Читать книгу Wild And Willing - Joanne Rock - Страница 8

MIA PREPARED TO belt out another round of mock terror for the big camera marked Channel 10, but the pirate stud beside her finally took the hint.

She’d been worried that, despite her best efforts, the bare-chested buccaneer would choose someone else to play “ravish the maiden” with. But engaging the media cameras and screaming her lungs out seemed to convince him she would be more fun than the hot-to-trot grandma in green.

Her brown-eyed Captain Kidd scooped her off her feet and into his arms, cradling her high against his chest.

Mia’s artfully tied sarong fell away from her legs to drape over his arm, exposing her thigh to unadulterated contact with one steely bicep.

Mmm.

Playing to the camera—or maybe just playing for the pleasure of it—Mia threw her arms about the pirate’s neck. Her silk-covered breasts grazed against his bare chest, the closest contact she’d had with any man for much, much too long. Heat prickled over her skin, anticipation curled low in her belly. Her adventure had officially begun.

And it felt wickedly delicious.

She winked and waved at the camera before she realized what she was doing. No doubt, someone in Twin Palms would be watching the five o’clock news on Channel 10. And with the way gossip traveled in a small town, her grandparents would think she was on her way to a life of dissolution by 5:05.

She turned her head into the crook of her captor’s neck and whispered into the warmth of his soap-scented skin. “Let’s get out of here.”

He flexed his fingers, squeezing his hold on her just a little tighter. “You stage your own abduction and now you’re in charge of the getaway, too?”

His smooth baritone held a note of amused censure, but he put his feet in motion before all the words left his mouth.

Deftly, he turned their bodies sideways for better aerodynamics to slice through the crowd of onlookers.

“I’d rather not be on the evening news,” she informed him, surprised that her weight didn’t seem to slow him down a bit. He navigated a path to the water’s edge as easily as if he walked alone.

She tried not to notice the interesting ripple of his abs as he moved. The play of muscle along her hip sorely distracted her.

“Could have fooled me. That performance of yours looked tailor-made for TV.” He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the cameras they’d left behind.

“No. That performance was tailor-made for you.” She’d promised herself she’d be bold today, and she wouldn’t back down from her goal, even if the half-naked man she’d set her sights on was a bit more intimidating than the sailor in a striped shirt she’d originally envisioned for this scenario.

She forced herself to recall he wasn’t really a pirate. No eighteenth-century man would have access to aftershave that smelled as sexy as this man’s.

“All that screaming and jumping into my arms was for my benefit?” He slowed his stride as they neared a docking area about a hundred yards north of the convention center. “Does that mean you know me, Carmen? Because I sure as hell would remember if I knew you.”

“Carmen?” Had she missed something? Maybe all those masculine pheromones were distorting her ability to remember her own name.

“You know, the aria-singing gypsy girl.” He nodded toward the hibiscus behind her ear. “I guess it’s the dark hair and the red flower.”

“Oh.” The analogy sounded wildly exciting. No one in Twin Palms would ever think of comparing her to an opera heroine. To them, she was just the Quentins’ granddaughter. “I’m Mia Quentin. And no, we’ve never met.”

Captain Kidd took a few more steps down a pier, his bare feet silent on the wooden planks. “I’m Seth Chandler. Care to tell me why you made it your mission to shriek your way in between me and the woman I planned to steal off with today?”

She hadn’t intended to be quite that bold this afternoon. But once she’d gotten a good view of Seth, she’d grown even more committed to her plan.

“Were you really going for a woman twice your age?” Did that sound too rude? “I mean, she had great legs and all, but—”

Seth set her on her feet with a thud at the end of the pier. “Don’t sweat it. Turns out Granny had her eye on another pirate anyway. Just before we left I saw her lock lips with our Krewe leader.”

“Good.” The knowledge soothed her somewhat as she stared down at a sleek white cabin cruiser tethered to the dock. “I’d hate to think I spoiled a rendezvous for you two.”

“You didn’t.” He stepped off the pier and into the sleek boat. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” He held out his hand to draw her aboard. “Why me?”

His question barely registered in her brain. Some last vestige of her reasonable self chose that moment to rear its head and ask her what the hell she was thinking to hop into a speedboat with a knife-wielding pirate she didn’t know from Adam.

Seth released a frustrated sigh and gestured to the dock behind her. “Unless you want to be tonight’s feature story, I suggest you hightail it into the boat.”

Mia chanced a glance over her shoulder and discovered a small fleet of journalists headed their way. Members of the media jogged down the sidewalk toward the wooden pier, dragging cameras and microphones along with them.

The sight made Mia’s decision for her. She leaped in the boat with both feet. “A cruise on the Bay sounds very inviting.”

Seth popped switches at the helm and fired the engine. “A pleasure cruise.” He flashed her a grin that was pure pirate. His half-naked body brushed against hers as he crossed the deck to untie the boat. “I can’t think of a better way to spend the day.”

Mia urged him to hurry, even as she wondered what she was getting herself into. She had a can of mace in her purse, however, and a crowd of people had seen them leave together. The guy would have to know he didn’t stand a chance of getting away with anything. Besides, she’d long-ago developed the ability to size up a man given the astonishing number of males her mother brought around. And Mia sensed a reassuring nobility in her bare-chested brigand.

Seth untethered them and slid back into his seat on the bridge, efficiently maneuvering out of the docking area with one hand, and peeling off his eye patch with the other.

Mia peered back toward land as they pulled away, but only until she noticed the lens of the television camera trained on them. Trying not to panic, she flung herself onto the bench seat just behind the steering wheel.

And right next to Seth. The man who’d said he was ready for a pleasure cruise.

Now things were starting to get interesting.

Mia straightened the flower in her hair, hoping she hadn’t forgotten how to flirt. She’d done so successfully in college—before her family had nearly run the tourist shop into the ground and her mother had single-handedly given Grandpa an ulcer.

Once Mia returned to Twin Palms from her art program at the University of Miami, she’d forgotten all about dating. Too many responsibilities to worry about as she’d bailed Grandma and Grandpa out of near bankruptcy. Then, after she’d stabilized their finances—barely—and was ready to start seeing people again, she quickly realized her grandparents worried themselves sick any time she went out with anyone but the boy next door.

And as upstanding and polite as Frankie the marina manager might be, Mia had no interest in him.

Thus went her social life. Until now.

“You really think it’s going to be a pleasure cruise?” Mia prompted, not caring if her fishing for reassurance was blatantly obvious. “Can I take that to mean you’ve sort of resigned yourself to me?”

Seth kicked the engines into a higher gear as they moved away from the flotilla and out of the main channels of traffic. Everyone in Tampa wanted to be at the festival but them.

“Depends.” He risked a glimpse at her now that the waterway had cleared out. “Are you ever going to answer my question?”

Had he asked her a question? Mia found it difficult to remember as he pinned her with dark eyes. Without the eye patch, she got the full impact of his intent gaze.

Her temperature climbed a few notches.

“What question?”

He shook his head and checked the channel, easing the boat around a barrier island toward open water. “What gives with the theatrics today? Why make a big deal out of planting yourself in my path if we don’t even know one another?”

“Oh, that question.” Mia created and discarded several answers before settling on the truth. “I’m looking for adventure. I thought being carried off by a pirate fit the bill quite nicely.”

She waited, worried. Would he kick her off the boat now that she’d admitted to scheming? Launch into an offended diatribe about roping him into her plot?

As they left the last of marine congestion behind them, Seth turned up the engines and the boat roared to full speed. Determined not to let her adventure end yet as the wind and water sprayed her face, Mia thought she could at least make a stab at enticing him, let him see her ideas for fun and excitement might be worth pursuing after all.

The scent of the bay, a pungent blend of fish and boat fuel, drifted through the air. The rumble of the engine and splash of water drowned out any sounds around them, insulating their world with white noise.

“I’m not really Blackbeard, you know,” Seth warned her, steering the cruiser into an occasional wave so that the spray kicked back all the more. “You’re not going to find much adventure with me.”

Says you.

Mia rose up on her feet, bracing herself on the broad band of windshield around the helm. She tipped her face into the spray and let the latest white-cap douse her.

Cool water sluiced over her, awakening her senses even though it barely diminished the warmth she experienced any time she so much as glanced at Seth.

All sense of caution washed away, Mia wrung out the water in her skirt as she stared down at him.

“Whoever you are, Seth Chandler, you’re all the excitement a girl could want on a pleasure cruise.”

WATER, WATER everywhere and not a frigging drop to drink.

Seth’s mouth had never been so parched as he tracked rivulets of H₂0 streaming down Mia Quentin’s exposed thigh. She tugged at the soggy floral fabric tied around her hips, revealing more and more tanned leg as she twisted the hem to squeeze out excess water.

He struggled to think, to edge words past his dry lips. “You really don’t know who I am.”

She shrugged, a provocative move on a woman bending forward. Seth caught a glimpse of red lace in the vee of her black silk blouse.

“Seth Chandler the pirate who says he’s not really a pirate. What more is there to know?” She straightened, allowing the damp, filmy skirt to fall back against her thighs.

Seth dragged his eyes up from a slow cataloguing of the way the fabric molded to her legs. Somewhere in the background of his lust-drenched thoughts, his brain screamed at him to pay attention to what she was saying.

“I guess there isn’t much more to know.”

“You work for Gulf Coast Bank?” She moved to the seat beside him, casually taking in the controls on the bridge.

He tensed. Did he work for the bank? Hell, Chandler Enterprises owned the bank, among other things. Maybe she knew who he was better than she let on.

She gestured to his pirate garb when he said nothing. “I mean, they were the corporate sponsors of Gasparilla, so I assume you work for them?”

Seth gauged her expression calling upon the ability to read people that had always served him well in business. He saw nothing but openness and honesty in Mia’s face. Relaxing, he assured himself she had no clue about his real identity—an intriguing aspect of Mia Quentin. Every woman Seth had dated in the past knew his net worth to the penny. A circumstance that could occasionally make a guy wonder if he was being dated for himself or his checkbook.

But Mia had wanted him. Sure, she’d picked him out because of an eye patch. But she was still here now, flashing glimpses of killer thigh, driving him to the edge of sanity along with the constant niggling reminder that he hadn’t had sex in four months.

The responsible thing to do would be to fess up. Too bad Seth had exceeded his quota of responsible acts for the week. He was more interested in seeing what would happen with Mia today.

“I do some work for the bank and a few other places. I’m sort of a go-to guy when they don’t have anybody else to take care of special projects.” Which was true.

“A Florida version of the Hollywood gopher?”

“Sort of.” Which was not true. At all. He didn’t want to explain who he was or what he did just yet, but he didn’t want to totally misrepresent himself, either.

He pointed the boat south and shuffled the conversation in another direction before he dug himself any deeper. “What do you do when you’re not out accosting unsuspecting men?”

“I’m in transition.” Her hibiscus drooped in her damp hair so she plucked it out and cradled the red bloom between her palms. “I’m helping my grandparents fortify their family business right now, but when I’m not balancing books and doing inventory, I like to think of myself as an artist.”

His view of her shifted to accommodate this new information. He watched her smooth her fingers over the petals of the flower, as if savoring the fragile texture.

“What kind of artist?” He leaned back in his seat, the boat requiring less of his attention now that they skimmed open water.

“Mostly I paint. I sculpt a little for fun, but I have more talent for painting—oils, watercolors, you name it.” She glanced up from her flower to meet his gaze. “Where are we headed anyway?”

Something about the way she changed the subject made Seth suspect she didn’t want to talk about herself. Or maybe her art.

“I thought we’d hit Egmont Key.” Too intrigued by the vision of Mia with a paintbrush to let the subject drop, Seth continued to probe. “What subjects do you like to paint? People? Landscapes?”

“I paint anything. But I’m not much of a realist. My work tends to be more colorful, more vivid than the real world.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He let his gaze roam over Mia’s floral skirt, her oversize flower. “You’re like a walking hothouse. In fact, this is the most damn colorful day I’ve had in a long time.”

“That probably has more to do with the cutlass and the eye patch.” She crossed her legs, one toe pointing toward him, her foot mere inches from his calf.

He would definitely be jumping the gun if he reached over and pulled her against him. But he wanted to. Thinking about how much he wanted to delayed his response by several bracing, deep breaths.

“No, it’s you. I normally live in black and white, and trust me, I know a Technicolor kind of woman when I see one.”

“Then my adventure must be a success so far.”

Her smile lit up her whole face, animating her eyes, drawing attention to her sensual mouth. “How far is Egmont Key?”

Ten minutes was too far. Seth wanted nothing more than to stop the boat and talk to Mia. Stare at Mia. Find out if there was any chance he could have a relationship with a woman so different from any he’d ever known.

“Not much further. We’ll have time to wander around the island and still make it back for the press conference at eleven tonight.”

“Press conference?” She stiffened. The hibiscus stilled between her palms.

“Channel 10 is going to do a follow-up story on the people who were carried off by the Gasparilla pirates today. You’ll have a chance to tell your story tonight on the news.”

Was it his imagination, or did she look panicked?

He slid one hand over her dark brown hair, surprised how silky the strands felt even after being tossed about by the wind. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep things PG-rated for the viewers at home.”

She shook her head. “I can’t go on television.”

“It’s good public relations for the bank—”

“But not good public relations for me!”

How could Carmen, who could bring a pirate to his knees, be afraid of a little media exposure? “Why?”

She folded her arms over her body, her lips firmly sealed.

Her refusal to discuss the topic couldn’t have been any more eloquent.

“If you’re married, lady, you’re going to be riding the first wave back to shore.” Seth clutched the steering wheel, ready to take her home.

Until he saw the surprise scrawled across her face.

“No!” Mia shook her head. “Married? I don’t have room in my life for dating, let alone a husband. I assure you, I’m not married.”

Again, the honesty in her eyes convinced him. He believed her.

But damn it, Seth needed that publicity tonight. He’d bought the sponsorship for Gulf Coast Bank because it desperately needed some public recognition. A growing financial institution with small-town roots, it was the kind of business Seth loved to build. But after floundering in a sluggish economy for the past year, Gulf Coast needed the visibility boost Gasparilla could offer.

And, bottom line, the bank needed the extra air-time he and Mia could garner with their story.

“I’ve got it.” He snapped his fingers, pleased with himself. “If you go on the air and talk about our day together, you can also plug your paintings. You must have some for sale somewhere, right? You can talk about your next gallery showing or whatever.”

Interest flashed in her eyes for all of two seconds before her chin tilted her up and she shook her head. “Sorry, Seth. I can’t.”

“Why?” Was he so wrong to ask for an explanation? It’s not like he wanted to know so he could talk her into it in spite of her wishes. He wanted to know so that he could understand her, figure her out.

For a Technicolor artist, she was sure doing her best to keep part of herself hidden, shadowed.

Her fingers went back to their slow inventory of the hibiscus blossom, easing over each red petal.

“I make it a policy not to kiss and tell.”

He recognized that answer for what it was. A seductive rerouting of his thoughts to get him off her case.

Damned if it didn’t work like a charm.

His gaze flashed from red flower petals to soft red lips. It didn’t take him but two seconds to make the decision to cut the boat engines and concentrate on her.

“Planning on kissing your abductor?” His question hovered in the air. Without the hum of the motor, the only sound around them came in the form of water lapping the sides of the boat.

And their breathing.

Hers soft and even. His shallow and quick.

“I thought we already established that I’m the one in charge of this so-called abduction today.” With slow precision, Mia reached forward to set her flower on the helm, leaving her hands free, empty.

Seth picked up those hands and placed them on his shoulders, urged them around his neck.

“You thought wrong.” He slid his hands around her waist. The silk of her blouse was already dry, warmed by her skin beneath it. “Kissing is my domain, Carmen, and I’m going to kiss you for two reasons.”

She shifted closer, bringing with her the vague fragrance of exotic flowers, hothouse scents like jasmine or maybe orchids.

“I think reasoning defeats the point of kissing,” she whispered, her husky tone a siren’s song.

Determined to convince himself there was a reason for this kiss, Seth forged ahead, hovering closer to her lips. “First, kissing should be a part of any adventure.”

“Oh, I’m with you there.” Her green eyes locked on his, enticing him with sensual promise, urging him to forget his dumb-ass logic.

Without conscious permission, his fingers fanned out from his palms, reaching for new terrain over Mia’s gentle curves.

He swallowed. Hard. “And second,” he had to clear his throat as she wriggled beneath his hands, her body closing in on his. “I hear kissing can loosen the lips of women who won’t reveal their secrets.”

Mia tilted her head to one side, her gaze dipping down to his lips and then back up to his eyes. A slow smile curled her lips.

“Then by all means, sailor, give it your best shot.”