by Lori Foster
Melanie’s heart gave an excited stumble over his words. What had he fantasized? Certainly not about her. He’d never shown her anything but disdain. Sure, today he’d joked about kissing her, but that was just his way of making her uncomfortable. Yet the way he’d said it while eyeing her breasts...
Carefully, measuring every word, she said, “I can easily take care of your missed meeting, your muscles look...unforgettable to me, your head will feel better soon. Oh, and what did you fantasize about?”
Her nonchalance didn’t fool him. He slowly sat up to face her, his large body too close, his gaze too intent on her face. She felt herself blushing without knowing why.
He worked his jaw in thought, then said, “I don’t need you to do a damned thing about the missed meeting, so forget that. But I am glad you noticed my muscles—especially since I’ve more than noticed your soft little body. My head is going to fall off my shoulders long before it stops aching.” He touched her cheek, the line of her jaw. “And you,” he whispered. “I’ve fantasized about you, Mel, about touching you, kissing you.” He leaned closer, his mouth only an inch away from hers. “Those last few years all I could think about was how damned exciting it would be to get you under me.”
Oh, wow. Her vision clouded, and she had to part her lips to breathe. The heat wasn’t only surrounding her now, it was inside her, a part of her. No man had ever talked to her this way, not even Jerry, and she’d been engaged to him. It was exhilarating and stimulating and...this was Adam. She narrowed her gaze.
“Are you trying to humiliate me again?”
He drew back just a bit and stared at her. “Again?”
“Like in high school, when you asked me out. Oh, don’t look so innocent! I know what would have happened if I’d been dumb enough to say yes. You’d have laughed and told everyone what a fool I was. That’s the only reason you asked me in the first place, isn’t it?”
He looked equal parts frustrated, angry and hot. “I asked you out because I wanted to.”
“Oh, sure. And that’s why you suggested we go driving instead of to a school dance or the movies where someone might have seen us.”
“You’re the one who would have cared, Mel. My reputation was already shot. Folks saw me as dirt poor, no-account, and a troublemaker.”
“You were a troublemaker.”
He ignored that little truism. “And you were the town princess, too good for the humble masses. Hell, your mommy and daddy had nothing but contempt for the rest of us, and they would have had me shot if they knew I’d asked you out.” He shrugged, looking awkward for just a moment. “I figured you might go if no one would ever know about it.”
She stared at him, appalled at his perceptions, feeling sick deep inside herself. He was right in predicting her parents’ reactions. They wouldn’t have been pleased. But to think of Adam as sincerely wanting to date her... Well, that would take a major attitude adjustment. He’d been so cocky back then, as if he’d been unaware of his poverty, of his social circumstances. He’d always seemed so self-contained, unaffected by others, especially by her.
Could he have felt as vulnerable as she did?
“Why?” She asked it simply, the question uppermost in her mind. “Why would you have wanted to go out with me?”
His expression became almost ruthless. With the black headband wrapped around his fair hair, his bare shoulders glistening in the hot evening sun, he looked like a savage.
His golden eyes glittered with intent, and then without a word he grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulled her closer and pressed his mouth to hers.
For a mere second he was still, the pressure firm. They both seemed frozen, afraid to move. Then he groaned and twisted and gathered her closer, his mouth opening, devouring. She felt the hot stroke of his tongue, urgent and deep, the sharp touch of his teeth, and she gave a small groan of her own.
His arms closed around her, bringing her as near as he could get her. Everything about him seemed to be hot and hard, like a steel inferno. Pressed against his damp chest, she felt every ragged breath he drew.
Being alone with Adam like this, hearing the things he claimed, was a fantasy come to life. As a young woman, she’d built a world around the idea of luring in the irresistible Adam Stone. Everything about him had excited her, and compared to him, other men had seemed lacking—including her fiancé. “Adam—”
His teeth nipped her earlobe and made her gasp. “Sh,” he whispered, barely breathing the word so that all the fine hairs on her body stood at titillated attention. Her body felt ripe, hungry.
“Tell me that you want me, too, Mel.”
Oh, she did. She really did. “We...we need to talk, Adam.”
He leaned back to give her a warm smile, his gaze searching, pleased. “But you’re not denying you want me.”
She started to, only the words wouldn’t come out, not with him looking at her that way. His hands stayed busy, slowly pushing the white shirt open and brushing over the exposed skin of her shoulders, arms and throat as if he couldn’t quite touch her enough. Everywhere his fingers trailed, she felt gooseflesh rise, making her more sensitive. He appeared almost reverent, his gaze so hot she felt the touch of it against her skin.
She’d secretly dreamed of being with him like this, and she wanted so badly to give in. But she knew she’d caused him a lot of grief, and first she had to remedy that. She leaned away from the temptation he offered. “I want to buy the resort, Adam. I owe it to you.”
Very slowly, he released her. His expression was cold, blank. “There was a bidder right behind me.”
“So I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
He jerked to his feet, then stared at her. “I don’t want your charity, Mel.”
“Charity?”
“I don’t live on the riverbank anymore. I can damn well take care of myself, without your interference.”
His attitude stunned her. “You’re being unreasonable, Adam. I can afford to do this—”
“And I can’t. Just like old times, huh?”
They stared at each other in heavy silence. He was so distant, so sarcastic, it was as if the delicious kiss had never happened. Melanie bit her lip to keep her emotions in check. His feelings were plain, but then, so were hers. She knew what she needed to do, she just didn’t know how Adam would react. “You’re a bullheaded jerk, Adam Stone.”
He turned away to observe the shoreline. After several more seconds, he said, “It’s going to be dark soon. We should finish checking out the house to see if there’s anything in there we can use.”
The setting sun cast everything in shadow, lending an eerie quality to the island. Adam disappeared behind the house, and she didn’t bother to follow him. How had everything changed so suddenly?
“I’ve found us some food.”
She stared at him, carefully hiding her hurt. He held out two withered oranges.
“Behind the house.” He watched her as he spoke, and she had the feeling he was trying to gauge her mood. “The orange tree isn’t much to brag on, but next to that is a palm tree loaded with coconuts. We won’t starve.”
Fighting with him wouldn’t solve anything, so she tried for a look of enthusiasm. “I can live with fruit.”
He looked relieved, and even smiled at her. “They were probably planted by whoever used to live here. According to the guidebook, citrus trees are usually only on the mainland. There’s even a wild strawberry patch here, though it looks like the bugs have gotten to most of them. And some thorny blackberries.”
He dropped the fruit in the sand by her feet, then went around to lever himself into the front door again. Watching Adam climb wearing no more than form-fitting Skivvies was a unique experience. Muscles and tendons flexed and pulled tight across his back and shoulders. His thighs were long, athletic. She crept closer to the house to peek inside.
It had obviously been no more than a functional fishing cabin. There were no separate rooms, just a few dividing walls. At the back of
the house were an old porcelain tub and toilet, a broken mirror still on the wall. Various broken tools, dishes and garbage littered the inside.
“It’s not exactly cozy.”
Adam snorted. “If it rains again, and it will, at least we’ll be able to keep dry. And I think I might be able to drag that tub outside to collect the rainwater.”
The tub was dirty, chipped and rusted. “Pray, for what?”
“To drink and bathe, sweetheart. Unfortunately, there’s no catering service here, no ice machine right around the corner, no hot showers. Or haven’t you accepted yet that we’re stuck here?”
She really wanted to smack him. “We’ll be rescued soon.”
“Dream on.” He began heaving at the tub. A large slithery snake glided from beneath and slipped across the dusty floor to disappear into a crack between the wall and the baseboard. It moved so quickly, neither of them had time to react. Adam turned to her, one brow raised, and she quickly ducked out of sight.
Sometimes, she thought, life was hardly fair. She’d come on this stupid trip to get away from meddling friends and family, stress and pressure. She’d wanted peace and quiet, but instead she’d gotten stranded on a damn bug-and-snake infested island with the one man who’d always made her crazy. Now it seemed that so many things she’d thought about Adam were wrong, but it didn’t matter, because he still despised her inherited wealth.
“Come here and give me a hand.”
Melanie turned, saw Adam struggling to lower the tub to the ground through the open doorway and applauded. “Bravo, Stone. Anything else I can do for you?”
He mumbled something she didn’t hear and let the tub drop with a thud. After jumping off the doorstep, he dragged the tub straight past her and right into the ocean.
“Adam! What are you doing?” She envisioned him climbing inside the tub and somehow sailing away—without her.
But the tub immediately sank, and he only went out knee deep, just enough to swish the salty sea water inside it.
“I’m washing it. Something’s been nesting inside it.”
Shuddering in distaste, Melanie stood fretfully just outside the touch of the foaming tide and watched, praying no sharks would eat Adam, because she really didn’t think she could stand being stranded alone.
But when he waded out and she saw that his snug boxer briefs were once again soaked and clinging to his very male body parts, she began to wonder if being stranded alone might be safer than being with Adam Stone.
* * *
The sun was nearly down, the air cooler, and Adam felt ready to burn up. On every imaginable level, he was painfully aware of Melanie. He could smell her warm, female scent, could hear her occasional movement, feel the touch of her gaze on his body. In a burst of frustration, he growled, “Stop ogling me.”
Affronted, Melanie exclaimed, “I’m not!”
“Ha.” He wanted an argument, a way to vent. When he’d kissed her, he’d nearly lost his mind, she tasted so good. He’d wanted nothing more than to lay her down in the sand and make love to her. Then she’d offered him money, and he’d gone cold inside. She couldn’t know what it was like to take charity, to be dependent on others to get by. But he knew. And that was one more major difference between them.
She had spunk, he’d give her that. Most women would be carping and crying and complaining right about now. Their prospects for the coming night did not look good. But not Mel. No, she didn’t complain, she just went on insisting everything was dandy in that damn annoying Pollyanna way she had of looking at everything. Even with bedraggled clothes and ruined makeup, she managed to appear regal and in control. She sat before him, her legs crossed just so, her shoulders straight.
She was staring at him again.
“Damn it, Mel.” He dropped to his knees in front of her, at the end of his control. “Do you want me to pick up where we left off?”
She looked at his mouth, then slowly shook her head. “I want to talk to you.”
“That again?” He plopped down, feeling the gritty sand on the back of his thighs, his palms. Damn sand everywhere. “All right. Let’s get it over with.”
She drew her knees up to her chest and carefully arranged her skirt over them. “Whether you deliberately jumped in to save me or not, the result was the same. You did get me to dry land, and I do owe you.”
“That attitude ought to at least make our stay here interesting.”
She drew a deep breath, and he had the feeling she was reaching for calm. “I intend to buy your resort, whether you like it or not.”
He eyed her militant expression and shook his head. “No. Now would you like to wash all that paint off your face? It’s pretty much a mess.”
“Oh.” She pressed her palms to her cheeks and looked a little embarrassed. He hoped that would be the end of it, that she’d get sidetracked with appearances and quit poking holes in his self-esteem.
Not Mel.
“I can wash up later.”
“Not unless it rains again tonight. Already the puddles of fresh water are starting to disappear.”
She blinked slowly, as if barely comprehending his words. “You expect me to wash my face in a puddle?”
“Well, honey, your options are somewhat limited right about now. It’s either salt water, which is pretty sticky when it’s drying, or a fresh rainwater puddle. The sand is clean, so the water is, too. And I can even loan you some of my soap—for a fee.”
In the fading light, her pale blue eyes looked almost iridescent. He’d always thought she had the sexiest and most expressive eyes he’d ever seen. She didn’t need makeup.
“What fee?”
“Another kiss, that’s all.” He could still taste her, and he wanted more.
“Bargaining away your goods? A real gentleman would just share.”
“But we both know there’s no real gentlemen on this island, don’t we?” Provoking her seemed his only defense. If she was mad, she wouldn’t talk about owing him. “Now what’ll it be? You want the soap or not?”
Indignation made her eyes bright. “Oh, all right.” Taking him by surprise, she leaned forward, grabbed his face in both hands and gave him a hard, dry smooch. He didn’t even have time to pucker. “There. Now where’s the soap?”
“That’s it?” He had to fight to keep from laughing. Her averted gaze told him what that impromptu kiss had cost her in the way of nerve.
“That’s it.” She tried to look smug, but she avoided his gaze so the effect was minimal. “You didn’t say what kind of kiss.”
“I see I’ll have to word myself more carefully in the future.” Still smiling, Adam dug through his bag and pulled out the scented bar of green soap. It smelled like Brut cologne.
Melanie stared at it. “Is that all you have?”
“Sorry, but I didn’t take into account feminine bathing preferences when packing it. It’ll do the job. And you better hurry up before all the water either evaporates or sinks into the ground.”
She took the soap and moved only a few feet away to where a shallow puddle had formed in the sand between some scrub grass and a young mangrove tree. On her knees, she bent forward and splashed her face. The position put her shapely rump up in the air, and Adam had to choke back several comments that tripped to the tip of his tongue.
Worse than that, he had to sit on his hands to keep from touching that sweet little bottom. He’d felt its softness when they were swimming to shore, had twice rested his head against her delicious buttocks. He’d had to fight the inclination to explore that area further while the opportunity presented itself. He’d even considered taking a few small nibbles, he’d always had a certain fondness for feminine posteriors, and everything about Melanie Tucker had always been a source of fascination.
She’d been too frightened of the ocean to notice his interest; he doubted that was the case now. But the woman obviously had no idea of her own charms. If she did, she sure wouldn’t offer up such an irresistible temptation.
Hadn’t her
fiancé ever told her what a great bottom she had?
When she lingered, splashing again and again, he finally turned away. He wasn’t into torture, and tonight his control seemed precarious, at best.
A few minutes later, face freshly scrubbed and even more appealing, Mel returned his soap to him. She sat beside him, looking more self-conscious than ever, but also a lot more determined. “Now, about the resort.”
“Do you want a comb or some lotion?”
“Does the lotion smell like the soap?”
He grinned. “Sure does.”
She stuck out her small hand, palm up.
Adam held the bottle out of reach. “You know you’ll owe me again, only this time it’ll be my choice.”
She sighed. “And what exactly would your choice be?”
After looking her over from head to toe, he locked onto her gaze. Her eyes were wide and wary, and he thought he might be content to simply look at her all night. “It’s a warm evening.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t relish sleeping on this sand.” He picked up a handful and let it sift through his fingers. “It sure as hell won’t be very comfortable.”
“We’ll be rescued before it’s a problem.”
He grunted. Damn persistent witch. “Maybe, but if we’re not, I want you to lose the skirt.”
Her back snapped straight, and she glared at him. “This time you have to be joking.”
“Nope.” He enjoyed watching the flush bloom over her face and upper chest. He imagined her breasts rosy and warm, and shifted uncomfortably. “It’s the only piece of material we have that’s big enough to serve as a sheet. We can both snuggle up on it.” When she looked furious, he asked softly, “What’s the matter, Mel? If you’re so sure we’ll get rescued, then it won’t be a problem.”
He’d caught her and he knew it. His motives were twofold. If he could keep her mind on sex and off his personal business, she’d likely forget his financial confession. At the same time, he knew he’d gladly be stranded for a month if it meant he could fulfill his fantasy of being with her. Like an obsession that wouldn’t go away, he wanted her as much now as he ever had. Maybe more, because he’d kissed her and knew how good she tasted, how perfect it had felt.
