Seduced by Sunday

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Seduced by Sunday Page 12

by Catherine Bybee


  Nails in his back were his reward.

  He found the curve of her hip, traveled lower until he met the hem of her dress.

  He was lost . . . knew control wasn’t a part of his soul at that moment when he searched her thigh to simply learn her body, learn what she desired.

  Meg’s head snapped back and hit the wall with a tiny crack.

  “Crap.”

  Her expletive stopped the movement of his hand, made him remember how public they were.

  Val pulled her away from the wall, ran a hand to the back of her head. “Are you OK?”

  She graced him with a lick of her lips. “A little warning, Masini.” Her breaths were short pants that lifted her full breasts closer to him with every inhale.

  Meg took a slow breath. He didn’t hear a wheeze as he had the night before.

  Confident that she wasn’t in danger of suffocating or needing medical attention for a concussion, he eased his grip and placed a hand to the side of her face. “You sing like an angel, bella.”

  “You liked?”

  He placed a quick kiss to her lips, pressed the full length of his body against hers. “You made love to the room with your voice. I was jealous of everyone there.”

  She lifted her knee against his leg and slowly slid it back down.

  They stared into each other’s eyes until their breathing eased and a few seconds of time passed.

  He knew it wasn’t the right time, felt it in his bones . . . but couldn’t let the moment go without a confession. “I want you in my bed, cara.”

  Meg lifted her chin with a sharp breath. “Val . . .”

  “I know . . .” he placed a soft kiss on her lips and drew back. “I want you there and I’m willing to wait.”

  A wide-eyed look of surprise filled her eyes before she pulled in her bottom lip. “We have too much at stake right now.”

  Val smiled and placed a finger over her lips to silence her. “I know.”

  With reluctance, he placed air between their bodies by moving away. He missed her, every soft curve, instantly.

  Meg tugged at her dress, fixed the neckline.

  Her fingertips brushed the edges of her breasts . . . a place he had yet to feel himself.

  “You’re staring, Val.”

  “Sei bellissima.”

  He moved his gaze to her eyes, felt her smiling at him. “It means, you’re beautiful, cara.”

  “I’m sure there have been many beautiful women on this island.”

  He loved her moment of insecurity, relished in it until she looked away.

  With one finger, he lifted her gaze back to his. “None as beautiful as you,” he whispered. “None as beautiful as you.”

  Sleep was impossible. Meg, Michael, and Ryder laughed and played all the way back to the villa and closed all the blinds. They’d made more noise than necessary until Michael and Ryder called it a night.

  She flipped her pillow over for the fifth time in an hour, couldn’t find a cool side or a comfortable position to let her head rest. Thoughts of Val kissing her, the ruse they were all trying to play on whoever was taking the pictures, swirled like tornados inside her brain.

  Meg snatched her charging cell phone off the bedside table. She keyed up Val’s cell number and let her fingers do the talking. I’ve been thinking . . . how did this guy print a picture here on the island? She hit send without looking at the time.

  If her kiss didn’t key the man up as much as his did to her, then maybe she shouldn’t let him near her again.

  She started to think maybe he was asleep. Then three tiny dots at the bottom of her screen let her know that he was texting her back.

  I thought about that. Must be one of the printers on the island.

  Do you have a lot of them?

  I don’t know. I’ll have Carol check in the morning.

  Meg rolled to her side. Not sure how the information will help.

  Narrow down the departments to search further. General housekeeping staff would stand out hovering over a printer.

  Doesn’t housekeeping leave daily? Could they have brought the pictures from home?

  The three dots started to blink, hesitated, and blinked again. Do you really believe my housekeepers want pictures of us?

  If a letter of extortion comes next, then yes. If not, then no.

  If our man needs to print tonight’s images . . . Maybe we can catch him.

  Meg smiled, felt her eyes growing heavy. Let’s hope he does, she replied.

  I’m sorry the stress of this is keeping you up.

  She considered her reply and decided there wasn’t any harm in a little honesty. Seduction is outweighing the stress, Masini.

  There wasn’t a reply before her phone buzzed in her hand. She answered it with a soft voice.

  “Put the phone away and get some sleep, cara.” His voice was a low purr and the closest she’d come to pillow talk in a long time.

  “So demanding,” she whispered.

  “You’ve seen nothing . . . yet.”

  Meg shivered with his intent. “Statements like that aren’t going to help me sleep.”

  His low laugh kept her smiling.

  “Good night, bella.”

  “Night, Val.”

  Her dreams were less of pictures and printers, and more about smoky kisses that stole her breath.

  “I don’t know what’s worse, pictures or nothing.”

  Mike agreed with Meg’s words, but kept silent.

  Val had called first thing that morning to tell them that nothing had shown up in his in-box. No one delivered any mail.

  “Maybe yesterday’s interrogation spooked this guy and he didn’t risk taking more shots,” Ryder said.

  They were sitting on the veranda eating breakfast. They’d opted for room service, in hopes of giving an opportunity for their photographer to send another photo. All they ended up with was fresh fruit and muffins.

  He and Ryder had stayed up late, talking. Ryder was worried. If word about the two of them circulated, he could kiss his teaching job good-bye. Technically, it wasn’t against the rules of the school to teach and be a homosexual . . . but Ryder coached football as well. Someone, somewhere, would hold issue with that. Rural Utah wouldn’t stand for it. The scandal wouldn’t be worth the stress.

  “What do we do now?” Ryder asked.

  “I say we carry on as normal.” She looked between the two of them. “OK, maybe not completely normal. We don’t want to give the photographer anything truly scandalous.”

  “Unlike last night?” Mike asked.

  Meg batted her lashes. “My reputation could stand the boost,” she teased. “If all this guy can grab is me swapping spit with a bunch of sexy men . . . then he won’t have anything scandalous to pin on you.” She waved a finger in the air. “I’m the one who convinced you to come here.”

  “I’m the one who invited Ryder.”

  “I didn’t have to come,” Ryder said last.

  “So we all feel responsible. Great. Lotta good that’s going to do when Michael’s career blows up, you lose your job, Masini’s island is no longer Fantasy Island for the rich and famous . . . and Alliance hits the media for what it truly is. Because the reporters chasing this story will dig until they find even more dirt.” Meg turned to the sea and muttered, “Shit.”

  “We should just leave,” Ryder said for the tenth time.

  “If the pictures are already taken, what good would that do? At least here we can try and corner this person and play them at their own game.”

  “Pay them off, you mean?”

  Meg shook her head. “That would be like negotiating with terrorists. No. Anyone playing dirty is dirty. We find their dirt.”

  Ryder nudged Mike’s arm. “Glad she’s on our side.”

  “Let’s see what today brings. I don’t think this guy is going to stay silent for long.”

  “We’re scheduled to leave on Monday.” Only three nights away.

  “School starts back on Monday.” M
ike wanted to take Ryder’s hand, but didn’t dare out in the open. He offered a sympathetic look instead.

  “Business as usual then. Ryder leaves Sunday as planned. We leave on Monday . . . or you leave on Monday,” Meg said.

  “What about you?”

  “We play that by ear. We make sure and take a few photos ourselves. Safe to say since I’m snuggling with Masini I’d want a few shots of us together. If pictures start to circulate of us, we can say we took them.”

  “I like that idea, Meg. It won’t help Val if the person behind this takes pictures of others, but it might help our stake in the matter.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gabi waited on the dock as Alonzo’s yacht pulled into view.

  “There you are.” Meg walked onto the dock behind her. “Your brother said you’d be out here.”

  Gabi accepted her new friend’s one-arm hug. “You didn’t have to wait with me.”

  “Completely selfish of me. I wanted to see this yacht I heard you talking about.”

  “Can you believe I’ve only sailed on it once?” Gabi asked as they both watched it move closer.

  “Why’s that?”

  She shrugged. Because Alonzo was always coming or going . . . seldom did he stick around, and there wasn’t a good time for her to join him. “He’s very busy.”

  Gabi turned to find Meg studying her.

  “I’m sure that will change once you’re married.”

  “I would think so.”

  Meg pushed a strand of hair from her face. “Did he do something to tick off your mom, or does she hate the thought of her little girl sleeping with someone?”

  Gabi managed a laugh. “I wish it was the latter. Yet Alonzo hasn’t done a thing out of line. He even suggested we spend ample time apart to ease my mother’s fears of an early grandchild.”

  “You have no sound idea why she doesn’t approve?”

  “All she says is she doesn’t like him . . . doesn’t trust him.”

  Meg lifted her hand to shield her eyes. “You trust him. That’s all that matters.”

  “That’s what I tell her.”

  Meg opened her mouth and closed it again.

  “What?”

  “What about your girlfriends . . . what do they say about Alonzo? I’ve always found my girlfriends clued into the men in my life more than I ever was. If there was a guy I liked and they couldn’t stand him, it never worked out.”

  Gabi shuffled her feet. “Hard to keep girlfriends on an island of employees and holiday guests.”

  “Oh. There has to be—”

  Gabi shook her head, cutting Meg off.

  Meg curved her hand around the crook of Gabi’s arm. “Good thing I’m here then. I’ll give you my honest opinion so long as you don’t hate me for it.”

  “If I don’t agree with you?”

  “A good friend will offer her opinion and support your decisions. Unless he’s violent . . .”

  “Lord no!”

  Meg grinned. “Good to know.”

  Gabi wondered if this new friendship could hold up over time. Gabi couldn’t remember the last long friendship she’d shared with another woman.

  Meg coughed a few times, held a hand to her chest.

  “Are you OK?”

  “Asthma,” Meg offered, as if the one word meant everything. “Been giving me a little trouble since I’ve been here.”

  “Please tell me the humidity isn’t causing it.”

  “Stress. Sounds crazy . . .” she coughed again. “But it’s worse when things get crazy in my life.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “For me. It might be time for new medication.”

  Gabi placed a hand on Meg’s arm. “Is there anything other than medication that helps?”

  Meg looked to the sky as if it held the answer. “I used to target shoot.”

  Gabi knew her expression showed doubt.

  “Seriously . . . the concentration helped. Maybe I should try skeet. Doesn’t Val have that here?”

  The expression on Meg’s face lit up with Val’s name on her lips. “He does.”

  There was a pause before Meg asked, “You approve of me and your brother?”

  “I like how he smiles when he sees you. He works too hard and takes everything so seriously. It’s nice to see him relax.”

  Meg nodded a few times before they were interrupted by dockhands moving toward them.

  Alonzo’s yacht slowly made its way into their small port. Receiving hands on the dock caught the ropes and tied them up. Gabi searched the deck to find it void of Alonzo. He finally emerged after the crew secured the gangplank.

  His gaze moved between her and Meg and back again. “Gabriella.”

  She opened her arms to his stiff frame. “Darling.” His kiss was brief, much more so than the last few times he’d visited the island.

  He placed his lips close to her ear. “Public displays in front of a stranger, Gabi.”

  She laughed off his concern. “You remember Margaret?”

  “Of course. I’m surprised to see you still here.”

  “Good to see you again, too, Mr. Picano. Our visit is scheduled to last a few more days.”

  “Meg wanted to see the yacht,” Gabi told him.

  Alonzo attempted to smile, but Gabi could tell he wasn’t happy with the thought. “Let me give my crew time to settle. Perhaps tomorrow.”

  “She came all the way out here—”

  “I’m sure Margaret understands. Would you want to entertain in a dirty kitchen?”

  Alonzo was a bit of a perfectionist. She’d not seen anything he had a part in out of place. The one time she’d sailed on the yacht the staff kept everything immaculate.

  “I get it,” Meg said with a generous smile. “Another time.”

  “Yes, another time,” Alonzo murmured.

  “I should get back,” Meg broke the awkward moment of quiet. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “Until then,” Gabi said before Meg turned and walked away.

  “Dinner?”

  “We’ve grown quite close in the past few days. She really is a lovely person.”

  Alonzo disengaged his arm from her waist and signaled one of his staff over. “I don’t know how you can determine that in just a few days. People here tend to pretend they are what they are not.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means be careful who you trust, Gabriella.” The warning felt odd coming from him.

  “She’s a friend, Alonzo. Please don’t treat her poorly.”

  He lost his smile. “You have no friends.”

  His words hurt, partly because they were true.

  “I do now.”

  His captain disembarked and walked to their side.

  “You’re busy. I’ll see you once you’ve settled.” Anger she wasn’t prepared for fueled her quick steps as she walked away.

  Alonzo scrambled after her and grasped her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said once she looked at him. “I’ve had a stressful week.”

  So have I, she wanted to say but didn’t. “It’s OK.”

  He pulled her into his arms. It was her turn to feel stiff. The eyes of his staff watched until she noticed them, and they quickly looked away. “Public displays, Alonzo,” she tossed his words back.

  He kissed the top of her forehead. “I’ll see you at the villa.”

  With a tilt of her head, she walked away. It would be nice to have a friend, especially one as outgoing as Meg.

  Why, after only a few days, did the other woman’s opinion count? If she wanted Meg’s approval of her fiancé, something told Gabi she wasn’t going to get it.

  Mrs. Masini skipped dinner, a testimony to the company . . . or at least that’s what Meg thought.

  Val invited two other couples to keep the conversation filtered, which suited Meg perfectly. The thought of bringing up any of the drama in front of Alonzo gave her gut a twist.

  Mr. and Mrs. Dray were pure Texan oil. Unless they liked to p
lay dress-up in the bedroom, the only reason they were on the island was for the sunsets and beach. Mrs. Cornwell, a wealthy widow of one of Chicago’s celebrated restaurateurs, and her longtime friend, Mr. Shipley, filled the seats at the round table.

  Meg cringed to see wine set on the table. She really was done with the stuff after so many days.

  Mrs. Dray held herself with an air of superiority that reminded Meg of every stuffy neighbor she’d passed, but never met, while living at Michael’s home. She was about to write the woman off as someone she didn’t want to know until she passed on the wine and told the waiter to bring her a bourbon.

  “I think I like you,” Meg said from across the table. “Make that two.”

  “I do apologize, Mr. Picano. I appreciate a nice glass with my meal, but I prefer something a little stronger before supper.”

  Alonzo offered a smile that Meg could only categorize as fake and shook his head. “Not a problem, Mrs. Dray.”

  “My fiancé has made me a true wine lover,” Gabi boasted.

  “Fiancé?” Mrs. Cornwell asked.

  “When is the wedding?” Mrs. Dray asked.

  “Fall.”

  “What an exciting time. Congratulations to you both.” The comments were homogenized and stale. Meg secretly wished the waiter would hurry with the whiskey.

  “Is your gown strapless? So many wedding dresses are these days.”

  Gabi looked at Alonzo and then to Meg. “I haven’t settled on one yet.”

  Mrs. Dray and Mrs. Cornwell both dropped their smiles. “You’re marrying this fall and you haven’t chosen a dress yet?”

  “That’s unheard of. My Millie had her gown six months before her wedding. It took longer to order it than she expected.”

  “Then there are alterations. Lord knows how that can go wrong.”

  Seemed the older women at the table had a lot to say about wedding dresses.

  The waiter set Meg’s drink in front of her. “Bless you,” she whispered.

  He grinned.

  “You really must jump on the dress, darlin’.”

  Gabi’s face had grown pale.

 

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