A Man to Believe In

by Deborah Harmse

  Cori watched the pirate’s grin dissolve into a look of raw desire. So, he’d accepted her dare, she thought, feeling as though she’d climbed into a cage with an untamed lion. Maybe she was being foolish, but she had no desire to run for safety.

  She watched, fascinated by his intimate perusal. This man had met her only minutes earlier, yet he looked at her as if he were seeing his lover after a long separation, as if he were hungry for the sight of her. As if he knew her most private thoughts—because they mirrored his own.

  Caught up in the fantasy, she surrendered control. Maybe she’d pay for the impulsive decision later, but for now she allowed herself to enjoy the moment without worrying about the consequences. And with each second that passed, she fell deeper under his spell, more and more content to let him set the pace. She heard the whistling and clapping in the background. And ignored it, channeling all her efforts into concentrating on the way his mouth descended toward hers with maddening calm.

  But instead of capturing her lips, he placed several soft kisses on her cheeks and eyelids, then moved on to the sensitive hollow behind her ear.

  His gentleness surprised her. Pirates were supposed to be criminals. They took what they wanted without asking, caring little for the feelings of others, boldly risking punishment for the pleasure of the moment. This man would never do time for his crime. He was guilty of torturing her with tenderness. He teased and tempted her with carefully placed tiny kisses. She had never felt so alive, or so desirable.

  Cori felt herself melt against him as he left a trail of kisses across her forehead, then finally traced a path to the lips he had deliberately avoided.

  “I get it. They’re lovers.”

  The words penetrated Cori’s fantasy. Her eyes fluttered open, and she caught a glimpse of Andrea. The dark-haired witch stood off to the side, twisting a paper cup in her neatly manicured hands until it faintly resembled a small dagger.

  “Is the movie Love with the Proper Stranger? Or … how about … Lovers and Other Strangers?” she asked, her tone disgustingly sweet.

  For Cori, the spell had been broken. Andrea had guessed the right movie title—and not a moment too soon.

  But the pirate didn’t pull back.

  His lips hovered over hers, a breath away. He wouldn’t try to kiss her now, would he? The game was over. Placing her hands on either side of his face, she pushed him back.

  “They guessed our charade.” Her breath came in short gasps, and she was surprised at how difficult it was to talk.

  “That’s too bad,” he replied, his breathing as labored as her own.

  “But that’s the object of the game.”

  “Not the game I was playing.”

  His suggestive tone hit her like a slap in the face, wiping out the memory of his tenderness moments earlier. She felt like an idiot for letting him goad her into putting on that performance.

  “True,” she conceded, “but for that game you’ll need a different partner. Starting right now.” How could she let herself get carried away like that? And what would have happened if Andrea hadn’t guessed the movie title when she did? Cori shuddered. “I need to get away from this smooth-talking son of Sinbad,” she muttered to herself, and turned to leave.

  Before she’d taken two steps, the pirate captured one of her hands in his and easily drew her back to his side. “Let’s see how we did.”

  Reluctantly, Cori pretended to listen to Marsha as she announced their time and called the next couple to the front, but all she could think about was getting away from this man. Every time she tried to pull her hand from his, he tightened his grip.

  “I was right,” he whispered into her ear.

  “About what?” The question popped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

  “You are delicious,” he answered, his voice soft as velvet on bare skin. “We make a great team, don’t you think?”

  A wonderful team, she acknowledged silently, remembering the way their bodies fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, then bit her bottom lip to keep from agreeing. He didn’t need her to boost his already overblown ego.

  “I think we would have done better if you’d given us a chance to plan a strategy before you started the charade.”

  His eyes swept over her, taking in her disheveled hair and the heated flush in her cheeks. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, “my strategy worked exactly the way I planned.”

  Lord, had those words really come out of his mouth? he wondered. He’d sounded like a complete jerk. It wouldn’t surprise him to find out his partner was thinking the exact same thing, and he could hardly blame her. Obviously he was taking this pirate bit too seriously. If he kept it up, he wouldn’t stand a chance with her.

  He glanced down at her hair, noticing the way it fell in a mass of curls down her slender back. He remembered the feel of her smooth skin beneath his fingers, and bit back a groan. She’d felt so good nestled in his arms, as though she belonged there. And even though he’d just met her, he sensed his attraction to her was more than purely physical.

  He liked the way she’d neatly put him in his place after his bold introduction, the way she’d caught him staring at her and had refused to let him get away with it. Most of all, he liked the way she’d refused to meekly follow his lead, instead challenging him to take his cues from her.

  Not bad cues, either, he remembered with a grin, deciding he had to find a way to show her the pirate role he’d been playing was just an act, that he really wasn’t like that at all.

  Completely frustrated, Cori tried one more time to pull her hand free from his. This time he surprised her and let her go. For half a second she thought maybe he looked a bit sheepish, but dismissed the idea. Nothing about his behavior so far had given her the impression that he would feel bad about anything, least of all the way he’d acted with her. Once again she turned to leave.

  “Hey, stick around.”

  “Nature calls.” She shrugged her shoulders, trying to make it look as though she regretted having to leave his side. Right. As far as she was concerned, the sooner she got away from him the better.

  “Hurry back. We’ll go get a cup of coffee when this is over. Get to know each other.”

  She shot him a bright smile and waved, hoping the noncommittal gesture would satisfy him, then headed for the bathroom.

  It was a good ten minutes before she rejoined the party. Another team was in the middle of their charade, and Cori found a seat between a cowboy and a football player on the opposite side of the room from the pirate, determined to ignore him, hoping he’d forget about his invitation.

  As the evening wore on, though, she was surprised to find her eyes kept straying in his direction. She told herself she was keeping track of him just so she could be sure to avoid him, but that wasn’t really necessary. He never tried to approach her. Several times their eyes met across the room. Each time, he smiled, raised his glass in a silent salute, or merely fastened his gaze to hers in a way that told her he hadn’t forgotten her or lost interest. That was all. He never even came close to her.

  Finally, she was fed up with the cat-and-mouse game he was playing and she made up her mind to forget him. She spent the next hour dancing and mingling, not once allowing herself to worry about his whereabouts.

  Suddenly, a woman’s scream broke through the blare of music. Along with many of the other guests, Cori ran to the kitchen to see what was wrong. Pieces of broken glass lay scattered on the floor. The pirate stood with his arm around Georgia, the clown, and she was clutching her index finger in her hand.

  “I don’t know what happened,” Georgia cried. “One minute I was drying the glass, the next minute it slipped out of my hand and was on the floor in pieces. I tried to clean it up. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay. It was just a drinking glass. Don’t worry about it,” the pirate told her quietly as he led her to a chair and sat her down. He gave her a smile and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Let’s take a look at your finger, okay?�
� Nodding her head, Georgia drew in a ragged breath, then held out her hand.

  “Get me a paper towel,” he ordered without looking away from the jagged gash. Someone handed him several sheets, and he wiped the blood away to get a better look at the cut. “I’ll need some gauze and adhesive tape too.” Two guests went in search of the bandages.

  Cori noticed the way Georgia was trembling and, wanting to do something to help, she pushed her way through the crowd, knelt down, and held the woman’s hand steady for the pirate’s inspection.

  “Okay, the excitement is over,” Marsha said. “Let’s go back to the party.” She shot a wink at Cori, then ushered the others from the room, leaving her alone with Georgia and the pirate.

  Anticipating his needs, Cori gathered the supplies around her and handed him items before he had a chance to ask for them. He cleaned the wound carefully, all the while telling Georgia in a deep, reassuring voice that the cut looked worse than it was, that everything would be okay. He swabbed the injury with an antiseptic, then wrapped the finger, taking obvious care to be gentle. By the time he had the wound bandaged, Georgia had calmed considerably.

  “All set.” The pirate predicted a speedy and cheerful recovery and helped the woman to her feet. Georgia laughed at his brisk, doctorlike manner. “You go relax now. We’ll get things cleaned up here,” he told her, and shooed her through the door.

  Cori retrieved a whisk broom and dustpan from the pantry, where she knew Marsha kept them, while the pirate disposed of the soiled paper towels and wiped the table. Within minutes they had the kitchen back to normal, the broken glass swept up and tossed in the wastebasket. Cori went to the sink to wash her hands.

  A moment later the pirate joined her, thrusting his hands next to hers under the hot water. He stood so close their shoulders touched. The spicy fragrance of his aftershave mingled with the scent of soap suds.

  “As I said before, we make a great team,” he remarked, catching the bar of soap when it slipped through her fingers. “Thanks for the help.”

  “You’re welcome.” They had worked well together, but Cori was reluctant to admit it because she was just as disturbed by this second—and altogether different—example of their teamwork. His gentle, caring manner with Georgia confused her. This man seemed so different from the one she’d teamed up with earlier in the evening. He seemed so … nice. For some reason she was far more comfortable thinking of him as the arrogant pirate.

  “We’d better get back to the party,” she said. Wasting no time, she dried her hands quickly, then started for the door.

  “What’s your hurry? Why don’t we sit down a minute. We deserve a rest.”

  Cori turned back to face him. “I should … uh …” She glanced at the door, then back at the pirate. He stood leaning against the kitchen counter, one hand braced on the edge of the sink, the other still holding the dishtowel. His long legs crossed at the ankles, he looked completely relaxed. She, on the other hand, felt as nervous as a teenager at her first boy-girl party. “Marsha might need me to … help.”

  He tossed the towel on the kitchen counter and turned back to her. “Was it something I said?”

  Cori frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You seem as though you can’t get away from me fast enough. Look, if this is about the charade—”

  “No. It isn’t. It’s just that … um … Marsha is pregnant, and she gets tired easily. I’m her best friend. I should get out there in case she needs me to do something, organize another game, you know.”

  Marsha was the healthiest, most energetic pregnant woman Cori had ever seen, but the pirate wouldn’t know that.

  With a thoughtful expression on his face he crossed his arms in front of him. “Then I guess you’d better get back to the party. We’ll talk later.”

  “Right. Later.” She could tell by the way he was looking at her that he’d seen right through her flimsy excuse, but she didn’t care. She left the kitchen without looking back and, instead of rejoining the party as she’d said she was going to do, she ducked into the master bedroom. She cleared a spot on the bed and sat down, surrounded by coats, purses, and comfortingly dark silence.

  She spent a few moments trying to decide what to do next. If she went back out to the party, he was bound to repeat his suggestion that they go out for coffee. So why didn’t she politely refuse his invitation and be done with it?

  Because he obviously wasn’t the type of man who took no for an answer, that’s why.

  Even so, she couldn’t hide in the bedroom for the rest of the night. And that was exactly what she was doing—hiding.

  From the sexiest man she had ever met!

  Okay, she admitted it. She found him attractive, but there was no law that said she had to act on that attraction. Still, she wasn’t absolutely sure she could resist the pirate.

  When he’d helped Georgia, she’d seen a side of him that surprised—no, fascinated—her. How could a woman resist a gentle, caring sort of man? Why would she want to?

  Because during their charade together, she’d seen another side of him as well, the take-charge, slick-operator side she should have been able to reject easily—and hadn’t. Not by a long shot.

  No doubt about it, she’d be smart to quietly slip out the back door without seeing him again. Obviously, she couldn’t trust her own willpower when she was around him. With an unladylike snort she realized she certainly couldn’t trust him to behave like a gentleman either.

  Not him.

  Over the years she’d read hundreds of romance novels, and there was one point they were always clear about—pirates took what they wanted.

  And this pirate had made his wants remarkably clear.

  Two

  The following morning Cori gripped her keys in one hand and crossed the first two fingers of her other as she cautiously approached her decade-old Volkswagen.

  “Please start.”

  She repeated her recently adopted mantra several more times, then promised her car great rewards if it cooperated and slid the key into the ignition. After several anxious seconds she heard the reassuring low rumble as the engine sputtered to life. Cori smiled and patted the dashboard gingerly.

  “Thanks,” she said, and threw the car into first gear. “I owe you a tune-up.”

  Soon, she added, reminding herself that if she didn’t make time in the near future for the long-overdue maintenance, the darned thing could poop out on her almost anywhere. As if to emphasize that very point, the engine stalled three times on her way to work, forcing her to spend precious seconds getting it started again each time. When she finally got to the library, she checked the schedule for her assignment that day, then marched straight to the information desk and sat down.

  Her car problems forgotten for the moment, she pulled out a copy of Publishers Weekly and turned to the book reviews, determined to get her book-selection list completed before lunch. In a race against the clock she gave the project her undivided attention.

  Choosing books for the library to purchase had always been one of her favorite tasks. But with the budget getting tighter every year, she couldn’t afford to buy all she wanted, a situation she’d become too familiar with recently when she’d compiled the inventory list for the bookstore she planned to open in a matter of weeks.

  Her small business loan, combined with the money she’d been saving for years, was not enough to purchase every book she thought she should stock. She’d have a good-size selection to offer her customers, but she’d feel better when she could expand.

  She was halfway through a review of How to Ask for a Raise When You Know You Don’t Deserve It when a shadow fell over her desk, making it difficult to read the words she’d been concentrating on.

  “Hello, Cori.”

  Somehow she kept her head from snapping up at the sound of the voice—a deep, rich, intensely masculine voice she recognized immediately.

  Stalling for time, she set her pencil down and closed the magazine. She folded her hands on the
desk in front of her, mostly because they’d started to tremble, then raised her head slowly and looked straight into the brilliant blue eyes of the pirate.

  No sword. No earring. No eye patch.

  Cori couldn’t help wondering how the man managed to look like such a menace without the accessories he’d worn last night. She decided that some men had a talent for looking intimidating. Without a doubt this man was one of those.

  “I didn’t expect to see you today.” Honestly, if she’d known he would show up at the library, she would have found a way to bury herself in the basement, cataloging books, out of sight, instead of planting herself at one of the most visible spots in the library. With exaggerated calm she flipped her magazine back open and told herself to concentrate on the review of the latest Danielle Steel novel. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d take a hint and just go away.

  “I thought I would surprise you,” she heard him say a second later, which told her she was out of her mind if she believed she could discourage him so easily. At the party she’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t want to have anything to do with him, but here he was, giving it one more try. She had to hand it to him—he was persistent. But she already knew that, didn’t she? Taking her time, she finally looked up at him.

  “I hate surprises.”

  Her blunt declaration received a slow, mouthwatering grin in return. Cori’s heart skipped a beat, possibly two.

  He perched himself on the comer of her desk, looking as though he planned to stay awhile. “Why’d you give me the slip last night?” he asked.

  Because she didn’t want to tell him the truth, and she couldn’t think of anything else to say, she ignored his question and tried to turn the page of her magazine. The corner was pinned under his leg. She nudged at his thigh with her pencil and yanked the page free, then stared blankly at the article in front of her.

  He leaned closer. “Did you hear me?”

  Cori looked up and sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk to you right now.”