And knowing she’d kissed those same lips…She shivered and, without thinking, pulled the lapels of her robe together—as if anything could protect her from his potent effect.
As if she even wanted protection, she thought wryly. He tipped his head forward, and despite the dark glasses, she knew he’d noted her attempt to cover herself, felt his heated gaze travel over her skin and brand her.
“You ordered room service?” he asked.
She’d been so entranced by seeing him, only now did she realize he not only carried a breakfast tray, but also a bouquet of exotic flowers beneath his arm. She’d worried whoever was at her door would lose patience and walk away, but by Doug’s intense expression he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
He extended the flowers and she accepted them, inhaling the fragrant scent. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He cleared his throat. “I can put the tray on the terrace and we can eat there, we can eat inside, or I can put it on the dresser and leave you in peace, but have pity on me because the darn thing’s getting heavy.” His lips turned upward in a slow grin that was part reluctant but completely sexy.
He had this fantasy thing down pat. She doubted he knew exactly what her fantasy was, but she couldn’t deny he was fulfilling her every whim. He knew just how to cater to her and make her feel special, knew exactly how to set her up as the center of his universe. And if Juliette had to guess, he wasn’t at all worried about her asking him to leave. After last night, why should he be? She wanted him here as much as he apparently wanted to stay.
She treated him to a smile of her own. “If I’m going to have breakfast beneath the warm sun overlooking an exotic garden of tropical plants, I’d hate to do it alone. The terrace door is open. Why don’t you set the tray there?” She let her hand fall to her side and her robe parted as if on command, exposing the lacy-edged nightgown and nothing more.
Although his eyes darkened with interest, Juliette knew she hadn’t revealed much.
Except her desire to have him around.
Doug let out a long breath. He’d thought a good night’s sleep would give him perspective, distance and a renewed vigilance to dig for information and dig deep. He was a professional and his father needed him home. He had plenty of reason to give his full attention to his goal. He’d even brushed aside the possibility that Merrilee might not allow him to stay on. He needed to be here too badly to think about that now.
But as he took in Juliette’s soft, sexy robe he knew remaining detached wasn’t something he could accomplish easily. His plan for the day would keep them busy and give him the opportunity for get-to-know-you conversation and hopefully some revelations in between. But he still had to deal with now. And one glance at how she looked first thing in the morning shifted his focus. He no longer wanted to talk because a different desire had taken hold.
He’d already acknowledged his weakness for soft, sexy women. And Juliette, fresh from her bed and achingly beautiful, tempted him to put his baser needs ahead of his more pressing ones. Before he could act on an impulse he’d regret, he headed inside and, ignoring the open bedroom door and the rumpled bed in which she’d slept, he went straight for the terrace and the welcoming breeze.
“I’ve fantasized about this.” Her husky voice sounded behind him.
“About rolls and butter?” He lifted the tray and revealed her breakfast selection. Better than delving into the subject of real fantasies with a half-dressed woman he desired.
“About eating breakfast on a tropical island with a gorgeous man by my side.” She held on to the slider door with one hand and swung around until she’d joined him on the courtyard overlooking the gardens. “And how can you call a continental breakfast just rolls and butter?”
She settled into a white wrought-iron chair, crossing her legs and revealing an expanse of skin that had him drooling for far more than the food on the tray.
“Because I prefer sweets,” he said. He couldn’t control his tone of voice, deepened by her effect on him.
She picked up a strawberry from the side dish of fresh fruit. “Sweet like this?” she asked, twirling the ripe, red berry between two fingers. “Or more like this?” She lifted a sugar-coated pastry from the basket.
“No.” He walked to where she sat. Bracing his hands on the arms of her chair, he leaned over her, close to her mussed hair and fresh skin. “More like this.” He brushed his lips over hers, meaning to keep things light.
And he did. Featherlight and teasingly soft, he managed to maintain control—until she sighed. A soft sigh that did him in. His knees nearly buckled. Hell, if not for his grip on the chair, he’d have fallen at her feet, and that was a first. But he held on to his dignity and allowed himself a long, lingering taste of her luscious mouth before forcing himself back.
He lifted his head and found her studying him, a smile on her well-kissed lips. “Sweet enough?” she asked.
“For now.” He shrugged, his attempt at nonchalance pathetic, he knew. But now that he’d had an appetizer, maybe he could call himself satisfied and get down to business. He ignored the voice in his head branding him a fool and moved around to the opposite side of the table, settling himself across from her. “So, are you enjoying your vacation?”
“More each passing minute.” Her lips twitched with the effort to withhold a smile. She had him and she obviously knew it. “Coffee?”
He nodded. “But let me. I’m catering this meal for you, remember?” He reached for the carafe.
“You brought the food, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help serve. I’m not some helpless female.”
He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “In that case, I’d love a cup of coffee. Black.”
She grinned and took the white carafe off the tray and filled his cup.
“So you’re not a helpless female and I already know you’re not a feminist—”
“How would you know that?” She poured herself coffee and added a small amount of milk, stirring while she awaited his answer.
“Because I took your key, held the door open for you last night and lived to tell about it.”
She laughed. “Think what you want but if you ever step on my rights, you will hear about it.”
He tucked her warning away for later thought. It wasn’t something he could let himself think about and still do his job. “I have no doubt you can stand up for yourself. But back to my original question. You’re not helpless and you’re not a radical feminist,” he said, amending his earlier statement. “Then what are you?”
“In real life?” She ripped off a piece of donut and popped the sugar-laden treat into her mouth. She pointed to her stuffed cheeks and held up one finger.
Stalling. He recognized the tactic. “Yes, in real life. I don’t plan on letting the world intrude but I would like to get to know you a bit.” He lowered his voice. “I’d like you to get to know me, too.” And he meant it, Doug realized.
As much as he could share with her, he wanted to. He’d spent his youth relying on himself, and even after the Houstons had brought him home, he’d been afraid to let them in. It had taken much patience on each of his adoptive parents’ part to gain access to his heart. Yet here was Juliette, a woman he’d just met, a woman who probably possessed information he needed, and Doug found himself wanting to open up as much as he wanted to listen to her in return. He shook his head in frustration, knowing his reasons transcended the charade he’d been forced to play out here on Secret Fantasy. She was getting to him and that put his story and his heart in danger.
The charade he’d willingly begun and needed to continue, his internal editor silently corrected. “I’ll make it easy for you and tell you something about me first. I’m a writer.” He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee.
She swallowed the last of her donut. “I’m a PR consultant for a pharmaceutical company,” she said. “And I’m single.”
He nearly choked on his coffee.
“I just thought
you’d want to know.” She batted her lashes in a deliberate attempt to flirt and have fun.
He grinned. “Same here. I’m single, I mean.”
“Ever married before?”
“Nope.” That she’d delve into personal subjects surprised him and opened the door for questions of his own.
“Ever come close?” She asked before he could toss the question back at her.
Damn, she was good. She knew how to hit a question dead-on and leave him squirming in his seat. The woman had journalistic instincts she knew nothing about. He eyed her closely. She’d settled in, obviously content to eat her breakfast and wait until he decided to answer.
He let out a groan because he wanted to confide in her, yet sharing his secrets was in direct opposition to his goals. Still, he answered her anyway, not glancing away and not hiding his feelings from her curious eyes. “Is it possible to come close if you never intended to marry in the first place?”
“It is if you got caught up in the swing of things.” And Lord knew Juliette could understand that. She’d been so wrapped up in what she thought was reality, she’d been blinded to the truth.
“More like I got involved in a relationship where we each wanted different things only neither one knew it until it was too late.” His heavy sigh settled around her.
“Too late for what?” She leaned forward, needing to hear his answer. Needing to know she wasn’t the only one who could be fooled and betrayed.
His deep gaze locked onto hers. “Too late for someone not to get hurt.” His stare never wavered, his voice was strong and full of remorse.
Juliette let out a breath of air. “I know what that’s like.”
He tipped his head to the side, curiosity and something more in his eyes. “Guess we have that in common at least.”
“Mmm.” She didn’t know what had possessed her to question him on subjects she wanted to avoid herself but, like him, she was glad to see they shared an emotional connection. Glad to see they could relate on a personal level. But she wasn’t ready to divulge more, no matter how close she wanted them to get.
He shifted in his seat. Gearing up for a question in return? Juliette didn’t know but she had to back off. Now, before he turned the tables on her. She wiped her mouth with the napkin and placed it on the table. “So what do you have planned for today?”
His stare lingered and she sensed his reluctance to drop the discussion. But he pushed back his chair and stood, offering his hand for her to accept. “I thought we’d try some of the activities the resort offers.”
“Safety in numbers?” she asked wryly.
He laughed but didn’t look her in the eye. “Anyone ever tell you you’re too perceptive for your own good?”
“Not recently.” Nor would the events in her life back up his claim.
“Well, don’t let other people’s opinions make you sell yourself short.”
Talk about perceptive, she thought. She’d been measuring herself by Stuart’s standards for too long. “I need to shower and change.”
“And I have some things to take care of with Merrilee.”
Regarding his fantasy or just his stay on the island? Juliette narrowed her eyes, dying to ask. But she remained silent, knowing that if she respected the parameters of his fantasy, he’d do the same for hers. They never had to discuss her failings or the reason for her trip here—unless she wanted to confide in him. A shocking possibility.
“Let me walk you out.”
He shook his head. “You relax. I’ll head around the side of the cottage and meet up with you later.”
She smiled. “I hope so.”
He rose from his seat. “Count on it.” He treated her to a wink that sent tremors of heated awareness straight to the pit of her stomach.
She watched him leave, his cut-off denim shorts molding to his firm backside and his ragged short-sleeve sweatshirt revealing tanned, muscular arms. Good Lord, the man was sexy.
His character and strength had her stomach twisting in conflicting knots. Safe or not, stupid or not, she wanted all he had to offer. She wanted to attain her deepest desire. And for the moment, her needs were simple.
She wanted to be held in his arms. She wanted him to make her feel, not just desired, but also secure, something she had a hunch he’d do with ease. And she wanted to admit the pain in her life and let him help her heal.
He was the perfect man for the job, considering he knew about sharing and confiding. He’d given her a glimpse inside his soul, something Stuart had never done. In all their time together he’d never once looked at her so intently or discussed anything emotional. Except his campaign, she thought wryly.
Doug was different. He couldn’t possibly be faking the warmth in his eyes or caring in his expression. Although he was here to make her fantasy come true, she sensed she was learning about him as well. And her instincts screamed for her to trust him, stronger and more passionately than her gut instinct had ever believed in Stuart.
Having made a huge mistake last time, Juliette wasn’t planning on rushing into anything now. She had time to learn about Doug and relearn to trust herself as well. She could, and would, test her feminine wiles and her ability to tease and arouse, both Doug as well as herself. And when she finally made love with him—and oh, how she wanted to—the experience would be the answer to her dreams.
In the meantime, anticipation was half the fun, something Doug obviously understood well. He was building their romance slowly, with deep, drugging kisses and intimate gestures like flowers and breakfast.
And she was hoping for much, much more.
* * *
DOUG NEEDED a breather. He made his way to the beach and kicked back in a lounge chair, letting the ocean waves and the cooler morning breeze soothe his nerves and his conscience. After leaving Juliette, he’d called home to check on his father.
The older man hadn’t been released from the hospital; in fact, the doctor was running more tests. His mother insisted Doug stay on assignment because his father’s mood had greatly improved since Doug’s departure and promise to return with good news. And, besides, nothing more could be done until the tests came back and they decided whether to treat with medication or surgery. So, for now, his father was resting comfortably. But Doug wasn’t.
Doug had seen Juliette’s eyes light up when she found him on her doorstep, breakfast and flowers in hand. And his own heart had taken a huge leap upon seeing her again after only one short night apart. All real, not part of the fantasy.
“Good morning, Mr. Houston.” Merrilee’s voice sounded from behind him, then she walked around and pulled an upright chair beside his. “Enjoying the peace and quiet?” she asked.
“I’m enjoying everything about this place.”
“Thank you.” Pride infused her voice. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering what my decision is.”
“I trust your judgment. I’m hoping you can bring yourself to trust me.” He wanted to grin, to charm her with a smile, but he couldn’t muster the false sentiment. Damned if he could understand what was overcoming him this trip.
She crossed one leg over the other and rested her weight on one side, facing Doug. “Interesting you should be so astute as to pick up on the fact that trust has to go both ways. I’m counting on you to remember that when you’re with Juliette.”
Doug thought about his discussion with Juliette earlier. “She’s smart. Smart enough to get information out of me without me questioning her in return.” Ever been married before? she’d asked. Ever come close?
Why hadn’t he just asked her those same questions in a natural flow of conversation? He’d never let an opportunity slip by in the past, yet he had now—because he didn’t want to watch a shutter fall down over her honest and expressive eyes again. There it was again, that innocence and naïveté that called to him in ways he didn’t understand. If Doug wasn’t careful, he could easily end up wanting her trust more than he wanted information, and that he couldn’t afford. Damn.
Me
rrilee laughed. “Are you saying you’ve met your match?”
He refused to touch that comment. “Are you telling me I can stay?” He sat up in his seat and met her on level ground.
Her warm eyes danced with delight. “Mr. Houston, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. But make no mistake, if you hurt Juliette Stanton instead of making her happy during her time on my island, you’ll answer to me and my lawyers.”
Doug ignored the unwelcome shaft of guilt over his hidden agenda. He might not understand it, but here on Secret Fantasy, he’d grown used to the sentiment.
He attempted to assuage his conscience by telling the truth instead. “You have my word. I’m not looking to hurt Juliette Stanton.” He extended his hand, gripping Merrilee’s in a strong shake.
She nodded. “Please come to my office and sign the paperwork documenting your fantasy,” she said, her voice softening.
“My pleasure. I noticed some people disembarking from the seaplane. Are you fully booked this week?”
“I’ve been fortunate in that since opening the resorts, I’m booked solid every week, though I’ve fit some people in toward the end of this week who seem more desperate than most. I’ll do that sometimes, if the person strikes a chord with me.”
Doug grasped her hand. “Something tells me most people strike that chord. You’re a rare breed—an honest, caring soul.”
She laughed. “And you’re a charmer. But actually, I’m an old soul. Lived and seen enough to understand other people’s joy…and pain. Enough to make this place a success, I suppose.”
“Forgive me for being blunt but I noticed a sadness in your eyes the first time we met.”
She smiled, the lines around her eyes giving her face more mature beauty and character. “You’re a reporter. I don’t expect much to miss those eagle eyes. But you’re right.” She glanced down, toying with a fringe on her long skirt. “I lost my fiancé in the Vietnam War. I married afterward but it wasn’t the same. I spent my life catering to someone else’s needs at the expense of my own.” She looked up, meeting his curious gaze.
“Seems to me that opening these resorts accomplishes the same thing.”
Secret Fantasy (NYT Bestselling Author) Page 5
