by Francis Ray
She raised her knees, folded her arms across them, and placed her chin on top. “He was always so proud of my sister and me and always in our corner.”
“He did what a father was supposed to do,” he said fiercely. He and Paige’s father had been demanding, critical. The proud moments were treasured because they came so infrequently.
Her gaze snapped to his. There was sympathy in the dark eyes staring back at him. In trying to comfort her, he had exposed too much of himself. He never did that. Never.
“Thank you for reminding me how lucky I was.” She hadn’t offered him words of comfort this time, but they were there in her dark, expressive eyes. He briefly wondered how she’d managed to remain so unspoiled in the dog-eat-dog music industry, then immediately thought of the mother who usually traveled with her, and of her father.
“You would have remembered yourself eventually.” His fingers slid down her chin. She had incredible skin. It felt like warm silk. He clenched his fist to keep from curving his hand around her neck and bringing her waiting mouth to his. He’d never wanted a woman this fast, this deeply.
He rose to his feet and extended his hand to her. “It’s late. I’ll see you home.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she placed her hand in his and stood. He felt her pulse quicken, knew his had done the same. “I can find my way back,” she said, her voice a bit breathless.
“I’m a southern boy, born and bred. My mother would disown me.” Picking up his jacket, he lightly grasped her arm and started back the way they had come. “I have a Jeep. I can drive you.”
“All right.” The shadows were no longer in her eyes.
“This way.” He steered her to the parking lot adjacent to the restaurant and assisted her into the Jeep, then went around to the driver’s side and got in. He looked over at her as she buckled her seat belt.
She glanced up to find her watching her. She went still. “What?”
“Your hair. The top is down.”
She chuckled, a soft, alluring sound that went straight to his gut. Her hand lifted, her slim fingers treaded through the thick black strands that fell in wavy profusion to the middle of her back. He wished he could do that for her. “It’ll be fine.”
Zach started the Jeep and pulled out of the parking space. Her hair might be, but he wasn’t so sure about himself. Laurel Raineau drew him in as no other woman ever had before.
“Take a left at the next intersection,” she instructed. “My place is at the end of the street. I wanted to take the water taxi over, but there wasn’t room.”
“Water taxi?” Zachary said, turning onto her street.
“The inner homes and condos of the Navarone Resort are connected by a waterway with a taxi boating service,” she explained as he pulled up in front of her door. “Reminds me a bit of Venice.”
He switched off the motor. “You travel a lot?”
“Too much.” Unbuckling her seat belt, she climbed out and started for the front door of the brightly colored condos in hues of green, red, and orange.
Zach met her at the edge of the sidewalk. Gently grasping her elbow, he walked her to the door, wondering if he should take the opening she presented and ask what she did, then quickly decided against it. If he asked questions, she’d want answers of her own.
“Thank you.” Opening her clutch, she took out her key.
“Let me get that.” Opening the door, he returned her key. “I’ve been thinking. I’ve come here to forget about business and play hooky. If you have no other plans, do you want to play hooky with me?”
She studied him for long moments. He held his breath.
“I don’t think I’ve ever played hooky before,” she finally said.
He grinned at the teasing light in her eyes. “Me neither. Which means we can make up the rules as we go. How about I pick you up for breakfast around nine and we can play it by ear from then on?”
“I’d like that. Good night, Zachary.”
“My friends call me Zach.”
She pushed open the door and turned when she was inside, the teasing smile reappearing on her incredible kissable lips. “Good night.” She waited a beat. “Zach.”
The door closed. Zach didn’t realize he was grinning until he was halfway to his Jeep. He stopped, glanced back at the closed door, the lights illuminating the windows in front of the house.
“Don’t even think about getting involved. She’s business.” Blowing out a breath, he continued to the Jeep, wondering if his brain was listening. His hungry body certainly wasn’t.
Three
Laurel resisted the urge to peek through the sheer curtain for one last glimpse of Zach. The man was gorgeous. And they were going to play hooky together. Eight more days at the resort suddenly didn’t seem all that bad after all.
Smiling, she turned off the light in the front room and went to the bedroom and straight to her closet. Viewing the colorful assortment of clothes, she was suddenly grateful that Sabra had overruled her and insisted they go shopping to update her wardrobe.
She had dozens of gowns for onstage performances, but except for shoes, her personal wardrobe was pitifully lacking. She wasn’t into clothes the way Sabra was. Besides, with her grueling schedule, she had no time to do anything besides perform and rehearse. She never had the chance to visit the famous sights of the cities she played or just relax. Often she didn’t even know where she was.
Softly humming to herself, she pulled out a linen-and-silk turquoise ruffled halter that draped just below the waist, and the coordinating white pants with turquoise stitching in the seams and hem. She had the perfect pair of low-heeled turquoise heels to wear. Tomorrow was going to be very interesting, and she couldn’t wait.
Zach’s cell phone rang just as he opened the door to his cottage on the Navarone estate. He pulled it from the inside of his coat pocket. “Hi, Sunshine.”
“Hi. How did the talk with Laurel go?”
Zach stopped in midstride in the front room, worry creeping though him. “Kyle is fast.”
“I told Shane it was important to you to talk with her, and since you’re important to me, he wanted me to know that you two had connected,” she told him. “So?”
“We’re having breakfast in the morning. Don’t worry,” he said, hating that he couldn’t be completely honest with her.
“Wonderful,” she said. “I knew you’d convince her. There’s nothing you can’t do when you set your mind to it.”
Paige had always been proud of him. He hoped that, when this was over, she would continue to be. “I admire her music and, after meeting her, I admire her as well. We’re going to get to know each other.”
“Good idea. And you don’t need me or anyone else watching over your shoulder. I’ll tell Shane as much,” Paige told him. “Have fun. We’ll talk when you get back. ’Night, Zach.”
“ ’Night, Sunshine.” Zach plopped down on the sofa. He wasn’t very pleased with himself. He didn’t like lies. He’d always been straightforward and up-front with people, but he hadn’t been with Laurel or Paige. This could blow up in his face if he wasn’t careful.
His only consolation, if there was one, was that he wasn’t doing this for profit or to hurt anyone. Laurel was a gifted violinist. He believed—he knew—he could transfer her onstage magnetism to the CD. Subsequently, she’d sell more CDs, widen her audience, and make a butt-load of money.
Getting up, he ignored the small voice that whispered his nobility might be more believable if seeking his father’s approval wasn’t in the equation.
“You’re beautiful.”
Laurel felt a quick rush of pleasure at the open appreciation in Zach’s intense black eyes the next morning. “Thank you.” He looked get-you-into-trouble gorgeous in navy slacks and a white knit polo shirt that hugged his lean, muscular chest.
Stepping over the threshold of her condo, she closed and locked her front door, then dropped the key into one of the zipper pockets of her oversized beach bag.
�
�You sleep all right?” he asked.
“Like a log.” Unlike the night before when she had tossed and turned, and finally resorted to watching TV. She stopped when they were almost near the sidewalk. “Where’s your Jeep?”
He smiled down at her, causing her heart to start tap dancing again. “At the restaurant where we’re having breakfast. I thought we’d start off our adventure with something on your list.”
From beneath the brim of her woven straw hat with turquoise ribbon around the brim, she stared up into the twinkle in his incredible eyes. There was only one thing she had mentioned, and it had been casual. “You can’t mean the water taxi?”
“The driver is waiting for us.” Zach led her down a paved walkway just off the street.
She didn’t have to think long to realize that people might jump to do things for Laurel Raineau, the concert violinist, but plain old vacationing Laurel Raineau was another matter entirely. It felt good to be treated a bit special when the other person had no ulterior motive.
Laurel spotted the speedboat and driver a short distance down the incline, and grinned. “Thank you.”
“I wanted the day to start out fun.” Opening the three-foot iron gate leading to the docked boat, Zach ushered her though and down to the pier. “Buenos días, señorita,” the young driver greeted her.
“Buenos días,” Laurel returned. Taking her seat, she removed her hat and placed her sunglasses on the brim.
“Thanks for waiting.” Zachary sat down beside her. “Back to the main landing, please.”
“Sí, señor.”
Zach smiled down at her. “Still think it’s like Venice?”
“Better,” she said before she thought and fought not to blush. In Venice the ride had been strictly business. With Zach’s warmth seeping into her skin from his muscled thighs against hers to the arm draped lightly around her shoulders, she felt almost wicked, and struggled not to lean closer.
“Good.” He reached under the seat, pulled out several pamphlets, and handed them to her. “I picked these up this morning. I thought after breakfast we might stroll the city streets. Then afterward we could go to the main Mayan ruin, or we can go later and stay for the fireworks at night. Depending on when you want to go. On returning, we can have a late dinner and, if you’re not tired, dancing.”
All of it sounded fun. She grinned up at him. “You’re sure you’ve never played hooky before?”
“Nope, and I’m glad I waited to play with you,” he said, his voice a velvet purr.
Her stomach felt all mushy and tight—which didn’t make sense. Somehow her gaze drifted to his mouth, probably because he was looking at hers. Her breath trembled out over her lips in uncertain anticipation of his mouth on hers.
“Laurel.”
She couldn’t say anything. The universe narrowed down to his mouth beckoning hers. Suddenly he turned away. Disappointment and embarrassment hit her.
“We’re about to dock,” Zach said, his voice strained and hoarse.
She looked up and saw that he was right. Two couples waited to get on. If he hadn’t stopped—Her hands unsteady, she put on her hat, donned her shades with an unsteady hand, and placed the brochures in her bag.
“Gracias,” Zach said, and helped Laurel out of the boat. She came to the middle of his chest. He could lift her with one arm, yet she made him weak and horny. He stared down at the top of her ridiculous cute hat and wanted to drag her to him, kiss the embarrassment off her face, and replace it with need.
Zach blew out a frustrated breath. “The restaurant is this way.” She nodded, her grip on her bag tightening. Something squeezed in his chest. He wanted the playful ready-for-an-adventure Laurel back.
He guided her behind a huge palm tree, then lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers. Her eyes were closed behind her shades. He muttered a curse. She flinched. He removed the glasses. “Please look at me. Please.”
Her eyelids fluttered open. Embarrassment stared up at him.
“Please forgive my bad manners. I want today to be fun for you. If I get out of line and try to kiss you again, you have my permission—not that you need it—to punch me.”
Her gaze flickered away, then back to him. She licked her lips. His body tightened. “What if I don’t want to punch you?”
Zach’s entire body clenched with hunger, protectiveness, and a strange kind of gentleness that he had never felt before. He pulled her into his arms, felt the shiver that raced though her body, then her arms going around his waist as she placed her head on his chest.
Lord, what was he going to do? His desire for Laurel had blindsided him. He imagined the same thing had happened to her. Nowhere was there a hint of gossip about her. Her image was unblemished. She’d dated a has-been vocalist for a couple of months about a year ago, but no one had been surprised when things broke off. Sean Conner wasn’t in her league.
Zach closed his eyes and held her tighter. Neither was he.
He eased her away from him. She looked up at him curiously, as if she didn’t know what to expect. That made two of them. “I didn’t foresee this,” he told her honestly. At least in that he could be truthful.
“Neither did I.”
His hands tenderly cupped her face. There was no deception, no guile in the beautiful brown eyes staring up at him. She was a rarity in their business. “I wonder if you realize how special and unique you are?”
She blinked, then smiled, the tension leaving her body. “Wait until you get to know me better, and then tell me that again.”
“I plan to.” He kissed her lightly on the lips because he just had to taste her, if only once. “Breakfast.” He curved his arm around her waist and started for the restaurant.
“I’m starved,” she said, her arm casually going around his waist.
A picture flashed through his usually disciplined mind of her feasting on him instead of food, her hot mouth on his skin as she rubbed her silken body across him, giving him pleasure, driving him crazy with wanting her. He groaned inwardly. It was going to be a very long day.
The city of Playa del Carmen offered something for everyone. There was endless shopping, incredible restaurants, fun on and beneath the Ca ribbe an Sea with all kinds of water sports, but most of all there were the colorful sights and sounds of the unique city that had once been a sleepy fisherman’s village on the way to someplace else.
Laurel breathed in the morning air as she and Zach strolled along La Quinta Avenida, stopping occasionally to stare into one of the many shops that ran the gamut from small alcoves offering beautiful arts and crafts handmade by regional artisans to fabulous boutiques that featured designer names.
“We’ve been doing this almost an hour and you haven’t wanted to go inside a single shop or talk to a street vendor about buying anything.” He shook his head at her. “See, unique. Just like I said.”
She smiled up at him because she couldn’t help it. “I’m not much of a shopper. Sa—my sister and mother would be in shopper’s heaven.” She glanced away, hoping he hadn’t caught her slip. Sabra had too unusual a name and was too popular an actress to take a chance. She wanted to remain just a tourist.
“My mother and sister would be right there with them,” he joked. “With that said, I probably should buy them something.”
“Same here.” She paused in front of a jewelry shop. The sterling pieces with turquoise and other stones were exquisite.
“You see something you like?” he asked.
She heard the expectation in his voice and looked up at him. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of buying her anything? “My mother and sister love jewelry. Do you mind if we go in?”
He opened the door and reached for her tote. “My sister and mother like their hands free.”
“You won’t be embarrassed?”
“The bag.”
What had she been thinking? He was too self-assured to be embarrassed. And women would still take a second and a third look. One bold woman at the restaurant where they had br
eakfast couldn’t take her eyes off him as she kept whispering something to the woman sitting with her. They both looked to be in their early twenties.
Handing him the tote, she entered the shop.
“Buenos días, señor y señorita,” the salesclerk greeted them. “Would you like my assistance or do you wish to look around?”
“Browse, please,” Laurel answered.
“Please let me know if there is anything in the case or window you’d like to see,” the woman said, then moved away.
“This would go with what you have on and it looks like it might suit you,” Zachary said, pointing to a hammered sterling-silver cuff bracelet with a large turquoise center stone.
It was gorgeous, and tempting. Laurel couldn’t decide if the piece appealed to her because Zach thought it suited her or because she agreed with him. The only jewelry she wore off stage was a watch given to her by her parents on her sixteenth birthday.
She’d pestered them for months about the TAG diamond bezel watch with diamond markers and the cool blue mother-of-pearl facing. One thing Sabra hadn’t been able to do was talk her into buying jewelry that she’d probably never wear.
“There are earrings to match.” His finger traced the outline of the chandelier earrings.
Laurel shivered and imagined herself wearing them, his fingers doing to same thing, then touching her bare skin, lifting her mouth to his. She turned firmly away. “I usually don’t wear jewelry.”
“You certainly don’t need it,” he said matter-of-factly.
She swung back around. “What?”
“Jewelry is usually worn to enhance. You don’t need it. You’re stunning enough the way you are,” he said, his voice dropping with each word until he finished in an intimate whisper.
Laurel felt her heart melt. Zach was lethal and endearing. She hadn’t known a man could be both.
“Still browsing?” the clerk asked.
Caught daydreaming about Zach, Laurel felt her cheeks heat. “There are a couple of pieces in the window I wanted to see. I’ll show you.” Laurel moved away, and the woman followed.