by Lindy Corbin
His heart jolted painfully, then started again with hard slow throbs. She was making excuses for him. She couldn’t seriously be considering taking him back? Something would have to be done to change her mind. He gave a derisive snort. “A nice man? Maybe. Weak? Definitely.”
She was silent for so long that he thought he’d stepped over the line. She was still in love with the man. That didn’t change in a day, a week or a month. Along with that love came a need to defend, to rationalize what she hated most about the person so that she could love him unconditionally. He waited, his breath caught in his throat, for her to deny what he’d said.
“You could be right,” she said at last. “There were things about him – well, I blamed them on him being shy. Maybe it was deeper than that.”
He leaned forward, intent on her words. “Things like what?”
“He could never make a decision, for one.” Her voice grew stronger as a twinge of irritation crept in. She crossed her arms over her chest. “When I asked him to help with the wedding arrangements, he’d tell me to do what I wanted. He never had an opinion on the simplest decision like whether to serve chicken or steak. I thought he was just being – nice.” She faltered on the word. “But really, it was everything. I was always the one who decided what we’d eat or which movie we’d go see. It was annoying.”
His lips twitched slightly. Anger was re-surfacing. Strike two for the ex-fiancé. “He needed you to be strong for him?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” she said, her tone considering. “But I can understand why he’d be attracted to someone if they came on hard to him. He’s easy to persuade.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “They looked so … passionate together. It would be hard for a man to resist.”
“Trust me. It’s not that difficult to turn down a drunken quickie.” His choice of coarse words was deliberate.
She lifted her face to study him, her gaze considering. “Well, he was never like that with me.”
He was shocked into stillness. Frank must have been out of his mind not to see what he had in his grasp. “Do you think you’re not irresistible? That you can’t inspire passion?”
She drew back slightly. “I’m just your average girl-next-door.”
“You underestimate yourself.” As much as he wanted to pressure her to see things his way, she had to come to her own realizations, at her own pace.
“Now you’re just being kind.” Her voice dropped several degrees, decidedly cooler. “Really, it isn’t necessary. I’m not falling to pieces. I appreciate you trying to help me though this, but I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will.” On her own. She didn’t say the words, but they were implied.
She didn’t need him. The thought brought a frown to his brow. Needy women were clingy, and he detested that. She was obviously trying to handle this herself. So why was he so insistent that she accept his help?
He straightened, giving them space both physically and emotionally. He felt the need to restore the comfortable camaraderie he’d been building all morning. His gaze touched on a young gray tabby who had decided to sniff at the food in a nearby bowl. “So, how about you? A dog or a cat person?”
“Dogs definitely, but I can’t have one in my apartment, so I have a cat named Houdini.” She nodded toward the tabby. “A gray, like him. He belonged to my best friend, but her new husband was allergic to cats, so I agreed to keep him when she moved out of the apartment. He’s all right, but fickle. Some days he likes me, some days he doesn’t.”
“Cats are like women then. Moody.”
She tilted her head to look up at him. “Not all of us are like that.”
“Aren’t you?”
The words hung in the air between them, simple yet with an undercurrent of tension. He wasn’t sure himself if he were referring to the women he’d known in general or to her specifically. He’d certainly seen her pass through some emotional highs and lows in the short hours they’d known each other.
Something resembling a grin twisted her lips as she said, “I might get the tiniest bit moody when I’m hungry.”
He laughed, rewarding her for her concession. Reaching down both hands to grasp hers, he pulled her up from the bench. “There’s nothing worse,” he said, the tone of his voice a bit lower than normal, “than a woman’s who’s hungry. I know just the place to satisfy your cravings.”
The restaurant they stopped at first was located on the second floor of a house on Duval Street with tables on a balcony that overlooked the street. As they stood at the bottom of the narrow stairs that led to it, Niko heard the clang of silverware and the loud chatter of excited tourists. The food was good there, he knew, but he wanted a more relaxed atmosphere.
Instead, he led the way down a quiet street close to the Harry S. Truman Little White House, to a grand old place that had been converted to a restaurant. They chose a table in the garden, sheltered by huge oak trees and scented by jasmine shrubs. Small cobblestone pathways meandered through the tables that were covered with pristine white tablecloths. They’d arrived after most of the lunch crowd had finished, so it was cool and quiet. Sitting at a corner table, they sipped at the cold drinks that arrived with a fragrant loaf of bread.
Slathering on honeyed butter, Kara took a bite of the bread and sighed as if in ecstasy. “This is delicious. Sweet. What’s that flavor? Coconut?”
He’d known she’d like it. He smiled as she broke off another piece and ate it without butter. “I’m glad to see you’re not one of those women who survive on salads alone. I watched my mother starve herself for years to stay slim for modeling. I can’t help but wonder if she’ll suffer any long-term effects from it.”
“My mother loved to cook,” Kara said. “She made the best cookies, but I really liked it when she decided it was time to clean out the refrigerator and made her own recipe combinations.” She chuckled. “Once, she sautéed baby carrots and sliced hot dogs in garlic and butter. I refused to eat that, but most of the time I enjoyed her concoctions.”
Niko liked the way Kara’s eyes lit up when she talked about her family. He wanted to draw her out, get to know her better. Why, he wasn’t sure, but it seemed right to be sitting here in the sun-dappled shade, listening to her talk. “Did you grow up in New York City?”
“On Long Island.” Her gaze grew unfocused as she stared somewhere over his left shoulder. “As an attorney in the city, my father made a good living, so Mom was able to stay at home. He worked long hours so he sometimes missed my school events, but she was always there.” Her gaze shifted back to his face and she met his eyes for a moment, then looked away as if embarrassed. “It was hard for us when she died so suddenly.”
“I was never told how she passed away,” he said softly, reaching across the table to place his hand lightly on hers where it rested on the table. Her fingers were cool from holding the drinking glass, but warmed under his immediately. “Was it an accident?”
“Pneumonia. She had the flu and, somehow, it spiraled out of control.” She shook her head, a quick little gesture, as if trying to rid herself of the shadow of bad memories.
It was clear that she had grown up cared for and loved. Her father had not remarried until she was an adult, so she’d never had to deal with the issues of an extended family, multiple homes, step-parents and partial-blood-relatives. He wondered what it felt like to have that innate sense of well-being, that true sense of home and family.
She pulled her fingers out from under his as the waitress brought their entrees, placing the dishes in front of them. Regretfully, he let her go. It was such a simple thing, to touch her hand, but it made him feel attached to her, as if they shared a bond that was deeper than just two strangers having lunch.
She was looking at him now, her lip twisted as she bit at its corner, obviously considering something. He tilted his head in inquiry. “What?”
“I was surprised when my father married your sister,” she said, the words hesitant.
“Weren�
�t we all?” He wanted to keep the tone light, but an edge crept into his voice. It was too much to hope that she wouldn’t pick up on it. The woman was amazingly proficient at recognizing his emotions.
“Did your family object? Because my father was too old for her?”
He shook his head. “From what I know of your father, he’s a nice man. An astute lawyer with a good reputation. I’ve never heard anything about him that my family could object to.”
“But?” she prompted.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Elaina’s twelve years older than I am. She and Gabriel are the children from my father’s first marriage. Their mother died in childbirth when my half-brother was born and it was years before my father remarried. Elaina’s never shown any interest in having children, but we all thought with the biological clock ticking…”
“She’d choose a younger man, not someone my father’s age with a grown child of his own?”
“That, yes.” He hesitated, unsure how much of his sister’s history to divulge. “Elaina was always a bit wild, into trendy clubs and late-night parties. She tended to attract younger men to her. It seemed odd that she’d choose an older man to marry.”
Kara was silent while she took a bite of the shrimp ravioli that was fast cooling on her plate. “I don’t know what to say,” she said finally. “I don’t believe Elaina is a good match for my father, but he has seemed happy since they’ve married.”
The comparison to her father’s marriage and her failed engagement hung between them. “You’re wondering how you know if someone is right for you? How you could have been wrong about Frank?”
Kara nodded, her eyes widening with surprise as their gazes met.
He gestured, a big, wide, open-hand movement. “Elaina is my family and I’ll always support her, but I haven’t been comfortable with her lifestyle.” Especially not when she moved to Miami and began going to bed with the friends he brought home to visit during college breaks, Niko thought. “I have no idea if something happened in her life or if there was something about your father that made her change. Perhaps you should ask him.”
She nodded slowly. “Maybe I’ll talk to him one day, but not tonight.”
Tonight. In a few short hours, he’d be dropping her off at the resort and she would be out of his life, at least for now. He’d been considering moving back to the States. If he did, it was likely he’d be invited to join their family for holiday celebrations. He’d be there when Kara began dating again, expected to make pleasant conversation with the new man in her life. The thought made his gut twist into a painful knot.
Mentally, he shook himself. He should walk away now, before he got in too deep, but there was something different about Kara. She got under his skin. He couldn’t seem to erect the barriers he usually kept between him and other women. Perhaps it was the shared ordeal of failed relationships that had created the bond between them, but however tenuous and fragile it might be, it existed. And he didn’t want to let it go.
*A few hours later, however, he’d changed his mind. He wanted nothing more than to take her back home to her father. The alternative was to take her to his bed and make love for hours. That would be unacceptable to both sides of the family, without doubt, but oh-so-acceptable to him.
First, the woman had dragged him to every museum on the island as well as the aquarium, a place he’d never deigned to visit in all his years of coming to Key West. It had been fun, he grudgingly admitted to himself, but only because he’d enjoyed watching the emotion chase across her face as she absorbed it all. Her cheerful attitude was forced at times, probably to avoid thinking about the fact that she should have spent the afternoon in a salon preparing for her wedding rather than traipsing around tourist attractions with him.
He’d willingly followed where she led, seeing more pirate gold, both real and fake, and hearing more people using pirate lingo than he ever wanted to hear again. He liked walking down the crowded streets with her, but had not liked how she attracted the attention of other men with her long legs and curvy body, shown off by the gold bikini top she wore. At one point, he suggested she put on her shirt to avoid sunburn on her shoulders, but she ignored his idea. As the long afternoon had worn on, the strain of standing so near to her but not being able to reach out and touch her began to wear on him. Then she insisted on climbing the blasted tower.
“Absolutely not.”
Niko stood at the bottom of the wooden structure, looking up. He reached to lift his sunglasses for a better look at the run of stairs, then dropped them back in place. He stared down at Kara, noting the slim column of her neck as she looked up as well. “It’s at least a hundred steps to the top of this thing and it’s blazing hot. I’ll pass out from heat exhaustion.”
“You’ve lived in hot climates all your life,” she pointed out with dry humor. “I think you’ll survive.”
She was right, but he refused to admit it.
She grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the bottom stair. “Oh, come on, Niko.” She waved the crumpled tourist map she’d carried all afternoon in his face. “It says the view is spectacular. Not to be missed.”
He considered demanding payment in the form of a kiss from her beautiful, wide lips, tilting now in challenge.
“It’s the last thing I’ll ask of you today, I promise,” she said, her eyes alight with mischief.
“Fine,” he said, resignation edging the one word.
She was right. The view was spectacular. Key West was laid out before them, with the curving streets of the island on one side and the open sea on the other. He tried to focus on the view, really he did. It wasn’t his fault that the strap on her swim suit top began to loosen as she bounced up and down, pointing out the landmarks. He was torn between the gentlemanly urge to adjust it for her and the more basic male need to watch it fall, exposing those soft, luxurious curves. He waited, muscles tensed to see which way it ended. Perhaps something about his strained gaze alerted her. She reached with one hand to catch at the halter top, struggling with the loosened knot for a moment.
“Tie me?” she asked, turning her back to him.
He refastened the strap with deliberate slowness, letting the backs of his fingers linger against her sun-warmed skin. It was the most he could hope for, here with children and their parents jostling them in the close confines of the top of the tower.
But not enough. Not nearly enough.
She thanked him, color flying high in her cheeks, and turned to lean over the wooden balustrade. A ship with unfurled red sails cruised majestically through the harbor, apparently snagging her attention. He moved behind her, reaching around to grasp the railing on both sides of her, then shook it experimentally. The wood seemed to give slightly under his hands.
“You need a safety rope.” Setting a foot on either side of her legs, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, spreading his fingers across the exposed softness of her abdomen. She jerked in reaction, trying to turn around, but he held her tight between his body and the balustrade.
“Niko, what – Let me go.”
“Don’t think so. You might fall.”
She twisted her head to glare at him over her shoulder, her hazel eyes sparking green flames. “You know I won’t.”
“Not now.” He couldn’t keep the smug satisfaction from his tone. Finally, an excuse to touch her.
Her cute little bottom, clad in a pair of low-cut tan shorts was pressed against his hips, making him more aware than he wanted to be of how toned she was. Her skin was soft and supple under his fingertips. As his hands edged higher, one thumb running along her ribs, just at the edge of the swim suit top, a deep breath expanded her chest.
She shifted, as if trying to escape his explorations. “Niko,” she said, warning in her tone.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Be still or everyone will know just how much I’m enjoying this.”
A shiver of gooseflesh rose on the sensitive skin of her neck and shoulder as she froz
e. He nearly missed the low murmur as a nearby child chattered excitedly.
“Are you?”
“Too much.” With slow movements, he drew his hands across her torso, steadying her for a second with a strong clasp on either side of her ribcage before letting her go and stepping back. Color reddened her cheeks as she slipped past him.
“I think we should go down.”
Oh yes, they definitely should. Down to the ship, down to his cabin where he could run his tongue down the length of her delectable body to explore every inch. Stepping back, he followed her down the flights of stairs, shaking his head at the depths of his attraction to this woman. Not one of the women he’d dated in Greece had made him crave a kiss with just a sideways glance from her multicolored eyes or kicked up his heartbeat with the accidental brush of her hand against his. It was disturbing and interesting at the same time. A dangerous game that was drawing him in, bringing out predatory instincts that hadn’t surfaced in a long time.
Once on the street again, she found a vendor who was pushing a refrigerated cart with buckets of ice cream. He bought them both a cone, although American-style ice cream was not his favorite. He preferred an icy lemon-flavored gelato. With any luck, though, the cold dessert would have an equally cooling effect on his libido.
He hadn’t counted on her mouth.
The strawberry ice cream she’d chosen melted quickly in the heat. She had to drag her small pink tongue across it repeatedly to keep it from oozing down her fingers. Turning it this way and that, she circled the soft dessert with her tongue, lapping at its sweet goodness.
Niko had never seen anything so erotic in his life. Images of what else she could do with that beautiful mouth started a blazing inferno inside his skull, which scorched through his bloodstream, warming all the parts of his body that would be vitally involved if he had his way with her. He stopped dead in the street, watching her, his own cone forgotten.
