by Gina Wilkins
“And you’re not entirely unlike her,” he added. “I’ve noticed many qualities you’ve inherited from your mother.”
He noted an almost hopeful spark of interest in her eyes. “You have?”
“Of course. The creativity that shows in your writing. The courage it took for you to send your work out and risk rejection and criticism. The spirit of fun that made you bid on me at the bachelor auction. And you are here with me now.”
She smiled. “Yes. I am.”
Satisfied that he’d made his point, he motioned toward the beach. “Want to go for a swim?”
“Maybe in a little while. Right now I’d like to just sit back and absorb the beauty.”
He stood. “Then I’ll bring out some juice and fresh fruit. The kitchen is stocked with pineapple, papaya and mango.”
“Sounds wonderful. Need any help?”
“No. You ‘absorb the beauty.’ I don’t need a cooking lesson to slice fruit.”
She didn’t argue with him. She was already watching the ocean again, looking so relaxed and contented that he was doubly glad he’d had this brainstorm.
He was gone less than twenty minutes. But when he returned, Kristin had already located her ubiquitous notebook and was busily scribbling in it. Perry almost groaned in dismay. They were sitting here in paradise and all she wanted to do was search for words to describe it?
“Um...Kristin? Here’s your fruit.”
“Thank you,” she said without looking up from the notebook. “I’ll have some in a minute. I just want to finish this thought....”
She was gone, he thought in resignation. Completely zoned out. He could strip naked and dance the hula in front of her and her only reaction would be to write even faster as she made notes about his bizarre behavior. She was in “writer mode”—and he was learning to live with it. He just wished they could have talked a little longer before she’d drifted into her creative trance.
He still didn’t know whether she trusted him enough to let herself love him.
Since he seemed to have some free time on his hands, he headed for the bedroom, thinking he’d make some phone calls and make sure all was still proceeding smoothly in California. But something had happened to him lately. He had discovered that he wasn’t interested in working all the time—an admission that would probably leave some of his acquaintances reeling in shock. His priorities seemed to have changed. His career was still important to him—but other things were becoming more important, he thought as he glanced in the direction of the lanai.
A stack of neatly printed pages on the writing desk in one corner of the airy room caught his eye. Kristin had brought along the manuscript she had just finished writing; he assumed she’d thought there might be time to proofread it during their trip. It was long past time he familiarized himself with her writing, he thought, taking a seat at the desk and pulling the pages in front of him. Maybe he would learn something about Kristin in the process.
12
KRISTIN SET HER NOTEBOOK aside and stretched, feeling her muscles protest with the movement, which meant, she thought ruefully, she’d been sitting in one position too long. She did that sometimes when she got carried away with an idea. Something in the Hawaiian air must have started her creative juices flowing. Something...
She suddenly gasped and sat straight up in her chair. Hawaii. She was still sitting on the lanai, and the scenery was as beautiful and romantic as ever. But the man who had brought her to this gorgeous, exotic place was nowhere to be seen. She had drifted into her fantasies and totally ignored him.
She would be lucky if he hadn’t boarded a plane back to the mainland and left her sitting there alone with her notebook and a view she’d been too distracted to appreciate for the past...two hours, she thought with a wince, glancing at her watch. Which only went to prove that she was nothing at all like her fun-loving, impetuous mother. Sophie wouldn’t have spent two hours of an impulsive tropical vacation with a handsome man writing in a notebook about an imaginary hero—even if the imaginary hero she’d come up with for her next book also shared a suspicious number of characteristics with the real-life man in question.
She stood, mentally practicing her apology, and went into the condo to find Perry. Jim, she thought with a wince, would have been waiting for her in cold silence, hurt and disappointed that she’d ignored him so rudely. She knew that from painful experience. She braced herself for a similar reaction from Perry.
She found him in the bedroom. The double doors on either side of the airy room were open, letting a brisk, deliciously scented breeze flow through. Wearing nothing but a pair of khaki shorts, Perry lay on his stomach on the bed, propped on his elbows, her manuscript pages scat tered in front of him. Her manuscript, she realized with a kick of nerves. She twisted her fingers in front of her. “Perry?”
He didn’t seem to hear her at first, so she said his name again, a bit more loudly.
Looking up, he focused on her, then set the page in his hand aside. His movements deliberate, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.
Feeling awkward and uncertain of his mood, she tightened the sash on her robe as he moved toward her. “I’m afraid I got carried away with my notes and let the time slip away from me. I’m sorry I...”
Before she could finish the sentence, his mouth was on hers. The rest of the apology was lost in a kiss that nearly short-circuited every synapse in her brain.
By the time Perry finally drew back for air, Kristin was clinging to him helplessly, her knees almost too weak to support her. “What...?”
“I love your book.” -
“Oh. Well, I’m...”
He kissed her again. “It was wonderful,” he murmured against her lips. “Very illuminating.”
She could think of absolutely nothing to say. What had he found in those pages to make him react so dramatically? She wondered nervously just what he had found so illuminating.
He was grinning like a fool—which she found as endearing as it was baffling. “I’m about ten pages from finishing it. I still don’t know who the blackmailer is. Why don’t you put me out of my misery and tell me?”
At the moment, she was finding it hard to remember anything about the book. “I—”
He frowned and shook a finger at her, still oddly buoyant. “Come on, don’t be stubborn. Tell me who the bad guy is.”
It seemed easier to play along with him than to try to figure out what he was thinking at the moment. She managed a smile. “You’ll just have to read it for yourself.”
He nuzzled her temple, smiling against her skin. “C’mon, Kristin. Tell me who it is. You don’t want me to waste any more time reading when you and I could be...”
“Wasting time?” Though her pulse was rocketing like crazy, she lifted an eyebrow in a coolly insulted manner. “Excuse me, did you just say reading my book is wasting time?”
“Definitely not,” he assured her. “It’s just that the story is so extremely fascinating I simply can’t wait any longer to find out how it ends. So I was hoping you would take pity on me and...”
“Forget it.”
His expression turned sly, a look of challenge in his beautiful eyes. “I have ways of making you talk,” he murmured, pulling her closer.
Though she would bet he felt her heart rate speed up beneath his fingertips, she managed to keep her chin high, her voice steady and amused. “Do what you will to me. You’ll never make me talk.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that.” His hand slipped lower, slowly parting the fabric of her robe. She shivered when the breeze brushed over her skin, though it wasn’t at all cold.
Loosened, the robe slipped from her shoulders. She moved to stop it, but Perry’s hands were in the way. The robe slid down her arms, the sash falling away. She wore nothing beneath it but a pink silk teddy.
“Tell me who the bad guy is,” Perry murmured, his hands already sliding from her waist upward.
“No.” Her voice wasn’t quite as firm this time
.
He cupped her breasts in his hands, lifting them so that they almost spilled out of the lacy top of her teddy. Lowering his head, he nuzzled between them, his breath warm on her flesh. “Tell me.”
She caught her breath. “No.”
His tongue slipped beneath the lace barely covering her right breast to flick the distended nipple beneath. His left hand moved downward, over her stomach to the sensitive area beneath. The thin fabric dampened beneath his ministrations. Kristin clutched at his bare shoulders as her knees weakened.
“Are you going to tell me now?” he demanded, lowering her to the bed.
She had forgotten the question. “Tell you what?”
He loomed above her, his weight on one knee, his arms propped on either side of her head. “Tell me you want me,” he murmured against her mouth.
“I want you,” she repeated readily.
“That you’re very glad you met me.”
“I am very glad I met you,” she whispered as his mouth trailed down her throat.
His voice was a low rumble in his chest, vibrating against her breast. “That’s all I wanted to know. For now.”
She couldn’t help laughing huskily. “I thought you wanted to ask about my book.”
The manuscript slid from the bed to cascade chaotically on the carpet. Kristin didn’t care—the pages were numbered, and she could always print out another copy. At the moment, she had something much more important on her mind.
“I’ll find out the ending for myself,” Perry vowed. “Later.”
“Much later,” she agreed, pulling him down to her.
THE NEXT THREE DAYS were without doubt the most exhilarating interlude of Kristin’s life, filled with new experiences—and copious notes for future books. She hiked through a rainforest, snorkeled through schools of beautiful, colorful fish, went sailing and parasailing, tasted exotic foods at a moonlight luau, donned a grass skirt and attempted a hula, and rode horseback on a beach.
And she fell even more deeply in love with Perry Goodman than she had been before.
She couldn’t have created a more perfect companion if she’d pulled one directly from her most intimate fantasies. He was considerate, courteous, charming. Incredibly patient with her occasional attacks of nerves. And the most stimulating, satisfying lover she could ever have imagined. There was no holding back with him, no maintaining a safe distance. Perry threw himself wholeheartedly into everything they did during those days. Everything.
“I’ve never felt so daring and adventurous,” she admitted to Perry as they walked hand-in-hand at midnight on the beach outside their condo. “These have been the most exciting few days of my life. I hate for them to end.”
“Then don’t let them end,” he answered promptly, his hand tightening on hers. ”Make them last a lifetime. Marry me.”
She promptly stumbled on the sand, nearly falling flat on her face. Perry reached out to steady her, but she regained her footing as she turned to stare at him. Surely he was joking, she thought dazedly. But he wasn’t smiling, and the familiar spark of mischievous humor was missing from his eyes.
She tried to remember how many glasses of wine he’d had for dinner. But he was walking steadily, and he didn’t seem inebriated. So it couldn’t be that.
She had to have misunderstood what he said. “Did you say...?”
“I asked you to marry me,” he clarified evenly.
“If you want to be really adventurous, we′ll leave Hawaii as husband and wife.”
Maybe she was the one who’d had too much to drink. Two glasses of wine with dinner, and a glass of champagne in the dance lounge afterward. She didn’t usually drink that much. “Surely you aren’t serious.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too soon to even think about taking a step like that. We’ve known each other barely two months.”
“How many months does it take to fall in love?” he asked logically.
“L-love?” .
“Love,” he repeated, his voice firm. “You should be familiar with the word, since your work makes you sort of an expert on the subject.”
She shook her head. “Those are books. Fiction. Fantasy. You’re talking about real life—and I’m far from an expert in that.”
He caught her hands and squeezed them reassuringly. “Then we’ll learn together. Think what a grand adventure that will be.”
“Marriage isn’t a sport, Perry,” she retorted curtly. “It isn’t a game. It’s serious. Permanent.” Terrifying.
“It’s all of those things. Of course, it should be fun, as well. And fulfilling. And challenging. And stimulating. You and I can make it everything we want it to be.”
She lifted both hands to her head, pressing against her temples, trying to decide whether what she was feeling was dismay...or temptation. “There’s really no reason to continue this discussion tonight,” she said, deciding not to take any chances. “It’s much too soon to start talking about marriage.”
“Okay, fine,′ he said equably. ”If you’re more comfortable taking a safe, cautious path, we′ll handle it that way. You set the schedule, make a list or an agenda, or whatever you like, and let me know the details. Choose a date for me to tell you that I love you, another date for us to discuss a possible engagement—or going steady, if you’d like to take it even more slowly. And then—”
She pulled her hands out of his. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Not making fun. Teasing a little, perhaps. You’ve suddenly become so organized and conservative again.”
“That’s because you’ve started to discuss something very important to me,” she replied. “I can’t joke about marriage. I can’t take marriage as lightly as an impulsive vacation.”
His smile vanished. “And neither do I,” he assured her. “I didn’t propose to you on impulse, Kristin. This is something I’ve considered very carefully.”
“When?” she demanded bluntly.
“Since the night I met you,” he answered simply. “Since the first time you smiled at me and wrinkled your nose at me. Since the first time I kissed you. It’s something I’ve thought about for all the weeks we’ve known each other.”
She was stunned. “I didn’t know—”
“You thought I made a habit of constantly rearranging my schedules so I could show up on women’s doorsteps? That I’ve been hopping planes and renting cars and delegating responsibilities because I was hoping for more cooking lessons?”
“I had no idea you were thinking about marriage.”
“Of course I was. I’m thirty-six years old, Kristin. I’m too old for casual affairs. I’m ready to move on. I was briefly engaged a year ago, but it fell apart because we weren’t right for each other. I know now what I want. I want you.”
She frowned. Was that it? Was Perry simply ready to get married and had pragmatically decided she was a suitable match? She wasn’t sure she liked that possibility any more than her previous suspicion that he had proposed on a romantic impulse.
He took her hands again. “Kristin, don’t try to tell me you don’t love me. I know you do. I read it in your book.”
She gaped at him. “You did what?”
She was absolutely certain that nowhere in the pages Perry had read had it said, “Kristin Cole is in love with Perry Goodman.” At least, she hoped it didn’t say that The way her mind had been wandering lately, it was entirely possible that her fingers had hit those keys.
“Don’t tell me that Nick O’Donnell isn’t based on me,” he warned her. “I know he is.”
“Well, he...”
He nodded in satisfaction, as if she’d confirmed his accusation. “At the beginning of the story, your heroine, Amy, thinks Nick is shallow and vain and spoiled. Which is exactly what you thought of me when you first met me...don’t deny it.”
“I didn’t intend to,” she answered dryly, her heart beating so hard in her chest she wondered if he could hear it She struggled for a nonchalant tone. “But I still don’t see wh
at makes you think I—”
“By the end of the book, Amy looks beyond the surface. She realizes that he can be trusted. That he understands the concepts of loyalty and commit ment, that his word is his bond. That he is willing to make sacrifices for what he truly believes in, even if he is the only one who believes.”
Kristin was both flattered that he’d read her work so closely and anxious about him finding himself there. He’d concluded from her writing that she had fallen in love with him—and he was right. But she still didn’t know how he felt about her.
“I...um...” She flexed her fingers in his, trying to think of what to say.
“You haven’t asked about Leo. Not once, did you know that?”
She blinked, her mind spinning. What did the senator have to do with this? “I...um...”
“He’s been cleared of all charges. Entirely. Did you know?”
She gasped. “No. I hadn’t heard.”
He nodded as if in satisfaction. “I didn’t think you had. It wouldn’t have hit the airwaves until today—and I know you haven’t seen any news today.”
“But—how?”
“He was being set up. We hired a private investigator who proved it. Already his political cronies are rallying around him again, telling him they knew all along that he was innocent.” His mouth twisted in irony as he finished.
Kristin tightened her hands around his, a lump forming in her throat. Perry’s faith in his friend hadn’t been misplaced. He wouldn’t suffer for his loyalty. “Perry, I’m so pleased for you. I know how much this means to you.”
He lifted her hands to his mouth and pressed a quick kiss against her knuckles. “You believed in me, didn’t you? You had your doubts about Leo—and that’s understandable, since you’ve never even met him—but you believed in me.”
“I knew you really believed in his innocence, if that’s what you’re asking,” she whispered. “When I heard other people hinting that you have no real principles, that you’ll say or do anything to win a campaign—well, I knew they were wrong. They didn’t know you at all.”
