by Meryl Sawyer
He gave her a quick hug and smiled with boyish enthusiasm. “I walked by this shop a dozen times yesterday. I wandered from gallery to gallery, trying to get you out of my mind. Each time I came by here, I spotted it and thought about you.” He started toward the door. “Come on, let’s get it.”
She hung back. “Matt, no. I already owe Trevor money for clothes.”
“I want to buy it for you as a gift.”
“I appreciate the thought. You’ll never know how much, but I can’t let you. I don’t have anyplace to wear it.” She couldn’t tell him how soon she planned to leave. Life in the Witness Protection Program hardly called for fancy clothes. “In Key West, women don’t wear much more than shorts and T-shirts.”
“Trevor’s having a cocktail party tomorrow night for the couple who just leased a home on the other side of Sunset Key.”
“Bubbles told me. Trevor did the same thing when I came to live at Half Moon Bay, but it wasn’t a dressy affair.”
“This is going to be a little more formal. Clive thought a sit-down dinner on the terrace would be fun.”
“They’ve really hit it off, haven’t they?”
He guided her into Proud Mary’s. “Yes, thanks to you. Getting Clive to come out on the water was a start.”
The clerk smiled at Matt and was only too pleased to show her to a dressing room. The woman hung the green dress on the hook beside the mirror. She shrugged out of her T-shirt, then pulled off her shorts.
Reaching for the dress, she recalled how she had always picked out clothes to make her disappear into the woodwork. She gazed into the mirror, studying herself. Even though she knew to expect to see her mother’s reflection, it took a moment for her mind to adjust. She looked people in the eye now. She could wear pretty clothes.
The Beast only existed inside her head.
She slipped into the dress and gave a little shake to align the two layers. The silk whispered when she moved, incredibly soft and sensual against her skin. She twirled around to look from another angle.
Oh, my. The woman in the mirror was everything she had never imagined she could be. Daring. Sexy.
“What’s going on in there?” Matt called. “Let’s see what it looks like.”
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Holy sh—”
The glint of wonder in his eyes made something in her chest seize up and alter her heartbeat. No man had ever gazed at her with such frank admiration. Until recently, they had looked away, avoided eye contact whenever possible. The way Matt was staring at her brought the hot sting of tears to her eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes to keep the tears at bay.
“Shelly, am I a genius, or what? That dress was made for you.”
Chapter 22
Matt couldn’t help grinning as he rode beside Shelly on the water shuttle back to Sunset Key. He’d never made anyone this happy. He hadn’t anticipated buying shoes and earrings as well as a purse to go with the dress, but he didn’t mind one bit.
Shelly had been so delighted with everything, confirming his decision. It had taken days for him to come to grips with his feelings. He had no business getting involved with a woman—any woman, but Shelly needed him. Okay, okay, maybe he was justifying his actions, yet he truly believed he could help her.
“You know, Jensen, you’re not half bad,” Shelly said. “Thanks for the outfit. It’s awesome.”
His arm was already around her, and he pulled her closer. “If you really appreciate it, then stop calling me Jensen. I like the way you say Matt.”
She smiled with a depth that had been missing when she’d smiled at him before. “Thanks, Matt. I can hardly wait for tomorrow night to wear it.”
“I can hardly wait for tonight.”
“It’s almost dark now. If we hurry, we can watch the sunset from the terrace with everyone.”
“Everyone? Bubbles is going to the grand opening of Martiniville. Clive is helping Trevor decorate his galleries for Fantasy Fest. Nobody will be back until waaay after midnight.”
“Oh.”
She didn’t sound too excited.
“I thought we could watch the sunset, then barbecue. Trevor usually has chicken and steaks in the fridge. What sounds good?”
“Anything.”
He wasn’t certain what she was thinking. She sounded detached. Almost too detached.
The shuttle pulled up to the main dock at Sunset Key, and he helped her off the boat. Carrying the shopping bag with the outfit, he walked beside her down the brick path that led across the small island to Half Moon Bay.
Shelly pointed to a Cape Cod-style home not far from the cottages and main dock. “Look. There’s a couple on the rooftop deck, watching the sunset. No one’s ever been at home before this. Don’t you ever wonder why people build such beautiful places, then leave them empty?”
“What can I tell you? The rich are different.”
They were too far from the house to see the man and woman clearly, but they appeared to be young.
“That must be the new couple who leased the house, the ones Trevor invited for dinner tomorrow evening,” Matt added.
They hurried to Half Moon Bay, where the bevy of cats greeted them. Jiggs danced at his feet, then put his front paws on Matt’s legs, begging to be picked up.
“Jiggs likes you better than he does me.” She sounded slightly hurt. “After all we’ve gone through together, you’d think he’d be crazy about me.”
Matt picked up the scrawny, henna-colored mutt. “You’re going to find this hard to believe, but dogs like me almost as much as women do.”
She rolled those sexy baby blues heavenward. “Go on. You can’t mean it.”
“Damn straight.” He handed her the bag. “Hang up your clothes while I open some wine. If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss the sunset.”
He carried Jiggs under one arm like a football and walked into the kitchen, feeling like the Pied Piper. All eight cats were at his heels. He opened the wine cooler and helped himself to a bottle of chardonnay. He set Jiggs on the floor beside Bingo. The orange cat glared at him with his one green eye, pissed off.
“Hey, dude. Din-din will have to wait until after sunset.”
Matt opened the wine, then took the glasses off the shelf. He headed toward the open door that led to the terrace. Bingo hurled himself between Matt and the door, throwing a body block. Jiggs was right behind the fearless feline. Matt lurched to one side, stumbled over yet another cat, and banged against the doorjamb.
“Did you invent that move yourself?” Shelly said with a laugh as she came up behind him. “Or are you imitating Beavis and Butt-head?”
“Honey, you should see some of my other moves.”
“Be still my heart.”
“Come on, smart mouth. We’re missing the sunset.”
They walked out across the terrace followed by Jiggs and the cats. Matt poured Shelly a glass of wine and handed it to her. The light of the setting sun glazed her blue eyes as she looked at him with such … such what?
A complex woman, he thought, pouring himself wine. Unpredictable in many ways. She seemed almost nervous to be alone with him. He sensed she was trying to hide her anxiety with wisecracks.
Take it slow and easy, he told himself.
“Awesome,” Shelly said, her tone reverent.
Brushstroke clouds painted the horizon, muting the sunset. The burnished-gold orb slowly slipped out of sight. Lingering pinwheels of russet and crimson fired the sky. The sapphire ocean, robbed of the light, turned a dark indigo. From across the channel at Mallory Dock a rousing cheer sounded.
Another sunset in paradise.
“Nature’s beautiful,” she said, her eyes still on the horizon, “and all-powerful. It makes you realize how small and insignificant we are.”
He moved closer, and she turned to him. She had the damnedest eyes. Expressive yet mysterious. She seemed a little sad, which was the last thing he wanted.
“I don’t know. I’m feeling mighty
important right now.”
All the cats except Bingo were either circling them or rubbing against their ankles. Off to one side sat Bingo, licking his privates while malevolently staring at them with one angry eye. As usual, Jiggs was watching Bingo with adoration. Go figure.
“I should feed them,” she said, moving away from him.
“Yeah, probably.” He tried not to sound too disappointed. This was not going the way he’d planned. What was wrong?
“Sit down, Matt. Enjoy your wine.”
She dawdled as long as she possibly could, waiting until the very last cat, Morty, had finished licking his bowl clean. When she walked outside, the sky was dark; only the soft light from the Nightscaping lit the terrace. Matt was standing down at the water’s edge, his back to her.
The other night she had been caught up in the moment and ready to let him make love to her. Now she felt more than a little self-conscious. How did other women act when they knew a man intended to make love to them?
The sweet scent of plumeria floated on the warm breeze that stirred the banks of ferns and rippled through the palm trees as she wandered down to the shore. She opted to brazen it out and play her hand the way she imagined a bad girl would. She gave him a little swat on his tight buns, then said, “We’ve got the place to ourselves. Let’s go skinny-dipping.”
Slack-jawed, he turned toward her. It took a moment for a glint of humor to fire his blue eyes. “You’re on. I mean, you’re off. Take your clothes off.”
She masked her nervousness with a saucy flounce of her head that sent her hair back over one shoulder. “I wasn’t suggesting a striptease. I meant an au naturel swim like the French do.” Not that she’d ever been in France.
“Right. What’s stopping you from taking off your clothes, then?”
“I thought we could go behind the bushes—”
“What bushes? The ones clear back at the house?”
That was too far to make sense. “What about the palms over there?” She hitched her head toward the cluster of palms that marked the end of the beach. “We could get out of our clothes and put on towels, then leave them on the—”
“You’re a real expert at skinny-dipping, aren’t you?”
“Sure, towels are a must.” She tugged his arm. “I’ll take the palm nearest the water—”
He refused to budge. “We don’t have towels.”
“Good point. I’ll get towels.”
She streaked across the sand, hit the dichondra at full speed, heading for the terrace hamper, where Trevor kept a supply of beach towels. So much for brazening it out. She’d been flustered and not thinking clearly. Only a complete imbecile could believe one of those tall but skinny trees could conceal Matt’s body.
And she’d totally forgotten they didn’t have towels.
She grabbed two fluffy beach towels, positive Matt was down at the shore, howling with laughter. Refusing to let this little snafu throw her, she sprinted toward the water. She came to a stop beside Matt and gave him what she hoped was a naughty smile.
Before she got cold feet, she tossed the towels onto the sand behind them. She peeled off her T-shirt and flung it over her shoulder.
“What happened to the bushes?” Matt asked, his eyes coasting over her bra.
“Come on, Jensen, are you hiding a beer belly, or what?”
She unzipped her shorts, experiencing a momentary flutter in her chest. If she stopped now, she’d never go through with it. She yanked the shorts down, then kicked them aside. She stood beside him in her bra and bikini panties, the surf purling around her toes.
Matt cleared his throat, and she forced herself to look at him. After all, the bikini she bought was more revealing than her underwear. Still, the idea of being so exposed in front of a man unnerved The Beast.
Matt showed no sign he intended to undress. “Keep going. This could get interesting.”
Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears, and she felt a little light-headed. “Don’t tell me you can’t swim.”
“I was captain of the water polo team at Yale,” he said, but she decided his mind was not on water sports.
His eyes held hers for a moment, and something sparked between them, tension crackling like summer lightning. His gaze dropped to her shoulders and down to her breasts. He took his sweet time, examining their size and shape. Despite the warm, balmy air, she shivered, and her nipples peaked.
A wave of self-consciousness that was only too familiar to The Beast hit her. “I’m getting in the water.”
“We’re already in the water.”
She looked down; the advancing tide washed against her ankles. She ventured another glance at him. The smoldering flame she saw in his eyes heightened her sense of anticipation and made her even more nervous.
“Skinny-dipping usually means no clothes.” His voice had become a husky rasp. “Unless things are different … in France.”
She refused to let him bait her. There was a bulge in his cutoffs that hadn’t been there earlier. He could make a joke of this, but she was getting to him.
A-maz-ing.
She unhooked her bra, then flung it over her shoulder. Her breasts swung free. In a half second she had her panties off and pitched them backward. With courage she never knew she had, she faced him.
“That’s more like it, Shelly.”
“You can stand there if you want. I’m going for a swim.”
Before she could turn, he grabbed her wrist and hauled her into his arms. One hand gripped her bare buttocks, pressing her against his lower body. He rocked his hips just slightly in case she had somehow missed his hard, jutting shaft. Her breath stalled in her throat, and her body was warm, flushed.
She couldn’t help herself. “Is that a mouse in your pocket, or are you glad to see me?”
His hooded gaze became strangely arrested. Then he laughed, a gruff, masculine sound that vibrated through her body as he held her. What she’d said had been incredibly silly, considering everyone used it so much, it had become a joke. She started to giggle, which only made him laugh harder.
They shared a gratifying laugh. Their chuckling tapered off, drifting into the balmy air as they stood nose to nose. His erection probed intimately at her. A delicious shudder shook her body.
Make love to me was all she could think.
Now.
His hand stroked her bare bottom, then his fingers roamed lower until he found the smooth curve of her inner thigh. The feather-light touch ignited currents of desire, radiating outward.
“Your skin is softer than a baby’s.”
Her arms slid up his shoulders and twined around his neck as she instinctively moved against his bulging erection. A low groan verging on a growl erupted from his throat. The combination of his sheer masculine power and being naked while he was clothed heightened the dark desire coursing through her veins like wildfire.
“The French don’t know squat about skinny-dipping. Towels? Get real. But the French kiss, now, there’s a helluva idea. Don’t you think so?”
She couldn’t manage a response. While he spoke—calm as you please—his hand had found its way between her legs. She’d felt the moist heat building from the moment she had stood before him clad only in her underwear.
Now she was slick, and the whole core of her being seemed to be centered at the pleasure point he was now stroking. She braced her head against his sturdy shoulder and surrendered to the moment.
“I guess we’ve had just about all the fun we can have.”
“No,” she cried. She wanted more. He wasn’t going to do this to her again.
He swung her into his arms and carried her out of the water. “I meant all the fun we can have right here. In case you haven’t noticed, the water is above your knees. There’s no need to drown, is there?”
He took her across the sand and lowered her to the lush carpet of dichondra that separated the terrace from the sandy beach. She gazed up at him as he unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes on the cluster of pale blond curls betwe
en her legs. He dropped the shirt and paused.
A horned moon shone down from a whirlpool of stars, giving her enough light to see the contours of his powerful chest. Feathered with dark hair, his torso dipped and curved, the shadows highlighting his muscles.
She clutched the grass with her good hand, anticipating his next move. He unbuckled the belt, then used one thumb to unhook the top button on the cutoffs. The zipper came down slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, while he grimaced.
No wonder. His cutoffs were wa–a–ay too tight. A thin strip of hair at the waistband unfurled into a dense thicket as the zipper opened more and more. She meant to look away, she honestly did, but she must have been thrown, because Matt didn’t have anything on under his cutoff jeans.
“It’s not polite to stare.”
“Uh-huh,” was all she could manage.
His sex proudly jutted out from between powerful thighs, aiming right at her. He was all male and so heart-stoppingly virile that her throat constricted.
This isn’t going to work was her first thought. He was much larger, thicker, than she had anticipated. Suddenly, her mouth felt like parchment.
He lowered himself to the grass beside her. “Honey, I wish I could take my time. I will later, I promise, but since that night in your bedroom, I’ve had a hard-on that won’t quit.”
He hovered over her for a moment, desire glittering in his eyes, then he covered her body with his. His weight drove her bare skin into the grass, but it was a delightful sensation. She inhaled a deep breath, and his rich, musky scent mingled with citrus aftershave filled her lungs.
Like a powerful narcotic, the smell enthralled her. Blazing a trail of moist kisses over her bare skin, he slid lower and lower. The faint prickling of his emerging beard tickled her sensitive skin. She writhed beneath him, a velvety purr rising from her throat.
His warm breath ruffled the tangle of curls. Oh, my. She had absolutely no experience, but she was well-read enough to know what he was going to do. He nuzzled her with his lips, then his tongue found the sweet spot. Her whole body began to quiver, and in a second she was on the verge of going over the edge.
