Two Weeks in the Magnate's Bed

by Nicola Marsh

  His hand hesitated, his thumb brushing her jaw before he dropped it. ‘My lack of it?’

  ‘Mine, actually.’

  She hadn’t wanted him to kiss her, hadn’t wanted him to remind her of how good it had been the first time, but since he had, she was glad. Glad he’d made her feel desirable and womanly and special for an all too brief moment.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything. You were trying to cheer me up. I get it.’

  He let another expletive rip. ‘If you think that was a pity kiss, you’re out of your mind.’

  Out of her mind, all right. Out of her mind with wanting him to do it again and again and again.

  ‘It wasn’t?’

  Shaking his head, he cradled her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes. ‘You have no idea what you do to me.’

  Flicking her tongue out to dampen her swollen lips, she said, ‘I think I have some idea.’

  Her wry response garnered a smile. ‘I thought you were immune to my charm?’

  ‘There’s no vaccination strong enough against you, it seems.’

  They grinned at each other like a couple of starstruck adolescents, the brisk ocean breeze buffeting them, pushing her towards him in an act from the heavens.

  She’d usually flee—find a quiet place and dwell on why he kept chasing her when she wasn’t remotely chaseworthy.

  Though she didn’t run at work; there she solved problems, enjoyed the challenge. Just ask her colleagues where she could be found: at the museum at all hours, tracking down the newest discovery, ensuring the latest display was eye-catching, cataloguing the backlog no one else wanted to do.

  Thinking of the museum did it: she wasn’t some femme fatale who went around inviting kisses from charming sailors on a moonlit night. She was career-focussed, with an aim to reach the top of her field with a little more confidence. She should know better than to read anything into a few casual kisses and his wanting to date her—whatever that meant.

  She might be inexperienced with men, but she was old enough to understand the purely chemical reaction when two people remotely attracted to each other flirted a little and that flirtation got out of hand.

  ‘You’re driving me to distraction.’ He ran a hand through his hair for the second time in as many minutes, more rattled than she’d ever seen him. ‘And, considering the job I have to do this trip, I can’t afford any distraction.’

  ‘And you’re telling me this because…?’

  He leaned forward, wound a strand of her hair around his forefinger and tugged gently. ‘Because, despite every logical reason why I shouldn’t do this, I’m struggling to keep my hands off you.’

  ‘Oh.’

  The wine she’d consumed at dinner sloshed around her stomach, rocking and rolling in time with her pounding heart as he tugged harder, bringing her lips centimetres from his before brushing a soft, barely-there kiss across her mouth. It was a tender kiss, at complete odds with the passionate exploding kisses they’d previously shared, a heartrending kiss that reached down to her soul despite her intentions to ward it off.

  When they broke apart she couldn’t fathom the expression on his face, the shifting shadows in his eyes.

  ‘I have to go check on that fax.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Stay out of trouble.’

  With a brief touch on her cheek he was gone, leaving her thoroughly confused.

  Within the space of an hour he’d comforted her, kissed her, and apparently dated her.

  And what was that ‘trouble’ crack about? She’d never been in trouble in her life: the model student who studied hard and didn’t party, the diligent worker first in of a morning, last to lock up at night. Good old dependable Lana. Reliable, steadfast, earnest Lana. Which was exactly why she was here, trying to build her self-esteem and convince herself a sexy sailor could just be the way to go about it.

  He’d been nothing but honest about wanting her, so why the sudden scram? One minute his kiss had been warm and gentle and caring, the next he’d made a run for it.

  Ironic, considering she hadn’t run for once. She’d embraced her newfound bravery and stayed, even after that scintillating kiss that normally would have sent her scurrying for cover.

  But she was done with running.

  If she couldn’t handle a healthy dose of honesty—something he’d just given her, even if the truth of how much he wanted her scared the hell out of her—how could she hope to become the poised, confident woman she needed to be at work?

  She mightn’t be able to give him what he wanted—would probably disappoint him if she did—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t lighten up a bit and actually enjoy his attention.

  If she was really brave, she might even have a little fun along the way.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LANA spied Zac at the end of the gangway and sighed in relief. After he’d run out on her last night she’d had her doubts about him showing up today. Crazy, considering she was the one who’d usually contemplate a no-show rather than worrying about him doing it.

  Beyond impressive in uniform, today he was casually cool in black board shorts, a funky printed T-shirt and a peaked cap, with aviator sunglasses shading his eyes. She wished she could see those eyes, read them, get a feel for his mood after last night.

  She hadn’t heard from him, hadn’t seen him this morning, and while she was relieved, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder what he had planned for today.

  If last night’s ‘date’ hadn’t exactly happened, maybe he had other ideas today?

  Taking a deep breath, she headed down the gangway, half of her looking forward to the tour of Suva, the other half looking forward to seeing how far her confidence extended.

  ‘I thought you’d stood me up.’

  Tipping her head forward, she looked at him over the top of her sunglasses. ‘Why would I do that? I’ve been looking forward to your tour.’

  ‘I’m very good, you know.’

  ‘Ever heard the phrase “self-praise is no praise”?’

  He grinned and gestured to a small four-wheel drive parked nearby. ‘Come on, I have a car waiting for us.’ He bowed low. ‘Your chariot awaits, madam.’ He pulled off his cap with a flourish.

  ‘You’re going to drive?’

  She glanced at the chaotic scene on the dock, where cars darted between pedestrians and street vendors, and horns honked constantly as people jumped out of the way of moving vehicles in haphazard fashion.

  He laughed at her horrified, sceptical expression. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve done this before. The car belongs to Raj, a friend of mine. He often lends it to me if I want to tour around. Once we leave the docks and head out of town the roads quieten considerably.’

  Her doubt must have shown, for his grin widened. ‘Don’t you trust me?’

  She quirked an eyebrow. ‘Your driving skills? Maybe. As for the rest? Not on your life.’

  He clutched his heart. ‘You’re a hard woman. Now, come on—get in the car before I change my mind.’

  She laughed, surprisingly relaxed as they headed out of town and he pointed out interesting landmarks.

  She’d expected some awkwardness, but he kept up a steady flow of casual chatter as they wound around the island. Content to sit back and watch the stunning scenery, she admired the sapphire ocean lapping at pearly sands, the beaches fringed by swaying palm trees. After half an hour, they stopped at a roadside café.

  ‘Do you like Indian food?’

  ‘Love it. The hotter the better.’

  ‘Good. Raj put me on to this place years ago, and I always drop in if I have time. They make the best chicken tikka this side of India.’

  ‘What are we waiting for? I’m ravenous.’

  As they entered the open-air café the proprietor, a tall Sikh wearing a maroon turban, rushed over. ‘Hello, Mr Zac. Welcome back.’ He pumped Zac’s hand so vigorously Lana feared the action might dislodge his turban. ‘Aah, you have brought a beautiful friend. Welcome to Sujit’s Pl
ace, miss.’

  Zac smiled. ‘Sujit, meet Lana.’

  He bowed over her hand. ‘Welcome. Now, what can I get you?’

  She deferred to Zac. ‘You order. You’d know the specialities.’

  ‘How about the usual, Sujit?’

  Sujit bowed again. ‘Most definitely, my friend. Coming right away.’

  She looked around, surprised by how clean the place was, considering it was open to the elements. As for the sand floor—it would be a breeze for clean-ups.

  ‘Adds to the island ambience, huh?’

  She nodded, surprised he could read her thoughts so easily, and secretly pleased. ‘What’s with the lack of table settings?’

  ‘Wait and see.’

  ‘Very mysterious.’

  His mouth kicked up into a cheeky grin. ‘All will be revealed shortly.’

  ‘I bet.’

  He chuckled at her laconic response and gestured to a nearby table, where she plonked her straw carryall next to a chair and sat, savouring the spicy aromas coming from the nearby kitchen.

  ‘Smells divine.’

  Zac slid his aviators off, the impact of all that dazzling blue rivalling the sky for vibrancy. ‘The last ship I was on used to dock here every week. I put on six pounds as a result. See?’

  He lifted his shirt and patted his washboard stomach. Her mouth went dry. Those were some abs.

  Before she had time to comment Sujit arrived, bearing platters of food: naan bread, chicken tikka, dahl and lamb korma were placed in a tantalising array in front of them, and the dryness disappeared as the delicious aromas made her mouth water.

  ‘Thanks, Sujit. This looks superb, as always.’

  Sujit nodded, his hands held together in a prayer-like pose. ‘Enjoy your meal.’

  Zac glanced at her, a smile playing about his lips. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’

  Confused, she pointed at the table. ‘Plates would be handy?’

  ‘See those large green leaves Sujit put in front of us? They’re not placemats; that’s your plate. Indian food here is served on a banana leaf. Usually, only vegetarian fare is served on leaves, but here it saves on the washing up. You just roll them up once you’ve finished and throw them out. As for cutlery—you’re looking at it.’

  He waved his fingers at her, and she couldn’t help but notice how long, elegant and strong they were.

  ‘I can cope with using my hands to eat as long as I clean up first. Is that sink over there for washing?’

  He nodded. ‘Follow me.’

  As they soaped and scrubbed his hand brushed hers and she jumped, the innocuous touch raising an awareness she’d determinedly subdued since last night.

  He stared at her, an eyebrow raised, and she managed a weak smile. ‘I think our food’s getting cold.’

  First to break the stare, she turned away, feeling hot and clammy and out of her depth. He’d moved the boundaries with those kisses, had changed everything with his admission of how much he wanted her, and no matter how hard she pretended she could handle it, she couldn’t cast off all her reservations at once.

  With her head urging her to take a chance for once, and her heart scared of the consequences if she did, she headed back to the table.

  This was going to be a long day.

  Zac followed Lana back to the table, loving how she moved, all fluid lines and sinuous elegance. Her long turquoise dress, surely a reject from the seventies, flowed from her shoulders to mid-calf, skimming curves along the way. He could see the straps of a bright pink bikini poking through, and he hardened immediately at the thought of seeing her in it. If the vision of her hot little bod in that dreadful neck-to-toe one-piece had been haunting his dreams, he could hardly wait to see her curves revealed in a bikini.

  She’d pulled her curly hair back in a loose ponytail, and he longed to reach out and wrap the tendrils that curled at the base of her neck around his fingers. He loved her hair, loved watching it bounce against her shoulders as she walked.

  A vivid image of that hair draped over his torso popped into his mind and he almost stumbled. This would be one hell of a tour if he walked around with a hard-on all day.

  Determined to ignore his libido, he sat and pushed a platter of naan towards her. ‘Let’s eat.’

  ‘Everything looks delicious.’

  ‘Wait till you try it.’

  He ladled a serving of dahl and korma onto her leaf, then reached for a naan. Her fingertips brushed his as he reached for the same piece and he clenched his jaw in frustration.

  It wasn’t deliberate—one look at her shy gaze firmly fixed on her banana leaf told him that—and he needed to get a grip before he made a mess of things, as he had last night.

  He broke off a piece of the soft, doughy bread, dipped it into the pungent curry sauce and stuffed it into his mouth before he said something he’d regret, like, Let’s get out of here and get naked.’

  ‘Mmm, divine.’

  Her tongue flicked out to capture a drip of sauce and he stifled a groan, focusing on the unique blend of spices hitting his tastebuds rather than how much he’d like to lick away that spillage.

  He needed to talk, to draw attention away from how much he wanted her, to focus on anything other than the driving, obsessive need to get her naked and moaning his name while he plunged into her.

  ‘Sujit whips up the best Indian food I’ve ever had. It rivals some of the feasts I’ve had in Singapore and India for authenticity.’

  ‘You’ve been around, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yeah—definitely a perk of the job. I’ve travelled almost everywhere.’

  ‘Any favourites?’

  He’d steered the conversation onto safe ground only to be diverted by the small moans of pleasure she made between mouthfuls, and he gulped his entire glass of water before answering.

  ‘Probably Alaska, for its glaciers. I’ve cruised the Inside Passage from Vancouver, and the ship usually spends a day in Glacier Bay. It’s amazing that ships like ours, which weigh around seventy thousand tons, can sail to within a mile of those monsters. I’ve even seen huge chunks of ice sliding off the face.’

  Maybe he should focus on that ice, focus on all that cold—anything to dampen the urge to leap across the table and drag her into his arms as she stared at him with wide-eyed awe.

  ‘I also love the Mediterranean. Especially Italy. Capri is great, with its ancient cobbled streets and home-made pastas.’

  He could have regaled her with tales of his travels all day, particularly as her wide, luminous eyes were fixed on him, her expression fascinated, but the longer she stared at him the harder it was to forget every sane reason why he couldn’t push their involvement—no matter how much he wanted to.

  He’d seen the devastation in her eyes last night, the lingering hurt from the jerk who had screwed her around, and her desolation at having their relationship labelled a fling.

  He’d planned on backing away then, but once he’d taken her on deck, once he’d kissed her, his plans to leave her alone had drifted away on the night air.

  He wouldn’t hurt her by having a fling. But he couldn’t offer her anything else, considering where he’d be for the next year. So where the hell did that leave them?

  For now, he’d keep things light. He’d promised her a tour today—the least he could do after she’d come through for him with the exercise classes—and he’d make it a fun day for her if it killed him.

  ‘You know, the South Pacific islands are growing in my favourite places ranking all the time.’ He leaned forward and crooked a finger at her. ‘I think the present company has a lot to do with that.’

  She blinked, as if startled by his compliment, and he wished he could wring her ex’s neck for battering her self-esteem to the point where she couldn’t accept a compliment without embarrassment.

  ‘You mean Sujit? I totally agree. His food is to die for. I haven’t been to those other places, but I’d definitely put Fiji first on my list.’

  He grinne
d at her clever sidestep, but he wasn’t done yet. ‘What about Noumea? How high should New Caledonia rate? I hear their moonlit beaches are magical.’

  The recollection of their first kiss stained her cheeks pink. Her eyes dipped to her banana leaf as he belatedly remembered he was trying to cool down, not get more wound up.

  She waved towards the food. ‘You’ll give me indigestion, flirting on an empty stomach. At least let me put a dent in this feast before you turn on the charm.’

  He laughed, more relaxed than he’d been in years despite his desperate yearning for her. It had been that long since he’d enjoyed a woman’s company enough to spend more than a few hours with her, and while he’d dated infrequently, he’d never experienced such a connection on so many levels with any woman. Not even Magda—and he’d married her.

  ‘Let’s finish up and hit the road. I can’t wait to show you the island’s best beach. It’s isolated, so tourists haven’t wrecked it.’

  She mumbled an acknowledgement and focussed on her food. He wondered what he’d said. She’d been cool one moment, and perspiration covering her skin in a delectable sheen the next. A sheen that had him envisaging all sorts of erotic ways he could clean it off.

  If he were prone to flights of fantasy he’d almost say she was hot and bothered about his mention of being on an isolated beach together. Yeah, and of course she wanted to rip his clothes off too. Definitely wishful thinking.

  ‘Is the food too spicy for you?’

  Her guarded gaze snapped to his, as if trying to read something into his innocuous question. ‘No, it’s fine. It’s just a little hot today.’

  Hot? It was positively burning—though the weather had little to do with it.

  He gestured towards the kitchen, indicating drinks, and Sujit bustled out shortly after, bearing two tall, icy glasses and a pitcher.

  ‘Ever had lassi before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s made from yogurt. Very refreshing. It should cool you down a tad.’

  While he’d need to dunk in a vat of the stuff to remotely cool down.

  She took a tentative sip, before gulping the cold, sweet liquid and running the frosted glass across her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered shut as a relieved smile curved her lips. ‘That was good.’