“How about the house special cocktail? Good for whatever ails you. Tastes good, too.”
“Sure.” Emma watched his deft movements as he sliced an orange. “Do you enjoy working here? Are you allowed to use the facilities on your days off?”
“I use the gym,” the barman said as he competently measured and mixed a cocktail for her. “The job suits me. Everyone’s happy. Lots of people wanting fun.”
Woman throwing themselves at him, she translated as she intercepted the avid gaze of an attractive brunette at the other end of the bar. “Maybe you can give me some quick advice—if you do weights that is.”
“I enter Ironman contests. I’ve lifted my share of weights.”
“What’s your name? Have you placed in any of the local competitions?”
“I came second in the Taupo Ironman.”
Emma oohed and ahhed and fluttered her lashes. She leaned over the bar to stroke her fingers across his forearm. “Wonderful. If I wanted to train for a bodybuilding contest, who should I talk to at the gym? Just for some initial pointers. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now. No time like the present.”
“Max is the one you need to see,” the barman said without hesitation. “He’s an ex-bodybuilder and knows everything that’s worth knowing.”
“Thanks. I’ll check it out first thing tomorrow morning. Nice to chat with you.” She paid for her cocktail and wandered over to the group of women by the pool.
“Hello.” Emma pulled out a chair and sat.
“We’re going to play strip poker. Want to join us?”
Emma hesitated before deciding it would be a good opportunity to get to know the women. It was possible one of them had info or had seen something that would help in their investigation. She’d slip her questions into the general conversation. “Okay, but you’ll have to show me how to play.”
“Oh, good.” One of the women rubbed her hands together and grinned wickedly. “A rookie to fleece. Deal up.”
* * * * *
Jack checked their accommodation, but Emma wasn’t there. Since he couldn’t hear any vibrations from behind the mirror, he took the opportunity to search for surveillance equipment. If there were hidden cameras, his search would alert those who’d rigged their room, but he decided to risk detection.
Instinct told him the cameras were activated whenever the voyeurs were present to prevent the need to search hours of meaningless film for the good stuff. They were probably able to guess times when the occupants were present since most guests would attend the gala dinners and special nights. Either that, or they had resort staff alert them once guests entered their rooms.
He moved around the walls in a systematic manner, searching every conceivable hiding place for audio and video devices.
Finding nothing, he checked his watch. Perhaps it was as he’d thought—they’d lucked out scoring a room for voyeurs to access, making the addition of sound unnecessary. Or, they’d decided it would be easier to add a soundtrack later, something with more appeal for their audiences than the words of an innocent actor.
He paused and grimaced. Nah, couldn’t be that simple. Surely, they’d want sound? Jack crossed to the bed and sat while he considered the problem. Where the hell could they hide sound equipment? Enlightenment hit, along with a feral grin of triumph. Under the bloody bed.
Bingo, he thought less than a minute after his brainwave. The equipment wasn’t recording at present, which backed up his supposition about their recording times. They didn’t want to waste film. He tugged at the wiring in such a way that it appeared as if the resort staff had damaged it while vacuuming under the bed. He’d check each time they returned. It should be simple enough now he knew the location of the equipment.
He wandered over to the window and stared out at the sea view. Should Emma’s absence concern him?
Outside, the sun was starting to set. Ribbons of fiery red and orange spread across the horizon as the sun sank lower. Over on the mainland, people started to switch on their lights and they twinkled in pockets of illumination along the coast.
Jack paced the length of the bedroom and back. Time for a drink. Tension whitened his knuckles, and he didn’t have to think too hard to analyze the cause. Emma. He checked his watch again before deciding to shower and change for the themed pirate dinner.
Half an hour later, Jack was ready, dressed in tight black trousers and a loose white shirt that made him feel like a sissy. Tight black leather boots encased his feet and calves. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and snorted. He’d be glad when this assignment ended and his life reverted to normal. Meanwhile, he was really looking forward to the tarts and vicars night later in the week.
What the devil was Emma doing? Although they hadn’t agreed on a meeting time, he’d implied it would be before dinner. In his mind at least. He grabbed the keycard, thrust it inside his back trouser pocket and slammed outside. If something had happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. And if she didn’t have a good reason for not showing up and worrying him, he’d wring her bloody neck.
The bar near the restaurant was hopping, full of pirates ready to plunder and party the night away. Emma wasn’t there. A few people had drifted into the restaurant and the reception area, but still no sign of her.
The pool bar wasn’t as busy but there was a cluster of people, mainly men at the far end of the outdoor balcony. Despite the warmth of the evening, a gas heater burned above the table where the group sat. Roars of laughter filled the air followed by the odd groan.
“Come on, Emma,” a male voice chided loudly. “Concentrate.”
Jack’s gut tightened as he strode to the massed group.
“Forget what he told you, love.” The voice was low and slurred. “Don’t concentrate. Get your gear off. Show us your pussy.”
Jack elbowed his way through the men crowding around the table.
A tall, thin office-worker type snapped, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Jack cast him a ferocious glare and affronted office-guy backed up, now in alarm-mode. Wise man. Jack took one look and cursed.
Fuck, he was gonna wring her neck. His hands flexed at the pleasurable thought as he scanned her flushed face. The woman was tipsy, giggling fit to wake the dead and practically naked. His gaze tracked over her butt, and he corrected himself. She was naked. Those panties didn’t cover enough to call her clothed.
He stepped up behind her naked back and bent to breathe in her ear. “What are you doing?”
Emma whirled so quickly her naked breasts jiggled. “Losing,” she warbled.
Alcoholic fumes hit him in the face. “I can see that,” Jack said with a calm he didn’t feel.
The four women sitting around the same table were in various stages of undress but wore more clothes than Emma. Jack wanted to grab a towel, a tablecloth, anything to cover her beautiful breasts. All of a sudden, he felt possessive. He hated the other men seeing the tiny mole on the curve of her left breast. And if the guy behind him didn’t stop pushing in order to cop an eyeful of Emma and her semi-clothed friends, Jack intended to rearrange his nose. The beefy male could have fries with the rearranged nose if he wanted—Jack wasn’t fussy.
Emma turned and beckoned him closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. “I don’t want to lose. I hate to lose, but I don’t know what to do with my hand. Can you help me?”
“Yeah, okay. What have you got in your hand?”
Emma fanned out her cards so he could see. Feeling the weight of a stare, Jack glanced up. Every one of the four women sitting at the table was staring at him. Suddenly, Jack felt like a lump of beef dangled in front of a pack of wolves. He turned away to concentrate on Emma’s cards. She had a pair of sixes and that was it. He fought for an impassive face while cursing a storm to his taniwha. With that hand, she was screwed. Unless she bluffed. Jack leaned closer to whisper instructions in her ear. She turned to him and winked.
Surprise kicked hi
m in the ribs. She wasn’t as drunk as she seemed.
“Are you in?” the dark-haired woman who was dealing asked.
Emma’s body language screamed confident, and pride grew in Jack. “I’m in.”
“Cards?” the dealer asked.
Emma didn’t bother to look at her cards before she shook her head.
“I’ll take two,” one woman said.
The men crowding the table were silent as they watch the ending stages of the game. Jack scanned the faces, ready to lash out if anyone tried to help by letting the others know Emma was bluffing.
“I fold.”
“Me too.”
“I’m out.” The cards slapped on the table.
The last woman studied Emma then laid down her cards. “I’m out.”
“Take it off! Take it off!” The chant started with one burly jackass and others joined in as the four women removed a garment each.
Jack noticed gooseflesh forming on Emma and decided to take action. “Sorry to be a spoilsport, but I need Emma to come with me. Maybe you can finish the game tomorrow?” Over his dead body.
“Good,” said the slim blonde sitting on Emma’s right. “I’m getting cold, and I’m also chicken.” She laughed, gesturing at her pale pink panties. They were her sole remaining item of clothing. “I have a premonition I’m going to be the first one naked. I’m quitting while I’m ahead.”
Jack relaxed as the men started to drift away. “Ladies.” He inclined his head and turned to Emma. “Ready?”
Emma sensed he wasn’t pleased with her. It was in the set of his shoulders and the grim line of his mouth. Well, he could just deal. She had flushed out a few leads to check tomorrow, and she wasn’t going to apologize for her methods. Besides, she wasn’t the only one to bare her breasts tonight.
“It won’t take me long to get ready. I’ll meet you back here.”
Jack handed Emma her T-shirt, his dark eyes glinting dangerously. “I don’t think so.”
Damn, he was going to be difficult.
Emma pulled the shirt over her head and stepped into her denim shorts. She picked up her shoes, dropped them inside the canvas bag the spa had allowed her to keep and stalked toward their room. Jack fell into step behind her.
The walk back took forever. Emma was very conscious of Jack’s presence. She could feel his glare between her shoulder blades but that didn’t stop her adding an extra sway to her hips. Her nipples were already pulled tight from the chill of the night air, but now they tingled. She sucked in a hasty breath and hustled. The path changed from pavement to gravel, and she winced at the sharp stones beneath the soles of her feet.
“What’s wrong?” The tone was sharp enough to warn her he was on the edge of an explosion. Time to cease the teasing—for today at any rate.
“Bare feet,” she muttered.
Without warning, he swept her up and dangled her over his shoulder. Her butt poked into the air and blood rushed to her head. Her canvas bag hit his arse with each step.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked, kicking ineffectually with her feet. “My brains will fall out.”
“Close your mouth and you won’t lose them,” he snapped, tightening his grip on her flailing limbs. He strode along the graveled path without difficulty or a hint of labored breathing.
Emma took a deep breath ready to harangue him when she glanced toward the ground. Her gaze lit on his butt. It was tightly encased in black trousers. A spectacular view. She wanted to bite. Really badly. She licked her lips and suddenly being so close to Jack wasn’t an undignified punishment. It was a gift. Her heart pounded as he stalked through the automatic doors at the entrance to their accommodation block. Between her legs moistened with her carnal thoughts, truly wicked ones that circled her mind like a bird of prey hunting for an evening meal.
“Quit that,” Jack barked as he paused to pluck the keycard from his pocket. He shouldered open the door and negotiated the entrance without hurting her. Then, he let her slide back over his shoulder until her feet hit the ground. The brush of her unbound breasts against his shoulder and hard chest made her gasp. The intimate touch of his hand on her arse as he helped her stand made her gulp.
“Quit what,” she whispered.
“Those little sighs.” He retreated as if she’d scalded him. His dark gaze held wariness as they moved over her face then flickered down her length.
She barely suppressed her shiver of desire.
Jack could smell her arousal, and it woke his dragon, the part he was desperately trying to keep in lockdown. The beast roared his need for sex. Hot, sweaty, uninhibited sex. Then, she ambled toward him, her hips swaying with a pert wiggle that made his throat tighten along with every appendage on his body. When he felt the wall at his back, he realized he’d been in a steady retreat. Now, the only way to avoid Emma was to move her out of the way, which would involve physical contact.
She touched him first, and he couldn’t restrain his flinch. Her finger pads were hot, the heat searing through his thin shirt and into his skin beneath.
“You enjoy my sighs.” Her voice was low. Breathy. And she made him think of sex even more. His cock was painfully tight, nudging against the placket of his trousers.
“No.” Damn, the one night had been bad enough. Another… His conscience groaned and spoke sternly. Don’t. Do. It.
“You’re trembling.”
Him? He didn’t…shit! He was shaking like a tree in a storm. “Shouldn’t you get ready for the pirate dinner?” Feeble, Jack. Real feeble. Exert yourself, man. Act like her boss instead of a victim. She moistened her lips until they gleamed in the moonlight, sidetracking him.
“I don’t feel like going to the dinner. I’m tired.” He caught her glance at the bed with a sense of alarm. With that come-hither expression, no way did she have intentions of resting or sleep.
Chapter Five
The woman was undressing him with her eyes. Jack felt the situation escalating from his control and with his taniwha’s roars resounding in his mind, his grip was tenuous at best. Then, she raised a hand and traced the V of flesh visible at his neck.
One tiny touch, and he lost all restraint. He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her against his chest. Fuck, her soft curves pillowed him, fitting as precisely as his prized army boots. So good. She leaned her weight against him, brushing her belly against his cock. His cursed trousers had grown so tight Jack wondered if he’d lose circulation to his groin.
The horrible thought faded once their lips collided, greedy and ravenous for a taste of each other. He explored her mouth, the contrasting hardness of her teeth and the softness inside her cheek. She tasted of limes and salt. Emma. It was damn addictive. When they finally parted, they were both breathing hard.
A soft smile played on her lips. “Did you want to go to the dinner?”
“No.” But he didn’t want this either. Another night of horizontal dancing with Emma smacked of heading down Commitment Road. Just a hop, skip and a dance away from Wedding Row.
His hands tightened around her shoulders. Nope, not a good idea. He’d push her away. Push her away—
Liar.
Jack wanted sex with Emma so badly his body still trembled. Even the idea of voyeurs didn’t bother him as much as it had at the start.
Her warm hands burrowed under the fabric of his shirt, and just like that, Jack’s willpower toppled and he gave up the fight. “Dammit, woman. You’re killing me here. If you’re going to undo things, start with the trousers. They’re cutting off my circulation.”
“Poor baby,” she cooed. “Can’t have that.” She redirected nimble fingers to his fly and cupped his erection, teasing him some more.
Jack heard her wildly beating pulse and knew she was excited. “I bet your panties are wet. I bet you’re wet for me.”
A soft blush suffused her cheeks. “Why don’t you find out?” she whispered, her lashes drifting downward to hide the sleepy expression in her blue eyes.
With a reluctant
grin, he slid his hands beneath the hem of her T-shirt. Blue. It matched her eyes. His fingers skimmed the warm flesh of her belly. She sucked in a rapid breath and her stomach as well. He ignored the feminine vanity. To his mind, she was perfect. He didn’t suffer from a sore neck when he kissed her, and there was no danger of flattening her in a missionary position.
Yeah, she was perfect—more’s the pity.
His fingers traced across her rib cage then a little higher to hold the generous weight of one plump breast. He lifted her T-shirt, exposing her breasts to his gaze.
“Beautiful.” Jack wet his forefinger in his mouth and traced around the areola of one breast. Her pink nipple puckered, drawing tighter before his fascinated gaze. Leaning closer, he blew, his breath warm.
Emma shuddered and made a tiny sound of encouragement at the back of her throat. Jack had never taken the time to explore a feminine body in this detail. Had never been interested in anything but satiating his taniwha’s demands. But now, despite the insistent pain in his groin, he wanted to stroke and pet, to explore the mysteries of Emma. He pressed a kiss in the valley between her breasts and licked along the fine web of blue veins beneath the pale surface. Strawberries. Tonight, she smelled of sweet, juicy strawberries.
“Stop teasing me,” she said in a thick demand.
“I want to make sure I win my bet. I want you wet—dripping with your juices—so I can pound between your legs the minute I remove your panties.”
Another shudder racked Emma. Jack smiled against the curve of her breast and placed tiny kisses, tantalizingly brief on her plump flesh, near her nipple and on the undersides of the weighty globes.
Emma tangled her hands in his hair, gripping tightly as she tried to direct his mouth to her nipple. Her fingernails dug into his scalp, and his amusement deepened.
“Hurry,” she said with a grumpy edge to her voice.
Instead of giving her the relief she wanted, Jack let his hands drop to the dome snap at the waistband of her shorts. He tugged the fastening and it parted with a sharp crack. The zipper slid down, allowing the denim material to sag around her hips. Jack wet his finger again and ran it along the elastic waistband of her panties. He studied the damp trail he’d left and sucked in a deep breath. Fuck. His cock ached, the pressure for release intense and unrelenting. But if he waited, held off, his orgasm would be mind-blowing. A memory to dig out once he returned to solitary life alone in his seaside home with only his scruffy tomcat for company.
Blue Moon Dragon Page 6
