by Day Leclaire
She shook her head. “No. I guess I never found the time.”
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Your education has been sadly lacking. You’ve never played golf in the moonlight. Never ridden a horse. Never explored a secret passageway in the dead of night. I’ll bet you’ve never even built a sand castle.”
She laughed. “Maybe not, but my education hasn’t been totally lacking. I balanced my first checking account at the ripe old age of eight, earned my first dollar at ten and filed my first tax return at twelve. Not many kids can say that.”
“No, they can’t,” he agreed.
Somehow he sounded less than impressed by her accomplishments. “It wasn’t easy for Boss after Mom died,” she felt compelled to explain. “He did his best. He just didn’t understand little girls.”
“I have a bit of experience in that department, though most of it’s been with women, not girls.” JT lowered his head, his mouth close to her ear, sending tiny shivers along her spine. “Let’s see if I can’t help fill in those gaps in your education.”
She turned into his embrace, gazing up at him. “What gaps?” she whispered, waiting breathlessly for his response.
“Why don’t we start with a kiss.” His mouth brushed hers in an all-too-brief caress. “I’m sure you haven’t had enough of those in your life.”
“No,” she concurred, the golf club dropping from her hand. All her good intentions, her determination to hold him at a safe distance, evaporated beneath his heated gaze. “I don’t think I have.”
“I believe it’s vital we correct that situation, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. His mouth slanted across hers with a raw passion she instantly matched. She couldn’t get enough of him. Like water on dry skin, he seeped into her pores, nurturing, energizing, replenishing her body and soul. Never had she felt so fulfilled, so complete. She wound her arms around his neck, pressing against him in blatant invitation.
“JT, please…”
“I’d like to please you,” he told her roughly. “I want to he down in the grass and strip the clothes from your body and please you to within an inch of your life.” He tilted her face into the moonlight, his thumb sweeping the soft curve of her cheek. “I’ll bet you’ve never made love on the seventh hole.”
She offered a luminous smile. “Not the seventh, eighth or ninth, either,” she said. In fact, she’d never made love, period. But she couldn’t bring herself to make such a revealing confession. He knew too many of her secrets as it was.
He chuckled. “I’m afraid the seventh will have to wait. I don’t think you’re ready for that, yet.”
“I think I am ready,” she said, the words springing from nowhere. No. That wasn’t right. The words came from deep inside, from an instinctive certainty that what she felt was good and right and natural.
His expression sobered and he gazed down at her with fierce intent. “You’re sure?”
She never had a chance to respond. With a sudden hiss, water spurted in all directions from sprinkler heads in the grass. For a stunned second neither of them moved. Then they both dove for the golf bag.
“How do we get out of this?” Taylor called, covering her face with her arm. “Where do we go?”
“The same way we came. It’s the most direct route.”
“But we’ll be soaked!”
“I don’t mind.” He grinned, water running down the creases in his face. “You look good soaked.”
She lowered her arm and stared back, appreciating the way his shirt clung to every muscle and sinew, the wet cotton almost transparent. “So do you.” She didn’t have the nerve to look and see if her sweater was equally transparent. What she didn’t know couldn’t make her blush.
Slinging the golf bag over one shoulder, he held out his hand and she took it, then the two of them raced along the fairway. They jumped over sprinkler heads and dodged sand traps, struggling to keep their footing on the slippery grass. By the time they reached Glory Hal, they were drenched—and laughing uncontrollably. Thomas was waiting for them there in a golf cart, a stack of towels piled on the back seat.
“Hop in,” he said, his eyes glittering with mirth. “I guess I forgot to remind you that the sprinklers are timed to go on at three-thirty.”
“Funny how that small detail slipped your mind,” JT retorted dryly.
Thomas started the motor. “I’ll unlock the back door for you. You can slip in that way. Better make use of those towels. Elizabeth’ll have your hide if you track water through her hotel.”
JT’s expression turned enigmatic. “I think Elizabeth might surprise you on this one.” He looked at Taylor. “Somehow I suspect she wouldn’t mind in the least.”
TAYLOR RESURFACED to a phone ringing, the sound angry and insistent. She groaned in protest and rolled over, groping for the receiver. “Hello?” she said, yawning.
“Taylor? You sound like you’re half-asleep. You aren’t still in bed, are you?”
“Dad?” Her eyes popped open. “No! I’m awake.”
Straightening, she shoved a riot of unruly curls out of her eyes. She hadn’t bothered drying it before tumbling into bed earlier, and now she’d have to pay the price. A noise caught her attention and she glanced toward the source. The door to the bathroom stood ajar, wisps of steam drifting across the threshold. It would seem JT was already on the move.
“What’s wrong, Boss?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m calling for an update.”
It took forever for her brain to make sense of his request, especially since half her attention remained on the activity coming from the bathroom. “An update,” she repeated.
“That’s right,” Boss snapped. “In case you’ve forgotten, that’s a report on your progress.”
JT walked past her doorway. He must have just stepped from the shower, Taylor realized, nearly dropping the phone. She shut her eyes in sheer self-defense, though nothing could shut out the tantalizing image permanently emblazoned on her mind. “I’ve examined the golf course. It’s quite impressive. So is the nature preserve,” she forced herself to say. “Do…do you want me to fax you regular updates?”
“That would be fine. I’ll be out of town for the next week, but I’ve told Prentiss to get in touch with me if anything out of the ordinary should arise. Remember, Taylor, it’s vital you obtain the information I need.”
“Yes, I know. You’re counting on me.” Her hand tightened on the receiver, repeating the lecture she’d given herself dozens of times. A lecture she’d neglected to pay attention to last night. “This is just a business deal. If I want that vice presidency, I won’t let anything distract me.”
“Excellent. It sounds like you have matters well in hand. I’ll call when I get back.” And with that, he hung up.
“Goodbye, Dad. Have a safe trip,” she murmured and opened her eyes, startled to discover JT standing in front of her. He’d dressed, much to her relief, though her relief rapidly dissipated once she saw his expression.
“Good morning,” she said with an uncertain smile.
He didn’t return her greeting, but simply stood and stared. His eyes were a cool steely blue, his whole bearing aloof and unapproachable. “Having regrets now that you’ve spoken to your father?” he asked.
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Regrets about last night?” She lifted her chin. “Why would I? We haven’t done anything to regret.”
“Yet. But we will. Count on it, we will.” He leaned forward, crowding her, pressing her back against the pillows. “We’re going to finish what we started out on that golf course. And it won’t have a damned thing to do with business deals and vice presidencies, Princess. In fact, business will be the least of your concerns.” And with that he turned and strode from her room.
She watched him leave with wide shocked eyes, well aware that he spoke the truth. If—who was she kidding, she thought in despair—when they made love, business would be the very
last thing on her mind.
But would it be the last thing on his? Would he be making love to her because he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him—or because it was in the best interests of the island?
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOCUSING ON BUSINESS should have been easy after her father’s phone call. Taylor frowned. If it wasn’t for JT, it would have been. Three full days had passed at lightning speed, and true to his word, JT had worked with her, introducing the hotel staff members and helping to gather information. In exchange she explored various parts of the island with him, loving every single moment. To her relief, he hadn’t made good on his threat— at least he hadn’t made good on what she’d perceived as his threat. Not once had he attempted to make love to her. He hadn’t even touched her.
No. That wasn’t quite accurate. She peeked at him from beneath her lashes as he stared out the window of Ye Olde Sandwich Shop in the village. He’d touched her plenty of times, she conceded. The minute one of the islanders or hotel staff came into view, his hands were all over her, playing the lovesick fiance with passionate gusto. But he’d never again approached her with the same tender fervor he’d shown on the golf course.
Her brows drew together. It shouldn’t matter. After all, their engagement was all an act, a role they both played. He was just the better actor. So why did that knowledge cause such pain?
He took another sip of coffee and turned his attention from the window. “Well? Do the figures make sense?” he asked.
“What?”
He gestured toward the paper she held. “The room charges. I’ve broken down the variations by season, so make sure you take that into account when you run a total. I’ve also included an estimate on the percentage of occupancy for each season.”
“Right.” She forced herself to concentrate, scanning the figures he’d given her. “For some reason I thought there were more rooms than this,” she commented.
“It’s a plantation house, not a chain hotel. The Jermains prefer quality and comfort over volume.” He shot her an impatient look. “Are we done for now or is there some other part of the business you’d like to dissect?”
“That should do it for now.” She closed her notebook, reluctant to press her luck. JT could only be pushed so far before he started pushing back. “But we still need to discuss the staff and their salaries.”
“Yeah, right. Whatever.” He stood and tossed some bills onto the table. “Let’s go.”
Taylor followed him outside, climbing onto the back of his Harley. She’d gotten used to cruising the island on a motorcycle, though she’d cut out her tongue before admitting as much to JT. She’d actually miss his bike once their time was up. She sighed. To hell with the bike. It wasn’t the bike she’d miss when they returned home. To be perfectly honest, it was him. Not that such an admission would do her any good. They lived in different worlds, which were not likely to converge again.
She bit down on her lip. Different worlds. His world was one of island life… and spontaneity and passion and freedom. Sharing a small piece of that world had been sheer heaven for her. Especially when her world consisted of Boss…and Daniels Investment and profit-andloss statements and endless business meetings.
JT pulled to the side of the road and glanced over his shoulder. “I thought we’d take the scenic route back to the hotel.” He pointed to an attractive beach cottage on the outskirts of the village. “That’s where I grew up. I use the place whenever I come back for a visit.”
“Do you come back often?”
He shrugged. “Often enough. Every few weeks, I guess.”
The style was typical of many of the homes she’d seen on the island, two stories with a sweeping veranda and weathered cedar shingles. “Do your parents still live there?” she asked.
He shook his head. “The house is my uncle’s. My parents died when I was five.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Don’t be. My uncle raised me. It was a great life for a kid. I fished, crabbed, surfed. I even mated on charter boats.”
“Which reminds me—I haven’t noticed any children in the village. Where are they?”
“They go to school in Charleston.”
Her brows drew together. “But that’s an hour and a half commute a day.”
He shrugged again. “That’s life on an island. Every once in a while there’s talk about starting up a school here, but it’s always tabled. The politicos claim there aren’t enough children to make it economically feasible.”
“What a shame. Surely something could be done.”
“Not unless you’ve got political clout.”
She didn’t, but Boss had plenty. Unfortunately the chances of his exerting it on behalf of the islanders was next to nil. He never did anything without a powerful incentive. “So what’s next?” she asked.
He gestured to the north. “We’ll go that way, past the forest.”
“Is it another preserve?”
He shook his head. “This one’s privately owned. So are the oceanfront estates.”
“Who do they belong to? Movie stars?”
“Let’s see…” He tilted his head to one side. “Three are big-name stars. There’s also a senator, several corporate presidents, a popular comedian and a football player or two.”
“And the first big estate? That white one that borders the forest. Who owns that? It’s gorgeous.”
“Sorry, Princess. Corporate-owned. I’ve only seen it in use once, and that was years ago.”
“What a waste,” she murmured. “It deserves better.”
“I agree. Too bad the corporate hotshot making those decisions doesn’t feel the same way.”
He accelerated back onto the road and Taylor automatically wrapped her arms about his lean waist, hugging him. With each excursion, she found it harder and harder to resist the urge to run her hands along the rippled muscles of his abdomen, to stroke his taut supple skin, to touch him in ways she didn’t dare consider when they were face-to-face. Riding the Harley embodied all she lacked in life. It was a walk on the wild side, an opportunity to toss aside proprieties and vent an aspect of her nature she’d always denied.
His broad back shifted against her breasts as he dipped into a turn, the muscles of his legs contracting within the V of her thighs. She closed her eyes, shivering. How could she take such illicit pleasure in a simple ride? There had to be something wrong with her, something off kilter.
All too soon the ride ended and they were at the hotel. To her utter astonishment, the moment JT climbed off the bike he swept her into his arms and gave her a hard thorough kiss. When he finally released her, she could only stare. “What was that for?”
“Just keeping up my end of the pretense,” he replied roughly. “We’re being watched.”
But she didn’t believe him. Something in his voice told her he lied. Besides, the embrace had been too impulsive, the kiss containing an almost desperate edge, as though days of restraint had proved too much. Could the ride have affected him, too? Did he enjoy being held as much as she enjoyed holding him? She considered the possibility as they returned to the suite.
“You have an hour and a half before dinner,” he announced, following her into the room. “So what’s it going to be? Work or pleasure?”
“That depends. Are we going formal tonight or casual?”
He didn’t answer, instead crossing to her bedside table and picking up the book she’d left there. “What’s this?”
She could feel the color stealing into her cheeks. “It’s… it’s just a book I brought from home.”
‘"How to be a Ruthless Bastard in Business,”’ he read aloud. His mouth curved into a cynical smile. “A little light reading before bed, is that it?”
She shrugged awkwardly. “It’s useful for business.”
“Right. Business. Foolish of me to forget that’s your primary concern,” he murmured. He replaced the book and glanced at her, his eyes a glacial blue. “Dinner is formal. I’ll knock w
hen it’s time to go down.”
“You don’t understand,” she began, but his fierce glare silenced her.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I understand perfectly. That book says it all. You’re the daughter of Boss Daniels, as ruthless in business as your old man. I forgot that for a moment, but I won’t forget again.” His gaze mirrored the contempt in his voice. “And just so you know, Princess, you don’t need that book. You are that book.”
“That’s not true,” she cried in protest. “I’m just a woman trying to do her job.” He made a small sound of disgust and started from the room. She stepped in front of him, placing her hand on his arm. “It’s just a book,” she whispered.
He shook his head, his jaw tight. “It’s more than that. And you know it.”
She didn’t argue further. Instead she lifted her chin, retreating behind a facade of cool indifference. “The purpose of this trip is business, remember?” she said, wondering who needed the reminder more. “I never hid that from you.”
“No, you didn’t,” he acknowledged.
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t—”
“Can’t what?” he demanded, cutting her off. “Be lovers? Enjoy a quick tumble between reports? Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve decided I prefer a woman in my bed, not some corporate puppet.”
He looked pointedly at her hand and, aware there was nothing left to be said, she released him. Crossing to his own bedroom, he closed the door between them with quiet finality. She shut her eyes, his comment cutting her to the quick. Is that how he saw her—as a soulless corporate puppet, caring only about the bottom line? Was he really that blind? If she was as ruthless as he believed, as ruthless as her father, she wouldn’t need the damned book.
“Our relationship is business,” she whispered fiercely, her hands clenching into fists. “That’s all it is. That’s all it can be.”
But she didn’t believe it anymore. Perhaps she’d never believed it.
“WELL, WHAT ABOUT the housekeeping staff?” Taylor asked JT the next morning.
