She felt privileged, amazed. Not wanting to make any sudden movements, she kept herself upright, gently treading water. They were so graceful, their curved, shiny, gray bodies breaking out of the water and back in with barely a splash, weaving in and out. She forced rueful tears back as the memory of telling Jonathon about her dream of swimming with dolphins came back to her.
And now look. When she’d least expected it, here they were, bringing her dream alive. But she had shared it with Jonathon, unconsciously adding him. He should be here, with her, swimming with dolphins. Her sadness, a black hole, opened wider to suck all other thoughts in. Leaving her only the thought of him.
With a final circle, the dolphins left her to leap back over the waves into the wild sea. The water cajoled her to lie back and the warm salty tide inveigled the tension from her shoulders, massaging her chest and her limping heart.
Let’s face it, she had always known Jonathon was going to be trouble. Her little premonition when she first met him now made perfect sense. And what had she done with her warning? Ignored it, like the fool she was. Instead of protecting herself, she had gone right ahead and fallen in love with her boss. Jonathon Eagleton.
Disaster.
Cold settled into her bones and she struck out for shore, glad of the buoyancy of the seawater. When her hands brushed against the sea bottom, she swung her legs around to kneel.
It was then she saw him.
No way, it couldn’t be.
Could it?
Squeezing the excess water from her hair, she tried to focus on the tall figure silhouetted against the sun. There was no way he was here. She stood, feeling the seawater gush down her body, and walked toward him as if pulled by magnets.
• • •
Jonathon couldn’t ever remember being so nervous. He had arrived, bang on the dot of five P.M. The taxi had dropped him at the door of the villa, where knocking had brought no answer. Glad of the reprieve, he’d walked to the beach.
Standing there, gazing unseeingly out to the windy sea, it took a while for him to register the dolphins. His heart puffed like a parachute when he saw Pippa in their midst, a smile on her pretty face. Her green eyes would be shining, her lips looking utterly kissable. He wanted to strip off and go to her.
But no doubt the dolphins would leave with his arrival and Pippa wouldn’t be impressed with him. Not the way he wanted their reunion to start. The dolphins bucked and peeled away from her, and Pippa floated. A long, lithe figure.
It was now or never — he had to convince her to love him. When he saw her swim back and stand in the water, he felt like he’d been sucker punched, his breath stolen from him. Water cascaded down her body, highlighting her firm breasts and slim waist in her blue bikini, her hair sexily slicked back. This girl was all-woman and he meant for her to be his.
• • •
Pippa’s consciousness confirmed what she had known all along.
It was him.
He bent to pick up her towel, and held it out. Her tongue turned to sandpaper, and her heart pounded erratically in a desperate attempt to maintain her equilibrium. A kaleidoscope of butterflies released deep within her, and her knees wobbled, trying to hold her weight.
One of those butterflies carried a small spark of hope.
She stopped a few feet away from him. She couldn’t physically or emotionally go any further. She reached in and pulled her towel from him. Bringing her gaze up, her eyes lit upon his face. His dark eyes were shaded by his frown, and his full bottom lip straightened in a worry line. Stubble shadowed his jaw.
“Pippa.” Running both hands agitatedly through his hair, he said more strongly, “Pippa.” He held his hand out to her.
She ignored it. Shivering, she wrapped the towel around her shoulders, knowing it couldn’t quell the real reason she shivered.
“What are you doing here? Are you looking for Jean-Pierre? He’s out on the vineyards. At least I think he is. I know Eddie is here to do some business with him. Over there — ”
“I’m here to see you.”
“Oh? Well, then I guess it’s about the job, so, em, sorry I walked out. I’m cold, do you mind if we carry on this conversation at the house?” She turned to head back.
He reached out his hand and closed it gently on her forearm. “Yes. No.”
Hope fizzled. It was only about the job.
“I’ll start again. Yes, we can go back to the house but no, why I’ve come has nothing to do with the job. Well, almost nothing. I do want to apologise for bringing Marcus in.” He stopped, and she felt his eyes on her. But try as she did, her gaze refused to budge from the footprints in the sand.
Not trusting herself to speak, she shrugged.
“Juliet had booked Marcus without informing me and we couldn’t afford the bad publicity if we cancelled him.” He grasped her by one shoulder, his touch drying the remaining drops of seawater and causing her skin to sizzle. He put one hand under her chin and gently brought her head up. His eyes scoured her face, trailing heat. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Her voice sounded distant to her, as though it wasn’t actually her speaking. But it was the truth, she had gotten over the Gala Dinner. Other, deeper disappointments had taken over. Stepping away from his searing grip, she dropped her chin. “Look, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll get another job. Maybe here, maybe London. I don’t know yet.” She turned to go back to the house.
“No, wait. There’s another apology I have to make.” His voice so low she could barely hear him.
“There’s no need, honestly. Thank you for apologising about last night. Let’s just leave it at that.” She picked up her flip-flops and began the long hike away from the man she loved.
“Just listen to me, please!” His voice carried an ocean of pleading within it, with a strong undercurrent of deep desire. It brought her to a halt.
“That comment about you and Mulberry. It was ridiculous, and I knew deep down that you never would have done something like that. I knew, yet still I said it to you. And why? Because I wanted to sabotage what was growing so passionately between us. I was afraid — of my reputation, of being compared to him, of you being the butt end of jokes, but most of all … ” He walked around to stand in front of her, his face ravaged by storms. “I was afraid of loving you. And you know what?” He gave a bitter laugh. “That fear is nothing compared to what I feel now.” He grabbed her hand and it was as though he grabbed her heart, stopping all oxygen to her brain. She was going lightheaded. “I’m afraid to the bones of never seeing you again. Of being deprived of your smile, your caress, your quirky way of looking at things. Look at me, dammit!”
• • •
He had lost her. She couldn’t even bear to look at him. As he watched and waited, her frown dissolved and her eyes opened. She looked out to sea and drew a deep breath.
“I’m sorry too. About that day, you know.” She finally looked at him, softness removing the hard edges that had temporarily shown in her face. “I freaked out because I had woken up after a wonderful night with you to find myself alone. I knew something was wrong. Instead of finding out it was because you were in love with Juliet, or that you regretted what had happened, I attacked you and walked off. It was easier to cope that way, rather than finding out the truth. A truth I was sure I couldn’t bear.”
Jonathon reached out and pulled her unresistingly into his arms. She stood quiescent but he could feel her heart beating as erratically as his.
Okay this was it. This was the moment.
“One more thing.” He felt her nod. “When I said I could fall in love with you, I wasn’t being honest.” He felt her pulling back from him, but he sure as hell wasn’t letting go. “Wait a minute, woman! I wasn’t being honest because, because … I am in love with you.” He stopped and leaned back so he could see her beloved face, h
er wide turquoise eyes sparkling like the sun over water, cute freckles dotted over her nose, and that sweet, kissable, oft dreamed about, rosebud mouth. “Always have been, always will be. The moment you tumbled into that hotel’s reception, I started falling in love with you. I know it’s crazy … ” He shouted the word at the sky. “We’ve only known each other for eleven short days, but I just know that you and I, we’re right together.”
She blinked at him, a long, lazy closing of her eyes that only enhanced her irises, making her all eyes as she gazed into him.
“Speak! Say something.” He let go of her abruptly. “I’m just a fool, aren’t I?”
She didn’t feel the same way. His heart plummeted as though he himself had just dived straight into the cold sea water.
Pippa’s slender fingers reached for his, and pulling his hand to her mouth, she dropped a kiss in his palm, then curled his fingers over it.
“Right there. You have me right there, in the palm of your hand.” She brought her soft hands up to his face and cupped it, eyes luminous with unshed tears. “I’m in love with you too.”
His heart leapt, a shooting star, trailing gladness around his body, out to his fingertips that were turning white as he held his hand closed tight over her kiss. Pippa glowed as she looked at him and he gazed back, drinking in his fill of her. Eyes fastening on her mouth, he lowered his head and her lips met his shyly. He deepened the kiss, lips moving restlessly on hers, and pressed her body hard against his.
“I love you, Pippa,” he whispered against her kiss. “Be mine.”
• • •
Pippa heard his words through an intoxicated haze. He loved her, he did! Her lips curved, and she felt love coursing through her, leaving no cell unturned.
Then a thought struck her and she struggled out of his arms. “But what about you being CEO and all that stuff? Or were you thinking since I walked out, I don’t work for you anymore?”
Jonathon sighed good-naturedly. He picked up a curl and wound his finger through it.
“You’re a fantastic chef, Pippa, I don’t want to lose you as head chef. All your staff were singing your praises, and you were sorely missed last night. I’m going to be based in Auckland and Sydney for the time being, but I don’t plan on working for Queen Cruises longer than two years anyway. Besides … ” He looked out of the corner of his eyes at her, a mischievous glint to them.
“Besides?” What was he thinking?
“If we got married, then that should solve that little problem.”
“Married?” Pippa spluttered the word. He couldn’t mean it.
“Pippa, look, I love you. Yes, it’s mad, but heck, who cares? We were made for each other. Let’s get married and spend the rest of our lives getting to know each other. And, if you want, we can have a dozen kids and roam this crazy countryside together. What do you say?”
She couldn’t say anything. Happiness bubbled up from her core, a volcano erupting with the sheer headiness of the man she loved proposing to her. When did life get so good? The sun shone down with renewed heat, and the sand she stood on sparkled into life. She gazed up into his adored face and ran a finger down the side of it, enjoying the feeling of the hard edge of his jaw, the raspy stubble.
“What do I say? I say yes!” She was drunk on love. A thrill ran through her intoxication, a little red hot devil surfing the emotion.
He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her head into the crook of his neck. How had she, Pippa Renshaw, gotten so lucky?
“I have to tell you, Ms. Renshaw, you have made me the happiest man in the whole … ” he kissed her on the forehead, “wide … ” the tip of her nose, “wonderful … ” and he dropped his warm full lips on hers in a hard kiss that promised more soon, “world today. I am going to discover the things that make you smile your sunny smile and laugh in that sexy way of yours. Once I know all your hot buttons, I will make sure that each and every one of them is pressed every day.”
The look of tenderness on his face was the purest expression Pippa had ever seen, and it unfurled a flower deep within her, sending contentment and delightedness in each direction until her body was a mass of happiness.
He pulled away from her only to sweep one arm under her legs to lift her up against his hard, masculine chest. A low growl turned the happiness to heat — molten lava that lapped at her core, sending shivers of anticipation rocketing through her.
“Wait!” Pippa’s voice squeaked, her throat unnaturally tight. “My towel fell off!”
“Woman,” Jonathon said as he glanced down at her, the tender look turning dark with desire. He didn’t break stride. “You won’t need that where we’re going.”
About the Author
Cait O’Sullivan is a romance author with a love of words and magic, having had the good fortune to grow up in Ireland. The wanderlust in her blood sent her out to travel the world and now, residing in a leafy suburb of London, it is her thoughts and memories that journey far and wide in order to create her stories.
Learn more about her at:
caitosullivan.blogspot.com
To see her updates, come to:
www.facebook.com/CaitOSullivanAuthor
https://twitter.com/romanticait
A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance
His Wicked Celtic Kiss by Karyn Gerrard
Six hundred fecking channels and not a bloody thing worth watching.
Lorcan Byrne stopped on yet another ridiculous reality show featuring squabbling housewives, and sighed. No wonder he never watched the telly. Why he’d even rented one he had no idea.
He clicked the remote again to turn the set off, but jabbed the wrong button by mistake, and suddenly a shot of a verdant, green hillside flickered on the screen. Lush orchestration filled the room and he recognized the tune immediately—“Isle of Innisfree.” The haunting melody and lyrics told the tale of an Irish immigrant longing to return home. An unexpected lump formed in his throat. Home. Looking across the vast expanse of concrete and untamed urban sprawl from his third story window, he could almost imagine lush meadows and glacial lakes in the Ring of Kerry.
Not that he’d spent much time in Ireland of late. He’d spent the last five years traveling the world as a soldier, and in Ireland’s secret service, experiencing things he didn’t like to think about, never mind talk about. The memories still haunted his dreams and had taken up residence in the dark corners of his soul.
He glanced at the telly. John Wayne was stepping down off a train. Ah. The Quiet Man. He hadn’t seen the film in years. Last time had been with his da one rainy Saturday afternoon when he’d been twelve. The lilting Irish accent of the narrator turned into white noise as he turned away, leaned against the window and sighed wistfully. Home.
All his adventures and still he wandered aimlessly from place to place. He’d been home visiting his family when his friend, Sullivan “Sully” McDermott had told him about the new job he’d gotten in Rockland, a small industrial city in the state of Maryland. Out of the blue, Lorcan decided to follow him. He’d thought a little boredom and simplicity could be just what he needed to help him forget. After all, a six-month temporary detour would just be another stop in a long line of casual jobs and fleeting relationships. While he’d enjoyed his recent visit with his noisy, boisterous family, something had been lacking. His brows furrowed. But he’d only been here six weeks so far, and he was already yearning for home again? It made no sense. Would he ever find a place of permanence? A place he felt comfortable and at ease? A place where he no longer would be disturbed by recollections best forgotten?
The rasping noise of a buzzer cut through his thoughts. He strode to the intercom and pressed the button.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Nick. Buzz me in.”
Lorcan hit the button then walked over to the window, his gaze scanning the parking lot below. Sure enough, there was Veronica’s Musta
ng. She looked up and waved to him, and he returned the greeting. Lorcan had promised to help them move some of Veronica’s things into Nick’s flat. With one last longing look at the Irish countryside, he clicked off the telly and laid the remote on the ledge.
Nick thumped at the door and Lorcan walked over to let him in. Standing at six-foot-five, Nick Crocetti took up the entire doorframe.
“Jesus, didn’t you hear me beeping the car horn?” Nick asked as he plopped down on the recliner. He gave the near-empty room a cursory look. “No sofa yet. Do you even live here?”
Lorcan glanced around his apartment. Nick was right. In the month and a half he’d lived there, he hadn’t bothered with personal touches or flourishes. He could effectively pack up his life in a couple of suitcases. Long ago he’d learned to travel light. “To answer your questions, no I didn’t bloody well hear you and I sleep here, nothing else. A place to lay my head. That’s all I need it for.” Lorcan sat on the end of the ancient wooden coffee table that came with the flat. The battered chair Nick lounged in had come with the place too. “How’s the arm?”
Nick clenched his fist and flexed his gauze-covered bicep. “The burns are healing. Still have the bandages, but at least I’m off the painkillers.”
“So you’re up to moving boxes?”
Nick nodded. “It’s only her personal effects. She’s leaving a lot of the stuff behind for now.”
“So the fire inspectors gave the okay for you to live in your flat?”
“Yeah. It’s mostly water damage. The place is sound and passed inspection.”
Lorcan stood. “We’d better get a move on then, mate.”
“Hold on. Sit down. I want to talk.”
Lorcan snorted. “Since when? I thought conversations weren’t your thing? And Veronica’s down in the car...”
“Ronnie’s fine. I told her I’d be a while. Besides, I bought her a caramel latte and she’s reading one of her Highlander romances on her phone. She’s cool. First things first. It’s been three weeks since the fire at my bar, and I haven’t had a chance to properly thank you for everything you’ve done.”
Heart to Heart Page 180
