by Anita Meyer
The meal passed in amiable conversation. He shared a few stories about some of his more entertaining clients and listened as she revealed how more than one of her culinary creations had gone awry.
But even though the conversation was pleasant and light, Jeff felt the emotionally-charged undercurrent surging beneath the surface. Her laughter sparkled like fine wine. Her hair glistened in the moonlight. And her eyes held a promise of things to come.
Somehow he managed to make it through dinner, but when the plates were cleared and the coffee served, they seemed suddenly to run out of things to say. Jeff sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim of his cup. She was looking out toward the sea, her body swaying in time to the soft music.
“Would you like to dance?” he offered.
She smiled and he led her to the far side of the patio where a live band had been playing all evening. “Wait here.” Leaving her stranded alone in the middle of the dance floor, he walked over to the lead singer. With fascination and more than a little curiosity, she watched him say something to the singer, clap the man on the back, and press something into his hand.
The band immediately struck up a familiar refrain and Caroline smiled. “Oldies.” She sighed.
“May I?” Jeff asked. With a satisfied grin, he guided her into his arms and held her firmly against him, her thighs pressed intimately against his. And when his hand settled on her bare back, her heart careened out of control.
She could feel each fingertip pressing her skin, slowly mapping the contours of her back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His fingers were gentle yet skillful, possessive, drawing her closer to the heat of his body. He cradled her hand against his chest and stepped forward in time to the music.
“I love The Four Seasons,” she said. “They’re one of my favorites.”
“Personally, I prefer Vivaldi’s.” He tried to look innocent, but the gleam in his eye gave him away.
She felt his gaze caressing her face, his attention focused on her as intently now as it had been during dinner. The music swelled, and she felt graceful and willowy in his arms. They were natural partners, their bodies moving as one. Harmonious. Fluid. Dancing as though they had been together all their lives.
The tempo picked up and he moved into a swing, whirling her around faster and faster. The satiny dress seemed to carry her along until she felt as though she were flying, her feet barely skimming the floor.
Eventually the music changed, slowing long enough for them to catch their breath. Jeff stepped closer, admiring the soft swell of her lower lip and the sweep of dark lashes against her cheeks. The lashes fluttered open and she looked up at him, her eyes dark and mesmerizing, reminding him of the woman he had first seen in the photo. The woman he had sworn to protect.
He pulled her tightly to him and his body instantly responded to his powerful need. She was as light as summer in his arms, and he wanted to hold her forever.
But he wasn’t paid to think about “forever.” He was paid to think about the next minute and the next hour and the next day. He was paid to keep her safe, not to make her more vulnerable.
He stepped back and dropped her hand. “Are you ready to go?” he asked, more gruffly than he intended.
She shrugged. “Actually, I could dance all night.”
“You and Audrey Hepburn,” he mumbled. “Never mind,” he said in answer to her confused look. “But I think we’d better leave. It’s getting late and we’ll be safer inside.”
Is that a fact? his conscience nagged.
Reluctantly, Caroline nodded. “Whatever you say.”
Jeff was different on the walk back to the room. There was tension between them—not sexual tension—or at least it didn’t feel like any sexual tension she had ever felt before. But it was definitely tension. And she didn’t have a clue where it came from. One minute they were dancing and the next…
“Is something wrong?” she asked as she waited for Jeff to unlock the door to their room.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” he said tersely. “I’m just tired. I think we need to get some sleep.”
Sleep?
She shook her head, trying to clear it. Either she had been out of circulation way too long, or something didn’t add up. Dinner, dancing under the stars, heated kisses, passionate embrace—and sleep?
In confused silence she watched Jeff push open the door and motion her inside. The puppy jumped around as though, they had been gone for a few weeks instead of a few hours, but Jeff ignored him. He closed and locked the door, then grabbed a book and slumped down in a corner chair.
“What are you staring at?” he growled, moments later.
Caroline swallowed. “Nothing. I…Nothing.”
He returned to his book and she looked away. Whatever else happened, she’d be damned if she’d let him see how much his coldness hurt. Maybe she had misread him. Maybe she wanted more from him than he was willing to give. Maybe she was simply a damned fool.
This last thought ousted her from her emotional stupor. Resisting the urge to throw her purse at his head, she threw it on the bed instead. She reached behind her neck to unclasp the gold chain, but the thing stubbornly refused to budge. She twisted it slightly but only managed to entangle it in her hair.
“Hold still, I’ll do it.”
She hadn’t heard him cross the room, but she felt his fingers entwine in her hair as he struggled to separate the strands from the necklace. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as hot sparks danced everywhere he touched.
Obeying his unspoken command, she bent her head, baring the nape of her neck. With a final gentle tug, he freed the chain. “There,” he said, brushing the hair to one side. His breath fanned her ultrasensitive skin and she bit down harder.
Holding her hair out of the way with the side of his hand, he fumbled with the clasp. The constant brush of his fingers created a heat that found its match deep in her belly. And when his hands slid the ends of the chain around her throat, she couldn’t control the long shiver that chased down her spine. She reached up to catch the sliding chain and caught his hands instead. Another quiver ripped through her body.
With a curse, he spun her around and hauled her to him. His mouth slammed onto hers, the forgotten chain slipping to the floor. His tongue dived deep, and he tightened one arm around her waist, grinding his lower body against hers. She melted against him, accepting his searing kiss; inviting, welcoming, demanding more.
His tongue stroked deep one last time, then he tore his mouth away. Shifting his hands to her upper arms, he held her away from him. He wanted her, he needed her, he might even love her, but the job came first. “No,” he said. “We can’t do this.”
“Wanna bet?” Reaching out, she stroked his jawline with her fingers, traced his lips with her thumb, until he caught her hand and stilled it, pressing a quick kiss into her palm.
“Caroline, listen,” he said hoarsely. He backed away from her. “Arthur is paying me to protect you. Becoming involved like this is not part of the plan.”
“The plan?” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “If you say that P-word one more time, I’m going to scream. Forget the damn plan,” she croaked. “Life wasn’t meant to be planned. You don’t schedule sex in your Day-Timer. It just happens. It could be happening right now.” Another thought occurred to her, and her heart squeezed painfully. “Unless…” She blinked once, twice. “Unless you don’t want me.”
“Don’t want you?” Now it was his turn to look incredulous. “Lady, you smile and I want you, you speak and I want you, you look at me with those damn tempting eyes and it’s all I can do to keep my hands off you.” He glanced about the room helplessly. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Jeff, wait.”
“No, you wait. I’m taking the dog out. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He whistled for the dog and slammed the door behind them.
Once again Caroline stood in the middle of the room, feeling heat and desire course through her body with no place to go.
And she wasn’t the only one. After that bone-jarring kiss, his breathing had been ragged and too fast. Color heightened his face and she had seen something raw and primitive in his eyes.
She slipped her watch off her wrist and set it on the nightstand. Oh, she would wait, all right—all of about ten minutes. She placed a quick call to room service, dug through the dresser drawer until she found the blue satin chemise, then disappeared into the bathroom.
Jeff circled the bungalow six times, hoping the cool night air and a little exercise would work as well as a cold shower.
It didn’t come close.
Just thinking about her, all soft and dewy-eyed, sent heat pooling in his groin.
Again.
“Damn.” There was nothing worse than doing the right thing for all the wrong reasons. Or was this the wrong thing for all the right reasons? He shook his head. Either way, it looked as though he would spend the night sleeping in a chair.
With the puppy at his heels, he returned to the room. The bathroom door was closed and he could hear water running in the sink. “I’m back,” he shouted. Slipping out of his suit jacket, he removed the gun and shoulder holster, then stripped to the waist. He was rummaging through the dresser drawer when the knock sounded on the front door.
He scooped up the gun and pointed it toward the ceiling, close to his face. “Yes?”
“Room service,” the voice answered.
Jeff ventured a quick look through the peephole. Sure enough, the young man was wearing a hotel uniform, but it wasn’t Mac. “Who are your looking for?” Jeff asked.
“McKensie, Oceanside No. 8,” the kid replied.
Jeff waited a heartbeat, then two.
“Is something wrong, sir?”
Stuffing the gun inside the waistband at the small of his back, Jeff reluctantly opened the door. “I didn’t order anything,” he said tersely.
“I did.”
Jeff spun around at the sound of her voice—her soft, whiskeyed voice, sounding for all the world like a young Lauren Bacall. If it had only been the voice, he might have handled it, but it was what she was wearing that did him in.
She was dressed in a satin nightie the color of sapphires. Suspended from the slimmest straps, the front hugged her breasts, while the flared skirt showed to every advantage her long, shapely legs. The gown revealed absolutely nothing-but hinted of hidden promises that had his imagination working overtime. She smiled and he staggered back, banging into the door and knocking it wide open.
“Wow,” the kid breathed.
“One brandy, two glasses. Just what I ordered.” She took them from the wide-eyed kid and winked. “Give him a big tip, will you?”
Coming to his senses, Jeff stuffed a couple of bills into the kid’s hand and slammed the door in his face. “This isn’t funny, Caroline,” he said, swallowing hard.
She shrugged her shoulders in a whisper of satin and perfume. “I’m not laughing.”
“I mean it. This isn’t going to work.”
“What isn’t?” she asked innocently.
“This whole seduction thing. I’m on to you, kid.” Great. Now he sounded like Bogart. All he needed was a cigarette, a two-day-old beard, and the Vichy government to complete the scene.
“It’s no big deal, Jeff. All I’m offering is an after-dinner drink. What are you afraid of?”
Myself, he thought. “I’m on duty,” he said aloud.
Caroline shook her head. “You promised me one drink.”
“I had one at dinner.” He opened the drawer of the nightstand and put the gun safely inside.
She shook her head again. “That little-bitty wine you had wouldn’t fill an eyedropper. You still owe me.”
His head snapped at the double meaning of her words, but she met his narrow stare with a wide, clear-eyed look. He watched, uncertainly, as she poured the amber liquid into a brandy snifter and set the bottle on the table. She curled her hands around the glass and swirled it slowly.
“It won’t take long to warm it up,” she said, walking toward him. She stopped directly in front of him, the glass still cupped in her palms. She swirled the brandy around and around, with hypnotizing effect.
Jeff stared at the swirling liquid, at the dark-haired beauty dressed in sapphire, and his head spun. Their eyes met and held, more intoxicating than the liquor that sloshed up the sides of the glass and down again.
He could have stood there until daybreak, mesmerized, drunk without ever taking a sip. But the brandy swirled once too often, once too fast, once too high, dousing him with a dozen amber droplets.
“Oh, dear,” Caroline tsked. She put the glass down and stared at the golden droplets scattered across the broad expanse of his chest. There was one tiny drop about three inches below his throat. “I’ll take care of it,” she said. Slowly she pressed her lips against the tanned skin, and heard the quick intake of his breath as she tasted the single drop of brandy.
“Lady, you’ve got exactly thirty seconds to get out of here. I suggest the bathroom—with the door locked.”
“Here’s another,” she said, moving to a spot just beneath his left nipple.
“Twenty-five,” he growled.
“And another.” She ducked her head, her tongue catching a third taste of the beguiling liquid.
“Twenty.” The word died in his throat as her lips moved over his stomach. “That’s it,” he said. And before she knew what was happening, he’d lifted her into the air, into his arms, and deposited her on the bed.
“I still have fifteen seconds,” Caroline said.
“Not anymore.” His body covered hers with fierce determination. His mouth plundered hers in a shattering kiss that was demanding and urgent. She tasted hot and honeyed like the fine brandy she had spilled—drugging, sweet and potent. He could gorge himself on her forever and never be filled. His tongue stroked her bottom lip, then plunged into her mouth, exploring every crevice, coaxing her into joining him in a sensual battle. She needed no persuasion. Her lips moved hungrily against his, kindling the desire that flamed between them.
His hand swept along her thigh, over her hip, up her side, and closed around her breast. He felt a surge of satisfaction as the nipple stabbed through the satin into his palm.
He dragged his mouth roughly across her cheek, kissing her jaw, her throat, her shoulder. The narrow straps slipped away, inch by seductive inch, exposing skin as smooth and soft as the satin chemise.
She stripped him of his sanity even as he stripped her of the gown. Her lips, her hands were everywhere, kneading, stroking, caressing, driving him out of his mind.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in a thick voice when she lay naked before his admiring gaze. He cupped her breasts, drawing his thumbs across the quivering tips, then feasted on the warm, scented flesh. His tongue teased a nipple and her long, throaty moan drove him on.
Her nails raked his bare back and his shoulders seemed to swell beneath her fingertips. She plunged her hands into his hair, so much thicker and softer than she remembered.
His hand slid up the inside of her thigh, between her legs, finding the protected warmth, and she felt the throb of her own desire in his passionate touch. A whimper caught in her throat as pleasure jolted through her.
His hands roved her body, caressing, arousing, filling her with raw desire, making her quiver. Tension wound her stomach into coils, and tremors rocked her body. “Jeff, please!” She reached for him, trying to draw him to her, but he held back, his lips tasting and teasing the secret places his hand had explored just moments before.
She arched beneath him, lifting to his mouth and fingers. Streaks of fire shot through her limbs, melting her body, until she no longer had the power to move or think. Emotions, raw and primitive, drenched her like ocean waves pounding the beach. Whitecapped swells of passion, unbearable pleasure, exquisite pain, crested and broke, over and over again.
It was wonderful, incredible, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Wanted him. She pulled him to
her and, cursing fingers that wouldn’t work, she fumbled with the belt and the button on his trousers.
A harsh groan tore from his throat and he rolled off her, breathing hard. His body ached, and he longed to plunge inside her, to sheathe himself in her sweet fire. But it wouldn’t happen. Not tonight.
“Caroline, I’m sorry. But that’s it. No more.”
“I swear, McKensie,” she gasped, “if you say that P-word, I’m going to hit you. Hard. In a place where it will really, really hurt.”
He hadn’t thought it possible to laugh at a time like this. Especially with the throbbing pain that was ripping through the lower forty, but the expression on her face was priceless. A chuckle rumbled from his chest and he held up his hands in defeat. “That’s not what I meant. At least not that P-word. I meant the other P-word.”
Her lovely brow furrowed as she glanced at the obvious bulge in his trousers.
“Not that one, either,” he said, playfully swatting her backside. “Protection.” He planted a kiss on her right breast. “I didn’t come prepared for this, Bright Eyes. It wasn’t part of the pl—you know what I mean.”
Her grin was wicked and wonderful. She bounced off the bed, returning a moment later with a box of individually wrapped packets.
Jeff fingered one skeptically. “You make a habit of carrying around a whole box of these?”
“Not me,” she replied blithely. “I found them in the suitcase when I unpacked. Arthur’s idea of a joke.”
Jeff shook his head. “Not his style.”
“Your grandmother?”
Jeff made a face. “Not likely.”
He smiled at her and she returned his grin. “Mac,” they said in unison.
Jeff stripped off the rest of his clothes and pulled her into his arms, covering her face with kisses. “Remind me to thank him in the morning.”
She had been in the midst of a lovely dream she couldn’t quite remember when she heard the ringing. She wasn’t ready for reality. She wanted to slip back into the dream where she felt safe, sated…loved.
