Romeo for Hire

by Jane Beckenham

And she did. Her mind whirred with images, provocative and exciting, igniting flights of fancy she thought buried long ago. The very thought of them flung her into a forgotten world, tingling with an intensity that brought her to life. Seconds ticked by. She thought she couldn’t stand another moment, that her overwhelming need to touch and feel, to taste Marco’s lips on hers, would send her over the edge.

  But what on earth was she thinking?

  An affair with a stranger? That wasn’t her.

  Wake up. This is paradise, fake reality.

  “I need to think, Marco.”

  “Go think about your dreams and fantasies, cara.”

  Carly retreated to her room, sank onto a cane chair and dropped her head into her hands. Heaven help her, she was just like her mother and sisters.

  For a long, silent while, she shut herself in her room, sitting beside the window overlooking the golden sand. She hugged a cushion to her chest and stared numbly out at the view. A seagull, perched atop a craggy rock pool uncovered by low tide, cawed several times before flapping its wings and taking to the clear skies. Such a peaceful existence. No worries, no cares.

  No dreams.

  Carly sprang up. She didn’t want to think about dreams, wild or otherwise. She had goals—clear, determined, get-out-of-my-way-I’m-coming sort of goals. Goals that didn’t include a fantasy four-day fling, or any other sort of fling for that matter, and definitely not with a stranger.

  With shoulders squared and a determined set to her jaw once more, she eyed her reflection in the mirror. Wild hair haloed her elfin face, and she screwed her nose up in distaste as she spied the light spattering of sun kisses.

  Eyes the color of deepest indigo and flecked with shards of gold stared back. They were alive with excitement.

  Outside, she heard Marco moving about and, for a moment, she stared at the closed bedroom door. She couldn’t stay locked away. She had to go out and face her demons.

  And right now, Marco Valente was her demon.

  A tentative smile tilted the soft curve of her mouth. She slid the pad of her thumb over her lips and for a fraction of a second her eyes shuttered as she remembered his touch, the feel of his body pressed against hers. His lips on hers, pliant and inviting and definitely delicious. Oh, yes, he was a demon to be handled with kid gloves. He needed a sign tattooed on his forehead—handle with care. She hadn’t been prepared for Marco.

  “Feeding time at the zoo,” she announced as she opened the door with a flourish.

  “I thought you had gone into hibernation.”

  “Just a minor setback.”

  “Setback?” His eyes darkened. “I hope nothing serious.”

  “Nope. Everything is fine, absolutely dandy, and back on track.”

  “Back on track?”

  Carly laughed. “Do you always repeat what people say?”

  But he didn’t smile. His expression was deadly serious. “Only when I’m completely lost as to the change in a person.” He turned away abruptly.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out,” he shot back over his shoulder. “This genie is taking a break.”

  “Trust a man,” Carly muttered. “Can’t stand the heat in the kitchen, they take off.”

  Damn it. Where had she heard that before? Heard it and lived it.

  “You don’t know the meaning of heat,” Marco snarled. “Perhaps I should show you.” In two long strides he closed the gap between them and pulled her to him, crushing her in the circle of his arms. “Heat, cara, is this.” Swiftly, his lips sought hers. Hard and demanding, sending a shiver up and down her spine as his tongue flicked over her bottom lip.

  Full-blown pleasure radiated through Carly. She laced her arms around his neck and slid her fingers through his silky hair. It was so soft. She let out a mewling gasp of delight.

  It was all the invitation Marco needed. His tongue teased a sensuous dance with hers, hands caressing her back, cupping the curve of her buttocks, pressing her into his hardness.

  Carly felt it all, and it thrilled her. Her heart raced and her pulses sang with a passion and seductive sensuality she’d never felt before. Liquid heat beat a path to her loins, moistening her center, melting in its intensity.

  Outside, the sounds of crashing waves reached up the beach, sharply breaking the barrier of her wanton need for more. A jolt of ice laced around her heart and she stilled.

  “Cara?”

  “No,” she pleaded, refusing to even look at him. She wrapped her arms around her as a protective coat of armor. “Don’t say anything.”

  Marco’s fingers caressed her shoulder, but Carly yanked herself out of his reach. “Please, Marco. Just leave me.”

  “You tease, cara.”

  “Tease?” Carly accused. “You started this, Marco. It was you who kissed me.”

  “You can’t deny you liked my touch.”

  Tears streamed down her face. “I do deny it. Don’t touch me. Ever.”

  “So you run away again, Carly. Run from life, from living, from your fantasies.”

  “You’re not my fantasy.”

  “Am I not?”

  Carly heard the challenge in his voice and shivered. She was no match for him. “You’re my paid employee, remember?” she shot back.

  “Your gigolo?”

  “The hired help. Paid to be attentive. But remember, I call the shots.”

  “Really? We’ll see about that.”

  “Heat,” Marco spat as he stormed up the beach. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” He’d done everything he could to make her days a pleasure and then she went and froze him out. The moment he thought he’d broken through her self-imposed shell, the reserve she hid behind, she iced up and retreated.

  Heat. Hell, his body was on fire like Mount Vesuvius and ready to explode. He bit back his hunger and passion. Held it in check. He was a man. He had to have control. Marco let out an agonized groan and ran a hand through his hair, wrestling with desire as never before.

  Why on earth had he come here? He didn’t need this. Playing Romeo for some uptight woman who preferred a laptop on the beach to having a life, so much so, she had to hire a man to pose as her boyfriend.

  Yet this oddball chance had proved to be a fortuitous bonus. Well, it would have been if he weren’t so frustrated that he wanted to behave like Tarzan and carry Jane off to the treetops and make wild, passionate love to her.

  Rounding the corner of the cove, Marco headed for one of the sand dunes and sat. He yanked his mobile out of his pocket and a wave of guilt flashed over him. He’d told Carly he didn’t have one. The opportunity to stay alone with her had been fervently overwhelming, so he had lied. Only a small lie, he rationalized, though somehow it didn’t make him feel a whole lot better, simply worse.

  Flicking on the phone, he called his office, ensuring everything with the hotel plans were on course. Chad Burns reassured him, but as he hit the off button, a niggling worry twisted his gut.

  It’d be okay. Only two more days. Then back to business. Back to what he knew and what he felt comfortable with.

  Chapter Six

  “I thought I’d managed to rid you of that accessory.”

  Carly threw a guilty look over her shoulder and struggled to douse the flutter in her stomach elicited the second she heard the heart-stopping timbre of Marco’s voice. “You sneaking up on me again?”

  Marco strode toward her, and her tummy performed another series of flip-flops, the ever-present butterflies dancing an unbridled tango without so much as a whiff of concern for her sanity. It seemed every time he came within an inch of her, those same butterflies erupted into wild abandon whether she liked it or not.

  As he came alongside, he offered her a luminous smile, a flick of his dark hair falling across his forehead. Her fingers itched to touch it, brush it back, to…

  Stop it!

  She clenched her jaw, gnawing at her bottom lip, and her hands balled to fists at her sides. Her nerves were shot.

&nbs
p; “How much longer are you going to stay attached to that toy? You’re wasting a lovely day,” Marco advised as his gaze scanned the sun now high in the sky.

  “Not long.” Sighing, Carly turned back to her laptop, saved the document and sat back. “All finished. Satisfied?” She gave him an impish grin.

  “Woman, don’t you know about relaxing?”

  “Sure I do. We did that yesterday. Besides, I slept like a log, so I must have been relaxed. You, on the other hand, Mr. Genie, paced up and down for hours.” Carly refused to listen to the silent nagging of her conscience. Truthfully, she hadn’t slept a wink either. And it wasn’t because of the heat. No, siree. Marco sure had a lot to answer for.

  But this morning, as she stared up at him and a smile twisted the corners of his full mouth, she decided it best to ignore their heated “discussion” from last night. Best to ignore the fire that raced through her every time he came within ten feet.

  Carly laughed at his sheepish grin. “At least you have the decency to look guilty. How’s a girl to get her beauty sleep with a genie waltzing around all hours of the night?”

  For a moment, Marco didn’t speak, but when he did, his voice was tinged with a velvety sexual undertone.

  “Cara mia, you don’t need beauty sleep. You are beautiful.”

  Sudden tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Marco. No one has ever said that to me before you.”

  “Never? What about boyfriends?”

  “Boyfriend, singular. I don’t have time to date.” Embarrassed and suddenly feeling defensive, she looked away, but Marco leaned forward, and when his fingers grazed her cheek, his middle finger tipping her chin up so that her gaze was caught in the rich cerulean intensity of his, she didn’t flinch.

  “Look at me, Carly.” His authoritative tone was one she couldn’t ignore, and as a physical heat passed from the tips of his fingers to her own sensitive skin, she obeyed. It was as if he pierced her soul and could see right through the layers, the facade and her defenses.

  “You are a successful business woman, si?”

  She nodded.

  “One boyfriend, a hundred. Dio mio, it does not matter. What matters is you have pride. Pride in yourself. You have that, do you not, Carly?”

  Choking on thick emotion, she simply nodded.

  “Good. That is all that is required,” he said matter-of-factly. But the phrase “pride goeth before a fall” came unbidden to Carly’s mind. Did she have too much pride?

  “Let’s go.” Marco stood with the ease of a finely tuned animal, unfurling long legs, tall, proud and powerful. He held a bronzed hand out to her. “Time to have some fun.”

  For a second Carly stared at him and hesitated.

  Only two days left. What are you going to do? Then she smiled at him, and the world that hung on her shoulders vanished. “The genie has spoken.”

  With Marco at her heels, she spent the morning in glorious abandon, trekking over the golden sands circling the island, delighting in the myriad of small fish seen from the rocky peninsular.

  By midday they decided to settle at the water’s edge.

  Walking around the island had been easy. Laughing and chatting with him, almost easy. But as she sat alongside Marco now, a sense of excitement tangled with nerves and heat and…lust, all rolled into one enormous ball in the pit of her stomach. It threatened to overwhelm her, and that was something she hadn’t counted on. Keeping her gaze lowered, she made a great fuss of laying her towel down on the golden sand, flicking any minute speck of sand from its edges.

  “Your perfectionism is showing,” Marco drawled, snagging Carly from her lust-crazed thoughts. Her head snapped up.

  Oh, dear Lord. Her jaw dropped, blood pounding through her veins at breakneck speed as her gaze leveled on Marco.

  He was bare.

  Well, okay, not quite naked—but bare-chested, from his muscled torso to that little dip below his belly button where a smattering of dark, wiry hair peeked above.

  Oh, save me. Don’t look.

  Carly slammed her mouth closed, aware as her cheeks, hell, every single part of her overheated.

  In fact he wore a pair of swim shorts—and damn it, they fit perfectly.

  The guy was tanned—seemingly all over, because there was no white skin whatsoever showing above his waistline.

  Nada. Not one little itty bit.

  Carly swallowed hard.

  Mr. Genie needed to be renamed, and Mr. Adonis seemed rather apt right now.

  Carly dropped the edge of her towel she’d forgotten she was holding.

  “How about I rub sun block on your back, hmm?” Marco offered. He held up the bottle of sun block, and her blank gaze traveled from it and up to stare at his quizzical grin.

  Rub her back? Oh, Lordy.

  “I can’t do it if you’re clothed. You’ll need to strip down to your swimsuit.”

  “Strip?” she croaked.

  Marco’s brows wiggled, and his grin widened.

  With shaking fingers, Carly lifted her T-shirt over her head, tossing it to the sand, uncaring that the very sand she’d picked with utmost diligence off her towel now littered her shirt. Too bad. She didn’t care. Right now, the only thing she was aware of was Marco’s hot gaze on her. Hot and bold.

  Stripped down to her bikini, Carly chastised herself for bringing such a skimpy thing. Damn it. It barely covered what it needed to. But the thing that irked her most was that as Marco took great care in ensuring she wouldn’t burn under the tropical sun, he, blast it, seemed totally unaffected by their closeness. He was playful and attentive, never threatening…and it bugged the hell out of her. She wanted…what? To touch him, to feel.

  It only took a second for her to realize Marco’s fingers had ceased their caress. Carly groaned and turned over on the warm sand. Frustration singed her emotions. She desperately needed to cool her overheated body. Throwing her towel aside, she raced for the water, ignoring Marco’s call. She dove into the incoming tide and swam a few easy strokes, arms slicing through the clear blue ocean. She tried not to think, to simply concentrate on her strokes, but visions of Marco kept interrupting any sane thought and she gave up. Flipping onto her back, she brushed her tangled hair away from her face.

  “Trying to swim to the mainland, cara?”

  Marco had waded out to her. He held a peeled mango. Without saying another word he tore off a piece and popped it into his mouth, sucking his fingers one at a time, licking them free of juice. Not once, though, did his heated gaze leave her face.

  Carly’s heart thudded an erratic beat and she hardly noticed her feet sink to the ocean floor. His actions were mesmerizing, and when a trail of juice dribbled down his chin and he licked at it with the tip of his tongue, she thought she’d melt with the blatant heat this one simple action induced.

  Oh, hell.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off his lips, his tongue, thinking what he—they—could do to her. What she wanted them to do to her.

  Double hell.

  Marco stepped closer and tore off another piece of the mango, running the cool flesh against her lips. They parted, and he fed her, slowly, bit by bit, until it was all gone and the sweet droplets of tangerine-colored nectar dripped down her chin. He had her spellbound, and when he brushed the juice with the pad of his finger then traced the outline of her lips, she swore the world had stopped spinning.

  She was losing it.

  Carly gasped as Marco’s thumb pressed against the pad of her bottom lip. Automatically, the tip of her tongue laved his finger. It tasted sweet, salty and absolutely delicious.

  “The fruit of passion,” Marco said and licked his lips with a deliberate slowness.

  Carly followed his every movement.

  Definitely time to change the subject.

  “Race you to the reef,” she challenged and dived into the water. Escape was the best answer. Escape her feelings and escape impulses she wasn’t sure she could deny. Because sure as the sun was yellow, she was having impulses and contr
ol was not a word in her vocabulary right now.

  “That’s the best imitation of Tarzan I’ve ever seen.” Carly chuckled a few hours later as Marco climbed down from a palm, carrying more of the deliciously sweet finger-sized bananas.

  Relaxed as she had ever been, she lay on the sand and stared out across the ocean. The sun had passed its highest point and had begun to descend to the west.

  “Fancy seeing the fish up close?” Marco delved into a small bag he’d brought with them and produced flippers, snorkels and masks.

  Carly donned the flippers and tried on her mask, but it flopped down her face.

  “Here.” Marco stood behind her. The tincture of his musk and the pure maleness of him mingled with the hint of the ocean spray assailed her senses, making her tense. She held her breath as his hands adjusted the strap on her mask. She wished he would hurry. He was too close. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

  “Follow me,” he finally instructed.

  She did as she was told, knowing she couldn’t ignore him. Not in a million years.

  Within minutes she was up to her waist in the tepid, swirling waters. The tide was on the way in and, as the frothing waves crashed against her, tipping her off balance, Marco snaked out a hand, gripping her elbow to steady her. She froze at his touch.

  Yep, way too close.

  She tried to ease herself from his grasp. Then, just as suddenly, his hand dropped away and he dived beneath the watery surface. Carly followed.

  Surrounded by exotic fish swimming in convoy, she and Marco wound their way into deep crevices. Carly was in awe of the sight before them and every few minutes she surfaced to drag in another lung-full of air before descending again. Rocks, which above looked brown and dull, came to life, and the swaying fronds of seaweed and plant life were lush and alive. As a small school of fish swam by, their tails all seeming to flick in unison, Carly had to stifle the urge to laugh. She gave Marco the thumbs up and smiled before shooting to the surface and crashing through the turgid waves to tread water. She yanked her mask up and wiped her eyes. Her breathing was short and sharp. “That was fabulous. It’s a different world.”