by Jamie Wesley
“Why?
“There’s a lot of fun to be had here.”
“Work is fun.”
Val shook her head. “Come on, Harvard. Let’s sit. Take off your shoes and put your feet in the water. Have fun.”
“You can call me Malcolm, you know.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You scream Harvard.”
“What does screaming Harvard mean?” He had a feeling he was about to be insulted.
Val waved her hands. “You know…Preppy. Upwardly mobile. Never putting a foot wrong. I mean we took a hike up here and you don’t have a wrinkle anywhere. Squeaky clean.”
He stepped closer and glared down at her. This was the woman who sent lust rampaging through his veins, and she’d essentially called him a Stepford husband. “You think I can’t get dirty? That I haven’t gotten dirty? That I won’t do it again?”
Her eyes opened wide. “I—”
His mouth landed on hers. He hauled her up on her toes. He’d thought they were close before. Now, every dip and curve of her body pressed against his. He silently cursed the thin layers of clothes separating them.
But at least he had unrestricted access to her mouth. That sassy mouth that had no trouble insulting him. That mouth that taunted him in his sleep with its lushness. And now it was under his. So sweet and ready. He’d initiated the kiss, but she had no problem keeping up. Thank God.
Desire for her heated his blood. Her moan emboldened him. His mouth skimmed down to her neck. Her skin was warm and fragrant. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted more. He would have more.
Her lips were still as lush and responsive as he remembered. Malcolm slipped his tongue inside her mouth. She didn’t try to play coy, immediately tangling her tongue with his. The kiss deepened until finally the need for air became impossible to ignore. Reluctantly, he eased away, but kept his arms around her waist, unwilling to break all contact.
They were both breathing deeply. She met his gaze unflinchingly. He admired that about her. Her unwillingness to prevaricate.
“Still think I can’t get dirty?” His voice sound ragged, lust-filled.
Valerie licked her lips. “Is that what that was about—you trying to prove a point?”
“I wasn’t wrong about our chemistry.”
“No.” Uncertainty filled her eyes. “We should get back.”
He caressed her cheek. “Okay, but I’m not going to walk in awkward silence. We kissed. We’re adults. It’s okay.”
“What do you want to talk about then, Mr. Maturity?” She stepped away from him and held up a finger. “And it can’t be about that kiss. I’m still processing that.”
“Okay, but first you have to admit it was a damned good kiss.” A damned good kiss.
She stared at him. “You’re more dangerous than I gave you credit for.”
“Thank you.” They shared a smile and left the dock. “What do you plan to do when the summer ends?”
Val smoothed the ends of her ponytail. “Go somewhere. I’m not sure where though. As you know, I had a show in Vegas. It didn’t end well.”
“Do you want to start another?”
“Someday, probably, but I have a different plan in mind for right now.”
“Like what?”
***
Val opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Malcolm was looking at her way too curiously, like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. He wouldn’t be impressed with her unsolidified plans for a small business. He had an MBA from Harvard. “Oh, you don’t want to hear about that. It’s nothing.”
A furrow appeared between his brows. “Why do you do that? You did it yesterday, too.”
“Do what?”
“Downplay what you do and hope to accomplish.”
Okay, yeah, he was dangerous if he noticed that. She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s what I do. But to answer your question, I love teaching. I want to open a studio and teach women how to get their groove back. Campers have told me they’ve never felt sexier than they do after one of my classes. They can’t wait to get home to their significant others. That’s something I used to hear from other dancers I taught in Vegas too.”
They told her how inspiring she was. Her. Valerie Shaw, who’d had to scrape and scramble for everything in life and who’d faced multiple setbacks. “Eventually, I’d like to open studios all across the country and open a club where my students and I can perform professionally, but one step at a time. I’m a finalist in a contest that offers a cash prize for small businesses and great publicity. If I win, I’ll be a lot closer to making that happen.”
Although she’d known he wouldn’t be interested, a sliver of disappointment still ran through her when he didn’t respond. She shook it off and forced her lips upward. “See, I told you. It’s not that interesting.”
His lips curved downward. “I didn’t say it wasn’t interesting.”
“Then why do you have that look on your face?”
He sighed, frowning again. “The Sex Sells contest?”
Val nodded in surprise.
When he spoke, his voice was low, like he was admitting something or apologizing. “My sisters and I entered that contest, too. We made the finals.”
Oh.” Shock stole her ability to say anything more. Oh God. He was her competition. It was one thing to know businesses with well-educated and experienced executives were angling for the same prize. It was quite another to be confronted with that excellence. Her breathing shallowed, her vision blurred.
The side of his mouth kicked up. “Yeah. Coincidences are weird, huh?”
Though it was a warm night, a chill swept through her. Val wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
His dark gaze landed on her. “What are you saying?”
“Did you know I was a finalist? Is that why you came here? To spy on me?” Right when she started to think things would work out for her, she got knocked flat on her butt. The story of her life.
His face twisted with disbelief. Anger deepened his voice. “How would I know you’re a finalist? They’ve kept that info confidential.” He threw his hand up in the air. “You know that! If I did have some underhanded plan to spy on you, I sure as hell wouldn’t have told you I was a finalist.”
Val winced. She took a deep breath and said what had to be said. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was thrown for a loop when you said you were a finalist. That was the last thing I expected you to say.”
Malcolm rubbed his face with his hand. “I know the feeling.”
They walked in silence for the rest of the way to her cabin. Only the sounds of the night—crickets chirping, the wind whistling through the trees—broke the silence. She unlocked her door, then turned to face him. “So where do we go from here?”
He propped his hand against the door next to her head. “It’s probably best that we stay away from each other.”
She’d been afraid of that. Afraid of losing the contest to him, but afraid of this too. He shouldn’t have kissed her. She shouldn’t have let him. She took a deep breath. “You’re right. We wouldn’t want to call into question the integrity of the contest.”
“No, we wouldn’t.”
Val licked her lips. “Then why aren’t you moving away?”
Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve always been responsible and let logic rule the day.”
Her breath caught. “And?”
“Logic tells me I have to leave you alone.”
“Because I’m the competition.” She needed to remember that.
“You’re something, all right.”
Val tilted her head to the side. “Is that a compliment?”
“You know it is.” He pushed away. “But we can’t do this.” He held out his hand like he was at a board meeting. “May the best person win.”
He made all the sense in the world, but Val didn’t like him making all the decisions. She stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it and rising on
her toes. “Oh, she will.”
Her mouth met his before he could offer up a rejoinder. His lips were the perfect mixture of hard and soft. Skillful. The kiss was fast, but hot as molten lava. Just a quick hit to make her instantly crave more.
Heat blazed from his eyes. “You are a dangerous woman, Valerie Shaw.”
“And don’t you forget it, Malcolm Turner.” She stepped inside and closed the door before she did something really stupid and probably really amazing like dragging him inside and having her wicked way with him.
Damn it, she was turning over a new leaf. No men were supposed to be found under that shiny, healthy leaf.
Not even Malcolm Turner. And that’s just the way it was supposed to be.
FOUR
Malcolm staggered into his cabin, unsure of how he’d made it there. He dropped into a chair and scrubbed his face with his hand, hunger for Val clawing at him.
Damn, she was dangerous, giving better than she got. Walking away instead of dragging her off somewhere to ravish her like a caveman was the hardest thing he’d done in a long time. Who was he kidding? He still wanted to drag her off like a caveman. Which is precisely the reason he hadn’t—well, along with the fact that Val would have kicked his ass before they got very far.
His life was ruled by logic. Letting hormones override his good sense didn’t make much sense. But he hadn’t had so much fun or felt so alive in way too long. He found it hard to give a damn that she was his competition. He wanted to go back to her cabin. Now.
He took a step toward his door before he caught himself. No. Getting involved with another Sex Sells finalist made no sense.
He needed a distraction. Stat. Work. He needed to work.
Sometime later, Malcolm shot up straight in his bed. What the—?
Bzzz, bzzz.
The strident noise came again. His phone. It took another second for him to remember how to move. Lack of sleep had a bad habit of doing that to him. He grabbed the phone from the nightstand and checked the time. 8:43. Through blurry eyes, he pressed the talk icon on the screen. He forced his mouth to move. “Hello.”
“Malcolm?” Tori. The combination of surprise and confusion dominating her tone amused him. He never slept in. If he was in Boston, he would have been up for hours. He woke every morning at six a.m. to work out and clear his mind before heading into work. In less than forty-eight hours, his life had been turned upside down.
Memories from last night came to him in blurry bits and pieces.
Val shutting the door in his face. Returning to his cabin. Needing a distraction from rampaging hormones that didn’t understand why he couldn’t return to her cabin. Pulling out his computer.
Instead of working, he’d sat there thinking about Val because that’s all he did lately. Then, an image had appeared in his mind. An image of a woman who looked remarkably like Val wearing Satisfied Lingerie as she danced across a stage. His fingers had flown across the keyboard as the ideas for their Sex Sells presentation came fast and furious.
Val’s beauty, resilience, and talent. That’s what their marketing campaign needed to tap into.
He’d finally collapsed in bed hours later, only to spend the night dreaming about a certain dancer. Everything about her fascinated him. But she was now officially off-limits. At least until the contest was over. And probably longer than that because he lived in Boston and she didn’t. His body didn’t give a damn. He still wanted her like she was the key to prosperity in life.
“Malcolm, are you really not awake?” his sister questioned.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I forgot to set my alarm.”
Two beats of silence met his confession. “Wow. That’s not like you.”
“Isn’t that the reason you sent me up here? To get me to change?”
She sniffed. “I’ll allow the sarcasm because that means our plan is working. You’re relaxing and having fun.”
His sister sounded a little too smug for his tastes, but since he could barely string two thoughts together, she could have this “victory.” “Sure.”
“Great! Have you taken up kayaking or something?”
“No.”
“Hmmph. No need to get grumpy with me, big brother. What’s been keeping you so busy that you hung up on me last night, other than carrying pumpkins or whatever you said?”
“For your information, I did help out one of the camp owners by carrying pumpkins.”
“That’s it?”
“No…”
An exasperated sigh came through the phone. “Then what else?”
An image of Val soaring in the air, every muscle in her body working in perfect harmony rose in his mind. The look in her eyes, slumberous, but aroused, after they kissed. Taunting him with that challenge last night. Almost daring him to stay away like she knew he couldn’t. Telling his sister any of that was out of the question. But he needed to say something. He forced his brain to work. “Dance lessons.”
Tori laughed. “Really? That’s awesome. Learning some new moves?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I know you’re taking the lessons seriously.”
“Why?” Malcolm flopped back down on the bed and closed his eyes. Keeping up with his sister when he’d had maybe three hours of sleep was making his brain hurt.
“Because you take everything seriously,” she said. “You wouldn’t do it without some plan to be the best dancer in camp at the end of the week. Good job. I approve.”
He stared at the phone in confusion before putting it back up to his ear. “I thought you sent me here to relax. Now you’re telling me I can’t.”
“Taking up a new challenge is your way of relaxing. It’s all good. Actually, it’s great. You and I have to do the father-daughter dance at the wedding anyway.”
Malcolm pressed his lips together to keep a groan from slipping out. He didn’t like her fiancé, who’d never once looked him straight in the eye, but Tori was stubborn and determined to prove everyone wrong. Now that their father was gone, the responsibility of that dance belonged to him.
“Wait,” she continued. “Is the teacher any good?”
Malcolm’s lips curved of their own volition. “The best.”
“Perfect. Does she know ballroom dances like the waltz?”
His conversation last night with Valerie sprang to mind. “She does.”
“Cool. When you come back, you can show me everything you’ve learned.” Her voice rose in excitement. “Ooh, she can choreograph a routine for us and come to Boston and teach it to us.”
He shot up to a sitting position. “Whoa. You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“But you’ll ask, right?”
“I…” Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose. He was too sleepy to be dealing with his headstrong sister. Saying no to her wasn’t something he did on a regular basis anyway.
“Please,” she begged. “It’ll be perfect. Think of everything you could learn.”
A self-serving statement if there ever was one, but also an accurate one. If he spent more time with Val, maybe the creativity that had deserted him for so long would continue to throw good ideas his way, which would make their Sex Sells presentation unbeatable.
He refused to admit it to anyone, didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was terrified of losing the contest. He had to win. This was his best chance to prove the naysayers wrong.
At his last job, the president of the company had called him into her office. Instead of telling him that he’d gotten the promotion to executive vice president of marketing that he’d been expecting, she’d told him his services were no longer needed. The company was going in a different direction. His ideas had gone stale and were no longer producing results. They wanted a marketing director who could connect emotionally with their products and their intended audience, not someone who relied so heavily on data. He’d walked into her office brimming with confidence and left it shaken to his core.
Logic hadn’t worked at his old job, but it woul
d this time. The inspiration he felt when he was with Val was like nothing he’d ever experienced, and there was no way in hell he could let it slip through his fingers.
Beyond that, he needed to make his parents proud. Especially his dad. His parents had worked two jobs each to take care of him and his sisters. Yes, they’d put pressure on him to live up to be successful, but that was okay. He’d embraced the challenge and met it every step of the way, including the time his dad had asked Malcolm to look out for his sisters and mother when they’d received the news that his father’s cancer was incurable. Malcolm had been living up to his promise until the moment the rug had been pulled out from underneath him at his last job. But he refused to go back on his word to his father. He would be successful, no matter what it took.
“Please, Malcolm,” Tori said.
“I’ll ask.” Looked like he and Val wouldn’t be staying away from each other after all. It was the only logical thing to do.
***
No,” Val said without hesitation. She pivoted on her heel and reentered the dance studio to set up for her next class. Leaving behind the man who’d caused her to have another sleepless night. Which was for the best. Man hiatus. Mortal enemy. Okay, not really, but close enough.
Instead of taking the hint, Malcolm followed her inside. “Why not? We danced at the lake.”
“We weren’t dancing.” That shuffle step in which she could barely breathe, when he was so close, when his scent wafted over her, invading her senses, could not be called dancing. Not when all she could think about was kissing and touching him. No, that hadn’t been dancing.
He shrugged. “Close enough.”
She stopped lining up chairs in a circle to side-eye him. “You really want me to teach you how to dance?”
He nodded once, decisively. “I do.”
“Why? Need I remind you that it was your idea to stay away from each other? Hello, we’re vying for the same prize.”
Malcolm grabbed a couple of chairs perched against the wall and added them to the formation. “I know, but this is different. Teaching me how to dance has nothing to do with the contest or a personal relationship between us. You’re helping me make my sister’s wedding everything she wants it to be. If she wants a dance choreographed to Stand By Me, then that’s what she’s going to get.”
