Indiscretions

by Lori Borrill

  The boat lurched forward about three inches, nearly all of them lost when she swung the oar back for another stroke.

  “I think we’re moving forward,” she said, forever the optimist.

  Marc grinned and checked his watch. “At this rate, we should make it back to the cabin by…oh…September.”

  “You snot!”

  He chuckled, bringing a reluctant smile to her face. Okay, so her first attempt at rowing a boat was pretty pathetic, but she deserved some points for giving it a try. She’d never been in a canoe before, and watching Marc paddle it around the lake looked so fun she wanted to know if she could do it.

  It was something she never would have done a month ago, and she wondered, at what point had she stopped trying new things? When had she gotten so afraid of the scrutiny that she’d literally stopped living? No wonder she’d ended up so frustrated and angry. Somewhere along the line, she’d allowed the celebrity scene to suck away her free will, and only now, by really getting away from it all, was she finding her way back.

  “If we accidentally drift ashore, we could get out and walk,” he teased.

  She gave him the evil eye. “Enough, already!”

  Hoping to splash him, she slapped the oar hard against the water, but instead of sending a wave toward Marc, it came back on her instead, drenching her in murky lake water.

  She screeched. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

  As Marc laughed, she spat water from her lips and brushed a hand over her face. “Eww, gross. There’s fish poop in this water, isn’t there? I think I got some in my mouth.”

  Marc’s laugh deepened to a roar, though in between hysterics, he had the decency to reach under the bench and toss her a hand towel.

  Rachel searched for that familiar twinge of embarrassment, the heat of humility that always washed over her when she made a fool of herself, but it wasn’t there. Instead, Marc’s laughter sprouted giggles of her own and she gave in to the moment, chuckles bubbling from her chest even though she tried hard to tamp them down.

  “If you tried that a hundred times, you’d never do it again,” he cried, wiping tears from his eyes.

  She brushed the towel over her face trying to stifle her laughter but it didn’t work. It felt too good doing something silly and stupid without worrying about who was around snapping pictures or rolling their eyes. This was fun and free, an experience she hadn’t enjoyed since her early years in high school. And the more she lived it, the more she didn’t want to let it go.

  “Are you ready to give me back the oar?” he asked.

  “No, I’m going to learn how to row a canoe if it kills me.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  His resonant chuckles died down as she put the oar in the water and tried again, determined to master the art of maneuvering this sliver of a boat.

  “You need to row faster,” he said. “And don’t put the oar so far into the water. That’s what’s making it so hard. You only need to brush the surface.”

  She did as he said and, lo and behold, the boat jutted forward twice as far with half the effort.

  “There you go,” he encouraged.

  She paddled again and again, a bright smile spreading her lips as she propelled the boat across the water.

  “This is fun!”

  “You’re doing great. Now paddle some on the other side so you don’t start going in circles.”

  She kept rowing, taking them down through the dense inlet toward the open lake ahead. After spending last night enjoying the cabin and a romantic dinner under the stars, they’d gotten out early this morning to explore the lake. It was nearing noon and the sun was high. They’d been out here for a couple hours, basking in the scenery and the quiet of each other’s company. Soon, they’d have to start packing up to head back to the resort, though if Rachel had her way, they’d never leave.

  This life, both at the resort and here at the lake, was everything she’d ached for. One where she wasn’t a celebrity, but a regular person, enjoying a real relationship with a man that was based on nothing more than respect, care and affection.

  So many times she’d wanted to escape if she only knew where to go and what to do. And she knew she could. One good thing about the public was that they had short attention spans. Rachel knew all she had to do was disappear and eventually they’d lose interest and move on. She just hadn’t known what to do with herself once she got up the nerve to walk away from everything she knew.

  But now she was starting to form some ideas.

  “Tell me about Paige,” she asked.

  Marc looked at her quizzically. “My event coordinator?”

  “Is that what she is?”

  A hint of sarcasm crossed his face. “That’s debatable. Paige was one of the first people I hired. I liked her directness and she seemed sharp and efficient. She also came with good experience, but her credentials have been deteriorating. People don’t like her. Half the staff won’t work with her and she’s made some enemies. I’m finding that I’ve got to run interference more and more these days.” He gestured to Rachel. “Well, you got to see that for yourself night before last.”

  “Good to know it’s not just me.”

  He laughed. “No, plenty of people share your reaction to Paige. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do about her.”

  She knew exactly what she wanted Marc to do with Paige. She wanted him to fire the woman so Rachel could take over the job herself. She wanted Marc to ask her to stay on, to continue exploring this relationship they’d started and see how far it could go.

  If the old impulsive Rachel was still running the show, she might have spouted it all out right here and now, no doubt making a fool of herself in the process. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and silently wished she could figure out a way to make her old life go away and keep this new one she’d found instead.

  “Why do you ask about Paige?” Marc asked.

  “Just wondering how successful she was at her job. It looked fun. I was thinking about maybe trying to become a wedding planner.”

  “You’d be good at it, I’m sure.”

  “Really?” She wished that hadn’t come out sounding as needy as it had.

  “You’re a good people person. I’m learning that’s more important than I realized before. And you’re creative, thinking on your toes like you did the other night, getting a quick feel for what the client wanted. You’d be a natural.”

  She smiled. “You think so?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  Then ask me to stay.

  The words literally tumbled on her tongue and she had to bite her lip to keep from saying them. They’d only been together two weeks, had only known each other for three. If she blurted out the feelings in her heart he’d no doubt think her as crazy as the tabloids said. But she knew she wasn’t. She’d been infatuated before, had thought she’d found Mr. Wonderful on more than one occasion. But none of that compared to what she had with Marc. These short weeks with him were like nothing she’d experienced before, and everything in her soul said this was something very special. She didn’t want to walk away without seeing it through.

  Her arms tired, she handed him back the oar and let him take over the rowing again, watching as he began paddling back to the dock. Those sinewy biceps contracted with each thrust, his upper body looking criminally delicious in his short-sleeved T-shirt. It wasn’t right that a man should be that sexy, getting her hot and aroused doing nothing more than merely existing. How was she supposed to keep her head about her? Right now, she should be plotting a way to broach the subject of their feelings for each other, maybe throwing out a bone and seeing if he took it or kicked it aside. Instead, she just wanted to slide her hands up under that shirt and feel those firm muscles under her fingertips.

  Slipping off her seat, she knelt before him and trailed her hands up under the legs of his boxy cargo shorts. His rowing came to an abrupt halt.

  “Is it possible to have sex in a c
anoe?” she asked.

  Though his expression was pure intrigue, he replied, “I wouldn’t recommend it, but we’re only about fifteen yards from the dock.”

  He thrust another long stroke of the oar through the water as Rachel slipped her hands farther up the legs of his shorts, gliding them along his firm thighs until her fingers met his sharply growing erection.

  “I don’t think I can wait that long,” she said.

  Rising up on her knees, she nipped at his chin then pressed her lips along his jaw, tasting his unique salty essence that always rushed heat through her veins. He brought a hand around her waist and she kissed him slow and deep, savoring his familiar flavors as she stroked a finger along his shaft. His breath hitched and he clasped the back of her shirt, balling it in his hand as though he were clinging to her for support—or maybe trying to tear it off. She pulled her hands from under his shorts and wrapped them around his waist, nudging closer, sinking deeper, hoping he’d maybe rethink that idea of having sex in a canoe on the lake.

  She inched between his legs until her waist rested against his cock, and he instinctively jutted forward, a slow groan curling up his throat as she smoothed her hands up his back and twirled her tongue around his. She loved the earthy smells, the cool sound of water lashing against the boat, the distant caws of birds as they fluttered between the trees. And she loved it most with this heavenly body against her holding her close and teasing her with his tender lips and talented tongue.

  For a long moment they kissed and kissed while Rachel slid her hands over his back and around his chest, and just when she thought they might find a way to take this further, Marc jerked and pulled away, letting out a curse as the oar slipped from his hand.

  “Crap!” he yelled, quickly lurching out to grab it before it floated out of reach, but when he did, Rachel lost her balance and tumbled against the side of the boat.

  It started a chain reaction that seemed to propel in slow motion, Marc grabbing the edge of the boat and attempting to shift back some balance, but it had come too late. The boat tipped too far and flipped over, sending Marc and Rachel cascading into the cold blue-green water.

  She didn’t even have time to yelp. As she treaded water, Marc grabbed the oar then held on to the boat. “Can you swim?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” She spat water from her mouth then brushed it from her eyes, turning to see that, fortunately, they were only a few yards from the shore.

  He pushed the oar her way and she grabbed it. “Take this. I’ll get the boat.”

  Then they made their way to the shore, her hands and feet squishing into the soppy bank as she got to the edge and found solid ground. When Marc came up behind her, she took one end of the canoe and helped pull it up to the grass where they dropped it in place and stood, their breath heavy and their bodies drenched.

  “I told you sex in a canoe was a bad idea,” he said, his eyes more teasing than scolding.

  “You weren’t exactly trying to stop me.”

  His mouth curved to a smile, bringing out that sexy dimple that always made her stomach flip. “When it comes to you, I maintain a definite disadvantage over my senses.”

  She looked down at her soaked body. “And now I’m going to have to take another shower.”

  “Damn.”

  Turning, she ran to the cabin, giggling as Marc came up behind her. On the deck, they tore off their clothes, Marc pulling his soppy wallet from his pants and bringing it inside, leaving everything else to dry out in the sun. Rachel stepped into the great room, ready to make a beeline to the shower when he slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her close.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

  He pecked a kiss to her lips.

  “I’m covered with mucky fish poop water and my hair smells like algae. Where do you think I’m going?”

  He cupped his hands to her bare butt and pulled her waist against him, and she noted the cold water hadn’t tempered his erection.

  “You’re naked,” he said. “Naked trumps lake water.”

  She wasn’t going to argue with where this was going. Flipping open his wallet, he pulled out a condom and backed her toward the sofa. A grand idea, but she’d rather they had their fun in the shower with lots of sudsy soap and clean hot water.

  “How about we—” She pointed down the hall.

  “How about we finish what you started right here?” He pulled her down to the ground when they reached the large padded area rug that defined the space in the great room, coming to rest in front of the grand stone fireplace. “But I—”

  He came down on top of her. “I like you dirty. It’s sexy. Besides,” he said, palming her breast and sucking a nipple into his mouth, “that was a cruel thing you did back there. I think some sort of punishment is in order.”

  He bit her flesh and she yelped with delight, her body heating back up, every nip of his teeth making her forget that she wasn’t cleaned and powdered like she’d always felt she should be. Once again, she found her inhibitions dissolving under the raw pleasure of this man and his talented body, and as he devoured her there on the floor, that familiar sad ache reared up in her chest.

  This felt so wondrously right, the purity of their lovemaking, the simple luxury in their companionship, not to mention the ever-present passion his body evoked. He knew all the right places, had drummed up erogenous zones she hadn’t realized she had, and never faltered in sending her past the limits of ecstasy.

  With his hands and lips he tortured her body, building that glorious ache between her legs and draining her muscles of strength until they were limp strands of putty. He traced his fingers over her ribs then followed them with light kisses. Who knew that such a simple move could create such heat? It drove through her, leaving her hot and anxious and needy, begging for the heavy fill of his body inside hers.

  He went down on her, rippling waves of pure pleasure pouring through her until she thought she would burst. Her hands gripped against the carpet, fingers digging into the fuzzy strands while he pushed her to the edge then eased off, allowing the fierce sensation to ebb back to a slow burn.

  How was she going to live without this? When next week came, how could she possibly pack up her things and walk away? She couldn’t imagine it. This had become so much more than a casual affair. At least, it had to her.

  “Come inside,” she begged, gripping his shoulders and prodding him up where she cupped his face in her hands and touched her lips to his. “I want all of you,” she whispered.

  And while he obliged, she doubted he caught the true meaning behind her words.

  Spreading her wide, he slipped his cock inside, letting out a long groan as he seated his body into hers. It felt so right, so perfect, and when he opened those blue-gray eyes and locked his gaze with hers, she knew these feelings weren’t hers alone.

  Gone was his playful glimmer she’d seen so many times. In its place was a look that sank straight to her heart. Need, want and affection spilled from those steely blues, the same one she’d been seeing over the past few days.

  So many times, she’d told herself it was all in her imagination, her desire so strong that she was manifesting mutual feelings that probably didn’t exist. But as she watched him watch her the doubt in her mind dissipated, pushed out with each stroke of his body in hers, of every brush of his finger against her cheek.

  “You’re amazing,” he whispered, the power in those simple words pushing tears to the backs of her eyes. Not tears of joy or sadness, but tears of fear. Because when he uttered the words and pressed his lips to hers, she knew she’d fallen in love.

  Emotions flooded through her, some giddy, some petrified. She wanted to hear those tender words of affection forever, from this man, in this spot, year after year until they both grew old and gray. She wanted to come to bed every night and have this strong body surround her, to rake away the struggles of the day and regenerate in each other’s arms.

  And as he thrust and stroked, sending them both
to the edge and over, she knew this wasn’t something she could pack up and walk away from. This was the life she’d searched for, the one she’d always wanted, and Marc was the man of her dreams. She had one week to figure it out, but somewhere in that time she’d come up with a plan. She wanted Marc and the things she’d found here, and before her time was up, she vowed to figure out a way to get it.

  14

  RACHEL STEPPED into her suite and shut the door behind her, tired from another day of maid work and feeling bittersweet about it being over. She only had three more days before her sentence was complete—good because she wasn’t going to miss cleaning rooms. Bad because her time with Marc was running out and she still hadn’t figured a way to broach the subject of their relationship.

  A side of her kept hoping he would let her off the hook by bringing it up himself, but so far he hadn’t said a word. And as the weekend neared she realized she would simply have to be blunt about it and throw the subject on the table.

  She strolled over to the couch, kicked off her shoes and plopped down, picking up her cell phone and turning it on to see if any messages had come in during the day. She’d learned early on that Anita frowned on taking phone calls while they worked. It wasn’t a hard and fast rule, but since they got to leave as soon as the rooms on their list were cleaned, wasting time with personal calls only made the day longer. So Rachel made a habit of leaving her cell phone behind when she showed up for duty.

  Propping her feet on the table, she began checking for messages when the phone rang in her hand. It was Stefan.

  She clicked it open. “Hello.”

  “Tell me it isn’t true.”

  His voice had that dire sense of urgency she hadn’t missed these past few weeks. Stefan had a habit of turning the mundane into national emergencies, and she rolled her eyes, acknowledging how calm her life had become without the constant dramatics. “Tell you what isn’t true?” she asked. “And hi, by the way. I’m good, thanks for asking. How are you?”

  “Have you not seen the cover of the National Star today?”