Читать книгу Wicked Heat - Kelli Ireland - Страница 11

DESPITE HIS IRRITATION with the situation, Liam had to admit he admired the woman in front of him. She obviously didn’t want to room with him, and, while that stung his damnable pride as much as it piqued his equally damnable interest, he found a solid sense of respect blooming alongside his lust. No matter who’d made the mistake, she wouldn’t let this hotel employee suffer for the error.

The singular good thing that came from this debacle? Proximity to Ella would make manipulating the situation much, much easier. A few well-placed comments, a nudge here, a suggestion there and voilà. The unrealistically short engagement following an even shorter committed relationship would not result in the worst possible outcome: a wedding. No, the event would be canceled, and Liam could go back to his day-to-day operations in London while his sister, Jenna, came to her senses about the type of man her fiancé truly was: gold digger, fame seeker, all-around narcissistic bastard and someone whose short-fused temper didn’t suit Jenna’s go-with-the-flow demeanor. Sure, she’d be livid at first. And likely a bit heartbroken. But when she realized the future Liam had saved her from? She’d be grateful. He could weather the emotional storm until that understanding dawned. She was an exceptionally bright woman. It wouldn’t take long.

He nodded to the other gentleman. “I’ve been a guest here before, so I’ll show Ms. Montgomery to the appropriate over-the-water bungalow if you’ll provide general directions.” Arvin began to speak, offering to take them himself, but Liam gently interrupted. “Ms. Montgomery would likely benefit from a chance to quietly settle into her living quarters before she begins her work. My sister, the bride, is a bit, hmm. Let’s call her exacting.”

Ella stood tall, strong, as she drew in a sharp breath and her spine went a fraction more rigid. A fraction was all she had to spare, though, without outright shattering from the afternoon’s stress. He felt a bit bad for her, but his primary objective was postponing the wedding if not outright stopping it. For good.

Directions were provided without hesitation, and Liam offered Ella his arm. “I suppose calling you ‘darling’ at this point wouldn’t go over so well. Shall we?”

Ignoring the gentlemanly gesture, Ella rolled her eyes and bit her lip. He watched as she licked her lower lip with slow, smooth sensuality. “Well, this is about as bad as it can get.” She looked up through thick lashes. “Right? Tell me this is as bad as it can get.”

Liam blinked a couple of times and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge the guilt draped around his neck like a heavy stole. “It can always get worse.”

She shook her head. “Just once, I wish someone would lie to me when I ask them to instead of lying to me when I don’t expect it.”

The guilt wound around his neck like a garrote, strangling his response. “Bungalows are this way.” He gestured to the nearest door and, taking her messenger bag for her before cupping her elbow, gently steered her toward the exit. The nagging voice in his head, the part that made him good at reading people in the boardroom, wouldn’t hush. He had to know what she’d meant. “People lie to you often?”

“I’m a wedding planner.” She shot him a short look and snorted with incredible derision. “I see people lie to me, their parents, their significant others all the time. People tend to lie the most when it matters the most.”

“Are you always so cynical?”

“Practical.” Gently pulling her elbow from his grip, she held out her hand and waggled her fingers. When he didn’t respond, she plucked her bag from his shoulder. “And I can manage.”

“No doubt.” Still, he opened the door for her. He’d do what he had to do to spare his sister, but he’d still treat Ella Montgomery like the lady she was. Until he couldn’t, for Jenna’s sake. If Ella had siblings, she’d understand. Surely. “How, exactly, do people manage to lie the most when it matters the most?”

“Honestly? Lies always matter.” She navigated the narrow bridge that led away from the sand and out to the bungalows.

“To the right, here,” Liam said, pointing toward a bungalow set away from the others. “I suppose they wanted to provide us some privacy, being newlyweds and all.”

She laughed softly. “Sound carries more efficiently over water than it does land.”

An image of her, hair out of its neat twist and spread around her, linen sheets rumpled and draped across her naked body, one breast bared, a long leg exposed to the hip... Sweet Mary, save him from his suddenly overactive imagination. Heat burned through him like fuel exposed to a lightning strike. He had to focus, to remember what they’d been talking about and remind himself she’d failed to answer his question. “For clarity’s sake...” Irritated at the tightness in his throat, he reached up and, with rough execution, undid his tie and the top button of his dress shirt. Then he tried again. “For clarity’s sake, does a white lie qualify? Particularly if it’s meant to spare one’s feelings?”

She paused at the door and waited while he retrieved one of the two keys in the little envelope and swiped it across the electronic door lock. He handed her the spare key and then pushed the door open to a spacious, elegant bungalow complete with a small infinity-edge pool, glass-paneled floor in the living room, small kitchen and, through the open French doors, a mosquito-netted king bed with an abundance of pillows.

“Go on then,” he said as he moved into the bedroom and dropped his briefcase on the desk. An enormous fresh flower arrangement was situated on one nightstand and scented the ocean breeze with the smell of freesia, roses and something utterly wild. He paused to trace a finger along a single rose petal before calling out, “I’m all ears.”

“Just forget it.” Her voice was muffled, as if she were in the bathroom.

“Can’t. Sorry. Nature of the beast.”

“Look, bottom line is that I’ve come to believe there’s not a time when being lied to doesn’t matter. If it’s important enough to lie about, it’s important.” She leaned around the corner, inhaling as if to say something else, but her eyes widened and she gasped. “This is the honeymoon suite?” She walked through the room and headed straight out the second set of French doors that led to the expansive deck and the view of the crystalline waters and colorful reefs teeming with sea life. “This is incredible!”

“Almost makes it worth being married.”

She shot him a sharp look. “Consider our marriage annulled.”

“Such short wedded bliss,” he said on a sigh. “I didn’t even get to kiss the bride.”

She laughed, the sound soft but reserved. “You wish.”

“I do.”

This time, she truly laughed. Liam found himself caught between wanting to watch versus taking her mouth with his and swallowing the sexy, sultry sound. He hadn’t realized he’d been waiting to hear her laughter, but he had. She had the kind of laugh that would turn men’s heads, would compel them to seek out the siren responsible. And though he wasn’t one to wager, Liam was absolutely willing to bet Ella was a fun lover, one who laughed when she loved—right up to the point that teasing and laughter were consumed by passion that would be as avaricious as it was unreserved.

Her laughter trailed off, but Liam continued to stare. He couldn’t look away. Never had a woman enchanted him like this, and she’d done it unintentionally and without an ounce of pretension. And suddenly, he had to know—had to fill in a blank his imagination had created.

“What would our kiss have been like?”

Her gaze darted to his, her lips parted and the tip of her tongue swept out and touched the edge of her cupid’s bow. Different emotions ranging from surprise to curiosity flashed across her face, but Liam was most interested in the emotional revelation that struck.

Desire.

He stepped closer and paused, giving her every chance to tell him to bugger off. Instead, she shifted so their hips lined up, her body acknowledging what she verbally denied. “There wouldn’t have been a kiss.”

“You won’t kiss your groom? Rather odd, don’t you think?”

“You’re not my groom.” Her voice was raspy, husky and told him everything he needed to know.

“And you’re not my bride, yet I still can’t stop myself from wondering.”

“Stop putting ideas in my head.”

“Where would you rather I put them?” he teased.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, moving fractionally toward him. “You’re temptation incarnate.”

He leaned forward, bracing a hand on the railing on either side of her. “And what’s your position on temptation?”

“Never turn it down.”

“Why?”

She moved into him, closing that final distance so their bodies touched. One slender hand rested on his chest; the other wound through his hair, gripping just tight enough to exert control. Eyes locked with his, she pulled him toward her at the same time she rose on her toes. “You never know when it might come around again.”

Liam groaned as their mouths came together in a rush of heat and hurry and hunger. There was nothing tentative about the kiss. It would burn hot and then hotter until it became a supernova that consumed them both.

Her body was pliant, yielding to his, pushing back against him in every critical place. Liam wondered that their clothes didn’t turn to ash at every point of contact.

And he wanted more of her, then and there, than he’d ever wanted of another woman.

He hesitated a split second, but it was enough.

Ella broke the kiss, slipped under his arm and took several long strides toward the bedroom. Pausing, she reached down and slipped her heels off. Liam watched as she curled her bare feet into the fluffy rug and then uncurled them.

He couldn’t believe that this woman, this siren, would have toenails painted the faintest seashell pink. It seemed like a secret that he alone knew, and he had the strangest urge to keep anyone else from knowing this tiny private thing about her.

This had to stop.

He hadn’t come here to engage in a tryst. The only reason compelling enough to take him away from the office mid–corporate takeover was his little sister’s well-being. When she’d told him she needed help planning the perfect wedding, he’d met her and her fiancé in London for dinner. The man, semiprofessional baseball player Mike Feigenbaum, had been attentive at first. That had quickly devolved following a phone call the man had taken midmeal—answering without apology and leaving the table without excusing himself. He’d missed most of the main course and had snapped at Jenna when she went to check on him. She’d been upset, and her proposed groom had done nothing to console her. Instead, he’d shown signs of a temper Liam wouldn’t allow Jenna to become tied to.

So he’d flown halfway round the world to stop his sister from marrying a domineering asshole following a whirlwind romance that had been documented by all the gossip rags.

Rolling up his sleeves and strolling with feigned casualness to the hammock, Liam lay down and locked his hands behind his head. He watched Ella from under half-lowered eyelids. She was temptation incarnate. Her body was in lush profile to him, her unapologetic stare locked on his.

“So that’s what our kiss would have been like?” He rubbed his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Sufficient.”

She chuffed out a sound of indignation laced with disbelief. “If that driving wood behind your zipper is any indication, that kiss was far more than sufficient.” Bending, she scooped up her shoes. “And seeing as I’ve been more than clear on my lack of appreciation for liars, I’d suggest you cut the crap.”

“Testy.” Liam gently set the hammock to rocking and continued to watch Ella. “Tell me, have you always had this aversion to fibbers, or is this something new?”

“I’ve never been a fan of lying. What’s the point?”

“To get what one wants, I assume.”

Her face closed up, any and all emotion under lock and key. “No matter whom you hurt?”

“Who hurt you?” The question wasn’t meant to be as weighty as it sounded, but Liam found himself desperately wanting to resolve the problem for this fiery woman. It would cost him little and potentially relieve her of some personal baggage.

She looked at him askance, worrying her bottom lip.

“Tell me.”

“Ask nicely,” she retorted.

He waited.

So did she.

Liam rolled his eyes. “Please.”

“You’ve heard of Two Turtle Doves?”

He shook his head.

“It’s a prime-time TV show. I was supposed to be half of it. My business partner sold me out, took our idea to the network and they bought it...without me as a cohost.”

Liam set his foot on the deck and stopped the hammock’s rocking. “Threw you under the bus, did she?”

“He, and yes. Clients followed the fame, and that left me coordinating children’s birthday parties and bar mitzvahs to make ends meet. No one wanted the event planner who hadn’t been good enough for the network to pick up.”

“But you were excluded. It wasn’t a matter of being good enough,” he countered.

“That part didn’t make the network news. All people knew was that I was cut out of the deal. They assumed.”

“So your partner lied...”

“And everyone believed him. He ruined my life with a single lie.” She shrugged. “That pretty much made me a stickler for the truth. And now your sister’s wedding is going to put me back on the map and reestablish my reputation as the premier event coordinator for the upper echelon of Los Angeles.”

The truth pricked the little guilt he allowed himself, but he couldn’t let that sway him from his course of action, no matter how deliciously tempting he found Ella, nor how heartbreaking her story was. Jenna’s happiness and well-being had to come before all else, including Ella’s business. After all, she would have a multitude of opportunities to reclaim her place in the who’s who of society planners. But Jenna? She had one real shot at a happily-ever-after, and it was not going to happen with some semiprofessional baseball player from Wisconsin.

Settling deeper into the hammock, Liam set the swing into motion once more. He closed his eyes and forced his breathing into a rhythmic pattern—in, two, three, four, five...hold...out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. His heart rate slowed. The churning in his stomach eased. And he was able to address Ella, who’d moved to stand at the foot of the hammock.

“I can’t speak to the reputation you once had, but I’ve no doubt you’re perfectly capable. My sister wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t.” He opened his eyes. “Seeing as we’re going to be spending the next seven days together, how do you propose we best handle our close proximity?”

She tilted her head toward the bedroom before flicking open the top button of her blouse. She grinned, backing away from him. “I can handle the...proximity issue...if you can. First thing I’m going to do is put my dive suit on and check out the resort’s dive excursion. Your sister and her fiancé wanted some fun prewedding activities for their guests, so I’m planning a group dive. But I want to check out the instructors myself and make sure the experience not only meets but exceeds the hype. Sunken ship, hammerhead sharks, colorful reefs with abundant life—all that jazz.”

Liam stood and moved toward her, closing the distance with measured steps until he stood mere inches from her. He looked down and stared into light green eyes rimmed with ebony lashes. Reaching out, he tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

“I, uh...”

He leaned toward her, quietly amused at the way she responded, instinctively moving closer to him before she caught herself. Undoubtedly, it was her need for control that forced her to pause midmotion. But she didn’t retreat, didn’t recover the steps she’d taken toward him.

Good to know.

“I thought we’d cleared this up,” she said. “Business before pleasure.”

“Oh, we did.” He deftly removed the earring that had been about to fall free of her ear, handing it over. “I didn’t want you to lose this. It looks like the real deal.”

She took it from him, closing her fingers around the earring and stepping back. “Thank you.”

He began to unbutton his shirt, thrilling as her eyes followed each button until he hit his waist and pulled his shirttails free. Then she looked up, eyes wide.

Someone knocked at the door.

His mouth kicked up in a small smile, though his eyes never left hers. “I’ll get that, as it’s likely our luggage.”

“Sure.”

He started for the door. Several steps away, he glanced back and found her rooted in the same spot, her eyes locked on his backside.

“I’ll have our bags put in here. If you’ll give me five minutes, I’ve a mind to grab my suit and head out with you.”

“You dive?” she blurted out.

“I do.”

“Is your future brother-in-law certified, do you know?”

He tried not to scowl and, by the worried look on Ella’s face, achieved far less than even 50 percent success. “I’m not certain. But I suppose he’s like anyone else—he’ll either dive or drown.”

Her brow furrowed at the comment, but she didn’t reply.

He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it on the bed. “Be right back.”

He rounded the corner but still managed to hear her reply.

“Please, God, let them be trunks. But if You’re listening, it would be fine if they’re small.”

* * *

Long before they reached the dive center, Ella was certain she’d been cosmically destined to face death by drowning. Why? If Liam Baggett was a menace in a power suit, then he was lethal in swim trunks. Yes, small swim trunks, at that. God’s existence had been verified the moment Liam walked out of their bungalow, towel slung over one broad...broad...shoulder, his lips still slightly swollen from their kiss.

Their kiss. What had she been thinking? The answer was simple: nothing. She’d been living on the sheer influx of desire that had clouded her brain and determined conservative thinking—and living—to be a crime given proximity to him.

She sneaked another look, this one longer. And she wasn’t any sorrier this time than she had been when she’d stolen the first, second or third looks.

His upper body had the professionally chiseled look that came from long hours in the gym and, for good measure, a little physical work on the side. His thighs were lean but corded with muscle. If she touched his calves, they’d be solid. But his arms were the most arresting part of him. They were nothing less than sculpted perfection, a wordless covenant that protection could be found within their embrace.

Ella shook her head. Covenant? Protection? You’re thinking Henry Cavill as Superman, not British surrogate wedding decision maker.

They passed the bar, and she eyed it longingly. If she stopped for a drink, just one, they’d miss this excursion but could still catch the last outing today. Watching the bartender muddle the mint as he put together a mojito almost made the decision for her... “Ella?”

Instinct had her rubbing her furrowed brow and forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Yes?”

Liam waited several feet ahead of her, a knowing look in his eyes. “If you want another...”

Kiss. Say kiss.

“...drink that badly, I’m sure we can make the next excursion. We’ve plenty of time before the wedding party’s arrival.”

Wedding party. Job. Stay focused.

“No.” The word registered clear and sharper than she’d intended. “No,” she said again, this time more pleasantly. “I need to... We need to use every minute to our advantage to ensure your sister’s wedding comes together without a hitch. No cutting corners, and certainly no making do.”

That same shadow she’d seen earlier passed over his face. “Of course.”

“Wait. What’s that look? Is there something I should know?”

He glanced away, his gaze fixed on some unseen spot in the water. “What, specifically, are you referring to?”

“I’m referring to the wedding. I mentioned it being perfect and your face went totally blank. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Something I should know?” She hesitated. “Is it something between the bride and groom?”

“I assure you, Ella, that my interests lie solely in securing my sister’s well-being. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less. Understand that I will do whatever I must to ensure her happiness is secured. She’s the priority here, not me.”

“Of course.” Ella gripped her shoulder and pulled, stretching, before repeating the same with the other side. She was wound so tight she couldn’t tell up from down, left from right, or brotherly concern from familial dissatisfaction. His answer struck her as a bit odd, though. Aggression created a solid foundation for every word he spoke. What was he willfully omitting?

The answer wasn’t right there for the plucking, but she’d figure it out. One thing was certain, however. He loved his sister and, like he said, she was the priority. At least they agreed on that much.

“About that drink?”

A shake of her head before she resumed the trek to the beachfront dive hut. “It’s best I don’t give in to temptation before hitting the water.”

The wind carried his response to her, soft and so sexually charged it seemed lightning should have struck. “On that, Ella, we very much disagree.”

Fighting to keep from visibly clenching her thighs at the impact of his words, she focused on retying the sarong around her waist. Her dive suit wasn’t skimpy, but it fit tight, and the thin neoprene did nothing but enhance every movement. So she’d suffer a little discomfort. It wouldn’t kill her.

Liam remained silent the rest of the walk, lagging behind just far enough that she felt his eyes caressing every line of her body, every inch of her bare skin.