McCall waded his direction, lunged forward, and caught a breaker, letting it draw her under. She surfaced right before his eyes—right between his legs.
Spewing water out of the side of her mouth, she shook her head like a wet cocker spaniel, and cocked a mermaid’s smile.
An unexpected mammoth wave from behind caught her off guard, lifting her off her feet. Nick grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against his chest. Her legs locked around his hips for a moment before she dislodged herself and pushed away. Her strength and stamina were at odds with the fluid movement of her body.
“Thanks, Slugger. Saved me again.” She smiled and took a deep breath.
Just the feel of her body against his, if only for a fleeting moment, sent a quiver racing through his body. A quiver? No, more like an earthquake.
Pushing wet hair from his face, he flashed his most dazzling smile. “Anytime, ma’am.”
“I intended to wash off some of the sand and call you to supper,” she hollered over her shoulder. “It’s ready. Catch me if you can.” Her words could barely be heard over a crashing wave that carried her to shore.
“Hell, she’s damn near making this impossible,” Nick grunted beneath his breath, as he rose from the water and strolled toward the blanket, where he caught a flying towel with one hand. “Thanks.”
“You really are good.” Closing her eyes, she patted water from her legs.
“I told you I was good.” He dried off first his arms, then moved to his chest. “Need any help?” His eyes never left her face as he watched. He wondered about her thoughts. She seemed to enjoy the toweling off way too much. Meaning? She definitely intended to test his resolve.
“No. I’ve already told you, I’m a big girl. You’re good at everything you do, aren’t you?” She pulled the terrycloth around her shoulder and leaned back on her hands. The wind blew her wet disheveled hair into a waterfall of heavy ringlets.
“I’m very good. Especially when I put my mind to it.” Nick tossed the wet cloth toward her bosom.
“I bet you are.” She issued an innocent wide-eyed look, before turning her attention to the bottle of champagne. “If you’ll do the honors, I’ll get the glasses. Real champagne glasses. Not pimento and cheese spread glasses.”
“I see you found the picnic basket Stanley prepared.” After filling two flutes, Nick handed her one. “Toast?” He lifted his glass. “To the most beautiful and daring woman I’ve ever known.” His glass kissed hers. “May the remainder of the evening be even more adventurous.”
“And, to a very competitive man.” She eyed him covetously and took a sip. “And I presume Stanley also left you a note, which I tucked inside the basket. Who is he?”
“One of the people who has worked for Mother for years.” Nick gave her a pensive smile. “Stanley has been with Mother since before I was even born.”
“I see,” she said. “A very thoughtful person. You said you want to talk.”
“Yeah, I do. But shucks, Angel Eyes, it’s not anything that can’t wait until we’ve eaten.”
This bought McCall some time. Time needed to implement her new strategy.
“Okay, I can wait. Do you like marshmallows?” McCall picked up a tree-branch skewer and gingerly slipped on a marshmallow.
“Oh yeah. One of my favorite things in life.”
Slowly, she turned the limb from one side to the other over the flames, watching as the outside hardened and turned the shade of vanilla cream. “Did you ever play baseball, or did you buy a farm team just because you wanted one?”
“I played first base in high school, but didn’t have any time for it in college. Too busy enjoying the nonscholastic life and learning engineering at UCLA. Then I was much too busy getting the business side of being an engineer pounded into my head at Berkeley.” He leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“Guess that’s what Madeline calls the softer side of the business?”
“Something like that. How about you?”
“Own a ball club? Naugh! But, if I put all of my CEUs together, I’d have a degree in how to get through college without seeing the campus in daylight.” She rolled the stick over again and allowed the marshmallow to darken to the color of caramel. “Unfortunately, I haven’t always gotten everything I wanted. You have, though, haven’t you?” Without waiting for his answer, she continued, “I can only imagine what Christmas was like at your house.”
“It was fun, and I pretty much got whatever I asked Santa for, but I didn’t get everything I wanted, believe it or not.” His brows knitted together. A look she’d never seen before suddenly shrouded his face, as if the memories were too painful for him to talk about. “There are some things even Santa can’t bring a child.”
McCall wanted to ask him more, but at the same time wished to respect his privacy.
As if changing the subject, Nick grasped the skewer. “Let me try my hand.” He touched the tip to an ember, allowing it to catch fire. Blowing out the flame and cooling the mushroomed sweet concoction, he pulled the crispy shell off and held the treat up to McCall’s lips.
“Umm, goood!” She licked her fingers and watched as Nick put the soft inside back into the fire, repeating the process. He ate it before putting two replacements on the stick.
After going through the process a second time, he leaned forward and fed her another toasty delicacy, then popped the gooey sticky center in his mouth. “Now that’s what’s good.”
Roasting marshmallows had turned more sexual than she had envisioned. Nick began to soften much like the gooey centers he roasted. “If you don’t quit eating those things, you’re going to get soft like . . .” She blinked and shot him a seductive smile. “I mean, your abs will get all soft and, oh gosh, I meant to say—”
“I know what you meant.” He pulled another piece of goo off and aimed for his mouth only to have a thin thread of cream form over his lips and run down his chin. His tongue reached to lick it off.
“You’ve made a mess, and I don’t believe your tongue is that long.” McCall leaned into him closer and closer until she forced him back on his elbows. Close enough to taste his sweetness. Slowly, deliberately taking full advantage of fate, she licked off the sugared cream. In the process, her glass accidentally tilted until champagne slowly dribbled down onto his chest. The cold liquid ran over his body, pooling near his flat abdomen.
McCall watched Nick’s eyes betray his ardor.
“You might be surprised how far my tongue can reach when I want it to.” He closed his eyes and let out a soft groan.
Time stopped.
Seagulls quieted.
Palm trees whispered and ruffled their leaves as an ocean breeze picked up. The rolling waves hummed in faint laughter, and the smell of lavender, wild roses, and ocean spray created exquisite perfumes only for Nick and McCall.
Nick broke the silence. “I think you’ve made a mess of your own.” His mouth twitched in amusement. Lightly, he fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek. “Wanna clean it up and see for yourself just how hard I really am?”
“By all means.” McCall lowered her head and lapped up the droplets of champagne that ran down the center of his chest.
“I mean that my abs are firm.”
“I know.” Moving lips over his taut skin, through the mass of dark hair, she worked her way back up before kissing each shoulder.
“I believe you’re kissing me.” He let out a throaty, needy groan and stretched back on the quilt. Closing his eyes, he left no doubt he was savoring the attention she bestowed on him.
McCall eased her gaze upward and watched his features turn from lighthearted teasing to a shadowy pained expression. “I never promised that I wouldn’t kiss you.”
Another moan escaped.
Waves of rapture cascaded through her as Nick threaded both hands through her hair and guided her mouth down until her lips touched his chest.
Taking a nipple between her teeth and gently nibbling, she
teased it until the tip grew taut. She loved the way he responded, and never realized that a man’s nipple could get as hard as a woman’s. But then she had very little experience with the romantic side of a sexual encounter.
Only Nick’s breathing and the roll of the surf penetrated the fog in her mind as her lips traced a trail of caresses from his chest to his abs.
Kissing one rib, she criss-crossed to the other side. Her breasts dipped and bounced against his arousal as she made her way to the triangle of hair disappearing beneath the waist of his bathing suit. The mere touch of him sent a warming shiver through her, making her slide down a dangerously, slippery slope of passion.
“Whoa, Angel Eyes,” Nick said in a thready, hoarse voice. “Don’t go any farther unless you mean business.”
Ignoring his warning, she lifted her head and in a purely feline fashion ran her chin up and then down his abdomen, stopping only inches from the top of his swimming trunks.
“Enough, Angel Eyes! I’m hollering uncle.” He took a deep breath. “Another quarter of an inch, and it’s an invitation and, baby, it’s coming in loud and clear.”
Suddenly, McCall drew upright. “Nick, I don’t know what overcame me.” She moved away and pulled her knees to her chest. “I, uh”—she bit at her lip and swallowed an apology—“don’t know what to say.”
She didn’t want to apologize. Heavens! What had gotten into her? A hot flush ran across her chest.
What had just happened? Nick had said that she brought out the best in him, yet he seemed to bring out the worst in her. If what she did was bad, then why did it feel so good?
Nick drew out feelings she had tried to ignore. Emotions, desires that a nice girl could only dream of with a handsome tycoon like Nick. She had wanted to do things to him that she had only read about in bodice-rippers and True Confession magazines she swiped from beneath her Granny’s mattress, then snuggled under her covers on drizzly days in Texas and read until the rain went away.
The wild side of McCall itched to escape, but the Bible-thumping, verse-spouting side of her wasn’t quite so willing.
“It’s okay, Mac. I’d be a fool to say I wasn’t enjoying your attention.” Nick eased next to her and dropped his arm around her shoulders. “But, I think I deserve the truth.”
“The truth? That I made a fool of myself?”
“No.” Nick tucked her into his side. “Tell me how you feel.” Nick propped his chin on her head and ran his hands down her arm then back up, stopping on her shoulder. “How I make you feel. About your plan to destroy my resistance, so I’d break my promise, and how it backfired?”
“Why does everything have to be a competition with you?” McCall asked for the umpteenth time. Not expecting an answer, she closed her eyes. She had asked for his honesty, but now she was the one not willing to share?
“You were the one that made it that way. I discovered that when you put your hands around me and damn near fondled me,” Nick said.
She stiffened and exhaled deeply in exasperation. “Fondled you? You must be kidding. Believe me, you’d know if I fondled you!”
Chapter Nine
Nick tightened his mouth and a muscle in his jaw quivered. He studied the setting sun over the Pacific off to the west, trying to take in her words and not show his frustration. Why couldn’t she just tell him the truth? If she wouldn’t, he’d confront the issue head-on.
“Call it what you may, but you were way too obvious that you wanted me to make a pass at you, so you could slap my chops, or maybe kickbox my family jewels into the next millennium. Then our deal would be off. Right?” Although he tried to soften his words, he hadn’t. Nick had seen his woolliest steelworkers flinch when he spoke to them in the tone he’d just used with McCall.
“Nicodemus Dartmouth, you’re just trying my patience.” She pulled away, stalked to the fire, and added a log, which quickly caught fire and turned the campfire into an inferno. She rubbed her hands together over the crackling embers. “I just—”
“Just what?” He watched her body straighten with indignity. “Just enjoyed yourself and now don’t know what to do about it?”
“Okay. It started out as a plan, but got out of control because of”—she turned to face him, leveling a steely stare—“you!”
“Me? Oh yeah.” He rolled his eyes at her.
“It was you. You were just supposed to, uh, well . . . kiss me. You’re the man. You should have never let it go that far. You enjoyed it way too much.”
“Hell, Mac, it’s the twenty-first century. Women take responsibility for their own actions.” He exhaled. “Okay, so if I take the blame, where do we go from here?”
“Home! Since I’m supposed to be more of a thoroughly modern Millie and make my own decisions.” She kicked at sand near the fire. “Let’s get out of here before I really modernize myself and become a woman’s libber, and . . . and, oh hell.” Another dust devil of sand hit the campfire, sending flames high in the sky.
McCall walked over to a blanket, slid down, and pulled it around her. She closed her eyes.
Taking in what she had said, Nick turned his head east toward the shoreline and watched as the Porte Bella Princess moved off in the distance.
Damnation and tarnation!
True to his word, Stanley had taken Nick’s instructions to heart. With the sun quickly setting and the flaming campfire, his valet had given the orders to the captain to move back to port until morning. But it sure as hell wasn’t a good time to bring the boat’s departure to McCall’s attention. He had little choice.
“One small problem, Carrie Nation.” Nick motioned toward his boat, which appeared about the size of a small yacht. “I think you’ve got one hell of a swim ahead of you.”
Sure enough once she caught sight of the Porte Bella Princess, McCall didn’t handle being stranded with Nick for the night very well and threw out accusations at the speed of Nick’s best pitcher.
Nick hunkered down and stirred the campfire and thought back to her words.
She had not only questioned but flat out made unflattering accusations about his heritage, as well as his legitimacy. Now the quilt-cocooned angelic hellion pretended to sleep like a baby only a few feet away.
A sooted log fell. Gilded, pumpkin-tinged flames shot skyward. He ran his hands up his arms and chased away some of the chill. The breeze off the ocean wasn’t all that cold, but compared to the balmy afternoon, the night had become as icy as the tongue-lashing that had belted from the woman nestled in the sand like a clam.
As certain as the tide going back out to sea, he felt the hoodwinking woman’s stare on his backside. He’d be damned if he’d give her the privilege of letting her know she bothered him. The safest approach—ignore her. Pretend she didn’t exist. As if he could do that.
If it hadn’t been enough for them to lock horns like two bulls earlier over the boat leaving them behind, it’d be nothing compared to what was certain to happen once he told her that he planned to exercise his option for an extended date. After all, he’d paid twenty-one thousand dollars over and above his donation.
But why had he decided to make her spend the full week with him that he’d paid for? Maybe it was because she’d proven such a worthy opponent. Or maybe it was because he wanted to see where their relationship might go. At the least, and probably the worst reason he could think of, he had time off and could use the company.
Hell, the real reason might be payback for the torture she’d put him through over the last twenty-four hours. She owed him that much. Didn’t she?
Once again his mind dwelled on their argument over being stranded.
Even after producing the envelope from Stanley, she continued to refuse blame, inferring Nick had created the situation by sending the boat back to harbor and planning to trap them on the island all along. She refused to accept any part by stoking the fire time and time again. He even read the note out loud, stating that if the captain saw a roaring fire at sundown that he would return to the harbor.
Nick ambled over to the tree line and found a settling place against an enormous palm. He threw one towel across his thighs, another around his shoulders, and rested his head against the rough bark. He was tired of thinking. Tired of being frustrated with the pretty woman, and tired of wanting something he couldn’t have.
A rippled ribbon of moonlight gleamed over the ocean. He stared at the sky, thinking about grabbing a handful of stars, tossing them in a jar like lightning bugs on a summer’s night. A peace offering to McCall. His gaze wandered back to the woman lying so near, yet so far away. A longing shot through him worse than a hungry campfire.
Oh hell! What was happening to him? One minute, he wanted to make love to her, and the next, his thoughts turned to giving her a jar of insects! Maybe he was right last night. They were both lost in a rugged sea of loneliness. How could he be lonesome? He had everything he wanted, except for one thing . . . someone to truly love. Nick folded his arms across his chest and mumbled under his breath. “A commitment? Right.”
A complication was more like it and something he could do without. He grunted and tossed aside the towel from his lap.
Hellfire and brimstone, bring on the matches . . . I’m a goner!
The sexy lady with the eyes of an angel had done him in!
They still needed to talk. Or at least he needed to tell her how he felt. No doubt the spitfire with horns beneath her halo had deep-seated feelings. They had to be intense for her to show such emotion and desire. But he needed to get the hellion to quit thinking everything he did was part of a bigger plan to uproot her emotionally.
Finding mutual ground boiled down to principles. He had paid twenty-one thousand dollars for an extended date. By George, he wouldn’t allow her to welsh on the deal! Tomorrow he’d tell her just that. Or maybe he needed to extend an olive branch. After all, he hadn’t been completely honest. How could he tell her that he lied about planning to bid on a bachelorette? Let her believe he’d bought her by accident, when he truly wanted to protect her?
The Tycoon and the Texan Page 8
