Malone's Vow

by Sandra Marton

  He was on fire for her. Liam stripped off his jeans and shorts, and went into Jessie’s arms. He’d dreamed of this, but the reality was better than any dream. The sweetness of her breasts, of her belly, the startled little sound she made when he opened her to him, found the secret flower that was the essence of her femininity and kissed it.

  Her cry of shocked pleasure combined with her taste and rocketed through his blood. When she began to tremble, to convulse under the sweet torment of his mouth, he moved quickly up her body and, on one long, possessive stroke, sheathed himself in her satin heat.

  “Jessie,” he whispered, and when her lashes fluttered open, he bent to her, cupped her face and kissed her deeply. “Look at me, sweetheart, and say my name.”

  “Liam. My Liam.” A long, keening cry burst from her throat.

  “Jessie,” he said, and then he let go of everything, the years of loneliness and of doubt, and exploded deep within the welcoming warmth of the woman he loved.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JESSIE SAT on the sun-drenched patio, wearing a white, fluffy robe provided by the hotel and drinking coffee while she waited for Liam to return from what he’d smugly referred to as a “secret mission.”

  She smiled over the rim of her cup. It didn’t take much effort to figure out what that “secret mission” was. She’d made a face when she’d started to dress, teased him about only men not shuddering at the thought of putting on yesterday’s clothes, and he’d gotten a glint in his eyes. Suddenly he’d wanted to know her favorite colors, whether she liked short summer skirts or long ones, if she preferred bikinis or what he’d referred to as “you know, those clingy, one-piece jobs.”

  She put down her cup, stretched her arms high overhead, then lay back on the chaise longue.

  He’d gone to buy her something to wear, she was sure of it. Still, she’d act surprised when he turned up with a swimsuit and a T-shirt and shorts and, yes, she’d stop being silly about it and accept them as gifts because it was pointless to stand on ceremony with the man who was your lover.

  Her lover. She rolled over on her stomach and closed her eyes. It was such a lovely word. The only bit of darkness came when she let herself think about the emptiness she’d face when their days here ended.

  And the pain she’d caused William.

  “No,” she said aloud.

  She wasn’t going to think about that, not yet. It was too soon to think about what lay ahead. She was happy, happier than she’d ever imagined possible, and she wasn’t going to spoil her joy for anything.

  She sat up, stretched again and took her coffee cup into the villa and rinsed it in the sink. The serving cart, bearing the remnants of the gargantuan breakfast Liam had ordered earlier, sat waiting in the corner. She thought of the waiter’s smile when he’d delivered it, all that food for only two people, and how she’d felt herself blushing, knowing what he must have been thinking, that only a man and woman who’d spent hours making love could possibly be hungry enough to tackle waffles and eggs and a hundred other things.

  And she thought of how Liam had taken her in his arms after the door closed, how they’d laughed while she fed him strips of bacon and he’d licked her fingers clean until laughter turned to sighs and sighs to passion.

  She thought about how much she loved him.

  There wasn’t any point in trying to pretend she didn’t, not to herself. It was impossible to fall in love with a man you hardly knew, especially when that man wasn’t the kind she’d ever imagined wanting, but there it was. She loved Liam the way she’d wanted to love William, and what good would it do her?

  “None,” she said softly as she sank down on the edge of the bed.

  Liam loved making love with her. He loved holding her, and he even seemed to love being with her. But he didn’t love her. He’d never love just one woman. That was just the way they were, the Liam Malones of this world. Her mother had told her once, probably in a moment of desperation, that she’d made a terrible mistake thinking she didn’t have to hear her man say those simple words, and thinking she could be happy with one who preferred wandering the world to making a real home.

  Not that she’d have to be concerned about any of that with Liam. Even if a miracle occurred, which it wouldn’t, but even if it did, and Liam looked at her and said those magical words, “Jessie, I love you…”

  Even if that happened, he could never be hers because the shadow of William, and what they’d done, would always be there, chilling their happiness.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks, and wasn’t that ridiculous? Here she sat, weeping because there wouldn’t be a forever-after when that was exactly what she’d walked away from, choosing, instead, a few short, sweet days in Liam’s arms.

  Jessie sat up straight, scrubbed her knuckles over her eyes. Liam would be back soon and she didn’t want him to see that she’d been crying, didn’t want to waste whatever little time they had left on tears or recriminations or—

  A knock sounded at the front door. He must have locked himself out. She dabbed at her eyes again, ran her hands through her hair and went to open the door. But it wasn’t Liam on the steps, it was a bellman with a load of gaily wrapped boxes in his arms. There were more boxes in the Jeep he’d parked alongside the villa.

  “Packages for you, Miss Warren.”

  “There must be some mistake. I didn’t order—”

  “No, ma’am. Mr. Malone did.”

  “But…” She stepped back as the bellman started past her. It took two trips before he’d transferred everything from the Jeep. Jessie looked from the boxes to the bellman’s smiling face. “I don’t—I’m afraid I don’t have anything to—”

  The man’s smile broadened. “Mr. Malone took care of that.” He put his hand to his forehead, flipped her a brisk salute. “Enjoy the day, ma’am.”

  Jessie nodded. “You, too,” she said, or thought she said, as the door swung shut. For a few minutes she just stared at the packages. Then, carefully, she unwrapped one, then another and another. Silk skirts, cotton tops, cashmere shawls and lace underwear spilled onto the bed.

  “Liam,” she said, laughing with delight, “oh, you crazy, wonderful man.”

  She took off her robe, let it slip to the floor, pulled on a cropped white top and a long, gauzy skirt and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright with pleasure, her mouth was pink from Liam’s kisses, her hair was a mass of curls and waves. She hardly recognized herself. What had become of Jessica Warren? Who was this woman in the mirror, wearing such beautiful things, her hair loose, her feet bare, all propriety and dignity forgotten?

  Jessie’s smile faded. And how could a heart soar, then break, all in the same moment?

  “Liam,” she whispered, “how can I let you go?”

  Falling in love wasn’t supposed to be like this. But, oh God, it was.

  * * *

  FALLING IN LOVE wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  Liam walked slowly along the shoreline, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He’d left Jessie on the patio, lying sleepily in the sun after they’d consumed a room service breakfast so huge even he’d laughed, and he’d been the one who ordered it. It was just that she’d smiled and said “you” each time he’d asked her what she wanted for breakfast and he’d felt honor-bound to take her up on the offer. When he finally reached for the phone, he hardly knew his own name so he’d ordered waffles and eggs, pancakes and bacon, biscuits and toast, strawberries, mangoes and coffee.

  They’d eaten on the patio, and it was a good thing the villas were heavily screened by bougainvillea, because when Liam groaned and said he couldn’t eat another mouthful, Jessie made a stern face and said he had to finish what he’d ordered. Laughing, she’d fed him a strip of crisp bacon. But when he reached the final bit and sucked her fingers into his mouth, her laughter had died, and they’d made love on the chaise longue, with the hot sun beating down.

  Great. He was thinking what it was like to make love with Jessie and turnin
g himself on.

  “Malone,” he said lightly, under his breath, “you’re some piece of work.”

  Indeed, he was. He was a man in love, and the world had suddenly turned into a wonderful place, and never mind the gray smudge on the horizon, or the brisk breeze. It was a beautiful day, and it would be even more beautiful in—he looked at his watch—in just about five minutes, when the things he’d ordered were delivered to the villa.

  After he and Jessie had finished breakfast and made love, they’d showered together. Liam gritted his teeth and told himself not to think about the way Jessie’s skin felt wet, or how her hair streamed down over her breasts, or how he’d soaped her body, all of it, all of her….

  He cleared his throat.

  They’d put on the robes the hotel provided. Jessie had scooped up her clothing and wrinkled her nose.

  “What?” Liam had asked, and she’d laughed and said that only a man would look so perplexed when a woman shuddered at the thought of taking a shower and then putting on the same stuff she’d worn the previous day. He’d clapped his hand to his heart, as if she’d wounded him deeply, accused her of being the female equivalent of a chauvinist pig, admitted she was probably right before dropping a kiss on her smiling lips. Then he’d put on his jeans and sweatshirt. “Stay just the way you are,” he’d warned, “while I undertake a dark and dangerous secret mission.”

  And, he thought with smug assurance, he had.

  He’d walked to the main building. First, he’d seen to his own things. He kept simple clothing—jeans, T-shirts, chinos and a blazer—in the owner’s suite. He’d packed some of it and arranged for delivery to the villa. Then he’d gone to the gift shop and, well, maybe he’d gone just a little bit overboard.

  “I need some things for a lady,” he’d told the clerk. “She’s…” He’d held his hand up, just about at mid-chest. “She’s, uh, maybe so tall. And…” He’d started making curves in the air while the clerk watched politely and he felt his face turning red. “And she’s, I don’t know, a size six or maybe an eight. Her hips are…well, her waist is…”

  The clerk had finally shown him some pity. “Lisa,” she’d called, and a girl had come out of what he figured was the stockroom, a pretty girl about Jessie’s height and weight. “Is the lady similar to Lisa, Mr. Malone?”

  “Yes,” Liam had answered, because he knew better than to think anybody wanted to hear him babble that Jessie wasn’t similar to any other woman in the world.

  The clerk had dismissed Lisa with an imperious wave of the hand. “What kinds of ‘things’ did you have in mind, sir?”

  Shorts, he’d told her, and T-shirts. Oh, and a swimsuit. And how about a couple of those long filmy skirts? Those little cotton tops? Those silk things, with the lace?

  “Camisoles,” the clerk had said with a quick smile.

  “Camisoles, right. And sandals. And that dress, the one with the little flowers.” He’d paused at a counter, picked up a little vial, opened it, sniffed it, smelled lilacs. “This, too,” he’d said, “and that. And this—”

  In the end, he’d ordered too much to carry, so he’d arranged for it to be delivered.

  “Your lady is a lucky woman,” the clerk had said, and Liam had replied that he was the lucky one….

  It wasn’t true.

  His smile fled. He bent down, plucked a small white stone from the sand and threw it far out into the surf. He wasn’t lucky, because this couldn’t last. Jessie had made love with him, but she still belonged to another man. Not just any other man, either. She belonged to William.

  Liam stared blindly over the water. Hell, no. Falling in love was not supposed to be like this.

  He sighed and began walking again. Not that he was any kind of expert. Until now he’d figured love was a concept dreamed up by salesmen trying to sell soap. One man, one woman, bells ringing, fireworks going off—how could any of that be real?

  But it was. You saw a woman, a special woman, and all that stuff happened. And if you were lucky, it was that way for her, too, so that both of you knew it could be like this for the rest of your lives. He knew, anyway, and even if Jessie hadn’t said so, she knew it, too. It was there, in her eyes, in the way she kissed him, in everything she said and did.

  She loved him, he loved her, and what could possibly come of it? Nothing but grief, all around.

  “Dammit,” Liam said. What else was there to say without putting back his head and howling his anguish to the gods who had to be looking down and laughing until their sides split? Fate sure had a hell of a sense of humor. Liam Malone, who’d figured love was about parts of the body that hadn’t a damn thing to do with the heart, who’d thought that even talking about settling down marked a man as a sucker extraordinaire—that very same Liam Malone was in love.

  “Find my Jessica,” Bill had said, “and do the right thing.”

  Liam mouthed an oath, kicked at the sand and watched the shiny particles rise into the air. Maybe the day wasn’t as beautiful as he’d thought. Little whitecaps danced on the restless sea and that dark smudge in the distance was growing. The woman at the gift shop had mentioned that a storm might be blowing in.

  “It won’t last,” she’d promised. “Trouble in paradise never does.”

  She had it wrong. What never lasted was paradise. How come he hadn’t remembered that? Life had a way of holding out happiness, waiting until you reached for it and then snatching it back. He should have told that to the clerk—although it was probably just as well he hadn’t. She’d only have looked at him as if he was nuts. Not a good thing, he thought with a little smile, for the staff to label the owner. Not that it seemed so great that he owned Flamingo Island or that he’d turned his life around.

  It would only mean something if he could share it with Jessie.

  He’d kept it a secret from Bill because he’d wanted to tell him in person, how he’d awakened one morning with a fortune in his wallet and a French movie star in his bed. He’d been on a hot streak that month, winning hand after hand at high-stakes poker tables, dazzling the oil barons and investment bankers he’d outplayed, and he’d opened his eyes that particular day, looked at the famous face on the pillow beside his, then at the opulent gold-leaf ceiling in his posh hotel suite, and said, “Malone, just what the hell are you doing?”

  So he’d kissed the movie star goodbye, dumped his money into the startup stock of an Internet company he’d heard about over a hand of poker. Two weeks later, he cashed out, rich. Rich beyond his wildest dreams. But it became boring, reading the financial news and watching his money make more money. He took a chunk of it, looked around for opportunities, bought this place for no better reason than that he found it peaceful and beautiful. The next thing he knew, he’d turned himself into a man he’d thought he’d never want to be. To his amazement, he liked the transformation—but he’d never planned on falling in love. Love hadn’t worked for his parents, who’d probably died screaming at each other as their car hit the overpass abutment, or for the rich and famous he’d known over the last decade.

  Except it had happened. With Jessie, the only woman he’d ever love. He’d tell her that, slowly. Work up to it, because as much as he loved her, it scared him.

  The villa door swung open. Jessie smiled at him. She had on one of the outfits he’d bought, a little white top with a long, filmy skirt, and she’d left her hair loose, the way he liked it.

  “Jessie,” he blurted. “Sweetheart, I’m crazy in love with you.”

  She didn’t say anything. Then, just when he thought he’d made the worst mistake a man could ever make, she threw herself into his arms.

  “Liam,” she said. “Oh, Liam, I was so afraid it was only me.”

  He swept her up, kicked the door shut and, for a little while, nothing mattered but showing each other exactly what being in love meant.

  * * *

  THEY LAY IN EACH OTHER’S ARMS in the center of the bed, safe and secure in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

  Lia
m inhaled the fragrance of Jessie’s hair. “You smell delicious. Is that the perfume I gave you?”

  “Mmm-hmm. It’s lovely.”

  “And what you were wearing. I loved you in that. You know, the long skirt and that top, the one that looks like somebody shrank it.”

  She laughed softly and snuggled closer. “You must have emptied out that gift shop.”

  Liam took her hand from his chest and brought it to his lips. “Did I buy the right size? If there’s anything you don’t like—”

  “Everything was perfect, but I can’t let you spend so much money on me.”

  “I’d give you the world, if you’d let me.”

  Jessie lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed his mouth. “Thank you,” she said softly. “But even if the cards have been good to you lately—”

  “Aha.” Liam grinned. “So, Bill told, and the deep, dark secret’s out, huh? That I used to be a gambler?”

  “Uh-huh. Give you a deck of cards and you’re…used to be?”

  “That’s right, sweetheart.” He rolled over, gently eased her onto her back. “I’ve reformed.”

  “A reformed rogue.” Jessie touched the tip of her finger to his mouth. “William will be pleased to…I mean, that’s nice to hear.” She smiled, though the smile was wobbly. “But I can’t see you working nine to five.”

  “People change.” A muscle knotted in his jaw. “You think you know exactly who you are and what you want out of life. Then, I don’t know, you walk down a street or read a book…” He cleared his throat. “Or you agree to be the best man at an old friend’s wedding, and—”

  “Don’t.” Jessie put her hand over Liam’s mouth. “Please,” she whispered, “not yet.”

  “We have to talk about it. You know that.”

  “Yes. But—”

  “I love you with all my heart, Jess.” His voice was deep, his words a whisper. “I want you to know I’ve never said those words to another woman, and I never will.”

  “Liam. Oh, God, Liam—” Her voice broke. “What are we going to do? I thought—I thought this was just a—a…. I don’t know what I thought. When I first saw you—”