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

by Pamela Browning

  "Dear me, at least you're not calling me 'Cara mia,'" she said, hoping this statement was witty. Probably it wasn't, because Alec ignored it.

  That fire in his eyes again, and the heat it inspired in her. She wanted to be kissed in the worst way, and he seemed ready to oblige.

  He said, "I'm going to take three steps forward, Cara Demorest, and then I'm going to kiss you. All you have to do to prevent it is to walk away."

  She stared at him, her lips slightly parted, and it seemed to her that he must hear the beating of her heart from where he stood. She felt the tightly coiled tension of his tall, lean body, bare to the waist. Somehow she had sensed all along that eventually there would have to be this meeting between them—a meeting when she could choose to run but must stay and experience the full heat of this man's desire. Instead of turning away from him she found herself taking a small step forward, and then he was crushing her to him with an intensity that banished all thought.

  Cara was all too aware of the sensation of skin against skin and of the flexing of his muscles as his arms surrounded her. His mouth closed over hers and his kisses inflamed her until she was responding to him in a way she would never have dreamed possible. When his lips left hers she felt lost, abandoned, and she sought them again and again.

  He moved his hands upward, cupping her face between them, searing her with his gaze before pressing his lips to her forehead, her mouth, and at last her throat. She released him and let her hands fall loosely at her sides, luxuriating in the pleasure of his touch as he lifted the scarf from around her neck and let it float slowly to the ground like the falling petal of a ripe red rose.

  He bent his head to her as if paying homage, and she felt his sweet kiss in the hollow of her throat. As she thought dazedly that she had never felt so defenseless before a man, she swayed against him, seeking the haven of his arms once more.

  Alec raised his head with a questioning look, his eyes sharp upon her. Then he held her steadily by the shoulders and gazed at her for a long moment.

  "I... I'm dizzy," she said, embarrassed by her overwhelming need for him. "It must be the wine..."

  He raised an eyebrow in that infuriating way of his. "The wine, yes. It appears that you've had slightly more than is usually recommended. Why, you're practically weaving on your feet."

  With that he leaned forward from the waist and retrieved her scarf from the ground where it had fallen. He tossed it carelessly over his shoulder and took Cara firmly by the elbow.

  "But—" protested Cara, still tingling from his kisses.

  "The warm-up act went inside to answer the phone, and the play is over. The curtain's down. I'll escort you to the house just to make sure you arrive there safely."

  He was rejecting her. How to save face? She drew herself up to her full height and said with quickly mustered dignity, "Chivalry isn't dead. This proves it."

  "For that you should be thankful, Cara." He might have been laughing at her. Or maybe that was a smirk of superiority.

  "I'm sure I can get there under my own power," she said. "If you'll let go of my arm."

  "Don't be silly. I'd rather be holding all of you, but I'd prefer it to be when you're not tipsy."

  "I'm not tipsy," she began, but her heel caught on a sprig of grass, and she stumbled. "It's not me. It's these shoes," she explained weakly.

  Alec merely looked at her.

  "They're platforms, and they don't fit very well."

  "Uh-huh. Come along, Cara." Alec hurried her across the lawn to the mansion. At the foot of the staircase, he favored her with a mock bow. "Don't worry. You'll feel better in the morning."

  She felt humiliated and angry with herself for ruining the evening, first with her laughter, then by throwing herself at him. A glance at Alec did nothing to reveal what he was thinking. He tossed her the scarf before disappearing into the darkness of the garden. Cara removed the offending shoes before climbing the steps slowly, trailing the floating red chiffon behind her. Alec had confused her more than ever.

  In her room she sat before the open window listening to the peacocks crying, "Help, help." She strained to detect a light in Alec's cabana, but the sea grapes concealed it from view and she saw nothing.

  One after another she watched the foam-tipped waves riding to the shore, their steady swish a lullaby. Images of Alec kept flashing into her mind: Alec holding her close in his cabana after her frightening nightmare, Alec kissing her passionately in the pavilion, Alec the paradox, the mystery. Not to mention the enigma. She stared for a moment toward the cabana before drawing the draperies, and the silky breeze caught her sigh and spun it backward over the moonlit spires of Xanadu.

  Chapter 4

  Ingrid's soft knock woke Cara from a sound sleep. Her mouth was dry, and her head felt stuffed with cotton.

  "Yes?" She swung her feet out of bed, wincing at the hammering behind her eyelids.

  "Coming in," called Ingrid. She nudged open the door with one rotund hip and bustled to a round, skirted table flanked by two chairs where she set down a tray bearing sliced oranges, coffee in a silver pot, and something under a domed cover. "I thought you might like breakfast in bed this morning after your late night," Ingrid said with a meaningful smile.

  Cara lifted the dome and peeked at the contents. "Mm-mm, that looks good." She sat down and unfolded the crisp napkin while Ingrid flung open the draperies on another golden morning. Cara tried not to wince at the bright light.

  "Have you finished your work in the dining room? Blake asked me to show the Japanese porcelain to a local dealer when you have completed your inventory."

  "Before the dealer comes I need to inventory the china and glassware on the yacht," Cara replied. "It's just possible that some items from the house have ended up there. Would Otto have time this morning to take me to the dock?" Maybe the fresh air would do her good.

  Ingrid paused at the door. "What's a good time?"

  Cara ate a bite of omelet, then said, "Half an hour. Okay?"

  "I'll tell him to meet you at the garage," Ingrid said before pulling the door closed behind her. She stuck her head back in. "There's aspirin in the medicine cabinet," she added.

  After helping herself to the aspirin, Cara chose white shorts and deck shoes to wear for the day. She bundled her hair into a bun secured with an elastic and topped it with a wide-brimmed sun hat, finishing off the outfit with thankfully oversized dark glasses. Her laptop went into a case with a shoulder strap.

  The garages at Xanadu were located in a service area behind the kitchen. She stopped by the dining-room storerooms to pick up her clipboard. Ingrid looked up with a smile as Cara rushed past the kitchen ovens and ranges.

  "See you later," Cara called to her, and then she was outside, her rubber-soled feet crunching on the loose brown gravel of the driveway.

  The morning had dawned sunny, with a cool, sea-flavored breeze. A cold front must have passed through during the night, Cara decided as she inhaled crisp air deep into her lungs.

  She saw Otto raking the path through the greenery that hid the garage from the gardens. He greeted her warmly and leaned his rake against the wall.

  "Come," he said, gesturing toward the garage. "We'll take the SUV to the dock."

  The garage was long and had many bays, some occupied and some empty. Otto saw Cara looking into one of them where her image was reflected in the shiny black finish of a low-slung sports car. "That's Blake's 1957 T-Bird," he told her. "It was the last year Ford made a two-seater Thunderbird."

  Cara nodded. "Whose is the Rolls-Royce?"

  "That's Blake's also," said Otto. "He uses it for fancy dress dinners and the like." He pointed toward a grubby Volkswagen Beetle in the last bay. "Alec keeps his Volkswagen here, much to Blake's annoyance. He calls it The Bomb." Otto chuckled.

  Otto backed out the SUV and drove onto a narrow private road. "This driveway will take us to the dock on Lake Worth," he explained. "That's where the boat is kept. You should be able to work there undisturbed today,
but there is a possibility that Captain Willis and his son Teddy may stop by. One of the engines has been giving trouble, and the captain may wish to inspect it."

  The driveway wound through a tropical jungle, a tangle of undergrowth that was wild but not unkempt. Otto pointed out unusual plant specimens as they rode. "Over there, a sausage tree," he told her, and she looked to see a tall tree hung with seedpods that looked exactly like sausages suspended in a delicatessen window. Another time he called her attention to a royal poinciana tree resplendent with flame-colored blossoms.

  The road ended at an oval parking area planted with pink oleanders. A white-painted dock jutted into Lake Worth, and rocking gently at its mooring was the Martyns' sixty-foot yacht, Kubla Khan.

  Otto led Cara down the dock, boarding first before handing her over the side. Otto guided Cara on a tour of the yacht, starting below decks.

  In the bow was a small, V-shaped stateroom with bunk beds. Next to that was a tiny bathroom, or head, and across the hall another stateroom. On the left, or port, side was the master stateroom, furnished with a massive king-sized bed and decorated entirely in white. A minuscule galley was located directly behind it and opened into a large salon.

  After Otto left Cara in the galley, she began to open cabinet doors. She soon discovered that although the galley seemed compact, it was designed to provide maximum storage space. As she'd suspected, among the china were several pieces of the precious Japanese porcelain. Her work was cut out for her, and she settled down to complete her lists.

  It was with some surprise a short time later that she heard footsteps on the deck accompanied by hearty male laughter. She glanced out the open hatch and saw a ruddy man in a captain's hat standing alongside a slim teenage boy. It must be Captain Willis and his son, she thought, come to check the troublesome engine, and she turned her attention back to the contents of the cupboards. They didn't know she was aboard, but she figured it made no difference. She'd introduce herself later.

  The throb of the powerful engines interrupted her concentration, but only for a moment. She was carefully replacing a set of Limoges dessert plates in their layers of wrapping. Strange, but it felt as though the boat were in motion. She looked quickly toward the small porthole between cupboard and counter and saw land slipping away beside her.

  Alarmed, she pivoted as the hatch was shadowed by Alec's familiar figure. She was surprised to note that he seemed not at all startled to see her. He paused for a moment to regard her with a knowing grin before descending the few steps into the galley.

  "I thought I'd find you here," he said. "Quite a convenient spot for a private rendezvous, isn't it?"

  Cara flushed, last night's debacle fresh in her mind. "I had no idea you planned to use the yacht today."

  "I didn't, but Captain Willis wanted to give one of the engines a good workout and it seemed a shame for him to waste the trip. When I heard from Otto that you were working here, too, that settled it. Have you ever been deep-sea fishing?"

  She shook her head. "Dad wanted me to try it while we were here." She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.

  "This is your chance," said Alec. "You can join me on deck for a taste of it."

  "But my work—"

  "Stop it. Just stop it," Alec said. "Can't you forget why you're here for just one morning?"

  "Well, maybe." Cara thought that it would be fun to find out why Dad had wanted her to experience ocean fishing. He must have had his reasons.

  "Turn off that computer and follow me." Alec's smile was so congenial that Cara was convinced, and after last night, she wanted to salvage his good opinion of her. With no further discussion, she powered down her laptop and followed him topside.

  They found Teddy wiping down the fishing chairs. He threw them a merry grin. "We'll have some good fishing today," he promised.

  Cara regarded the chairs thoughtfully. "These look like they belong in a dentist's office."

  Alec laughed. "They're called fighting chairs and are bolted to the deck so the fish can't pull the fisherman overboard. The foot rests will help brace us when we're reeling in the fish. If we catch any."

  "If we don't, what's the point?" Cara said lightly.

  "Fun and relaxation. Spending time with someone you enjoy."

  This startling statement gave her pause because she wasn't sure that enjoyment of each other was a given. She shot Alec a sideways glance, assessing his mood. She failed at that but gained sudden insight into her own. She was happy and looking forward to a recreational pastime for the first time in a long while. She sat down, opening herself to the experience.

  Alec lounged in the chair beside her, propping his bare feet on the railing. He wore nothing but an old pair of cutoff jeans and appeared totally at ease. As usual, he exuded the flavor of pheromones that seemed to be uniquely his.

  Better not to dwell on that, Cara warned herself, so she leaned back and looked across the water at the curving palm trees along the shore of neighboring West Palm Beach. On a nearby piling a fat pelican with a beak full of fish stared at her before flapping his wings and taking to the air. In the distance, a fish jumped, and another soon followed suit. This was going to be fun.

  The captain turned Kubla Khan north toward the Palm Beach inlet, where the lake flowed into the Atlantic Ocean. Alec pointed out the first of two drawbridges ahead. It connected the island of Palm Beach to the West Palm Beach mainland.

  "The bridges are raised every half hour to let the boat traffic through," he told her. "I think we'll get there right on the dot."

  The captain slowed his speed as they passed under the first bridge. Cara, enjoying herself now, waved at the bridge tender, who tipped them a genial salute. They had a short wait before making their way slowly through the spans of the second bridge, continuing north toward the inlet.

  Cara was charmed by the brilliant scenery and the easy glide of the yacht through the water. She was aware, too, of Alec sitting close beside her, and the pressure of his hand on her shoulder when he pointed out local landmarks. At the northern end of Palm Beach, the boat rounded the tip of the island and headed out to sea.

  The water was choppy today, not enough to affect the forward progress of the boat but sufficiently rough to create a slight rolling motion. Cara looked around to see Palm Beach receding behind them.

  "Look," Alec was saying as he threw his arm casually around her shoulders. She followed his index finger and saw two shades of water in the ocean ahead, one dark blue, the other a lucid green.

  "What causes that?" she asked, intrigued.

  "The blue water is the Gulf Stream. It's a warm, northbound flow of water, and we're closer to it here than at any other point on the eastern coast of the United States. The green inshore water is where sailfish like to feed. We're most likely to bag a sailfish where the two colors meet."

  About two miles offshore the throb of the powerful inboards eased as Captain Willis slowed the speed of the Kubla Khan. Teddy seemed to be all over the boat, stowing gear, checking lines and riggings.

  "What's he doing?" Cara asked when she saw Teddy swing long fiberglass poles out to the side of the boat.

  "Those are outriggers," said Alec. "We use them when we troll. It keeps the bait off to one side, out of the wake of the boat, which makes it more attractive to the fish."

  Teddy snapped two fishing rods with reels into their holders at the side of the fighting chairs. Then he reached into the built-in bait well under the deck and baited the big hooks before tossing them overboard into the sea. A pulley hoisted the fishing line to the end of the outrigger.

  "Sailfish usually slash at the bait first, then come back to take it in their mouths. Their first strike releases the line from the outrigger, making the fishing line go slack. That gives the sailfish time to mouth the bait. You can tell the hook is set in the fish's mouth when the line tightens again," Alec told her.

  "And then what?" asked Cara with interest.

  "Then you're in for the battle of your life. It
takes a lot of stamina to land a sailfish."

  In the distance Cara saw a silver spray of small fish curve into the air as a predator drove them out of the water in hurried flight. Teddy stopped what he was doing and squinted at them. "That's a good sign," he said. "When smaller fish break water, it usually means that big fish are not far behind."

  Several minutes later Captain Willis eased the big yacht to a speed slightly faster than idle, maneuvering the boat in a lazy zigzag course with the long fishing lines trailing behind.

  The sky was a bright, intense blue, with only wisps of clouds in the distance. Cara and Alec settled back in their chairs. Now there was nothing to do but wait for a big fish to strike.

  "I've been thinking about you," Alec said without warning.

  Her heart sank. She hoped he wasn't about to ruin their good time by bringing up what she'd rather forget. It seemed like a good idea to confront the problem head on.

  She drew a deep breath. "Alec, I'm sorry about last night. Everything about it seemed all wrong. I drank too much wine, shouldn't have kissed Blake, shouldn't have laughed when I did, and well, let's just say that I'm embarrassed. I hope you'll forgive me."

  "I wasn't referring to any of those things," Alec said, keeping his eyes focused resolutely on the horizon. "No apologies are necessary, and as for you and me, let's regard ourselves as a work in progress. Okay?"

  "I'm not sure what you mean." She hoped she wasn't being obtuse, but she really couldn't grasp what Alex was getting at.

  He turned his head to look at her. His gaze was suddenly brooding and yet there was a directness and honesty about it.

  "Cara, if you need to talk about your dad's death, I'm here. Sometimes it helps to share our grief with someone who understands."

  His effort to make her feel better surprised her, and for a moment she couldn't speak. "Thank you," she said. "I'll remember that."

  They watched the trolled lines against the glare of the sun on the water and listened to the hum of the powerful engines.