Getting Over Harry (Harlequin Romance)

by Renee Roszel

  Emily had to smile. “You didn’t get much out of high school biology, did you?”

  Meg grinned. “Why? Funguses don’t mate? Well, then where do baby funguses come from, smarty?”

  She sighed. “Will you be serious?”

  Meg eyed her dubiously. “Okay. Talk. But I don’t promise anything until I hear this.”

  Emily ran a band through her hair, feeling scandalized. Unable to maintain eye contact, she allowed her gaze to rest on the distant ocean beyond the windows. It was a great silver beast, prowling beneath a sky that was giving off tempting glimpses of what would soon become another dazzling sunset. The day was perfection. So different from her mood. “Okay, here it is, straight out.” She swallowed hard. “I asked a handsome island workman to have sex with me last week.”

  There was no response, not even a sound, for such a long time Emily couldn’t help but peer at her friend. Meg was very still, her mouth hanging open. The sight of her sitting there, the image of a statue of a dental patient, was so comical she grinned in spite of herself.

  “I don’t believe it,” Meg finally breathed. “So—so what happened with this blue-collar Adonis?”

  Emily shrugged morosely. “To make a long story short—he said no. Then, that night, when he was naked—he offered to do it, but...” For some reason, the recollection made her jittery, and she lurched up, pacing to the window before she turned back. “I’m not going through that again.”

  Meg got up and moved to stand before her friend. “You asked a naked handyman to have sex with you?”

  Emily nodded and stared out at the ocean. “Yes, and he turned me down flat—the first time. He wasn’t naked then. Just made fun of me.”

  “I want to hear about the naked time!” her friend said, wonder in her tone.

  “Well—he was up to his waist in water, but he was naked.” She shook her head and moaned. “The point is, he wasn’t really serious about having sex with me. He was just needling me.” In a frail whisper, she admitted, “But—but he was so—so unbelievably good-looking. If he’d been serious, and if I ever could do such a reckless thing, it would be...with him.” She leaned her forehead against the glass. It felt so frigid she knew she was blushing furiously. “Now, please promise me you’ll never bring up the subject.”

  “Geez.” Meg placed a consoling arm about Emily’s waist. “Honey, you don’t ask a man to have sex with you. You let him think it’s his idea! Some sort of genetic macho thing makes them need to believe they’re in charge. Smart women don’t fight it, they use it.” She patted Emily’s arm. “You tell a man he’s brilliant no matter what stupid thing he’s talking about. Take his arm, and when you do, lightly brush your breast against him. You know—subtly show him you’re hot to trot while pretending you hardly know he’s alive. You can’t be straightforward in the battle of the sexes, sweetie. It just isn’t done!”

  Emily was skeptical. “It sounds deceitful to me.”

  Meg shifted her around so they were face to face, and grinned. “By George, I think you’ve got it! Now, since you’ve learned how not to do it, Auntie Meg is going to help you reel in the big fish.” Hugging her, she declared, “Look out, Lyon Gallant. Here we come.”

  Icy dread knotted Emily’s stomach. Meg hadn’t heard a single word she’d said.

  CHAPTER THREE

  DARN that Lyon Gallant! Why had he decided to show himself after ignoring them for two solid weeks? Emily hadn’t been able to concentrate on finding an evening gown after dinner. The large room had been full of formal clothes in all shapes and sizes by world-famous designers.

  Meg almost hyperventilated from excitement, pulling gown after gown from the rack to take to her room and try on. But Emily’s mind drifted to other things—dreadful things. Like being thrust into an unsuspecting Lyon Gallant’s arms and expected to flirt him into bed.

  She begged off with the excuse of a headache. Meg hardly noticed her departure, insisting she would pick out several gowns for her to try. Emily had a dire premonition Meg’s choices wouldn’t include floor-length, woolen monk’s robes, but she wasn’t up to worrying. What she’d been dreading would happen in less than two days.

  With no particular destination in mind—yet in the absolute opposite direction from the cove—she wandered across the manicured lawn, heading away from the mansion. After a few minutes she found herself in a meadow she’d passed many times that week on her new jogging route.

  Under a waning moon, she could see the bobbing and nodding sea pinks and white-star rushes blooming among the meadow grasses. The sight was a balm to her frazzled emotions, and she inhaled the fragrant air, almost able to smile. Evening strolls had helped ease her spirits all her life. And even after her disastrous walk last week, she knew she’d made the right decision to come out tonight. Ever since the reminder of that cocky carpenter this evening, she’d felt jittery and upset, and needed some quiet time.

  When she came to the edge of the meadow, the beach unfurled before her like a white ribbon. The surf whispered softly, caressing the bright sand like a lover’s hand. That image made her uncomfortable. Determinedly she shoved the notion aside, wanting to enjoy the soft night without distressing thoughts.

  Kicking off her loafers, she began to shamble along, enjoying the feel of warm sand between her toes. Going barefoot was quite a deviation for her, and she grinned, wondering if she should tell Meg about this rash evolution in her behavior. “Emily,” she murmured, “you’re a wild woman.”

  “Well, well. She smiles,” came a male voice Emily had never wanted to hear again. It was the carpenter. She twisted around, but couldn’t immediately locate him. Her glance fell on the only likely place he might be, a cluster of live oaks ten or twelve feet ahead.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re naked!” she warned, hoarsely.

  His chuckle was as vivid and thrilling as the moonlight, but she tried to squelch her reaction. There was nothing about the workman she cared to think of as thrilling. “That’s no answer!” She clenched her jaw, mortified to be discovered out here, barefoot and talking to herself—again! Why, oh, why did she have to keep running into this guy?

  She sensed movement as the man took shape, stepping out into the moon glow. Try as she could, she couldn’t turn away. Her brain told her to close her eyes. What if he was naked? But her eyes remained open. Why couldn’t she at least look somewhere else—at her feet, at the sky, anywhere? She managed only to lurch a defensive step backward.

  “Satisfied, sweetheart?”

  She blanched, her eyes as wide as platters. In this ghostly light, he seemed bigger, more virile than ever, and she felt threatened by that. His wide shoulders looked wider, and his craggy face was elegantly highlighted, skin taut over the prominent ridges of his cheekbones.

  Uneasy, but helpless to stop herself, her glance dipped from his face, and she was greatly relieved to see damp swim trunks. The view of trim hips and long, powerful legs was still unsettling, even sheathed in wet cloth, so she hurriedly returned her gaze to his face. She was appalled to see moonlight glinting off a show of teeth. “You see, I’m not always naked.”

  Indignant, she scowled at him. “Just what do you do for laughs when I’m not around to harass?”

  He began to walk toward her, his grin crooked. “Besides get naked?”

  She inhaled shakily. “Could we change the subject?”

  “Sure.” He moved toward her with an amazing masculine grace for such a big man, reminding her of a roiling sea. Marvelous to look at, yet treacherous if you got in over your head. Silver moonlight poured over him, flaunting his muscular chest, his lithe torso. His long legs ate up the distance, strong thighs knotting and flexing as he came. “Let’s talk about bow the sex lessons are going.”

  Apprehension clutched at her, closing her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was because she’d told him such a glaring lie, or that he was coming nearer. Wrapping her arms protectively about herself, she refused to give in to her panic and flee to the safety of th
e house.

  Her heart thudded, but she stood her ground. Obviously he was heading in the opposite direction she was walking, and that was good. Her plan was to hurry by him and be on her way. With that decided, she felt more sure of herself. “My sex life is none of your business.” Pride forced her to add, “But for your information, Mr. Gallant has been very—very helpful. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking a walk.” Managing to peel her arms from around her, she darted past him, resolving to put distance between them as quickly as possible.

  “By coincidence, I was about to take a walk myself.” He fell into step beside her.

  She shifted to stare at him. “But—you were going the other way.”

  He grinned again. “It’s an island. What difference does it make which way I go?”

  “Probably several hours, depending on where you want to end up,” she muttered, then louder, “I really wanted to be alone.”

  “So, you’re saying the reason I haven’t seen you jogging this week is because you’ve found Mr. Gallant’s lovemaking to be an adequate substitute?” he asked, ignoring her unsubtle clue that she wanted him to go away.

  Refusing to let him see how much the subject rattled her, she hedged. “I hate to have to repeat myself, but my affair with Mr. Gallant is none of your business.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, hoping he was buying it. “Would you go away?”

  “I’ve heard he’s not much of a lover.” Dismayed by his audacity, she staggered to a halt, swiveling to face him. “Compared to some, that is,” he finished, flashing her an erotic grin.

  “Like you, I suppose,” she challenged, though her pulse had begun to race wildly. “You must have an astronomical trophy room—full of blue ribbons for the biggest ego in the universe.” She whirled away, hurrying along the beach. A sea turtle lumbered across her path, and she leaped over it, wishing she could as easily rid herself of another island resident.

  “What sensual things have you learned from him?” he asked, sounding all too near.

  “For one thing,” she snapped, “I’ve learned that gentlemanly behavior is more of a turn-on than muscles, any day.”

  “Oh?” He sounded as though he was absorbing what she’d said. “So the owner of Sin Island is a gentleman?”

  “He’s absolutely charming. If you need to go look up the word, don’t let me stop you.” She found herself warming to the lie. This man needed his ego pricked. Why not enjoy herself while she did the females of the world a service? “As a matter of fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone more charming than Lyon!”

  “I’ve been told I’m charming.”

  “Ha!” she jeered. “Some activists say the ozone layer is just peachy, too.”

  “You’re comparing me to a gigantic toxic hole?”

  “It’s not much of a stretch.”

  His laugh was quick and rich. “I hope the ozone layer is properly flattered.”

  Emily found herself having to bite her lip to keep from smiling at his dry wit. Irritated with herself, she quickened her pace. The last thing she wanted was to start enjoying this man’s company. In a desperate effort to get him to leave her alone once and for all, she threw back, “Your ego is probably what caused the damage to the ozone layer in the first place.”

  “Those poor, innocent fluorocarbons,” he said. “Because of me, they’ve taken such abuse.”

  Her breathing was coming unevenly from her exertion. Why wasn’t this man winded? She refused to allow herself to dwell on just how he stayed in shape. Wanting to say something pithy, she opened her mouth to retort, but decided she needed all her air just to stay alive.

  “This isn’t jogging anymore. This is sprinting,” he cautioned, amusement in his voice.

  “Drop...out anytime.” She huffed and puffed, gulping air. “I wouldn’t...want to put a crimp in...your sex life.”

  “Speaking of sex,” he said, “what has he taught you so far?”

  She couldn’t believe her ears. Before she registered what she was doing, she was standing still, glaring. “What?” It came out as a wheeze through a painful intake of air.

  He shrugged. “I think I was clear.”

  “Clear?” she echoed, incredulous. “Let’s search a little farther for a better word for what you are.” She paused to inhale. “What about rude?”

  “I think you’re lying.” His eyes sparked with mockery. “I don’t think you’ve even met Lyon Gallant.”

  “I have!”

  “Then show me what he’s taught you.”

  She sputtered, panicked by his challenge. “Why should you care? Since he’s such a mediocre lover!”

  “I’m curious about your opinion.” He scanned her face, his lids half-lowered. “Did he teach you a sexy way to kiss?”

  His question was seductive, and she shuddered involuntarily, startled at herself. She’d never had such a sensual reaction to a simple string of words before.

  His moonlit expression was deliciously appealing, so much so that when she opened her mouth she was unable to form a scathing response.

  “Show me.”

  The soft dare affected her badly—with a mixture of fear and desire and something very akin to heart failure. One corner of his mouth quirked in a half-grin, and she knew he sensed her quandary. “I hate to repeat myself, too,” he prodded. “But I don’t believe you’ve met him.”

  His continued taunts, and even worse, his incredulity that she could possibly interest a man like Lyon Gallant, were like tossing twig after twig on the small flame of her pride. She’d never been a proud or boastful person, but this man had thrown so much fuel onto the small flicker that suddenly it exploded into an inferno. She would not allow him to back her into a corner, make her admit she had no idea how to kiss seductively. Her self-esteem had been seriously damaged by Harry’s desertion, and she couldn’t stand another humiliation.

  She made a silent pledge to dismember this workman if he even made eye contact with her again while she was stuck on this island. “If I show you one thing, will you go away and leave me alone? Never mention sex or Lyon Gallant again? As a matter of fact, never speak to me again?”

  His answer was a low chuckle.

  “Not good enough.”

  “Would that be the gentlemanly thing to do?”

  She lifted a mutinous chin. “It would.”

  His teeth gleamed in the dim light, a breathtaking sight. “I thought you said I was no gentleman.”

  She reached out and poked his chest, registering the tightly drawn skin too thoroughly. Stiffening, she dropped her hand, rubbing away the feel of him. “Try,” she warned. “Try very hard.”

  “Fair enough.” He nodded. “Now, the sexy kiss.”

  For the briefest instant she swayed between a feminine longing to know the taste of those lips and a desire to slap his face. A thought flashed in her brain and she immediately saw her salvation. “I didn’t say it would be a kiss.”

  His eyes narrowed, but she ignored the tempest she’d set to brewing there. With as little physical contact as possible, she took his arm. “To show a man you’re—available...” She faltered, struggling to recite Meg’s lesson from earlier in the evening. “You take his arm.” She wrapped her arm about his with grudging reluctance. “Then—then you press him lightly against your breast.” Without demonstrating the pressing part, she let go. “Now that that’s settled, have a nice life.” Tossing him an acrimonious glance, she headed down the beach.

  The hand on her elbow came as such a shock she couldn’t react. In less than a heartbeat, she was hauled against a firm chest, her mouth devoured by hot, coaxing lips. The effect was dizzying, and the world slid sideways on its axis. It was lucky for Emily that strong hands were holding her, keeping her from falling off the edge of the precariously tilted planet.

  Her eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as she tried to make sense of a world that had been severely damaged. Her numbed mind registered the fact that she was hugging his neck for dear life. Slowly, she became aware o
f the splendor and strength of the man holding her in his arms, and of the fact that she was not caught up in the vortex of some cataclysmic earthquake. She was being kissed with such mastery her senses were reeling out of control, her emotions wildly spiraling and tumbling.

  His lips were hard and searching, yet surprisingly gentle. She felt a heady sensation of delight, and startled herself by relaxing fully against him. An unruly longing had been building inside her ever since the night in the cove, a gnawing hunger she was surprised to discover she even possessed. But with the touch of his lips and his knowing hands, it raged out of control. Certainly, no kiss or caress she’d ever shared with Harry had sent the pit of her stomach into a spin the way this overconfident carpenter’s did.

  Or possibly, her mind argued, he isn’t all that overconfident. The man knows how to kiss!

  His mouth moved across hers, sending a honeyed heat through her veins like no heat she’d ever experienced. Sweet yet suggestive, the message in his lips made her breath come in short gasps and her legs as tenuous as threads. She sighed against his lips, her fingers snaking up to luxuriate in his silky hair. The man’s kiss was gloriously clever in the ways of seduction, and she found herself slipping toward surrender.

  His hands, which had begun a stirring exploration of her back, were suddenly holding her face, his lips lifting away from hers. A moan of regret escaped her throat, and she reached for him, not wanting the kiss to end, but he stepped away. Before he completely relinquished her face, he brushed her lips with one lingering finger.

  She stared, feeling drugged. His face was indistinct, and she wondered if his kiss had struck her blind. She blinked, casting her gaze to the sky. The moon was nothing more than a glossy smudge behind a scudding cloud.

  “My compliments to your tutor,” he murmured, his voice vaguely rough. She glanced at his face, still hidden by deep shadow. She couldn’t see his expression, couldn’t tell if his eyes were glinting with mockery. Was he making fun of her again? Of course he was. She would have to be an idiot to believe otherwise. He’d done all the kissing, and he knew it. How dare he be so unkind!