“Hot damn,” murmured Jack, once her mouth cleared his. “I’ve missed you even more than I thought.”
Me, too. She managed not to say it. All these unsaid words must be building up inside her like a dam about to burst.
His rock-hard erection jutted against her thigh, and she looked down at it and laughed, glad of the distraction from her roiling emotions. “I guess you are happy to see me.”
“Happy to hold on to you, as well.” His arms were still around her, and he hugged her gently, affectionately. Her heart did a double backflip and she closed her eyes to avoid his gaze.
“I guess I must be getting loopy from lack of sleep or something.” She pretended to stretch. Jack’s lips touched hers, sparking an electric pulse of passion which made her eyes jump open.
Sure enough his dark, penetrating gaze was fixed right on her. “Believe me, sleep is the very last thing I have on my mind right now.” His wicked, predatory grin stretched across his handsome face.
Desire flared deep inside her, hot and low, like the rumblings of an underground geyser. Could it really hurt that much to have a quickie with Jack? They were both here in the middle of nowhere. They were practically naked already. And let’s face it, they’d done it before and it was really, really good.
She couldn’t kid herself, right at this moment, that having sex with Jack Drummond would do anything at all to get him out of her system. It was likely to have the opposite effect.
On the other hand, she was a grown-up now, with responsibilities and pressures and a life to get back to, not some foolish girl with too much time on her hands.
Worst-case scenario—she’d be filled with regret and have to nurse a broken heart for a few months. Right now that seemed worth it.
She licked his lips like the top of an ice-cream cone. His grin widened. He licked back, and the tickling sensation reached deep inside her, to her feminine core. He let out a low growl, like a curious puma, which made her smile and only aroused her more. “I feel like I’m relapsing into an old addiction.”
“And there’s no cure.”
She didn’t have to voice her agreement. Her body said it all. Her fingers explored the contours of his chest and stomach as he peeled her swimsuit away. The warm evening air caressed her bare breasts, closely followed by Jack’s hungry mouth. She sighed and arched her back as he licked her nipple to a tight peak.
The stubble of his chin tickled her skin, increasing the amount of sensation building all over her. As he rose to kiss her mouth again, she ran her fingers through his thick hair, pulling him closer and kissing him with six years of pent-up passion.
The chemistry between them was explosive as always. One glance at Jack and her self-control headed for the nearest exit. One touch and she was lost. The feel of his arms around her released the tension she’d been carrying around like a shield and she sensed herself falling out of reality and into the private world they’d always shared.
She was dimly aware of the ocean around them, its gentle swells lapping around the edges of the boat. She could feel the warm evening air crowding around her, humid and sensual, caressing her body like a soft blanket, even as Jack eased her swimsuit down over her legs leaving her stark naked on the upholstered bench.
She opened her eyes enough to tug at his boxers, then opened them wider to enjoy the view as she pulled them down over his hair-roughened thighs. His arousal was unmistakable, bold and proud like everything else about him. Their eyes met and they laughed, both naked and insanely turned on, with only the big, pale moon as a witness.
They were both standing now, and Jack stepped toward her slowly, drinking in her body with his eyes as if it was the last sip of fresh water left on a long ocean voyage. He settled his hands on her hips, claiming her. His fierce kiss almost shook the breath from her body. She flung her arms around his neck and cleaved herself to him, skin to skin, from her lips down to her toes.
Her insides quivered and throbbed, already anticipating the feel of him inside her. His thick erection pressed against her belly, teasing and tormenting her with the pleasure that lay ahead. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, he lifted her onto the bench and moved over her.
He stroked her hair and murmured her name as he entered her. She lifted her hips as he filled her, drawing him deeper. “Oh, Jack.” His name escaped her lips as she welcomed him back into her body, into her heart. She’d never met another man who moved her the way Jack did. All her beaus since had been a pale second best and her romantic encounters lackluster and unsatisfying. After Jack Drummond, every other man seemed a wan shadow whose petty needs and foolish conversation bored her.
Jack always managed to reach right into her core and wake her right up. She let out a moan of raw passion as he touched a place deep inside her that hadn’t known feeling or sensation since she last saw him. She writhed underneath him, letting herself fly into a realm of passion she’d almost forgotten.
I love you, Jack. The ghost words haunted her, driven by memories of that passionate era in her life all those years ago. She knew she couldn’t love him now. Too much water had flowed under the bridge and they were both different people with different agendas. Still, the thought swirled around her head as they moved together in a hypnotic rhythm.
His big, warm body wrapped around hers and made her feel fabulously safe and protected, although even now she knew she should feel the opposite. Jack Drummond had always been her danger zone, the place where she easily waded out of her depth and into unknown territory. He was the rock upon which her heart ran aground and became beached, only to survive scarred and damaged.
Those thoughts popped up in her brain like tiny clouds in the blue sky of a perfect sunny day. Like those passing clouds they didn’t cast even the smallest shadow on her intense enjoyment of making love with Jack. Somehow it was soothing, a kind of release, to know she was getting in over her head. She’d trod so carefully in her life lately, been so afraid of making mistakes and revealing too much. At least now she knew she was hurling herself headfirst into trouble and, dammit, she was going to enjoy every sweet, soul-wringing second of it.
They moved together like a seasoned pair of dancers executing a spectacular routine they’d built and practiced together, adding new flourishes that gave each twist and turn a touch of unexpected magic. Her first climax led almost seamlessly to a second, and then a third, as she and Jack scaled new peaks of unimaginable pleasure on almost every surface in the boat. When they finally lay in each other’s arms, spent, sweaty and unbelievably satisfied, she could barely believe she was still on the same planet she’d inhabited as the nervous, secretive and edgy Vicki she’d been earlier that day.
Perhaps it made a difference that she’d left the predictable solidity of dry land behind and now floated on the vast, wide ocean. She hadn’t felt a trace of seasickness. Apparently her sea legs—or were they flippers?—had kicked in. But the real change was allowing herself to open up to Jack, physically at least, and step back into the exotic world of pleasure and passion they’d always shared.
* * *
“Vicki, Vicki, Vicki.” Jack rasped her name with his last ounce of strength. “I’m beginning to remember why I ran away from you.”
“Oh, yeah?” She lay propped up on one elbow. Tendrils of dark, damp hair clung to her face, which the sun had already started to work its golden magic on. “Getting bored already?” Defiance flashed in those violet eyes, challenging him.
“Not bored, no. Never bored.” Thoughts were hard to come by in his present state. Especially with Vicki’s long, lithe body stretched out on the padded bench in front of him, clothed only in pale moonlight. “Overwhelmed, maybe.”
Vicki wasn’t like other women. Once she fixed those piercing pale eyes on you, or slid those slender fingers into your hair, or maybe even glanced at you the right way from across the room, you were done for. Or he was anyway.
He drew in a long breath and watched his chest rise. His body felt as if it belo
nged to someone else. He himself was floating somewhere about three feet above it in a fog of sensual and sexual bliss. And they weren’t even touching anymore.
“You have magical powers.” He met her bright gaze.
“I wish.”
“You must. How else could you find a lost ship that my ancestors, and a whole host of other people, have been hunting for centuries? And in less than a day.”
“Fresh eyes.”
“Yours certainly are fresh, and an intriguing shade of pale mauve, but that doesn’t explain their perceptive powers.”
She licked her lips, sending a shot of sensation to his groin that almost blinded him. “When you look at something every day, you don’t really see it. You’ve been sleeping under that fresco for so long that it’s just a ceiling to you. I had to stare at it for a while, and get lucky with the way the light was hitting it, and I could see that the surface wasn’t entirely stable. Frescos should last a thousand years or more, but only if they’re applied the right way, with the artist painting into fresh wet plaster. Yours was faded and flaking, so I thought it was worth a second look.”
“I doubt a scurvy pirate worried much about the archival quality of his work. It could have just been done badly. How did you know there was another painting underneath?”
“You’d be surprised at how often there’s another painting underneath the ones that pass through the hands of auctioneers and galleries. Like pirates, artists are a bunch of penniless scavengers forced to make do with what they can lay their hands on.” She smiled that seductive, almost-feline smile that sent his blood pressure into overdrive. “And my hunch turned out to be a lucky one. Anyone could have figured it out, if they had a chance to look at the fresco, but your ancestors were clever enough to hide it away where only their most intimate companions would see it.”
“If my forbears had spent their nights with cleverer women, they’d have found the ship and its treasure long ago.”
“I shudder to think who or what your ancestors were sleeping with.” Her eyes twinkled with humor. “Have any of them ever left this island for good?”
“My dad, but that was by judicial edict, not choice. He’d already gambled or drunk everything else away so it was the last thing he had left to hand over to my mom when they divorced.”
“Where does your mom live now?”
“Miami.” He smiled. “South Beach. She and her new husband enjoy parties more than hunting for pirate booty.”
“Lucky her. She escaped and lived to tell the tale.”
He felt a smile creep across his mouth. “Which begs the question, will you manage to do the same?”
Something flickered in her eyes. Despite the darkness, he could see her quite clearly. The moon was almost full and the sky clear and bright. The water around them reflected its platinum rays, painting them both with an eerie light that made the scene look like an old black-and-white photograph.
“Only time will tell.”
His question spooked her, because she swung her shapely legs down to the floor and reached for her now-dry swimsuit. Lust sneaked up around the edges of his brain again as she pulled it on over her slim body. Then she wrapped a towel around herself and stood staring out over the water, where the first bright shimmers of dawn licked at the horizon. “Can we go back now?”
He suppressed the sigh that filled his chest. He’d have liked to stay out here for a week with her, with no one to disturb them and the outside world no more significant than a flashing message light on his phone. “If you insist, m’lady.”
“I do.” She shot him a smile. “A girl needs to powder her nose now and then, you know.”
He chuckled at the idea of Vicki powdering her nose. Although who knows, maybe she did? He heaved himself up, grabbed his trunks and headed for the bridge, comforting himself with the thought that the cup—if it was ever there in the first place—must be very well hidden in the sand and coral rock and could take a good long time to find.
* * *
They slept in late in their shared perch under the fresco. Vicki awoke first and sat bolt upright as the memory of the last day and night flooded back into her sleep-refreshed brain. Okay, so they’d slept together. No biggie. Not like it was the first time or anything.
But damn was it beautiful.
She slid carefully off the bed so as not to wake him. A quick glance behind her revealed that he was as dangerously handsome as she remembered. Worse yet, his eyes were cracked open and he was watching her.
“Worried I’ll try to make a run for it?”
“Nope.” His mouth hitched into an arrogant smile that made irritation and desire shimmer through her. “Too far to swim.”
“Go back to sleep. I want to be alone.” She didn’t look at him as she said it and she hoped she sounded stern. She did need some time to herself to process what was happening. There was nothing worse than getting swept along a tide of events and finding yourself washed up somewhere you never expected and couldn’t get back from.
She’d showered before getting into bed, so she grabbed some panties and a sundress from her stash in the chest, along with her phone, and slipped out of the room.
Once out of their shared space, she allowed herself to lean against the wall and take a deep breath. What a night. Other men didn’t make love to her like Jack. What was different? He held her with such passion and conviction. It was almost hard to believe that he didn’t love her. Maybe he threw himself into everything like that?
She pried herself off the wall and wandered to the kitchen, where she helped herself to a glass of orange juice. The tart liquid puckered her tongue and made her shiver. Jack Drummond. Again. Had she really expected at any point that she could manage to avoid having sex with him? It came as no surprise that his boat was well stocked with a variety of condoms, not that she needed them. She didn’t leave that kind of thing to chance and was already protected.
At least her womb was protected. Her heart, not so much.
Two friends had left messages on her phone, wondering where she was. She hadn’t told anyone about her jaunt down to Florida. She hadn’t wanted anyone to know what she was up to in case she chickened out. Or failed.
Seventeen missed calls, all from the same number. Leo Parker. Seventeen times he’d called and not left a message? Did he think she couldn’t tell he was stalking her like some nut job from a horror movie? Except that he wasn’t scary—more sad and lame. She was half-tempted to call him back and tell him exactly what she thought of him. But it didn’t pay to make enemies, especially in her world, where everybody knew everybody. She’d tick him off, then find out that his aunt was a top curator at the Met.
Her ears pricked at the sound of feet padding down the corridor toward her. A puma on the prowl. She cursed her body’s instant response to the nearing presence of Jack Drummond. How did he have that much power over her—again?
It’s just lust. He’s big and bold and male, and you’ve been deprived of sexual satisfaction for too long. Yeah, that was it. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?” She challenged him with a hard stare as he entered the room.
It took tremendous effort to keep her eyes off his bare, bronzed chest, which was ridiculous as she’d had ample opportunity to grow bored with it on the boat yesterday. Maybe it was just her connoisseur’s eye for well-formed objets.
“Nope.” His confidence was adorable and infuriating at the same time. Jack Drummond never felt the need to sneak around or try to play it cool. He was simply...Jack. “And I thought I’d better make you breakfast. You don’t look like you know how to cook.”
“I hate cooking.”
“I remember. That’s why I’m going to make you waffles with papaya from my backyard.”
Her stomach betrayed her with a fierce rumble. “Apparently my body says that would be fantastic.”
His smile made her heart squeeze. Why did he have to be so nice? Arrogant, sure, obnoxious, too, but beneath the sun-scorched surface Jack Drummond was a straight-up nice guy.<
br />
Unless you needed to depend on him. She reminded herself that he valued his independence—his freedom—above all else, and anyone who forgot that for even an instant would learn the hard way, sooner or later.
But she wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
* * *
They spent the day out on the boat and in the water digging around in the sand. Having determined that there was definitely a full ship there, and it would be a big project to unearth it, they decided to call for reinforcements. Jack phoned around to his crew, swearing them to secrecy. He grew silent after the last phone call.
“Dirk says he just got a call from Lou Aarons wanting him to dive for the same wreck.” An uncharacteristic furrow had appeared in his tanned brow.
“Impossible. No one knows it’s there.”
“They didn’t until now, but it’s easy enough to spot when someone’s up to something. We probably never even noticed one more helicopter in the air or another boat not far off while we were diving. People know my boat, so if it’s anchored in one place for too long, they start to make assumptions.”
Vicki chewed her lip. Could someone else really dig the cup right out from under them? In reckless moments she’d imagined she might ask for a cut of any gold coins or bullion they found, and now she was at risk of losing even the small reward she needed so badly. “Can we stake a claim to the site?”
“Sure, but it takes time. No one’s going to come blow our boat out of the water, but they can start searching the same area. In wrecks, the debris scatters far enough that your cup fragment could be half a mile away. That’s why the team will help. They know how to get the seabed up and poke around in there fast. We’ll go ashore and get some supplies, then we can stay out on the water day and night until we find what we need.”
Vicki wondered exactly what Jack needed. It wasn’t the cup fragment, for sure. He was probably excited about finding his pirate ancestor’s stolen goods. She had to admit that she was pretty excited about that, too. The prospect of fondling eighteenth-century emeralds almost took her mind off the intense sensations and emotions last night had awoken in her.
The Deeper the Passion... Page 8
