Pirate's Gold

by Lisa Jackson

  He shifted until he was positioned over her, where he could stare into the blue intensity of her eyes in the moonlight. Moving his aroused body suggestively over hers, he touched her as intimately as had the bathwater.

  Maren groaned in frustration, and her fingers dug into the lean muscles of his back. The bittersweet torture was driving her mad with desire. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, and her breathing had become erratic. She sighed into his open mouth and thrilled when his tongue touched the soft recesses behind her teeth, plundering the sweetness therein. His fingers were as warm as the water had been, teasing her, toying with her, until at last his body covered hers and she felt the whirlpool within her turn molten.

  As he came to her he whispered her name in the darkness. She joined him recklessly, allowing herself the luxury of his physical love. She needed to be touched by him, wanted all of him—for as long as possible. The love within her grew as he murmured her name.

  “Love me,” she pleaded, praying that his desire for her was more than physical. But her cries were lost in the night as he blended into her, shuddering as his need was fulfilled. She tasted the salt on his skin as her teeth sank into the hard muscles of his shoulder.

  When their heartbeats had quieted, and their breathing had slowed, Kyle propped himself on one elbow to gaze down on her. “What happened to you, Maren?” he asked softly. Noticing the confusion in her eyes, he repeated, “Your marriage—the man who hurt you. What happened?”

  Her chest became constricted. She didn’t like to think about Brandon. Especially not now, not after making love to Kyle.

  “It was a long time ago,” she said, turning away from him.

  His hand cupped her chin and forced her head back in his direction. Concern shadowed his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

  “There’s not much to tell.” When he didn’t press her, she closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “It’s a part of my life that I’d rather not dwell on,” she admitted.

  “Because you’re still in love with him?”

  “I don’t think I ever did love him.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” he said, a steely edge to his words.

  “Why?”

  “Look at you,” he replied gruffly. “Every time we get near the subject of your marriage, you clam up.” She shook her head as if to deny his accusations, but he wouldn’t let it rest. He seemed obsessed with it. “I don’t understand what’s going on, Maren. For the most part, you seem like a pretty together lady—in your business, dealing with Holly, anything—but the minute the conversation gets too close to that marriage of yours, you put up these false walls to protect yourself.”

  Maren started to protest, but Kyle placed a silencing finger to her lips. “There’s no use denying it, Maren. Something in that marriage of yours isn’t quite what you’d like me to believe.”

  Angrily he sat up and then stalked across the room, grabbing a thick robe from his closet and throwing it over his shoulders. As if in explanation he said, “I think more clearly when I’m not touching you.” He sat on the corner of the bed and eyed her. “Damn it woman, I don’t understand you, not at all.” Raking his fingers through his dark hair in impatience, he stared at her. His eyes were dark and condemning, his lips compressed into a determined line. “What are you doing here—playing me for a fool?”

  Rage sparked in her blue eyes. “Of course not.”

  “Then explain yourself. Doesn’t sleeping with me mean anything to you?”

  “It means a lot to me,” she whispered.

  “But not enough to give me the truth?”

  “I’ve never lied to you, Kyle,” she whispered defiantly.

  ‘Then why don’t you tell me what it is you want from me.”

  She took in a deep breath before sitting up and holding the sheet over her breasts. If only she could tell him how much she loved him…“I don’t want any more than you’re willing to give,” she said evenly, ignoring the pain twisting in her heart and pushing back the threat of burning tears. “But what about you? What do you want from me? My body? My undying affection? Or my production company?”

  “I’m not going to be deterred by your accusations. I just want to know about that ex-husband of yours.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think there’s something you’re not telling me, and I don’t have the time to waste on another man’s woman.”

  She felt her hand snap backward, but before she could slap him, Kyle’s hand took hold of her wrist. “Another man’s woman?” she repeated incredulously. She let her eyelids fall shut and smiled grimly to herself. “Is that what you think?”

  Releasing her arm, he shook his head. “Quite honestly, Maren, I don’t know what to think.” His hand dropped slowly to his side. “You turn my head around…”

  “And you don’t like it,” she finished for him with a catch in her voice.

  “I don’t understand it. And what’s more,” he continued, his temper flaring in his steely gaze, “I won’t be played for a fool.”

  She tilted her head defiantly upward. “You don’t understand me at all.”

  “Because you won’t let me.”

  Tossing back the covers, she reached for Kyle’s shirt and slipped into it, then walked out of the room and onto the deck facing the sea. Kyle’s deck lay above the deck off the living room, and the view of the dark Pacific was just as breathtaking. Maren hoped she would absorb some of the tranquility of the calm sea.

  Taking deep breaths of the sea air, she attempted to clear her head and let her indignation dissipate. Why did it matter what Kyle thought of her? How had she let herself become so hopelessly in love with him when she was still irrevocably bound to Brandon? Dear God, how had she let her entire life be turned inside out by Kyle Sterling? She pounded her small fist on the railing and shook her head in desperation. A few weeks ago her most urgent problem had been a few unsigned contracts from Sterling Recording Company. Tonight the problems with the contracts seemed light-years distant. Even her concerns over the sale of Festival had vanished with the night.

  Leaning against the railing, she stared down at the blackened sea. The night wind blew across the tranquil waters of the Pacific and touched her face with its cool breath before catching in the coppery strands of her hair and lifting them away from her face. Maren didn’t notice. Her thoughts were too turbulent; her emotions too raw. Powerful floodlights secured to the cliffs cast their ghostly illumination on the water, exposing the waves as they crested over the craggy rocks near the shoreline and ran in frothy rivulets to the shadowed sand.

  The bedroom door opened and closed. Bracing herself against the railing, Maren continued to stare at the sea. She felt the rugged strength of Kyle’s arms encircle her abdomen. His warm breath whispered familiarly against her ear. “You know that you mean much more to me than just the beautiful owner of a company I’m hoping to acquire.” Maren’s throat became dry, and her fingers tensed over the railing. Her heart fluttered as he kissed her softly on her neck and her cool skin quivered at his tender touch. Everything seemed so right with him. “From the first time I saw you, sipping champagne at Mitzi Danner’s party, I knew that you were incredibly alluring. I was intrigued.” The admission was whispered quietly, as if he were talking to himself.

  “So intrigued that it took you nearly a year to find me?” she threw back callously. His words were burning a hole in her heart.

  “I didn’t want a woman complicating my life—because of Holly.”

  “So you ignored me?”

  “You left the party early. I did look for you,” Kyle replied. Maren remembered his aloof stance at the party that night. She envisioned his quiet, understated manner, his brooding gray eyes and his rakish smile. She had been as wary of him as he had been of her.

  “That was nearly a year ago,” she whispered, her long fingers clenching. “Don’t expect me to believe that I captivated you then. Too much time has passed, and you’ve been in my office since…”

&
nbsp; “As I said, I didn’t need or want a woman complicating my life…” His voice was as persuasive as the clear California night. Maren had to fight the urge to turn around and let her arms twine around his neck. She wanted to cling to him and never let go, but she couldn’t. Not yet. There was still Brandon to consider. She closed her eyes to erase the memory of him.

  “And you do now—want a woman to complicate your life?”

  “Not just any woman,” he replied into her hair. “Maren, I want you.” Maren felt the lump in her throat begin to swell uncomfortably. He sounded sincere. She pressed her eyelids more tightly together but couldn’t stem the tears from pooling in her eyes.

  Her voice trembled. “So what do you want to know about Brandon?” she asked softly.

  She felt his arms release her before forcing her to turn and face him in the shadowy night. His gray eyes drove into hers, as if searching her soul. “I need to know what he means to you.”

  “Nothing,” she responded with a sigh. “I thought I loved him once…”

  Kyle’s jaw hardened and his eyes turned dangerously cold. “But now you’re not sure?”

  Maren was forced to smile despite the tears in her eyes. “I grew up believing that love was eternal,” she explained. “Either I was incredibly naive or I wasn’t in love.”

  “You can’t make the distinction?”

  “Not easily.”

  His eyes narrowed in the darkness. “Why do I still get the impression from you that you can’t let go of him…not entirely at least?”

  “Because I can’t,” she admitted, her unwavering blue gaze filled with honesty and pain. She saw the anger surfacing in his stormy gray eyes, and she touched the tips of her fingers gently against his shoulders. He flinched under her touch. “Let me explain,” she insisted.

  “Please do.” His voice was flat. All emotion was hidden.

  “Brandon and I were married when I was still in college. I was young, and I thought I was in love. I managed to finish my senior year, but Brandon was too restless. He dropped out of school to become a professional tennis player…”

  Kyle inclined his head. Vaguely he remembered a flash in the pan by the name of Brandon McClure. The man had had an incredible serve, which was accompanied by an equally explosive temper. In Kyle’s opinion, Brandon McClure never had a chance. He was his own worst enemy. Tennis was a game of complete concentration and skillful manipulation. With only a couple of obvious exceptions, few hotheads made it into the top ranks of the pros.

  “What happened?” Kyle demanded.

  “To make a long story short, it wasn’t long before I realized that he was having an affair. The woman was someone I knew and worked with.” She paused. “There were other women. He admitted as much.”

  “So you divorced him?” Kyle’s voice was low. The question seemed dangerous.

  Maren took in a deep, ragged breath and tore her gaze away from Kyle’s angry gray eyes. The pain of the divorce still bothered her. She looked toward the dark sky, and moonlight brushed a silvery sheen into her dark hair. “No. We separated for about six months, I guess. It was my fault. I opposed the idea of divorce and let it drag out. Even when we finally agreed to actually go through with the proceedings, I didn’t feel comfortable about it…as if in some way, I had failed.”

  “And you never got over that feeling?” Kyle guessed.

  Maren shook her head from side to side and pinched her lips together to hold back the sobs of regret that were forming in her throat. “No,” she whispered. “A while back…it had been several years since the divorce was final, Brandon called and I suggested that we spend the weekend together skiing in Heavenly Valley.” Her hand slapped the railing as the memories that she tried vainly to forget came back to her.

  “I realized it would probably be a mistake. He was talking about reconciliation, and I knew at the time that too many years had passed. But I decided to go because…”

  “You still loved him,” Kyle accused.

  “No!” She pursed her lips together in determination. “It wasn’t love that made me consider starting over with him. It was pride: stubborn, foolish pride, because I’d failed! Nothing as heroic as love was involved.

  “I wasn’t with him more than half an hour when the first argument started. I determined then and there that it would never work out, and I was relieved. But I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon skiing because Brandon had already bought the lift tickets.”

  As she gazed into the distant night Maren tried to construct her thoughts so Kyle could understand the helplessness of her situation with Brandon—why she couldn’t let go of him. “Brandon started skiing down the most difficult run, racing down the slopes as fast as he could. I could tell that he was tired, but he wouldn’t give up. I think he was trying to work off some of the anger…”

  “What anger?”

  “His anger at me.”

  “For refusing to go back to him?”

  She shrugged her slim shoulders. “I don’t know. But he was angry with me. Anyway, he wouldn’t listen to reason when I tried to stop him. He pushed me aside and told me that he could do anything he damn well pleased. Rather than cause a scene, I gave up and let him go.”

  “And he fell,” Kyle said, remembering the accident. Maren’s story reminded him of an article he’d seen in the sports page of the Times a couple of years ago. At the time, he hadn’t made the connection between Brandon McClure, the bad-tempered tennis pro and Maren McClure, owner of Festival Productions. But why would he? They were divorced at the time and the article had made no mention of Brandon’s ex-wife.

  “Right,” Maren agreed, her small shoulders slumping beneath the soft fabric of Kyle’s oversize shirt. The horrifying memory of the accident flashed vividly before her eyes.

  Kyle’s voice seemed far away. “From what I understand, he’ll never play tennis again—not professionally.” At least that was the speculation at the time. Since the first report, Kyle had read nothing about Brandon McClure.

  “It’s worse than that. He may not be able to play at all, or walk without the aid of a brace.” She felt suddenly tired, drained of her strength.

  “Maren?” The coldness in his voice forced Maren to rotate and look at him. “Do you feel responsible for what happened to him?” Undercurrents of tension charged the cool night air.

  “Partially,” she conceded.

  “That’s ludicrous!”

  “I’ve told myself the same thing a hundred times over, but I just can’t seem to convince myself.”

  Leaning against one of the posts supporting the roof, Kyle studied her. He folded his arms over his chest and his square jaw jutted into the darkness. Deep lines of concern webbed from the corners of his eyes. “So how does this affect you now? It was all in the past: unless there’s something you haven’t told me.”

  Kyle stared at her, noting every reaction on her elegantly sculpted face. He sensed that McClure still had a hold on her and it involved more than guilt. Gritting his teeth together to cut off the possessive feelings entrapping him, he waited.

  “It isn’t just in the past,” she admitted, rotating to face him. She noticed the tense angle of his jaw, the flexed muscles straining in his chest and the glint of steel in his eyes. “Brandon always had a way of living beyond his means…”

  “I can believe that,” he cut in.

  Ignoring the sarcasm in Kyle’s voice, Maren continued: “Even the money he won on the tour couldn’t begin to support his lifestyle. At the time of the accident, Brandon was in debt and had let his major medical insurance policy lapse. Only a small policy was left to pay a portion of the hospital bills.”

  “So you’ve been supporting him,” Kyle concluded, his lips thinning in controlled rage. No wonder the profits from Festival Productions had been bled from the company. Maren had been using that money to support Brandon McClure. Kyle’s thoughts turned dark. “Do you still live with him?”

  “Of course not,” she replied, surprised by his accu
sation. “I told you that part of it is over!” She saw his muscles relax slightly. “Brandon’s in a rehabilitation center working with a physical therapist.”

  “I assume he doesn’t have a job and you’re footing the bill.”

  “He’s only been walking with the brace for a few months,” Maren snapped, wondering why she felt so suddenly defensive of a man who had done nothing but hurt her. She let out her emotions in an angry sigh. “I think he’ll be able to work again soon. Until he does, I have to help him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he doesn’t have any other family,” she replied. “Haven’t you been listening to me? It’s my fault he went skiing that weekend. If it hadn’t been for me, he’d probably still be playing tennis, for God’s sake!”

  She was shaking with the intensity of her emotions. She felt chilled to the bone. Kyle opened his robe and folded her against him, letting his arms and the soft folds of cloth protect her from the night air.

  Softly he kissed the top of her head. She let her arms tighten around his naked torso and leaned her head on his chest. “I think your husband’s career was over before it began,” Kyle stated reassuringly. “I read about him; he couldn’t control his hostility. It worked against him rather than to his advantage.”

  “Your opinion.”

  “The truth.”

  The protests forming in her throat died. For years she had been deluding herself that Brandon would have made it on his own. The gravity of Kyle’s face and his firm words helped convince her that Brandon would take advantage of her as long as she gave him the opportunity. She had only to remember Brandon’s last near-frantic call.

  “For the time being,” she said, “Brandon is my responsibility.”

  “Until when? Until he decides he can make it on his own? Or you get tired of carrying the burden? When?”