Saved by the Bride (Wedding Fever (Carina))

by Lowe, Fiona

  A shiver of desire she couldn’t quite squash added to her light-headedness and she sucked in another breath, firming up her crumbling resolve. The reason she’d come direct to the island was so she could have her camp bed all set up before Finn got back to the cabin. It would make the statement of “this is how things need to play out,” and back up her words that sex was a bad idea.

  Heavy footsteps suddenly pounded up the wooden veranda stairs in a very un-ninja fashion, and the screen door slammed loudly. Still clutching the half-inflated mattress, she scrambled to her feet. Finn stopped just inside the door, his curls in delicious disarray, having been blown by the wind into a sexy, rumpled look. He leaned casually against the doorjamb, crossing his arms over his chest, which sent his biceps bulging against the soft material of his shirtsleeves.

  She immediately imagined him shirtless and dropped the edge of the air mattress. “You’re back early.”

  Dimples swirled deep into his cheeks and he gave her a long, seductive smile that reached all the way to his eyes. Eyes which roamed lazily over her, taking their own sweet gazing time, and sparking off a thrill of tingles from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

  “Early for what?” He pushed off the doorjamb with confident ease and walked toward her. She could almost smell his intent and a quiver of lust coiled deep. She didn’t fear him one little bit but so help her, she feared herself.

  He cocked one brow. “Did you have plans that included me?”

  Somehow she managed to stop a breathy “yes” rolling off her lips by shaking her head and jerkily flipping out the sleeping bag. “No. I was just getting organized here.”

  His jet-black gaze took in the camp bed and he poked the mattress derisively with his foot. “So I see, but you’re not going to be very comfortable with it like this.” He scooped up the mattress, sucked in a deep breath and started to puff air into it.

  She stared and blinked as surprise thundered through her.

  She’d been expecting an Irish bellow, similar to the one he’d leveled at her when she’d told him she was planning on sleeping at the warehouse. The sex fiend deep within her pouted that he hadn’t scooped her over his shoulder and deposited her on his bed, but the sensible part of her was thankful he was respecting her wishes. Needing to do something so she wasn’t tempted to watch him at work, she zippered together her sleeping bag.

  Finn plugged the mattress and put it back on the floor. “Man, that’s hot work.” He whipped off his polo shirt, dropped it onto a chair and then lay down on her mattress. “This feels about right.” He patted the space next to him and grinned up at her. “But as you’re the one sleeping here, you should check it out for yourself.”

  Her gaze immediately shot down to his bare chest and lingered on the smattering of hair at the base of his toned abdominal muscles. Black hair that trailed tantalizingly downward before disappearing under the band of his shorts. Lying down next to him was a shortcut to insanity and she wasn’t playing that game. She tilted her head and put her finger against her chin, as if deep in thought.

  “The thing is, you’re heavier than me so you’re dispersing more air. To know if it’s inflated enough for me, I really need to test it out by myself.”

  He raised his arms behind his head and matched her thoughtful gaze with one of his own. “Well at least I know it works for me.”

  “You won’t be using it.”

  “So if I offered you use of the bed in exchange for me sleeping on this air mattress you’d refuse?”

  She remembered how comfortable his cushion-top mattress was, and the luxurious feel of his high thread count cotton sheets.

  Don’t forget how amazing it felt to be cuddling him.

  I am so forgetting that!

  “It would depend on the deal.”

  He rolled off the mattress, rose to his feet and stood so close she could smell the peppermint scent of his hair. He stared down at her. “No deal, just a direct exchange.”

  She couldn’t read him, which worried her because it meant she couldn’t work out his game. “That would be the exclusive use of the bed. If your air mattress springs a leak, you’re still on the floor.”

  “Absolutely. You’re the guest and you get the bed.”

  Generosity infused his words, making her feel small that she’d doubted his motives.

  He spun away from her saying, “Change the sheets while I have a shower,” and then he disappeared into the bathroom.

  The bathroom was located directly off the bedroom, and there was no way she was spending any time in there while he was naked in the bathroom with only a thin wall between them. Even out here in the main living area she could hear the water from the shower and her sex-starved self immediately went into visual overload, streaming images of tall, dark, toned and indecently gorgeous men.

  She turned the radio on loudly, not caring what was on as long as it drowned out the sounds of the shower. Let’s talk about sex, baby, screeched through the static. With a lunge of sheer frustration she pulled the plug and started singing, “la, la, la” to herself.

  She’d make supper. The idea burst into her frazzled and melting mind and she leaped on it.

  Marching to the fridge, she opened it to see if Finn had kept his promise to shop. He had and it was groaning with food. She diced and chopped, happy to have a task, and arranged a garden salad and marinated chicken in soy sauce and honey in preparation for the grill. As she worked she sang through her limited repertoire of show tunes and Sunday-school hymns.

  She heard the creak of a door opening and Finn walked out with wet hair—his curls momentarily flat but shedding water fast, which dripped down across his shoulders. He held an armful of dirty laundry. It took Annika a second to realize that the only item of material on his body between his head and his feet was a bath sheet tied low around his hips. The knife she held clattered loudly onto the counter.

  He glanced in her direction, his expression obliging. “I’m putting a load on. Do you have anything?”

  She picked up the knife again and kept her gaze on the onions, hoping she didn’t dice off a finger. “No, thanks.”

  “Okay.” He ambled off to the laundry and returned a few minutes later with empty arms.

  Even though she’d known he’d probably still be shirtless and had prepared herself, she somehow managed to knock over the bottle of soy sauce, sending the contents spilling across the counter. Furious with herself, and cross with him, she fixed him with a glare. “Don’t you feel debased by resorting to peacocking?”

  He grinned. “Not at all. Especially when I know it gives you so much pleasure.”

  She picked up a cloth and started to mop up the mess. “I’ve hardly noticed.”

  His laugh was like the deep, rich notes of the bassoon and stroked her like velvet. “Sweetheart, you’ve noticed. One dropped air mattress, one dropped knife and now there’s a river of soy sauce heading toward the floor. And let’s not forget this morning when you fell out of bed and walked into the doorway. There’s so much sexual tension sizzling between us, you’ve become an occupational health and safety hazard to yourself.”

  And damn it, it was all true. She dropped the cloth in the sink and marched over to the chair where his discarded shirt lay. Her fingers wound it into a ball and she threw it at him. “If you’re so worried about me hurting myself then put on some damn clothes.”

  He flicked the shirt out
so it wrapped around her waist and then pulled her gently toward him. “And where would be the fun in that?”

  He smelled of soap, shampoo and the promise of wonder.

  “This isn’t fun for me, Finn. This is torture.”

  He dropped his head so his lips were next to her ear, and his breath and his words stroked her. “But it’s torture of the best kind, right?”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “No.” She put her hands on his forearms and leaned back. “Last night, I made a big mistake, Finn. I wanted to kiss you but it got out of control way too fast and I’m telling you, it’s not going any further. I refuse to become the cliché of the P.A. who sleeps with her boss. Her very rich boss.”

  Intelligent eyes studied her. “So this buyer’s remorse of yours is to do with ethics?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then quit.”

  Oh that she could. “You know I need the money.”

  “Fair point.” His fingers played with her hair. “Have you ever slept with your boss before?”

  “No.” The word shot out on stream of indignation with a lust chaser.

  His gaze burned into her. “Would it help if I told you I’ve never slept with any of my P.A.s, or any other members of my staff for similar ethical reasons?”

  “Little bit.” The words came out on a breath as his fingers caressed her cheeks. Her knees sagged.

  “So really, both of us are in a difficult situation.”

  “Difficult.” Her lips could hardly frame words.

  His fingers dipped into the hollow of her throat, fondling her skin in ever-decreasing circles. “What if AKP was to subcontract directly to Annika’s Custom Calligraphy with the express purpose of managing the warehouses and to provide a P.A. to the Kylemore office for the summer?”

  Miraculously, there was still one tiny part of her brain that was free of desire-fuelled haze, and she could see exactly where he was going with this. She’d be her own boss. “My fee’s pretty steep.”

  “I pay industry rates.” He matter-of-factly named a figure.

  She was glad she was gripping his arms or she would have fallen at his feet. She tried to look businesslike and composed when she was feeling the exact opposite. “Is that number the truth, Finn, or are you just trying to get me into bed?”

  His mouth flattened and a serious look entered his eyes. “By now you should know that the truth is very important to me, and I never joke about business.”

  She recalled their first misguided twenty-four hours and how he’d conducted himself ever since. She should have realized the figure was accurate. “You’re right. I do know that about you.”

  His serious expression lingered. “This agreement’s just for the summer, Annika. Come Labor Day, Sean’s back in command and I’m back in Chicago or Mexico.”

  Just for the summer. The words were clear, concise and completely ambiguity-free. A definite end date—that worked for her. This thing between them was all about a summer of sex and given recent events in her life, she deserved some no-strings fun. “Annika’s Custom Calligraphy accepts.”

  “Good.” His normally smooth voice was suddenly raspy. “Can we shake on it now and draw up the paperwork tomorrow?”

  As much as it would be fun to watch Finn’s expression if she said “no,” saying that would only mean she’d suffer too and her body was already aching so hard for him that it hurt. A random thought exploded in her mind and she bit her knuckle. She’d been so determined not to have sex with him that she hadn’t gone to the drug store. “Do you have condoms?”

  “Unlike some people, I’m organized and prepared. The perfect Boy Scout.”

  “Thank God.” As she shook his hand in her right, she whipped off his towel with her left. Her mouth fell open with a gasp. “You—you’ve had shorts on under there the whole time?”

  He grinned at her with dancing eyes. “I was having some fun with you, but I’m not a sleazebag.”

  Her own embarrassment collided with an edge of disappointment that he wasn’t standing in front of her naked, and she mustered up some playful indignation. “I could have severed an artery when I dropped that knife.”

  “But you didn’t.” His fingers played with her hair. “Besides, is it my fault that your imagination had me naked under the towel? You should be thanking me for a virtual picture show.”

  He reached to pull her closer, but she ducked away and rounded the couch. If he thought she was that easy—and heaven help her, she was—she’d make him work a bit harder to get what they ultimately both wanted. “I think this is a case of false advertising.”

  One black brow shot up. “Is that so?”

  He’d tortured her so now it was her turn. She pressed her palms against the back of the couch and leaned forward, knowing the position gave her meager breasts some cleavage and that her scoop-necked T-shirt fell slightly forward. “Sure. It’s a blatant misrepresentation of what was really on offer to trick me into making a purchase that I otherwise might have avoided.”

  His dark eyes swept her breasts and her body fired with heat as he met her gaze. It burned with a need that matched hers and somehow she managed to add, “I’ll need to alert the FTC.”

  “I see.” With every part of his height and breadth targeted on her he rounded the couch and moved tantalizingly slowly toward her. “On what grounds?”

  He stood so close she could smell his desire for her and her brain almost emptied. “Truth in labeling or manipulation of packaging by using, um,” she stammered as she visualized his boxers underneath the shorts, and then vividly pictured what lay under that soft cotton, “too many layers or fillers.”

  He tilted his head and a curl dipped over his eyebrow giving him the delectably wicked look of a pirate. “Oh, baby, there’s nothing false or misleading about this and there are definitely no fillers.” His fingers gripped the fastener at the top of the zipper on his shorts and his voice dropped even deeper. “What you see is what you get. All of it. Just for you.”

  A blast of need hit her so hard she swayed and anticipation had her so wired she could hardly see straight. Liquid heat followed, pouring through her and making her panties wet. “So what are you saying? That if I unwrap the packaging this time I won’t be misled?”

  She reached out and slid her fingers under his, undoing the fastener. Then her hand slowly slid down the front of his pants and she shivered as she felt his erection under the material.

  He groaned and his eyes glazed over. “If you’re unwrapping me, you need to do it fast.”

  She laughed. “But I always unwrap my presents carefully by peeling back the tape and not ripping the paper.”

  His hands caught hers and he pressed them against the band of his shorts. “If you unwrap this too slowly, you might find your present won’t work for a while.”

  “I can’t have that.” She shucked his shorts with a quick tug, expecting to see boxer shorts. But he stood before her with the late-afternoon sunshine streaming all over him—tall, tanned and blissfully naked. This time she gasped with wonder and her hand longed to wrap itself around his long, silky length. She couldn’t hide the admiration from her voice. “You’re beautiful.”

  He gazed down at her. “So are you.”

  The soft words made her heart jolt and she instantly went on alert reminding herself that this was just sex. His words were just part of foreplay. She stepped into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head back.

  His mouth melded to he
rs and his heat flooded her like the blast from an open furnace—swooping through her like a hot wind on an August day. It instantly fanned all the tiny embers of desire that had been burning deep inside her for days into a raging and out-of-control wildfire. She plundered his mouth with hers, filling herself with his taste of coffee, mint and sex. As she lost herself in his mouth she pressed her hands to his naked skin, touching him and soaking him up like parched land absorbs rain when the drought breaks.

  He pulled her down onto the air mattress and straddled her, gently pinning her underneath him. “Now it’s my turn to unwrap you.”

  “Yes, please.” She raised her arms and he pulled her T-shirt over her head. A sliver of reality pierced her lust, making her instantly self-conscious about her old, plain bra that was a very faded orange, and had been washed so many times it was ready to fall apart. Embarrassed, she crossed her arms. “I don’t have any sexy underwear.”

  He smiled and slid the straps down her arm. “I’m a lot more interested in the contents than the packaging.” Three seconds later, and without a moment of fumbling, the embarrassing article was on the floor lying on top of his shorts.

  Thirty seconds after that, her skirt and panties joined them.

  She rolled her head back to look at him. “Impressive.”

  He grinned and his dark eyes flashed with desire. “I aim to please.”

  And he did. He lowered his head and nibbled her ear and then his mouth roved along her jaw nipping and kissing in a seductive march of branding. She moaned as his mouth closed over her breast and his tongue gently and deliciously lashed her nipple. Pure pleasure streaked through her and her hand gripped his head hard as her body seemed to rise off the bed.