“Meet Simonelli, my Italian espresso machine.”
“Oh. My. God.” Surely she'd died and gone to heaven.
“It has a high performing efficient heat exchanger and a pre-infusion system for full flavor extraction.”
She blinked, could not believe her ears. He couldn’t name a single kitchen utensil, but when it came to the important stuff, Finnegan Kane knew how to deliver. Her fingers itched to touch the cool, hard metal, so she slid off her stool, giving in to the lure. She rounded the island and reached out to reverently stroke Simonelli. “Oh, man, I think I’m in love.”
He leaned a hip against the counter next to her. “If you think that now, wait until you taste the coffee.”
A smile of delight crossed his lips, or maybe it was anticipation, and she wondered if he did irresistible on purpose.
“I don’t get it,” she said, looking around. “You haven’t bought a single thing for this kitchen as far as I can tell, and yet you have this?”
“I didn’t actually buy it. It’s sort of an incentive award.”
He must’ve made someone very happy. “Incentive for what?”
“Last summer I restored a nineteen-thirty-eight Scottish fishing trawler to peak condition. The owners wanted it tricked out with every bell and whistle and wanted it fast so they could participate in Sail Amsterdam.”
She lifted a brow in question. “And that is…”
“A special regatta that only happens once every five years. A show of shows and spectacular. I made the tight deadline, and they were able to arrive in time.”
“So they gave you this?” she asked incredulously.
He nodded. “Turned out to be a major coup for NorthStar, too. We were contacted about other work because of it.”
“Yes, but this?” She still couldn’t believe it and brought a hand to her heart, trying to still the excitement. “I cannot wait for tomorrow morning.” Her infatuation with the bounty hunter just escalated to a new level. “Fine espresso is my weakness.”
“Really?” Blue eyes stared at her, looking more interested than a fondness for coffee warranted. “What else makes you weak in the knees?”
She didn’t have near enough wine in her to answer that question. “Why would I hand over that kind of weapon? I’d be crazy.”
Using one hand, he pushed the machine back into the cabinet and rolled the door back down. “Because Simonelli says.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes narrowed. “You are not holding my morning espresso hostage. Hell hath no fury like a woman without coffee.”
“I thought by now you knew who you were dealing with. A Kane stops at nothing to get what he wants. We use every tool at our disposal.”
The images that conjured in her mind were dangerous. And probably exactly what he intended. She refused to be manipulated. And coffee wasn’t something you used as leverage.
She turned away from temptation, both Simon and Finn, and reached across the island to grab her wine. She’d never been the type to need reinforcement for a decision, but she’d never handed over a secret without being in control of the outcome. Still, she didn’t plan on second-guessing that decision. It felt risky and exhilarating, but it didn’t feel wrong.
The reason was Finnegan Kane. She took another sip of wine and titled her head at him, contemplating the man as he leaned against the counter contemplating her. He wore sexy like a second skin. And she couldn’t deny that she wanted him. She knew he wanted her as well, but what if it was only about the emeralds? Was there more to this attraction than the dangerous treasure hunt they were on?
Fact one, he’d done nothing but help her since the day they met, not always willingly, but help he did. Fact two, he was totally gorgeous with his dark hair, blue eyes, wide shoulders and rock hard waist. Fact three, when he kissed her, the whole world disappeared. And there was that whole destiny thing. Maybe she should trust the fates. Drop the paranoia, the constant questioning of every move or motivation and just go with what felt right.
“What’s going on in that brain of yours?”
She shook her head. He actually sounded concerned, he who intended to withhold coffee. He owed her. “I gave you one of my weaknesses,” she said. “Now you have to give me one of yours.”
Wariness settled around him. “What are you doing?”
Maybe it was the result of her life being threatened, or finally getting close to the emeralds after years of doubt and searching, but she wanted to stop being the mistrustful Chloe and for once throw caution to the winds. She just had no idea how to go about it, probably wasn’t wise to try.
But she was a woman. Wasn’t seduction supposed to be second nature or something? “It’s occurred to me that if we’re destined to solve this mystery together, then I should get to know you better.”
“I thought we already did that in the Bahamas.”
She fought back a grin. He did not just bring that up. Then again, wasn’t that what she wanted? A repeat performance of the magic she already knew he could work? Was it ever really in doubt? She was in. “If you’d like to do that again, then give me a weakness.”
Serious interest flared to life in his eyes. “You’re going to use sex to get information?”
“So? You were going to use coffee.”
“That sophisticated thing is just an act, isn’t it?”
“You’re stalling,” she said, beginning to feel empowered. “Give it up.”
He rubbed at the five o’clock shadow darkening his chin. Indulged in a drink of his wine. She suspected he took his time to think up an answer that would satisfy her curiosity, but not give away anything she can use against him.
“I like hot showers.”
She dwelled on the thought for a second then huffed out an impatient breath. “That’s not a weakness, it’s a preference. Try again.”
“You have something against hot showers?”
“Not in the least. I plan on taking one shortly.” She needed to wash away the memory of this morning, of a wicked knife and a pirate choking the air from her lungs. “But you aren’t playing the game right.”
“Maybe we should go take one right now.”
She opened her mouth to decline and froze on a visual of him, naked and soapy. She clamped her jaw shut and shook her head, but it wouldn’t go away. She tried a gulp of wine, but it was useless against that kind of imagery.
Then she realized he was turning the tables on her. The Bahamas was a seduction. His. Not that she was complaining, but shouldn’t it be her turn? She wasn’t going to let him get away with this.
“Taking a shower is out of the question until you answer me.” Maybe she should clarify. A mutual shower was out of the question. She still intended to take one.
“I can’t do that.”
“Then no shower.” What was wrong with her? The ultimatum felt more like punishment than anything else. She was horrible at this seduction thing.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because I only have the one shower, and it’s even better than the coffee maker.”
* * * *
Chloe’s eyes widened at that statement and Finn fought the urge to smile. He knew exactly what he was doing. Throwing her for a loop was the most fun he’d had in days, but he didn’t know how much more he could stand. He was beginning to lose the ability to act like he was unaffected by her game.
Especially now that he was imagining all the things he’d do to her in the shower.
“You are impossible, you know that? It’s a simple question.”
She was right; it was. “It’s a complicated answer.”
“Why?”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, set down his wine glass, and gave her what she asked for. “Because, Chloe, my weakness is you.”
That stopped her in her tracks, just like he knew it would. The words were true. And that reality worried him. Danger followed them as they chased a two-hundred year old treasure
, and keeping her safe overrode everything else. There wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t sacrifice to protect her. That made him and everything he’d worked for vulnerable.
“That makes no sense,” she said, waving it off. “It should be something like classic cars, international travel, or hot fudge sundaes. Not hot showers and not me.”
“Why not you?”
“Because I’ve caused the people I love nothing but trouble with this search. You’ve got to find another weakness.”
That was an interesting comment. “Any suggestions?”
She grew quiet for a moment, just sat there sipping on her wine. “I don’t understand,” she finally said. “Why me?”
By the saints, she’d done it again. Their conversation had changed. A minute ago they were doing the tango, dancing around the prospect of what he thought they both wanted. But she’d turned it into an impasse, demanding an explanation for something he didn’t want to define. If he’d any hope of circling back, he had to try.
“Two hundred years ago a promise was made by my ancestor.” The words came out without him even thinking. “It’s all there in the journal. I’m the man from NorthStar. That means I have an obligation. I’m not going to break it.”
Family honor was a legacy drilled into every Kane, including him, but he hadn’t realized until now what that truly meant. He felt a bond. A deep-rooted responsibility he intended to honor. What he didn’t have was a sense that he’d chosen his words wisely.
Chloe had suddenly turned frosty, her brows drawing together in a frown. “That’s all I am to you? An obligation?”
“No. It means I’m serious about making sure we all come out of this alive.” How could she take something so critical and make it sound like she was merely part of the job? She was the whole reason he risked everything.
She stood and downed the rest of her wine in one long smooth drink before carefully setting her glass down on the granite. “Well, thank you. I appreciate the admirable job you’ve done so far. Now, if you’ll just show me to the guest room, I’d like a shower.”
Damn it! They’d gone from hot and bothered to ice-cold distance, and he wasn’t sure how it had happened. How could she believe the only thing she meant to him was an obligation? He’d risked his life, walked away from a paycheck that would have completed his plans for NorthStar. Just this morning he’d faced a knife-wielding pirate to save her from bodily harm. Why did that mean so little to her?
She stood at the edge of the kitchen, waiting. She wanted a shower? Fine.
He set his glass down beside hers, walked over to the great room, grabbed their bags, and led the way through a wide-arched entryway and into a short hall. She followed, and he opened the door to his room and waved her inside.
She sailed past him, only to stop short when she realized it was his domain.
“This is your room.”
“Yes.”
She shot him a glare. “Where’s the guest room?”
“Across the hall.”
Without another word, she turned and left. He just waited, knowing she’d be right back. It didn’t even take thirty seconds.
“There’s nothing in there. No furniture, no shower curtain, no towels, nothing. It’s just an empty room.”
“I know.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I haven’t done a lot to the house yet.”
“It’s been two years,” she said through gritted teeth. “What are you waiting for?”
“Well, to be fair, I don’t have many guests. I haven’t really needed it.” He held her bag out to her. “The shower is through there.”
* * * *
She took her bag and marched right past him. The man was unbelievable. She was falling for him, hard and fast, and he told her she was a job, a family duty, an obligation. How could she have been so wrong about him? Wait, no. How could he be so obtuse?
It took a lot of willpower to resist slamming the door, but she managed. She had to count to ten, though, to get her temper under control before turning to face the room. When she did, the sight that met her froze her in place.
She suddenly realized she had no idea who Finn really was. Fancy coffee makers and a dream bathroom, one right out of HGTV. Double-sink vanity, separate tub and shower, built-in custom cabinetry, and a huge walk-in closet the size of her bedroom at home.
But the shower, heavens above, was the stuff of luxury. There was no door, just a glass block partition, recessed lighting, a tiled bench seat, and dual shower heads with a handheld attachment. She walked inside, turned the handle to maximum heat and couldn’t strip down fast enough.
A sideboard-style cabinet sat at the walk-in with a stack of rolled-up towels and a basket full of hotel size soaps, body washes, and shampoos. She stepped back around the glass block partition and made her selections, grabbed a thick washcloth, opened a fluffy towel and hung it on a wall hook just inside the shower, and then beelined for the hot water.
Steam had built up inside, and she stepped under a jet stream of liquid heaven, letting the moist heat relax her tense and sore muscles. She let her head fall back, closed her eyes, and released a long, deep sigh as she soaked her hair.
“Chloe.”
She squeaked out a little scream and opened her eyes, but she was alone.
“I’m sorry,” came Finn’s voice from the other side of the glass block. “I was an idiot.”
“Yes, you are.” No referencing past tense, he still was as far as she was concerned. “Now go away.”
“I just want to say one thing, then I’ll go.”
She eyed the towel hanging at the entrance, ready to jump if need be. “Can’t it wait till I’m done?”
“No.”
She wanted nothing more than to stand in the hot water until she pruned. Alone. But he wasn’t going to cooperate. “Get it over with then, but don’t you dare come another step closer.”
She wasn’t going to waste the hot water while he talked. She grabbed the washcloth and poured on a liberal amount of ocean fresh-scented body wash, worked up suds, and started bathing.
“I meant what I said back there.”
“That I’m an obligation? Nice to know.” He had come in here just to underline that bit of heartbreak? God, he really was an idiot.
“Family honor is the obligation. You are a choice. My choice. And I said it all wrong. Let me start over.”
She paused and considered. “I’m listening.”
“When I read Desmond’s journal, I had this sense of crossed time, like his words reached out to me despite the distance. I felt his dedication to the woman he loved, the great lengths he went to preserve her legacy, and his high regard of my ancestor. NorthStar was built thanks to his friendship and loyalty to Reginald Mathis. How can I repay that gift with anything but the same honor and respect they shared during the darkest days of Desmond’s life?”
Chloe hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word, afraid to disturb the raw emotion in his apology. But her heart was pounding, and he’d grown silent.
“Chloe?”
She padded over to the doorway and reached around for the towel, shook it open, and held it against her front before stepping into his line of sight.
“Is that why you’ve risked your life to save mine? A debt of honor?”
“Only a small part.” He stood there wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and an expression that spiked her pulse. “At first you frustrated me, then you fascinated me. You are smart, tenacious, resourceful, and…beautiful.”
He reached out and brushed strands of wet hair from her face. Chloe barely breathed, suddenly conscious of her own nudity and the heat in his eyes.
“The more I learned about you, the more impressed I became. You’ve had an uphill road for a long time, and yet you pushed through it, refused to quit. Once I knew what you faced, I couldn’t leave you to fight it alone. That’s not obligation. That’s choice.”
She didn’t know what to say, so she stepped closer
and rocked up onto her toes to plant a light kiss on his lips.
* * * *
It wasn’t near enough for him, and he growled as he pulled her flush up against his chest, kissing her with every suppressed urge he’d held at bay since the day he met her. He needed to feel her skin sliding across his, but the towel interfered. He slowly pulled it from between them, tossed it on the floor, and waltzed her backward into the stream of hot water, never once leaving her lips.
She was a temptress. He’d never seen anyone look as fine as she did soaking wet and all…bubbly. He brushed his fingers across the pale bruises at her throat and arms and vowed to inflict serious damage on the one who did this to her.
He lifted the still soapy washcloth from a rail, ran it under the hot water for a quick second to heat it, then began to soothe her skin, his eyes following the trail of tiny soap bubbles as they sluiced down over her breasts. She stood passively as he stroked her, watching him as he caressed her, and moaning softly when his hand covered a breast. He could feel her nipple harden beneath his palm, and as her gorgeous eyes closed, her lips parted slightly. It was all the invitation he needed.
His hands gently held her jaw as he placed small kisses against her lips, across her cheeks, then trailed a warm water path back to her mouth. She tasted like heaven, and he drank deep, his tongue dancing with hers as his hands glided lower, down the curve of her neck, her shoulders, and down to grasp her backside and squeeze, rubbing her against his erection.
Suddenly her hands were everywhere, caressing his chest, smoothing across his shoulders and around the small of his back where the pulse of the showerhead kneaded his skin. He was so lost in sensation that it took him a minute to realize that she was trying to unbutton his shorts. Why the hell were they still on?
He stripped them off, panting he was so damn hard for her. He needed her now. But he forced himself to slow down, to enjoy the feel of her body beneath his hands and savor every delectable inch. He turned her in his arms, and she dropped her head back against his shoulder with a shuddering moan. He palmed a breast with one hand and slid the other lower, reaching between her legs and sliding his fingers up and down against the most sensitive part of her.
Emerald Fire Page 21
