haven't you?"

  She was silent for a time, feeling her body tense. He felt it, too.

  "No, Ponce. There's only been one man in my life before you, and I told you about him. I've never been intimate with anyone else."

  He gathered her close to him, closing his eyes against her hair, inhaling the s
oft, warm fragrance of her and knowing that she spoke the truth. She trembled against him, fearful that she had let him know too much now that he knew how important he was in her life. But he held her so strongly, so surely, and she felt his caring so acutely, that she soon ceased to feel anything but the close emotional bond that made their relationship different from every other she had ever known.

  He was touched by her revelation. In these days of modern morals he had known few women who had not experienced several other men. But he should have realized how it would be with Alix; she thought too much of herself to squander herself on anyone for whom she didn't care very deeply. He didn't know who the other man in her life had been, but whoever he was he was a fool for letting her go. His arms tightened about her in silent appreciation.

  It began again naturally; neither of them could have said who initiated their lovemaking. Instead of one plus one equaling two, one plus one equaled one. They didn't move toward one another, they flowed. They flowed into, out of, over, beyond, to, from. "If lovemaking were a part of speech, it would be a preposition," said Alix softly during a lull. She didn't have to explain to Ponce; it was the kind of remark he understood immediately, which was what made their being together so delightful.

  "Are you prepositioning me?" he asked playfully, and their lovemaking started anew.

  He was a considerate lover, making sure that she found her way to her own pleasure before he took his; when he did, it was with a fierceness and a joy that made her happiness at his pleasure eclipse her own. Afterward he stayed over her, chest to chest, her breasts enveloped in the crisp softness of his hair. One hand cradled her head, the other lay beneath the hollow of her back. His legs, strong and sinewy, were drawn up, touching her sides. She felt totally wrapped in and absorbed by the body of Ponce Cabrera; with a deep sigh of contentment she slipped away into sleep.

  Chapter 7

  A few days later Alix stood in the midst of the shambles of her apartment, staring unbelievingly at the mess; drawers had been dumped out, clothes thrown from the closet to the floor, the fitted bedspread ripped off the bed and left in a heap. Someone had ransacked her apartment and there was no doubt in her mind who had done it: Daniel.