Heart Raider (Heartthrob Series, Book 1)

by Knightly, Sophia

  Yikes! She had never cooked fish in her life. She wasn’t about to experiment now. “Um…I hate to tell you this, but I’ve never cleaned a fish before, let alone cooked one.”

  “You can always learn.” His eyes glinted with challenge.

  “I guess…” she said hesitantly. Yuck, the last thing she wanted to do was cut a fish’s head off and…

  He gave a short bark of laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You should see your face,” he said, his mouth twitching with amusement. “Don’t worry. I was planning on grilling it.”

  She drew in a deep sigh of relief. “You were? Will you filet it too?”

  “Yeah. But first I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Get ready to freeze your butt off,” she said with a grin. “I almost couldn’t breathe this morning when the cold water hit my body.”

  He gave a wry twist of his mouth. “I’ll survive.”

  She smiled. “I’ll make a salad while you’re showering. What else should I do? Bring you a blanket? You might need one after the cold shower.”

  “I doubt that. No need for a blanket tonight.” He was right; the blue flame in his eyes warmed them both.

  Nick smelled so good when he returned from his shower, she wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go. She loved his company. He was strong and manly, and just being with him made her heart race. It was hard to mask her pleasure.

  She sat across from him at the kitchen table and squeezed key lime juice on the fish he’d grilled to perfection. She tasted her first bite and gave an appreciative moan.

  “Mmm, delicious. Who knew you were a good cook?” she mused, smiling. The grilled fish, avocado and onion salad, and the rice she’d heated up on the stove made for a light, but satisfying meal.

  He made a wry face. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself a good cook, but I can grill anything you like, even toast.”

  “You can grill my toast any day, and butter it too,” she said with a sassy grin.

  His mouth lifted into an unexpected smile that delighted her. But it didn’t last long. His face sobered as he asked, “Were you able to reach Natasha?”

  “Not yet. I tried all day. It’s driving me crazy that I don’t know what happened. She must be beside herself trying to reach me,” Veronique said, sobering from her lighthearted mood. Her stomach constricted as she remembered Natasha had said something terrible had happened.

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “My phone doesn’t work either.”

  “I heard on the news that they’re concentrating on getting Fort Myers back in business with power and phone service before they come to Starfish Island.”

  He looked unfazed. “I figured as much. We were told to evacuate.”

  “We’ll have to make the best of it. I just hope my boss isn’t mad at me.”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Why would he be mad?”

  “He told me to stay in Fort Myers and report from there,” she admitted. “I didn’t tell him I was going to the island.”

  Nick shook his head. “Big surprise. You didn’t listen to your boss and you ventured here instead,” he said in a blunt tone.

  “I’m glad I did.” She jutted her chin out. “It’s much more interesting on the island. I’ll get better stories here,” she added when he remained silent. “Are you still annoyed I’m here?”

  He didn’t answer, just watched her steadily. She wished she could retract the question, but it glared in the open, exposed and needy as the minutes ticked by.

  “Never mind. Don’t answer that,” she mumbled and ate a large forkful of salad.

  The firm set of his mouth relaxed. “I’m not annoyed,” he finally said. “Much as I’d rather not admit it, you’re good company.”

  That floored her. “Thank you, Nick!” She gave his cheek a resounding kiss and settled back in her chair with a wide smile. “You’re good company too. The best host—and grill master ever.”

  He looked to the ceiling with feigned patience and ate the rest of his meal quietly. She didn’t mind his silence. Her heart did silent leaps of joy. He had just admitted he enjoyed her company. Energy surged inside of her and it was all she could do to keep from bouncing around the room. If she allowed herself to jump as high as she felt, he’d have to peel her from the ceiling.

  After dinner, dusk began to settle around them. Soon the house would be cloaked in darkness. Veronique cleaned the kitchen quickly and disposed of the fish remnants in a tight plastic bag so there wouldn’t be any fishy smell while Nick got the lanterns ready to illuminate the inside of the house.

  She was wiping the counters when he appeared in the kitchen. “Finished?” he asked.

  “Yep. I’m craving a shower. I just wish it could be a warm one.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “What happened to the tough reporter in Afghanistan?”

  “She’s sticky and hot. Frankly after seeing you bare-chested all afternoon, I need a cold shower,” she quipped. She looked up at him and when she caught the half-smile on his face, her bones felt fluid. Nick’s slow grin robbed any strength in her limbs.

  He followed her to the master bathroom and left a lit lantern for her. “I’ll be in my bedroom,” he said. “Come join me after your shower.”

  Yes, darling, I’ll be there ASAP, she thought with a giddy smile. She could barely get through the shower, she was so eager to join him in the bedroom…his bedroom. She soaped up and tried to center herself. She was dying to know what would happen next, and she didn’t linger longer than necessary. After toweling off, she smoothed honey almond scented cream all over and then nabbed a white terrycloth robe from the door hook and put it on over her tank top and bikini panties.

  She found Nick lying on his back in bed when she entered the master suite.

  “Are you awake?” She lifted the lantern to search his face.

  “Yes. Shut off the lantern and come here,” he said in a low voice.

  Gulp. She was rendered speechless by his command. He sure was direct. Her breath came out in a whoosh as she forced herself to walk on wobbly legs to his bed. She perched on the side, every muscle in her body tense with anticipation as she waited.

  When he spoke, it wasn’t what she had expected to hear, not by a long shot. “We only have one fan. The one you brought from Miami,” he said, motioning to the oscillating battery-run fan facing the bed.

  “Is that why you asked me to come here?”

  “Yeah. The only solution is for you to sleep here. With me.”

  “Or?” Her stomach fluttered wildly at the thought of sleeping with him in his bed.

  “There is no ‘or’. It’s hot and we both could use some cooling down. That’s all,” he said in an even tone.

  Her hopes deflated like a flat tire at the matter-of-fact way he said it. “Oookay.” She tossed off her robe and got in bed before he changed his mind.

  After an awkward moment, she said, “I gotta warn you, Nick. I’m a wild woman in my sleep.”

  “What?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

  “I might hit you and not know it.”

  The bed shook with the rumble of his laughter.

  “It’s not funny. I mean it. When I wake up, my legs are usually tangled in the sheets and many times my pillows are on the floor.”

  “What brings that on?”

  “I dream a lot, and my dreams usually involve adventures. Stuff like diving off a cliff or flying with my arms spread wide.”

  “Like a bird,” he said in a voice choking with amusement.

  “No, like superwoman,” she said, deadpan. “I might sweep right over and land on top of you.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” He chuckled, the sound robustly male and enticing. “Better stay on your side for good measure.”

  She hit him with her pillow and then scooted back to her side of the bed. “How’s this? Far enough?”

  “Yeah. Go to sleep,” he said gruffly.

  As if that were possible with him beside her, b
are-chested and smelling so good. For a long time afterward, neither spoke as they lay side by side, a foot apart. No cover sheet. She usually slept on her stomach, but not tonight. There was no way she’d turn away when all she wanted was to be as close to him as possible.

  The gentle whirr of the fan mingled with the sounds of crickets and frogs outside, but she was only aware of her heart thrumming inside her chest. Lying on her back with her neck and head propped on her folded arms, she stared at the ceiling until she heard Nick’s rhythmic breathing, signaling he’d fallen asleep. She rolled onto her side and watched him as the silvery moonlight illuminated his strong profile.

  The hard contours of his face were relaxed now, revealing how handsome he was. His dark brows rested above lush, long lashes that hid his brilliant blue eyes and cast shadows on his sharp cheekbones. His firm mouth had softened sensuously making her wild with yearning to kiss him. Desire pulsated through her veins, profuse, sweet and urgent. She wanted Nick to be wild for her too, not only physically, but emotionally. God, how she wished it!

  She stayed awake for a long while, wondering how long he would allow her to stay. When she couldn’t stand the separation any longer, she closed the gap between them and rested her hand on his chest over his heart. She resisted the temptation to smooth her hand across the hard ridges of muscle on his broad chest. Nick’s sturdy heartbeat beneath her palm pleased her beyond measure. It linked them together in a special way.

  Veronique softly brushed a strand of his hair from his forehead, wishing she could run her fingers through his thick, rumpled hair. What would it take to release the tight rein Nick held on his feelings? When he didn’t stir, she moved in closer. He was a deep sleeper. If he woke up during the night, he’d think she had gotten there in her sleep. Turning her face into his warm neck, she inhaled deeply and kissed the hollow at his throat. The feather light brush of her lips on his warm skin made her moan with pleasure. It robbed her of her breath and the desire to sleep. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth at the sensual heat emanating from Nick, even as he slept. Much later, she fell asleep, curled beside him and thrilled to be there.

  She woke up at the feel of a large hand resting on her stomach. She froze and her eyes shot open. How long had Nick been holding her this way? Carnal energy radiated from his body behind her as she lay on her side, facing away from him. He wasn’t exactly spooning her. The only part touching her was his hand. His long fingers were tucked inside the waistband of her panties, his blunt fingertips grazing her mound. Her heart reeled as acute spasms of desire rocked her.

  She held her breath and didn’t move a muscle as she listened to his steady breathing. He was still asleep. His warm breath fanned the back of her ear; he was that close to her. She felt him stir and slowly move his hand in a sensuous circle. Alternately squeezing and stroking, his fingers slid southward until he abruptly stopped and groaned.

  Oh God, he’s awake. She heard another deep, rough growl of discomfort as he lay there for what felt like a long time. Pretending to be asleep, she rolled onto her stomach and waited until he got up. With a smile, she listened to him stomp out of the room. It pleased her that he was physically affected by her. Having to lie still beside him had been like being on a sexually charged landmine.

  By the time Nick came out of the bathroom, showered and dressed, Veronique was gone, but she’d left a surprise on his pillow—an irreverent caricature of him as a big, grumpy bear covered in white powder, just how he’d looked in the closet. The caption underneath said, “Patience, my ass! I’m gonna kill someone.”

  He threw his head back and laughed—deep, cleansing laughter that revitalized him. He put the caricature in the nightstand for safekeeping and headed outside to work, still smiling and shaking his head at her nerve.

  Chapter Eleven

  Veronique phoned Natasha again, but wasn’t able to connect. She was at her wits’ end trying not to panic because she didn’t have phone service and going nuts worrying over what Tash needed to tell her.

  To distract herself, she spent most of the morning alternating between writing and doing housework. Strangely enough, she didn’t mind the housework. It took the edge off her nervous energy. She even scrubbed the shower stall in the master bathroom. When she finished her chores, she drank two bottles of water, feeling like she’d finished a marathon.

  Thank God, Daisy had left enough meals to last for several days. With the extra freezer in the garage filled with ice, they’d been able to salvage most of the prepared meals before Veronique would have to resort to cooking. After eating Daisy’s excellent cooking, Nick wouldn’t be thrilled with hers. Oh well, he’d have to make do unless he wanted to grill their food, which was fine with her.

  Her parents had employed a full staff of servants and cooks. Maman had never cooked a meal in her life, and Veronique never got the opportunity to learn, until she got to college. The only things she knew how to make were easy to put together. Spaghetti with store bought marinara sauce, grilled cheese sandwiches, yogurt and fruit were her go-to meals whenever there wasn’t a takeout place or pizza delivery available.

  In some ways being on the island with Nick was like being on vacation and camping out, but in a mansion by the sea instead of a tent. It reminded her of her carefree jaunts as a kid, away from the confines of her parents’ stuffy palatial home. She wished she could disconnect and relax completely, but she wouldn’t until she was able to complete her investigation of the Cameron Hope Foundation and deliver the information to Nick—before it was too late.

  By late afternoon, she was craving fresh air and ventured outside in search of Nick.

  “Hi,” she said when she found him working outside the guesthouse. “What can I do to help?”

  “Hand me what I need while I board up this window.” Pokerfaced, he didn’t mention the caricature, but she’d heard his hearty laughter earlier—the sweetest sound in the world. “They’re in the toolbox there,” he said, indicating the open metal box at his feet.

  “Yes, sir. I’m happy to assist you,” she drawled playfully.

  He lifted a brow. “You can start by handing me the concrete nails as I ask for them.”

  Veronique took several nails from the open rectangular metal box on the floor and held them in her palm, handing them over one by one as he requested. It was hot and humid as she worked beside Nick, but she didn’t mind. She loved spending time with him. The fact that he had allowed her to stay on, let alone sleep in his bed last night, was promising. He hadn’t mentioned her leaving yet, but it had to be on his mind. Of course, leaving would have been impossible because the roads leading to the causeway were obstructed by fallen pine trees and the storm’s debris.

  “What’s next for you when you leave here?” Nick asked.

  Her eyes shot open. Was he a mind reader? It was the second time he’d addressed something on her mind. “I’m going back to Fort Myers to interview some of the preppers. Remember the cult like group I told you about that’s obsessed with emergency preparation?”

  He nodded.

  “I want to report on how they made out after the hurricane. There’s also a group of senior citizens in Bonita Springs I want to do a story on.”

  “About what?” he asked between hammering nails into the wood planks covering the broken window.

  “They are a growing group of baby boomers over sixty who are major party animals. They go dancing every weekend looking for fun and romance. They act much younger than their years.” She tilted her head and studied him with a crinkled brow. “Do you like to dance? Come to think of it, you never danced at our camp parties.”

  “That’s right. You couldn’t get me on a dance floor.”

  “Aw, too bad. Not even slow dancing?” Nothing would please her more than to slow dance with Nick, pressed against his hard body as his strong arms held her close. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the tantalizing image.

  “I’ll slow dance, but I don’t get into the other moves.”

  Nick’s to
ne was so dry, Veronique chuckled. “Well, I love to dance. When I get old, I want to be like those oldie goldies who party hard. I’ll be dancing and having a good time and not thinking about arthritis or the other stuff they have to deal with.”

  “I can just see you, white-haired and shaking your booty on the dance floor,” Nick said, his mouth twitching and his eyes alight with amusement.

  “Exactly. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It is,” he said, rewarding her with a rare smile.

  “Thanks.” She smiled back, delighted by his unexpected compliment.

  They segued into chatting about their college years and it became obvious how very different his had been from hers. He’d been focused on finishing his degree and making money right away while she’d been more intent on experiencing life and relishing her newfound freedom through traveling. His drive during his college years exceeded that of most frat boys, who partied more than they studied. He’d worked on campus and completed four years of undergrad in three on a scholarship. After that, he’d gotten his MBA. He hadn’t mentioned he’d graduated summa cum laude, but she knew it from Fred, his proud mentor.

  Nick didn’t mention Elizabeth and she didn’t ask. It was a sore subject and too raw for him to discuss with her.

  When he finished hammering the last nail, Nick said, “I’m done here. I’m going to pick up the fruit that fell after the storm.”

  “I’ll help you,” Veronique said. “I love fruit. What’s your favorite?”

  “Peaches.”

  “Mine too! Although whenever I pass by a peach tree I get all prickly.”

  “Allergies?”

  “No, sore childhood memories,” she said with a short laugh.

  Nick’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “When I was eight, Maman made me wear a prissy pink dress with ruffles so she could show me off to her book club friends. Small wonder I hate pink,” she muttered. “She was hosting a high tea and everything was perfect, right down to the white-gloved maids. Course I didn’t want anything to do with her tea party and her snooty friends, so I sneaked out and sat under my favorite peach tree reading a racy detective novel I’d stolen from Daddy’s bookshelf and gorging on peaches.”