Romeo for Hire

by Jane Beckenham

  “Mm.” Oh, yeah. It really was. Her brain may have stalled, but her senses were very much alive. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, seeking her lips once more. Carly knew she had lost. She wanted and needed his touch.

  Silently, she urged him for more as her hands splayed across the broad expanse of his back. Beneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt she felt his corded muscles ripple, reveling in the moment as she slid one hand through his hair.

  He needed no other invitation. His lips trailed a path across her jaw and down her throat to rest between her breasts. He inhaled deeply, murmuring in Italian. Carly had no idea what he said, but it sounded exciting and sinful, and her body automatically arched into the curve of his.

  “You are woman enough for any man. For me.”

  Carly stilled. What was she doing? “This is madness. Crazy.”

  “Si, you are driving me crazy with desire.”

  She jerked back and shoved against his chest. Her hands were shaking, her body weak with need. She had to escape him before her traitorous body gave in.

  “I must be out of my mind.”

  “With desire.”

  Carly chose to ignore that statement. She had to, for her sanity’s sake. “Wishes, you said—my every wish.”

  Marco’s eyes narrowed and the once dark sapphire lightened to a chilling and suspicious ice blue. It sent a shiver shimmying down her spine. She took another step back and crossed her arms over her chest as if barring access to her body and soul. Lifting her chin, she looked at him with as much poise she could marshal, which, heaven help her, was practically nil. “I wish you’d stop.”

  Marco laughed. Then he smiled, a broad white grin which reminded Carly of a lion on the prowl and set her already razor-edged nerves on high alert.

  It was nearly her undoing. She wanted to give in, to take what he offered, but forced herself to hold back. She wasn’t going to repeat family history. Her sisters had jumped in the deep end—and look where it had led them. No, she wouldn’t do it. She steeled herself and waited.

  “Your wish is my command,” he finally drawled before bowing low, though his mocking gaze never once left her face. “Your body was on fire for me, Carly. Remember that.”

  Remember? How could she forget? His touch, his heat and the feel of his rock-hard body had been seared into every single inch of her consciousness.

  Carly let out a wavering groan. She had to get away. Fast. Spinning on her heels and kicking sand up in her wake, she did the only thing a gal who was in way over her head could do—she fled.

  But where do you flee to on a deserted island? How could she hide from the sexiest man on earth and, more to the point, how was she going to hide from her desires?

  Carly took respite in solitude for the next few hours, grateful for silence as she struggled to get her thoughts under control.

  “Don’t you ever learn?”

  The moment Marco’s sharp accusation tore into her fluttering concentration, the pile of papers she’d been working on scattered to the sand along with her dismal struggle to forget he existed.

  She turned around, and the laptop wobbled. She made a grab for it, but not before Marco reacted and their fingers linked, resting on the computer screen. Carly’s eyes locked with his, drugging her into immobility.

  “You said you’d relax,” he chastised, taking the computer from her and placing it with care on the wooden table.

  “I’m doing some work, but I am relaxing. See, I’m sitting.” She tried to defend herself.

  He gave her a withering gaze. “Since when did working, even with a laptop at the beach, become relaxing?”

  “You don’t understand. I’ve so much to do. There’s a contract I’ve a chance at. It would mean…”

  “Yes, it would mean what? That you make more money, that you are a success?”

  Carly prickled with annoyance. “What’s so wrong with that?”

  “Money is not the road to happiness.”

  “How the heck would you know? Unless you were born with a rich daddy.”

  Marco said nothing, and Carly gave a satisfied snort. “Don’t you tell me what is or isn’t important. You weren’t the one who had to miss most of school to look after a mother who couldn’t cope.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  “Work is for me. It’s mine alone. I’ve done the babysitting, caring for my siblings, working two jobs so we had food in the house when my mother couldn’t manage. What’s the saying?” she snapped, “been there, done that. Yep, that’s me. Done it all. But now, work and my success, which, let me tell you, I’ve worked damned hard for, is mine and mine alone. No one else is responsible for it.”

  “Bravo, bravo.” Marco began clapping, which surprised Carly into silence. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she managed to speak.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t beg anything off anyone. I can see that.”

  Carly searched his face for ridicule or insincerity, but found nothing. He was serious and his gaze steadfast.

  “Apart from our little deal here, you do what you want and the heck with anyone else.”

  True, but hearing it from his lips didn’t make it sound very nice.

  “Come on, it’s exercise time. Your genie is determined to give you your every wish.”

  Linking his fingers with hers, he pulled her toward the beach. She didn’t resist. Couldn’t even if she wanted to, which she didn’t because the instant his fingers locked with hers, all thoughts of work evaporated.

  Subdued, Carly walked beside him along the sloping sand where the fine grains shifted through her toes, its warmth permeating her heart.

  As they reached a headland, she began to search the rock pools, but when she realized Marco hadn’t followed, she halted. “You’re not going to tell me you didn’t search for crabs and barnacles when you were a kid.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “My childhood was…difficult,” he said, walking ahead of her.

  “Goodness, this is something I’ve got to remedy. Come on.” She crossed the space between them, grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the outgoing tide.

  “What is so special about rock pools?”

  “It’s another world. A watery world, where everything horrid is washed away with the tide, only to be renewed and refreshed again a few hours later.”

  “How life should be?”

  She smiled up at him. “So you do understand.”

  Marco said nothing, and she carried on searching, picking up shells and washing off the sand, inspecting their shapes and sizes before replacing them.

  “Is this how you wanted your life to be?” he asked quietly.

  Carly’s hand stilled mid-air. “It may have been how I wanted life to be.”

  “But it wasn’t?”

  “No.” Memories of how life had been laid open anxiety Carly thought long forgotten and conquered. It knotted in her gut, building until she could almost taste it, depressing and desperate in its totality. “Life, unfortunately, isn’t washable. My life was full of dirt and grime and disappointment.” Until she’d made a stand for herself.

  Digging up her past, dealing with feelings she’d submerged for years was too much to cope with at once. She’d wanted the perfect family, the perfect life.

  Instead, she got her life.

  She glanced toward Marco, witnessed a depth of understanding in his dark eyes.

  Why not enjoy her time in paradise? Enjoy his company, being cared for. It was only four days, after all. She deserved four days of perfection, didn’t she?

  Marco faced the outgoing tide. He was disconcerted and he hated it. Carly was an intricate mix of woman and child. One minute her sensuality intoxicated him, the next he was confused by her youthful angst. He’d seen frustration and sadness etched on her face, felt her fear and, yes, he avowed, her shame. Even though she didn’t admit it, she was ashamed of her past. Heavens knew why. His past w
asn’t perfect by far. But his past and his present he would keep private.

  Then there was work. Carly was addicted to it as much as he was, and she was as independent. Yet he had the temerity to chastise her for it. Shouldn’t he listen to his own advice?

  In a state of constant arousal, achingly more so every time he looked in her direction, he was held captive. He would make love to her in an instant and envisioned her luscious curves and long legs wrapped tightly around him, holding him to her. Such desire nearly broke the covenant he’d made with himself.

  Denial was one thing. Denying, when his body told him it couldn’t continue one iota longer, was completely another.

  “Look!” Carly’s excited voice rang across the cove, interrupting Marco’s self-absorbed musings.

  “Dolphins. They’re playing.” She raced to the water’s edge and he followed. Ignoring the chill as it lapped the frayed edges of his jeans, he waded in behind her.

  A group of six or seven dolphins surfed for a few meters on the incoming waves before they turned and headed out to sea, only to repeat the process over and over again. Clearly, they were having fun.

  Marco grinned. So did Carly. Her laughter echoed across the empty bay, while he, unfortunately, was in serious sexual agony.

  One by one, the dolphins frolicked then finally disappeared. A laughing Carly turned to him.

  “Your eyes are bright with life.”

  Her smile beamed wider and lit up her face with a joyful intensity he’d not seen before as her laughter rippled between them. She tipped her head back, exposing the long, creamy curve of her neck and the swell of her breasts. His throat closed. He didn’t have a clue if he was breathing. Didn’t care. “Cara mia, you are alive.”

  Carly stilled and her head fell sideways, the lush veil of her hair draped across her shoulders. “Weren’t they wonderful? So beautiful.”

  “It is you who are beautiful. Your joy is infectious.”

  For a fraction of a second she stiffened and the light in her eyes dulled.

  “Come on, let’s see what else the island has to offer,” he suggested. Tucking her hand in his he pulled her gently with him and, without faltering, she fell into step as they headed back toward the shimmering sand.

  “This is like being Robinson Crusoe,” Carly explained as she stepped over the last of the rock pools. “You could be Friday, and we’re off to explore the island.”

  Marco chuckled. “You are a fusion, Carly. Do you know that?”

  Her smile disappeared and, for the second time in as few minutes, he cursed with exasperation. He was handling this all wrong.

  “Don’t fret. You are you.” And he pulled her with gentleness into the crook of his arm as he directed them inland toward adventure.

  Chapter Five

  Energy flagging, Carly forced herself to concentrate and put one foot in front of the other. Pearls of sweat dripped down the sides of her face and into her eyes, making them sting. The hike over the precipitously rocky foreshore and up to the headland under the blistering heat had taken its toll. She swatted away a fly.

  A frond slapped her across the face. “Oof.”

  Marco halted, and she slammed into his back. “You okay?”

  “If you mean am I okay about having damn palms slap me in the face for the umpteenth time, then no, I’m not.”

  “We’re nearly there.”

  “Good.”

  “Do you want to rest?”

  Carly eyed Marco. He looked cool and totally unfazed, whereas she felt a wreck. The thought of taking a break was tempting, but one look at that upward quirk in his jet-black brows and the haughty measure of his gaze changed her mind.

  “Just so you know, genie, I’m not happy. This isn’t a wish of mine.”

  “It’s not?” His eyes crinkled. Carly could see he was holding back a laugh at her expense and fumed.

  “I’m aching, tired, hot, dirty and sweaty,” she railed, gathering in a jagged breath, “and did I mention aching? Playing ducks and drakes with palm fronds isn’t my idea of fun.”

  But they had to keep going. Dragging up determination she didn’t realize she had, Carly started walking, simply concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. She ached in places she’d forgotten could ache and, although grateful Marco had the forethought to insist she wore her sneakers, they’d long ago filled with gritty sand and dirt.

  However, despite it all, she was surprisingly happy, though she wasn’t going to admit that to Mr. Genie who hadn’t oozed even an ounce of sweat.

  “See, you can enjoy yourself,” Marco commented as they headed back a short while later.

  Carly swatted a palm out of her way. “I never said I couldn’t.”

  “Really? Could have fooled me.”

  She came to an abrupt halt, spinning around on her soaked and mud-caked sneakers to face Marco. She wagged a finger at him. “What is this, Marco? Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?”

  He chuckled, and that same old twinkle in his eye she’d come to recognize as dead-set dangerous, sparkled. Her lips pursed and her body stiffened as if trying to brace herself against his chemistry.

  “As if I would.” His smile broadened, and she balled her fists at her side.

  Stand firm, Mason.

  “Life is for living, Carly. Balance. That’s what you need. Work—and play.”

  As the sun lowered in the western horizon, Carly hummed a very out of tune melody as she moved about the small connecting bathroom. Surrounded by a haze of mist from the hot water pulsating from the shower, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Grime streaked her face and her hair hung in sweaty clumps. She grimaced. Yep, a total wreck and yes, okay, she was tone deaf and sang off tune. She couldn’t be good at everything.

  She was good at work. Her design business had flourished. What else could she want?

  Work and play, Marco had said.

  She loved her work, and yes, she would admit, she’d enjoyed their hike inland. She had enjoyed playing—with Marco.

  Her genie had done well.

  Above the sound of the water, she heard him call from the kitchen and quickly finished her shower, toweling dry with one of the big, luxuriously fluffy bath sheets.

  But despite her happiness, a disconcerting niggle tugged at her heart and her normally very vocal conscience remained mute, questions unasked.

  Noise from the small kitchen echoed through to the bathroom and brought a smile to her lips. A domesticated man. Her father liked cooking… Carly caught herself before she went down that all too familiar track. That, however, was another story, one she’d tried to forget.

  Marco had offered to fix dinner, and she’d graciously accepted, once again thinking how delightful it was to be cared for, a luxury she rarely, if ever, experienced.

  She donned a fresh tank top with spaghetti straps and a pair of cut-off jeans and gave her hair a quick brush. Under the luminescence of the single bulb, the silken strands glistened a deep, rich auburn, grazing her shoulders in soft waves. She curled the ends of a strand of hair around her fingers.

  Like burnished copper or autumn leaves. The memory of her father’s muffled voice sent a shiver of disquiet racing through her, and her smile faded. What on earth made her think of him again? Vincent Mason was long gone from her life. “Out of sight out of mind,” she muttered at her reflection, roughly tugging the brush through a knot.

  Huh! That was another falsehood. Her father may not be in her life, but he was in her mind, albeit occasionally, and it hurt as much now as it did all those years ago.

  “Dinner’s up,” Marco called from the kitchen. The sound of rushing water stopped and he heard Carly’s footfall as she left the shower cubicle. Thoughts of a naked Carly in the shower played havoc with his concentration.

  Dinner had been ready.

  Marco glanced at the burnt offering in the sink and grimaced, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the lingering acrid smoke. The blackened meat had shriveled beyond recognition.

&nbs
p; Damn it. He was Italian and prided himself on his finesse in the kitchen. Wasting two bits of prime beef was anathema to his skill. Nevertheless, he threw another couple of steaks onto the smoldering grill. This time he’d better concentrate or they’d starve.

  Carly had upset his equilibrium. Hell, it was more than upsetting, he acknowledged ruefully. The woman was under his skin and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours. Where was the successful businessman who loved them and left them? CV Hotels was his life—not love or commitment.

  “Smells good.”

  Carly’s whispery voice thwarted Marco’s concentration, and the steak knife clattered from his grip. He sucked in a lung-full of air..

  His eyes widened and the pulse in the base of his throat throbbed, blood rushing to his groin. He smothered a swallow and tried to pull his warring, urging body into line. It was a struggle. He was a Valente. Struggle went arm in arm with the name.

  “Sit down.” Marco directed her to the small pine dining table in the corner. “I’ll bring it over.”

  “You’re spoiling me.”

  “As I said, your wish is my command.”

  “I’ll have to think up something difficult then.”

  “Such as?”

  “Some weird and wonderful commands for the genie,” she said, suddenly lowering her gaze, dark, sooty lashes shadowing her expression so he couldn’t see her eyes. He wanted to—very much. He wanted to see what was going on behind those long lashes, to look into her soul.

  He snatched up his wine glass, downed its contents in one gulp and refilled it immediately. Finally, he managed to speak. “Wonderful, huh? What sort of wonderful?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Oh, yeah. He sure did. “A challenge?”

  “You sound worried, Marco. Do you think I’ll ask you to do something uncomfortable?” she asked, emphasizing the last word.

  Marco choked on his wine, suddenly beset by an intense disquiet as he fought to corral his very scattered common sense. Images of him serving a naked Carly whirred through his brain, torturing him. Hell. This woman could bring him to the brink of no return.