A low murmur of satisfaction came from deep in his throat. Gentle yet demanding hands roamed freely, exploring every warm-fleshed feminine curve. Yet when he spread his fingers possessively across her flat abdomen and the tip of his tongue sought the veined softness of her inner lower lip, an intermingling of a natural fear of the unknown and awakening desires made her tremble.
"You are afraid," he muttered against her mouth, "aren't you?"
"No," she lied again, amazed she'd managed to make the denial sound convincing. "I'm not really."
"Good. You'll come with me to St. Simons, then," he stated rather than asked, his deep voice appealingly husky. "Just say yes, Laine."
"Yes." She obeyed automatically and was glad she did. She longed to spend two weeks with him and was no longer able to deny it, even to herself. Despite lingering doubts and fears, she was already too involved with Nick to let him walk away from her now. She needed to be with him.
After a last slow rousing kiss, Nick released Laine, but embers of suppressed passion glowed in his eyes as they swept over tousled blond hair and fragilely structured face. "Sometimes I think you're too intriguing," he whispered, raking his fingers through his own hair. "I almost forgot your father's here. And maybe it's a good thing for you he is."
The intimation wasn't lost on her. A sharp breath caught deep in her throat, but she managed a little laugh before asking, "Is that a warning, Nick?"
"It's simply a fact," he stated unabashedly, then gave her a quizzical smile. "Want to change your mind about going to the island with me?" When she shook her head in response, his smile deepened. "You still feel a little uncertain, though. Maybe it'll help to know that another couple, friends of mine, will be guests at the beach house while you're there."
"Why didn't you say so in the first place? That makes everything different," she softly exclaimed. Emotions of disappointment and relief combined, but the relief was the predominant feeling, and she was totally unaware that her admission had confirmed his guess that she was afraid to be alone with him.
"I wanted you to accept before you knew we'd be 'chaperoned' properly."
"Why?"
"It's an important enough distinction, don't you think?" he replied enigmatically, rising to his feet. After picking up his jacket, he tossed it back over one shoulder, then simply looked down at her as she stood also. Very slowly, he reached out and brushed the hair-roughened back of his hand against her cheek, but stepped away from her after only a few too-brief seconds. As they walked to the front door together, he announced abruptly, "I'll come for you Friday evening around six. All right?"
"Why don't I just drive my car down?" Laine suggested. "It's less than an hour's drive and you won't have to bother coming for me."
"And you'll have transportation in the event you want to make a fast getaway," he retorted, only half teasingly. "You don't really trust me, Laine. But maybe you'll begin to during the two weeks we're together."
She hoped so. With all her soul, she wanted to trust him completely. When he opened the door after saying goodnight, she touched his arm, trailing fingertips over bare brown skin. "Thank you for asking me, Nick."
He answered by gathering her in his arms again and taking her mouth in a brief but satisfyingly intense kiss. Then he went out into the rain-drenched night.
Laine closed the door behind him and leaned back against it. She had to be insane to have accepted his invitation. Yet the temptation had been too strong to resist. Besides, she reminded herself with a wry smile, now she wouldn't have to hear her father's complaints.
CHAPTER FIVE
Laine passed through picturesque Brunswick before seven Friday evening. After turning off U.S. 17 onto the Torras Causeway, she glanced quickly at the directions Nick had given when he'd phoned her last night. She mentally repeated the directions as she crossed the divergent channels of the intracoastal waterway. Because she had visited St. Simons Island before, she was familiar with some of the roads and didn't believe finding Nick's house would be difficult.
After passing over the last causeway bridge, Laine veered her cream Omni right onto King's Way, which curved toward the southern shore. Too quickly, it seemed, she was passing the entrance to Retreat Plantation and spotting the narrow asphalt lane Nick had told her to take. Her heartbeat accelerated to thudding rapidity. Now that she had nearly reached her destination, she wondered nervously if she should turn around and speed back home. No, she decided, with a slight uptilting of her chin. She was old enough and wise enough to spend two weeks with a man, even a man as dangerously attractive as Nick.
Her sudden case of nervous apprehension momentarily dispelled, Laine proceeded along the drive bordered by vibrant flowers. Snarled boughs of ancient live oaks, laced with Spanish moss, met overhead in a tunnel of greenery, filtering the sunlight to a few dappled patches on the asphalt. From her window she caught glimpses of secluded vacation homes, but knowing Nick's was located at the end of the road, she drove on. Soon the salt-freshened scent of the air became stronger as the road terminated in a cul-de-sac. Taking the white pebbled driveway as Nick had directed, Laine entered a copse of trees which provided permanent shade for a sprawling one-story cedar house. Beyond the house and trees stretched the sea. At the end of the driveway Laine stopped her Omni next to Nick's silver Jaguar, switched off the engine, and gazed out at the magnificent view of blue-green waters tumbling in foaming cascades onto pure white sands.
Delighted with the house and its location, Laine got out of the Omni and went around to open the trunk, but before she could take out her canvas suitcase, Nick appeared from around the corner of the house. Clad in white tennis shorts and a white shirt that accentuated his bronze skin, he strode to the car, stilling Laine's hand when she reached for her luggage. He effortlessly lifted the large suitcase, then gave her a rather mischievous grin.
"So you didn't lose your nerve," he teased. "I thought you might change your mind about coming at the last minute."
"Never crossed my mind." Hooking her thumbs into the back pockets of her own khaki shorts, Laine wrinkled her nose at him. "Well, no more than three or four times, anyhow."
As Nick draped one arm across Laine's shoulders and they walked toward the house, she smiled up at him, feeling more at ease than she ever had in his presence. Though his very casual clothing actually heightened his aura of unmistakable virility, he seemed younger in tennis attire, younger and less commanding. Laine was relieved; now she felt less as if she were balanced on the edge of a precipice.
The interior of Nick's house was as charming as the exterior. The great room with beams crisscrossing the stucco ceiling and polished hardwood floors was furnished with two rattan sofas and several chairs containing plump ice blue cushions. A plush blue area rug lay before the stone fireplace, available for use on cool evenings. Sliding glass doors opened onto a deck overlooking the beach, and Laine looked around the room, nodding obvious approval.
"I really like this," she commented, brushing her hand over the top of a sofa cushion as they passed it. "Now I understand why you'd rather live here all the time."
Nodding, Nick directed Laine down a long hallway, then stopped at the third door on the left. He opened it and followed as Laine stepped into the large bedroom. Sheer apricot curtains billowed in the breeze that drifted through open windows, and a quilted apricot spread covered the wide bed with carved mahogany headboard. While Nick placed Laine's suitcase on a carved antique chest at the foot of the bed, she placed her purse on the vanity.
"It's lovely, Nick," she complimented genuinely. "It's rare to see this many antique pieces perfectly matched."
"You can give a decorator credit for that," he replied wryly. "After I bought the bed and chest at an estate sale, she scoured the countryside for the dresser and chest and even managed to come up with the vanity and cheval glass. I never would have had the time or patience to find them myself. I'd rather spend my leisure time on the beach."
"Umm. I love the beach too," Laine said, ga
zing dreamily out the window. "Why don't we go for a walk now? I can hardly wait to wade in the surf again and feel the water swirling around my ankles."
"And since you have such very lovely ankles, that's a scene I look forward to watching," Nick responded with a rather wicked smile. "But we'll have to postpone our walk until after dinner, which Bob and Liz, the friends I mentioned, insisted on preparing. Come along, we don't want to keep our chefs waiting."
Laine hesitated, indicating her attire with a sweeping gesture of one hand. "Don't you think maybe I should put on a dress?"
"No." Taking Laine's left hand in his right, Nick led her toward the door. "We're on vacation, remember. Formalities don't count. You may even lounge around the house naked if you want to."
Laine laughed up at him. "Thanks for the offer but I don't have to go quite that far to be comfortable."
"Pity," he murmured, dark green eyes playing lazily over her slender, softly curved form. "But if you should change your mind…"
Such teasing banter made Laine feel even more relaxed. Nick in a playful mood she could handle. It was the seriously intense Nick she had to worry about.
Dinner was delightful. Liz and Bob Frederick, both in their early forties, were friendly and interesting, and the meal they had prepared was delicious. With a main course of shrimp, bought fresh that afternoon in Brunswick, they served curried rice pilaf, salad, then fresh strawberries for dessert. But it was the congenial atmosphere that made dinner the real success. Already Laine liked the Fredericks and looked forward to spending the evening with them.
As it turned out, Liz and Bob had made other plans. After Liz and Laine tidied the kitchen they joined the men in the great room, and Bob rose from the sofa, smiling expectantly at his wife.
"Ready to go, dear?" he inquired, glancing at his wrist-watch. "The Tylers expect us at nine, you know, and it's now ten till."
"We're playing bridge with the Tylers tonight. We met them on the golf course yesterday," Liz explained, speculatively eyeing Nick, then Laine, then turning to Nick again. She smiled knowingly. "You'll forgive us for leaving the two of you alone, won't you, dear?"
"You're forgiven," Nick assured her. "Laine and I planned a walk on the beach anyway."
A minute or so later, when the front door clicked shut behind the older couple as they left, a long silence commenced in the great room. After idly examining a crystal gazelle that adorned the table beside the sofa, Laine glanced up at Nick. Her breathing went all akilter as she recognized without any doubt that he was no longer in a teasing bantering mood. Narrowed eyes traveled slowly over her and every inch of her skin burned as if touched by a hot brand. And she was not yet ready to deal with the sensuously persuasive man she knew Nick could be. With the most composed smile she could muster, she stood up quickly and went to him, reaching down to take his right hand, tugging when strong fingers closed around her own.
"I'd love that walk now," she murmured, highly relieved when he nodded and rose lithely to his feet.
Outside, the light of a lemon-colored moon shone luminescently on the sea. As Laine and Nick walked toward the breaking waves, she drew in a deep breath of the fresh night air and impulsively slipped her hand around his left arm.
"I like Bob and Liz," she announced, breaking the silence with an impersonal topic of conversation. "They're so nice."
"Yes, very," Nick agreed. "I thought you'd like them. They've been my friends for a long time. After I passed the bar exam, I worked in Bob's firm for over a year before establishing my own practice. But I still see both of them as often as I can."
Laine smiled up at him. "Longtime relationships are comforting, aren't they? I still keep in touch with some friends I had in elementary school. It's so much fun to talk to them. They're like family."
"Speaking of family and relationships, I think it's time we discussed your father." Halting abruptly, Nick gently gripped Laine's shoulders, turning her to face him. Behind him, the moon shimmered down, casting him in shadow, concealing his expression. His fingers stroked coaxingly as they probed her shoulders' delicate hollows and bones. "Your father's not the easiest person to be close to, is he?"
"No," she admitted, chewing her lower lip, unaware that in the pale moonlight her own expression was easily readable. Despite the weight of Nick's hands, she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "But we get along well enough, I guess. There's certainly nothing about our relationship to justify your suspicion that he intimidates me."
Shaking his head, Nick drew her closer until his breath was stirring tendrils of her hair when he answered, "I'm not saying this to hurt you, but I did notice the change in your father's tone when he showed me that photo of your sister. He'd criticized you for having a child's handprint on your skirt but he spoke of her as if she were a perfect princess. Laine, it has to hurt when he does that."
"Maybe it did long ago but not anymore," she said stiffly, wanting no one's pity, especially his. "Now I realize Father dotes on Regina because she resembles Mother much more closely than I do. And since I can't help that and am quite satisfied with the way I look, there's no reason to brood about the way he feels. Is there?"
"Don't hide your true feelings behind that logical mind of yours. You don't have to do that with me," Nick whispered, lowering his dark head, brushing firm lips against her right temple. "The love and approval of a parent is important to anyone."
"I'm just wise enough to accept what can't be changed," she replied, forcing a smile as she pulled away from him. "Now, enough of that. I didn't come, here to be psychoanalyzed. I came for a vacation, which I intend to enjoy to the fullest." With that she rushed toward the frothing surf, advancing courageously toward it when it receded, then running back laughingly to escape when it returned. It was a game from childhood but never before played when the stakes were expensive leather sandals. Yet tonight she felt reckless, reckless enough to tarry until the very last instant before retreating from the crashing waves. At last her timing was off a fraction of a second. She was caught. The ocean, patiently regular in its ageless rhythm, became the victor. Surprisingly warm water, soft with salt, rushed over sandals and toes, then swirled upward around Laine's ankles. She gazed down as sand shifted beneath her feet when the wave receded.
The moonlit surf was dazzling—a dazzling vision that intensified acutely when Nick suddenly swept her up in his arms to carry her away from the inrushing sea. With a soft murmur, his mouth descended and she succumbed to the pleasure of hard possessive lips parting her own. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and when the tip of his tongue touched each corner of her mouth, he once again awakened that aching emptiness within her. Then common sense reasserted itself. Laine resisted, pushing at his broad shoulders until he released her lips, although reluctantly, and lowered her feet to the damp sand.
He looked down at her, eyes heavily lidded. "You gambled with the sea, Laine," he said softly. "Are you brave enough to gamble with me?"
"Not yet," she sighed, taking a backward step to escape the nearly irresistible warmth emanating from him.
To her relief, a dog, golden in the moonlight, appeared on the beach, loping in their direction, pausing momentarily here and there to splash merrily in the bubbling surf. When she spotted Nick, she raced to him, wiggling joyously before she sat down, her strong tail beating an adoring tattoo on the sand.
"Oh, isn't she lovely," Laine said enthusiastically, sinking to her knees to begin much appreciated scratching behind the animal's silken ears. "Is she yours, Nick?"
"She is. Her name's Greta, and she's mistress of this stretch of beach."
Laine smiled, then resumed scratching when big brown eyes begged and a velvety soft nose nudged her hand. Though Greta would have been content with this particular kind of petting forever, Nick adroitly distracted her by tossing a stick down the beach. When she galloped after it, he and Laine followed.
For the next half hour or so, Greta claimed most of their attention. Tirelessly, she returned with the stick for Nick to thr
ow again and again. Then, bored with that game, she entertained them by frolicking in the surf. Barefoot this time, Laine waded in, too, laughing as the dog pounced from one swirling whirlpool of sand to another as if she really expected to find some amazing discovery in one of them. They were back almost directly in front of Nick's house when Greta spotted a large piece of driftwood just beyond them on the beach. From her throat came a deep growl and a few low gruff barks before she crouched down and slowly began to advance as if she spied her worst enemy.
When a strong arm slipped around Laine's waist and Nick directed her toward the house, she laughed up at him. "Surely she's seen driftwood before?"
"She knows what it is. It's a game she likes to play." He grinned. "She'll sneak up on it, sniff it, then run off and forget it awhile. Then when she comes back and sees it, she'll bark and start all over again."
"I could almost envy her," Laine confessed as they stepped up on the redwood deck that extended the length of the house. "Just think—she can play on the beach any time she wants and I'm only going to have two weeks."
"But the two weeks are just beginning," Nick reminded her, dropping down onto a chaise longue and drawing her down beside him. "So let's make certain we don't waste a moment of them."
Suddenly, everything was different. Gone was the light-hearted mood of only a moment ago. Now the very atmosphere seemed charged with electricity and Nick's touch electric as well, his hands smoothly spanning her waist. Close to him, lying on her side facing him on the narrow chaise, Laine quivered when those hands slipped beneath her shirt, fingertips gliding across her bare midriff. He arched her against him and, lowering his head, sought the curve of creamy smooth throat. His lips found the pulse there and she felt them curve to a smile as his mere touch increased the beat to frantic rapidity. Tense with eager anticipation, she clutched his shirtfront while he trailed tiny nibbling kisses up her neck, along the line of her jaw to the lobe of one ear. Gentle even teeth teased and tasted that morsel of flesh, and Laine shivered with the piercing thrill that shafted through her when he whispered her name. The kisses resumed, touching her temples, her eyelids, and the slight hollows of her cheeks; at last, when his mouth covered her lips, passion exploded between them. The muscular arm round her waist tautened to iron-hardness, crushing her against him while he cupped the back of her head in his free hand, holding her fast as the kiss they exchanged deepened.
Passion's Price Page 8
