by Liz Fielding
He leaned back against the hot rock. This was not a good moment to rediscover feelings. Not a good moment to discover that his heart was still capable of pulling a few tricks, reminding him that he hadn’t always been the cold, unfeeling bastard that Melanie had accused him of being.
Nor was it a good moment, he discovered, to come across Gus doing exactly what he had asked him to do. Making Melanie like him. Enlisting her sympathy, hinting at money worries. Jealousy had grabbed him by the throat. Jealousy and anger.
Poor Gus. He hadn’t known what he’d done wrong. But it wouldn’t take him long to work it out. He was good at relationships, understood people, they liked him, warmed to him on sight. And he had taken to Melanie.
He’d seen the disapproving look Gus had given him when he’d asked him to make a note of any phone calls she made, when he’d told him to make sure everyone stayed off this beach for the morning.
And like Gus, Melanie Devlin had a talent for making friends. Tom, Gus, they had both fallen under her spell. Well, so had he. Even when she was telling him to take a running jump he wanted to laugh and pull her into his arms and invite her to jump with him.
He had warmed to her without even noticing it; but like icy fingers encountering sudden heat, the only thing he was feeling right now was pain.
And this morning he had intended to have his revenge on her for that, take his hurt out of her hide. Except that when it came to it, he found he couldn’t do it. Not in cold blood. Because his blood had been very hot indeed and that was not the same thing at all.
He turned as he heard Melanie approach, rolling up into a sitting position. God, but she was lovely. How on earth could he have missed it? Then he recalled his determination to have her work for him, a moment that first day when something had shimmered in the air between them. And the day he had surprised her, made her jump like a startled kitten, how close he had come to making love to her.
He hadn’t missed it. He’d known. Somewhere inside his head, he’d always known that she was more, much more than she was prepared to let the outside world see.
‘What kept you?’ he demanded, irritably. The swim hadn’t helped much. The water was too warm. Or maybe his blood was just too hot.
Melanie was not in the best of moods either. ‘I’m sorry, Jack,’ she said, with uncharacteristic sarcasm. ‘I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry to go swimming. If you’d stayed to give me a hand with the hooks and bows I wouldn’t have kept you waiting.’
‘If I’d stayed...’ He regarded her with more than a touch of exasperation. ‘I’m not made of wood, Mel. What with having to put you to bed last night and that little stunt you just pulled...’ - he looked away, screwing his eyes up against the distant horizon, unable to face her with the blatant lie - ‘...well, you’re not making it exactly easy.’
‘Stunt?’ Melanie practically gasped. Stunt that she had pulled. The nerve of the man.
‘It’s difficult. Your mouth says one thing and your body says something quite different. It’s the kind of combination that could get a man into a lot of trouble.’
‘So you walked away?’ Not made of wood, huh? Personally, she’d have said he was mahogany right through. But maybe it was all an act. Maybe they were both acting their socks off. And she was the one who’d been giving out the “hands off” message left right and centre. How was he to know that she’d had a change of heart?
‘It seemed wise.’
‘Then I’ll have to make myself a whole lot clearer in future,’ she said, with what she hoped sounded like a careless lack of concern. ‘I’ll put it in writing if you like.’ She pulled herself up onto the rock beside him, her thigh brushing lightly against his, the dark hair on his leg acting like static on the invisible down of her skin. He didn’t appear to notice.
Considering his complaint that she had been leading him on, that he was finding it difficult to resist, that had to be just a little suspicious. Didn’t it? Just how good was he at hiding his feelings?
‘And I’m really sorry about last night. I must have drunk a lot more than I thought.’
‘More than two glasses of champagne anyway.’ He was obviously a past master at careless concern himself and that irritated her. She was supposed to be the actress around here.
‘And just now. I wasn’t teasing.’
‘Weren’t you? Weren’t you trying a little pay back for being forced into this situation? You can look but you mustn’t touch? It’s what you’ve been saying ever since we arrived.’
She didn’t know how she managed to prevent herself from pushing him off the rock. She hadn’t been the one with her hands all over him a few minutes ago, doing things with sun cream that not even Factor 20 could protect you from.
‘I haven’t noticed you listening.’
‘Perhaps it’s time I started.’
She turned to meet his gaze head on. The sun was bringing out the little gold flecks in those dark grey eyes, making them sparkle disconcertingly. Like fool’s gold, she thought. Was she a fool?
‘Don’t be sore, Jack. A girl has to play a little hard to get. Especially when she isn’t being given a lot of choice.’
‘You mean that the reluctance was all an act?’ He didn’t sound convinced.
‘I am an actress,’ she pointed out, gently.
‘Then you’re a whole lot better than I gave you credit for.’
‘Thank you.’ He gave her a look that suggested he hadn’t been paying her a compliment. She refused to take offence, lifting her shoulders a little, forcing a smile as she leaned back, propping herself on her hands, lifting her face to the sun as if the matter was closed.
But Jack could see the tension in her body, giving the lie to her apparent dismissal of the situation.
Had she really thought that he would leap on her like some cave man? Or had the invitation to walk along the beach in the moonlight been her plan all along, scuppered in the end by jetlag and too much champagne?
If so, Mike was a better judge of the situation than he was and she must be getting desperate. Somehow the thought was more arousing than it should be. She was a whole lot more arousing than any man could be expected to resist when he was being offered her on a plate. And there was no other way to take that little scene.
Her body was so lithe, so very desirable and as she tilted her head back her hair fell away like a skein of pale gold silk. The breeze lifted a strand across her face and he wanted to brush it away, feel the smooth skin of her cheek as he cradled it beneath his hand. She turned her head, as if conscious that he was staring at her and he felt control slipping away from him; it always did when she looked at him like that. It was like trying to stand up in a earthquake.
‘Don’t do that!’ he growled.
‘What?’
‘Pretend.’ Her eyes widened and suddenly he found himself staring at the small pebbles beside him on the rock. He picked up a few, tossed one into the sea. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not making much sense this morning.’
‘I’m sorry too, if I’ve confused you. It was my intention to make everything quite clear.’
It’s burn your boats time, girl. Now or never. Have you got the guts?
‘I’m trying to seduce you, Jack. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had a lot of practice that I’m making such a hash of it. Is there any chance of a little help around here?’ She regarded him through a lowered fringe of lashes. ‘There are a few gaps in my education.’
‘Gaps?’ He swung round to look at her.
Melanie knew her cheeks were heating up, but she refused to back down. ‘It seems such a pity to waste paradise, and kissing you turned out to be - well...’ Her shoulders seemed to be working overtime. She was becoming positively Gallic in the shrugging stakes.
‘To be what, Melanie?’ he enquired, softly.
Everything her midnight fantasies had promised? Worth the risk of heart break? No. Burning her boats was bad enough, exposing herself so completely would be madness.
‘You don’t see
m to be that busy working on your important deal. But of course if you’d rather not,’ she said with a very small sigh, ‘I’ll understand. I’m sure you believe that it’s as much a mistake to mix business with pleasure, as it is to get involved with your staff. I suppose that doing both at once would be quite impossible.’
‘Melanie?’
Was it her imagination, or was he closer? She hadn’t seen him move and yet her skin seemed to be tingling. ‘And there’s Caroline to consider,’ she said, by now fully into her stride. ‘I know you said-’
‘Caroline is history,’ he said, continuing to regard her with curiosity. ‘She has been for weeks.’ Ever since he had tangled with a girl in a doorway. ‘Tell me about the gaps.’
Mel wriggled her shoulders. She hadn’t bargained for him to come right out and ask. But he was still looking at her, waiting for her answer. Oh, well. The worst thing that could happen was if he fell off the rock laughing.
You were the one who said I was behaving like a schoolgirl virgin, Jack,’ she said, finally.
‘But you’re not a schoolgirl.’
‘No. I’m not a schoolgirl. But it’s amazing the way everyone treats me as if I was one. Even my new step-sister. She’s nearly three years younger than me you know, but she treats me as if I was some Goody Two-shoes straight out of convent school.’
‘I don’t think Goody Two-shoes would have come on this little trip do you?’
‘She might. If she had a good enough reason.’
‘A job for your friend, perhaps? A home for your co-operative?’
She turned to him. ‘Those things are important, but on consideration I hardly think they would be enough.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so. So what would be enough, Mel?’ To help your lover pull off a financial coup?
She shrugged. ‘Maybe I just felt like doing something outrageous for a change. Something shocking. Maybe I was regretting turning you down the moment the words were out of my mouth. But don’t worry about it. Put it down to too much sun. A dip will probably do the trick.’
‘I doubt it. I’ve already tried.’
‘Really?’ She glanced at him. His skin had quickly dried in the sun, but his hair was still damp, tangled. Her hands were shaking as sat up and seized one of her flippers attempting, without much success, to push a foot into it. ‘Oh, well, I’ll give it a go, it’ll give the fishes a laugh if nothing else. I’ve never actually done this before.’
‘Another gap in your education?’
‘I was a child-actress. I missed a lot of school,’ she said, rather crossly. She had rather hoped that he might have been touched by her declared innocence. She had rather hoped that he might offer, very tenderly to do something about it. She risked a quick glance, but his face was like the rock she was sitting on. Two refusals in as many months, then. Could it be that she had suddenly developed bad breath?
The way he keeps kissing you? No chance. Then why? Was he still, despite his denials, regretting that he hadn’t conceded to Caroline? There was nothing like absence to put things into perspective. His first marriage hadn’t been bad enough to put him off the institution for life, surely? She concentrated on the strap, but her fingers, along with her common sense, seemed to have lost contact with her brain sometime during the morning. Messages weren’t getting through. The bikini had been bad enough but the horrible rubber strap had a mind of its own - and it appeared to be in better working order than hers.
She would have given up, except that would have meant looking up, meeting that rock wall of resistance. But Jack had pushed himself off the rock, jumping down into the thigh deep water. Without waiting for an invitation, he grasped her ankle and propped her flippered foot against his chest while he fastened it for her.
She kept her lashes firmly lowered. She’d said enough. More than enough. She’d invited him to the party, but if he was determined not to boogey she wasn’t going to make any more of a fool of herself than she had already.
But refusing to meet his eyes made not one jot of difference. She knew he was looking at her, she could feel him looking at her.
The air around them was charged with electricity, the touch of his fingers as they brushed against her ankle was relaying glorious messages to her brain, firing new, explosive synapses that set off an unstoppable chain reaction of awareness.
It was as if for the last twenty-one years she had been asleep. And now when everything was wrong, when it was impossible, she was quite suddenly wide awake to a whole new world of possibilities.
Jack Wolfe had hit the “on” switch and she was lit up like the Trafalgar Square Christmas tree. The trouble was, it wasn’t Christmas.
He had finished the first foot and let it go. Then he took her other foot, holding her firmly around the ankle as he pushed it into the second flipper. Once more her heel was pushed firmly into his abdomen as he tightened the strap. It was as hard and flat as an ironing board, the skin warm against her heel.
She held her breath as he straightened, fastened his hands about her waist.
‘Ready?’ he said. She nodded, unable to make her mouth form the words and he lifted her from the rocks, for a moment holding her against him, her feet inches from the bottom, their bodies touching - warm skin against warm skin in the cool water. The messages grew thunderous and she clutched almost desperately at his smooth, muscle-packed shoulders. Well, heck, she wasn’t that innocent.
Maybe, just maybe, Christmas was coming early this year. Maybe it was time to send Santa a list.
‘Kiss me, Jack,’ she murmured, sliding her arms up and around his neck. ‘I want you to kiss me.’
‘I can see that.’
Could he? Of course he could. She was flashing out signals like a June bug in heat. Oh, God! ‘Then what’s stopping you?’ Who said that?
‘I’m still not sure why you should want me to kiss you.’ Jack couldn’t believe he’d said that. ‘I know you said you were acting your socks off. But why? If you were looking for a little excitement, why did you make such a point of insisting you didn’t?’
Why? He wanted to know why? For God’s sake the man had been kissing her left, right and centre whether she wanted him to or not ever since they arrived on this damned island. Now she wanted a piece of the action and he was asking why? If he didn’t know...
Her eyes snapped open as the haze of sexual desire cleared.
‘Actually, Mr Wolfe, I can’t remember. In fact I’ve quite suddenly gone off the whole idea.’ She tried to wriggle free, but he continued to hold her, the wide space between his eyes puckered in a frown as regarded her with a slightly puzzled look. It was as if he was trying to weigh something up, almost, she thought, as if trying to decide whether he could trust her. But that was ridiculous.
Or was it? Damn the champagne for running away with her tongue last night; she’d said too much and now he was suspicious of her. Well, if she was honest, he had every right to be. But she didn’t have to dangle there and take it.
‘Could you please put me down? I’d like to swim now.’
She blinked back a stupid self-pitying tear that trickled down her cheek as he obediently released her. He didn’t have to do that. She hadn’t meant it! Oh, damn!
She pushed herself away from him, lunging at the water before he could see, but she hadn’t gone a yard when his hand clamped about her ankle bringing her to an abrupt halt.
Floundering, unable to put a foot down and right herself she was at his mercy, unable to tell him to get lost, or even shout for help without swallowing half the Caribbean. He took full advantage of the situation, hauling her back towards him with deliberate slowness. Then he caught her around the waist, flipped her over and pulled him hard against him, the cool wetness of her skin against his warm, hair spattered chest.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.
‘You didn’t mean that did you?’
He seemed taken aback. As if he’d just stumbled across the key to some unbreakable code
and now he knew all the answers.
Suddenly the gold flecks were blazing and there was no mistaking his intention, but even before she opened her mouth to tell him that she wasn’t interested, that she’d meant every word, she knew it was too late.
He hadn’t waited for an answer, because he didn’t need one. And, as his mouth sparked off a mark ten earthquake somewhere in the region of her midriff, Melanie realized that whatever she had been about to say couldn’t possibly have been important.
Important was the way he tasted of the sea and the hot sun; the way the warm musky scent of his skin filled her mouth; the way his fingers were cupping the nape of her neck, his thumb stroking against the pulse hammering in her throat and turning her bones to warm putty.
She already knew that he was a major league kisser, that he could kiss for Great Britain, captain of the team, Olympic gold medal material. But it was obvious to Melanie that until now he’d simply been toying with her, doing exactly what he had said he would, just enough to convince anyone who was interested that they were the lovers they seemed to be. It had suddenly stopped being a game and the difference was - staggering.
As his arm tightened around her, his tongue ravaging the softness of her mouth until breathing was no longer an option, Melanie finally understood why they called him The Wolf. It was more than an easy play on his name by the headline writers. This man was dangerous. And she’d been flirting with him, making it plain that she’d welcome any advances he cared to make.
Whatever had happened to sensible? She was behaving just like the dizzy girl in the sitcom she’d turned down. At least that had been make-believe, while this... She ought to be kicking him, not kissing him.
‘Jack -’ she pleaded faintly into his mouth, but there was no escape. She’d asked him to kiss her and she was getting the full treatment whether she wanted it or not. And oh, dear God, she wanted it.
Wanted his teeth nibbling at her mouth, wanted his tongue sliding seductively inside her lower lip, bringing her slowly to melting point. His name became a groan and then even that was lost as his fingers opened across her waist, across back drawing her tight against him so that she was left in no doubt about the way he was feeling. And for the first time since they’d met they were in total agreement.
