Читать книгу Bedroom Seductions: Two Weeks in the Magnate's Bed - Nicola Marsh, Anne Oliver - Страница 9

WHILE Zac had impressed her with his sensitivity during dance class yesterday, he had ruined it by slipping into full flirting mode over dinner last night. Her fledgling confidence hadn’t lasted and she’d clammed up, grunted monosyllabic answers, and done her best to ignore the persistent attentions of a suave sailor boy with smooth moves and slick words.

She hated the fact it was a game to him, a response to the challenge she’d thrown down in a fit of pique. Her inherent shyness was a bane she lived with every day, it affected her professionally, socially and romantically, yet he seemed to view it as something she could shrug off if he teased her enough.

He was really starting to get to her, but thankfully the ship had docked at Noumea today, and she wouldn’t waste another minute thinking about him. Instead, she explored the French-inspired capital of New Caledonia, with its tree-lined boulevards flanked by trendy boutiques and cafés, enjoying every minute.

She savoured the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting on the light tropical breeze, she scoffed melt-in-the-mouth flaky croissants, and she scoured the shops—something she never did back home. When she shopped it was for necessity rather than a burning need for retail therapy—no matter how many times Beth dragged her from one boutique to another trying to make her see otherwise.

Yet here, with the balmy breeze ruffling her ponytail and the tempting shopfronts laid out like bright, sparkling jewels in the sun, she couldn’t help but browse.

Entering a small boutique, she meandered through aisles crammed with enough hangers and clothes to outfit the entire cast of South Pacific. Her hands drifted over soft silky sarongs, short strappy summer dresses, before lingering over the swimwear. The only bathers she’d brought on this trip were an old black one-piece cut high in the front—the ones she used if she swam at home as part of a workout.

So why was she picking up a cerise bikini, its hot pink colour the exact shade her cheeks would be if she ever had the guts to wear something so revealing?

She put it down and trailed her hand over some straw hats, before her gaze settled on the bikini again, drawn to it, mesmerised by its newness, its brightness and its blinding contrast to everything else in her wardrobe.

Glancing down at her worn black flip-flops, khaki Bermuda shorts and well-washed grey T-shirt, she hovered over the bikini, sorely tempted. Just looking at it gave her the same buzz she’d had when floating around the dance floor in Zac’s arms—the feeling she could be more assertive if she set her mind to it.

Spurred on by an eagerness to recreate that feeling, she snatched it up and headed for the counter before she changed her mind.

After thrusting the bikini at the young Melanesian guy behind the counter, she ducked her head on the pretext of searching for her purse in her straw carryall, hating how her cheeks burned when making what was a simple, everyday purchase for most women.

She rummaged around, waiting for him to ring it up, and was unprepared for the small puff of perfume in the vicinity of her right ear.

‘This fragrance will be perfect for mademoiselle.’

She shook her head, ready to tell him she wasn’t interested, when an intoxicating blend of light floral tones mingling with subtle vanilla drifted over her. She inhaled, savouring the heady scent, feeling surprisingly feminine after one small squirt.

She never wore perfume, had never owned a bottle in her life, but when the young guy stared at her with soulful choco-late-brown eyes and insisted again that it was perfect for her, in a divine French accent, she found herself handing over her credit card and being handed back a duty-free bag with two purchases she’d never dreamed of making, let alone using.

But for those few minutes when she’d watched him wrap the bikini and the perfume she’d stood a little taller, felt a little braver—as if she could be the type of woman who wasn’t passed over for an amazing trip to Egypt as the museum’s spokesperson just because she wasn’t articulate or outgoing enough.

However, her flash of spirit didn’t last as she strolled back to the ship. The perfume box banged against her leg, a constant reminder of its presence, and she couldn’t help but feel a fool.

Since when did she wear perfume? Let alone go for something so… so… out there? Seductive, feminine items were for girls not short on confidence—girls who’d have the guts to live up to the perfume’s promise; girls who’d have the spirit to match wits with sailor boys. Girls absolutely nothing like her.

Impulse buying a stupid perfume with a naughty name wouldn’t give her the confidence boost she needed. Nothing would. And she’d be better off remembering that rather than entertaining foolish dreams of showing everyone, Zac included, that she wasn’t the shy nerd they’d labelled her.

When she got back to her cabin, she flung the duty-free bag into the wardrobe and slammed the door shut.

Ruing the waste of money—as if she’d ever have the chutzpah to wear that bikini—she wriggled into her trusty one-piece and headed for the Dolphin Deck pool. She dumped her towel and sarong on a deckchair before plunging into the water, eager to wash away memories of her recent foolishness.

Closing her eyes, she flipped over, floating blissfully until a dark shadow passed over her. When it didn’t move, she opened her eyes.

And promptly sank.

Torn between the natural urge to fight her way to the surface for air or stay submerged, safely away from charming sailor boys, she eventually floundered her way to the surface, spluttering and coughing and ruining her Esther Williams impersonation.

‘Need a hand?’

She glared at his outstretched hand and shook her head, deriving some satisfaction as water droplets sprayed his immaculate uniform.

‘No, thanks.’

His lips curved into a deliciously tempting smile. ‘You sure? Not tempted to try and pull me in?’

The thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but now he mentioned it maybe a good dunking would cool him off.

‘Not really. And I’m quite capable of hoisting myself out of the pool—if you’d move out of my way?’

‘I like a strong woman.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘You like women, period.’

‘What’s wrong with that? I’m a healthy red-blooded male.’

Her gaze drifted across his broad shoulders of its own volition, and lower, before snapping back to meet his all too sure of himself stare.

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

She pushed away from the side of the pool, treading water, floundering out of her depth physically and literally. Ever since she’d been silly enough to dare him that first night he’d been teasing her, pushing her for a reaction.

‘As much as I’m enjoying your mermaid impersonation, why don’t you come a little closer so we can have a proper chat?’

‘About… ?’

‘Tonight. You and me.’

How did he do that? Infuse every word with mystery and mayhem and untold promise? As if his sexy smile and come-get-me eyes weren’t enough.

For the second time in as many minutes she went under, cursing her inability to be anything other than clumsy and inept in his presence. He unnerved her to the point of bumbling, and it was high time she got over this funk he had her in with his constant teasing. Either that or jump ship.

She breaststroked underwater to the side, and hauled herself up the pool ladder. ‘Don’t say a word. Just hand me that towel, please.’

He was smart as well as good-looking, for he didn’t speak as he passed her the towel. Then again, he didn’t need to. His smug smile said it all.

He had her squirming, wanting to match wits with him, wishing she could, but scared of the consequences. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage at the thought of what they might entail.

For some strange reason he’d fixated his charms on her this cruise. Her—the last woman who’d reciprocate, the last woman to put up with his nonsense, the last woman to dally with if that was his intention.

She wasn’t a dallying type of girl, yet with him staring at her with a twinkle in those deep blue eyes it was hard not to wish she was.

‘Aren’t you at all interested to hear what I have in mind for you and me tonight?’

Oh, she was interested all right—interested to the point she’d almost drowned when he’d strung the words you, me and tonight into the same sentence.

Tying her sarong around her waist, having quickly patted herself dry, she aimed for casual. ‘I’m sure you’ll tell me.’

He chuckled. ‘Nice to see you this wound up. It must mean I’m getting somewhere in my quest to prove how much I like you.’

‘I’m not wound up.’

She finished tying the knot at her waist with an extra hard yank, almost cutting off her circulation in the process.

‘No?’

He sent a pointed stare at the twisted mess she’d made of her sarong, and she stopped fiddling with it, crossing her arms instead.

Bad move, considering the wicked gleam in his eyes as he dragged them away from her cleavage.

‘I just wanted to make sure you’re coming to the Island Banquet. You won’t want to miss it.’

‘That good, huh?’

‘Better.’

His lowered tone indicated he wasn’t just talking about the banquet. See, this was where she struggled. She had no idea if he was being clever or flirty or deliberately naughty—no idea how to respond without sounding repressed and uptight or foolishly naïve.

‘Well, then, I look forward to seeing your prowess at organising events.’

‘I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with my prowess.’

He took a step towards her and ran his hand lightly down her arm. She shivered, tiny goosebumps crawling across her skin as she belatedly realised she’d given him the upper hand yet again.

‘That’s a promise.’

Oh, he was good—too good. She should just hoist her white flag up the main pole now in surrender.

He’d won. He’d bombarded her with enough smooth moves and clever words to prove he liked her. Though it was just a game to him, and she knew it. Then why the urge to ignore her head, the logical part of her that she always listened to, the part telling her to jump ship now before she was sucked into believing any of this was real?

‘See you tonight.’ His husky tone washed over her like a warm wave, soft, soothing, seductive, and he grazed her arm in a fleeting touch before walking away, leaving her helpless and yearning and cursing her inexperience with men more than ever.

Lana needed a shot of confidence, and in the absence of a ballroom dancing class she settled for a squirt of that frivolous perfume.

Considering her hand still shook as she pulled a brush through her hair it hadn’t worked and she contemplated staying in and ordering Room Service rather than face another inevitable encounter with Zac.

Her nerves were shredded. She couldn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t, and standing up to his incessant beguiling barrage could wear her down eventually. She couldn’t handle that.

As she strolled towards the huge marquee about a mile from the ship, where the banquet was being held, the warm trade winds ruffled the hair at the nape of her neck. She knew wearing a new perfume and hoping it would give her poise while under duress was wishful thinking.

Fear settled in the pit of her stomach. Pep-talks to herself, telling her to stay cool and not let him rattle her, were fine in the confines of her cabin, but how would she stand up under pressure from his persistent charm?

Smoothing her old formal dress with nervous hands, she entered the marquee, where suspended fairy lights created a magical effect as they reflected in the water. Tables lined the outskirts, heavily laden with local seafood delicacies, salads and decadent desserts, and she tried not to drool. Easy, considering a certain sailor boy was nowhere in sight.

Mavis, resplendent in a floral dress with an orange hibiscus tucked behind her right ear, sidled up to her, beaming as usual. ‘Aloha, dear.’

Lana didn’t have the heart to tell her the Hawaiian greeting wasn’t used here. ‘You’re looking very tropical.’

‘Yes, well, we’ve got to get into the island spirit, haven’t we? By the way, where’s your beau? I haven’t seen him.’

‘My beau?’

Mavis tut-tutted. ‘Don’t play coy with me, my girl. I saw the way that sailor looked at you yesterday in dance class. I may be old, but I’m far from senile, and if my eyes didn’t deceive me I think you liked the attention.’

‘No way—’

‘Why don’t you live a little? Have some fun, dear. You’re only young once. Now, in order to do that you need to keep mingling and stop wasting your time talking to an old chook like me.’ She patted Lana’s cheek. ‘Say hello to that gorgeous boy for me,’ she said and waddled away, chuckling under her breath

Have some fun. You’re only young once.

She wanted to, she really did, but ignoring the habits of a lifetime was tough. Even if she knew how to flirt, would Zac be satisfied with that? She doubted it. If she responded he’d take it as a signal that she was interested in more, would probably expect more, and she couldn’t give it to him.

She was anti-casual-sex for a reason, a damn good one, and casting off her inhibitions along with her reservations would be near impossible.

Unless she had great motivation?

Maybe she did—all wrapped up in six-foot-plus of sexy sailor. Was Zac incentive enough for her to drop her guard and see where it led?

The thought had her bolting from the marquee for the safety of the deserted beach, where she could quash daft thoughts like that before they blossomed and encouraged her to indulge in all kinds of crazy, uncharacteristic actions.

Zac made small talk with a couple from Alabama while his gaze was riveted on Lana as she left the marquee.

He was an expert at multi-tasking—his job, his real job, demanded it—so he had no trouble nodding and laughing and responding even while hiding a grimace at yet another hideous dress, this one in a drab brown, and at the way it hid her curves.

And she had them—man, did she have them. He’d seen them on full display this afternoon, despite that neck-to-knee ensemble. Okay, it hadn’t been that bad, but those boring bathers were gruesome just the same, and she no doubt thought they hid the curves that could give a guy ideas of how far he’d like to push this challenge, despite his every intention not to.

She’d come to the banquet. He’d had his doubts after the way he’d taunted her at the pool earlier. She was still nervous around him—something he couldn’t figure out, considering she’d come alive in his arms in that dance class after she’d loosened up, and the way she’d started smiling at some of his jokes over dinner.

Socialising didn’t come naturally to her. He saw it in the fiddling fingers, the tense shoulders, the lowered gaze whenever his flirting got too heated. He should feel sorry for her, should leave her alone.

An image of her in that wet, clinging, black one-piece sprang to mind again, instantly obliterating his good intentions to keep his distance. The bathing suit hadn’t been remotely sexy, but the woman in it—now, that was another story.

All afternoon he’d mentally rehearsed the reasons he shouldn’t push this: the ‘employees don’t fraternise with passengers’ policy he’d devised himself; the importance of focussing on the quest to catch their saboteur; the debt he owed Uncle Jimmy. All perfectly legitimate reasons to keep his distance and stop toying with her—not to mention the fact she hadn’t returned his interest in the slightest.

But he couldn’t get her out of his head. He’d never met anyone like her: fragile, shy, clumsy and yet infinitely endearing. Quite simply, she captivated him.

It couldn’t be purely physical, not with the dreadful clothes she wore—old-fashioned clothes that hid her body rather than enhancing it. And she rarely wore make-up, she tied her hair in a ponytail most of the time, and she wore no jewellery.

But that was what intrigued him the most: her apparent lack of artifice, which allowed the natural intelligent sparkle of her expressive eyes to shine through, and her genuine smile on the rare occasion one of his funny barbs hit its mark with her.

Her acerbic wit attracted him—the guarantee she wouldn’t put up with any of his crap. He liked that enough to know more, a lot more, and now, with curiosity egging him on, he bade goodbye to the couple and followed her.

The soft sand silenced his footsteps, and he pulled up as she stopped at the ocean’s edge, rubbing her arms before wrapping them around her middle. It was a vulnerable gesture that had him wondering who or what had put the wary expression in her eyes that he’d glimpsed on more than one occasion.

For someone her age—he’d pegged her as mid to late twenties—she was too serious, too withdrawn, and each time he’d seen caution creep into her striking hazel eyes he’d wanted to slay whatever demon had put it there.

Crazy, considering his demon-slaying days for any woman were long gone. Magda had seen to that.

Her posture screamed hands-off so what was he doing here, disturbing her solitude? Up for another bout of flirting? Another bout of teasing her when he knew it couldn’t lead anywhere? She’d made that pretty clear.

He needed to leave her the hell alone. But before he could take a step the breeze picked up, and a waft of fragrance assailed his nostrils. He inhaled, savouring the tantalising scent of frangipani with a hint of vanilla. Pure ambrosia, piquant and addictive. He shook his head to clear it.

He must have made a noise, for she turned, pale moon-light casting alluring shadows over a face otherwise bathed in luminosity, her eyes wide and incandescent.

He’d never seen anything so stunning. The impact of her simple beauty hit him like a blow to the solar plexus, and for an oxygen-starved moment all he could do was stare.

‘Sneaking up on me again?’

The slight curve of her lips belied the hint of annoyance in her voice.

‘You look like you could do with some company.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised. You’re not too bad for a persistent pain in the butt.’

He laughed, surprised she’d instigated a bit of lighthearted wordplay for the first time.

‘Be careful. That almost sounded like a compliment, and it might go straight to my head.’

‘Which part? The persistent pain part or the part where I actually admitted you’re not too bad?’

‘Take a guess.’

She smiled, and the effect was breathtaking. ‘I’m sure you’re well aware of your attributes, so anything I say isn’t going to surprise you too much.’

‘My attributes, huh?’ He flexed his biceps, straightened his shoulders. ‘Nice to know you noticed.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘See? I knew it’d go to your head.’

He chuckled and closed the short distance between them, ducking his head towards her neck. ‘What’s that perfume, by the way? It’s entrapment for any male who gets within five feet of you. Look at me; I’m putty in your hands at the moment.’

‘It’s called Seduction. Stupid name, but it smells okay. I bought it today in a fit of madness.’

She’d stiffened imperceptibly at his nearness, meaning he should probably leave her alone.

But he couldn’t.

Not when the word Seduction tripped from her lips like a saucy invitation. Not when the word conjured up all sorts of wicked images in his over-heated imagination. Not when she smelt and looked divine under a star-studded sky just made for romance and frivolity and getting swept away in the moment.

‘Seduction, huh?’

Her small nod brought her ear within nibbling range, and he gritted his teeth, straightening, removing delectable necks and ears out of temptation’s way—only to catch the flicker of awareness warring with indecision in her unwavering stare.

‘I couldn’t resist it.’

‘Like I can’t resist this.’

He lowered his lips towards her as her eyelids fluttered shut, the faint pink staining her cheeks adding a natural glow.

He half expected her to push him away, and her tentative acceptance of his kiss surprised him, pleased him, considering her usual reticence for anything beyond the mildest flirtation.

He’d wanted to do this for days, yet the anticipation of her lips touching his didn’t compare to the reality.

As he rested his hands on her waist, spanning it, she combusted.

There was no other description for her reaction as she wrapped her arms around him, tugging him closer, her hands frantic as they bunched his shirt, stroked his back, raking it while pushing against him, eager and spontaneous and incredibly responsive.

He deepened the kiss, demanding a compliance she was more than willing to give, and her total abandonment fired his libido better than any aphrodisiac as she parted her lips, allowing his tongue to slide into her mouth, where it wound around hers in an erotic, sensual dance he didn’t want to end.

Blistering heat scorched straight to his groin and he groaned, threading his hands through her silky soft hair, loose and cascading over her shoulders for once, angling her head for better access to the warm delights of her mouth, wanting more, wanting it all.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. It defied logic, defied all reason. But her tongue touching his blasted every last shred of common sense out of his mind.

As her breasts pressed against his chest and her hands skimmed the waistband of his trousers sanity fled, and he tore his mouth away, blazing a trail of hot, moist kisses down her throat.

Her head fell back, giving him full access to her neck and her deliciously delicate skin, so soft, so enticing, so tempting.

He couldn’t get enough, cupping her butt, pulling her against his arousal, wishing their damn clothes would disappear along with her inhibitions.

Lana gasped, her eyes flying open as the enormity of what they were doing hit her like a ten-ton anchor.

What the hell was she thinking?

Trying to hold her own with his flirting was one thing—but this? This mind-blowing madness where she’d responded to him like a nympho?

The heat that had pooled in her belly crept upwards, causing her neck to itch uncontrollably and her cheeks to light a beacon for the ship.

How could she have been so… so… stupid? So wanton? So reckless?

She shoved her hair out of the way, dragged air into her lungs and stepped away, desperate for physical distance where a moment ago she couldn’t get close enough.

His mouth kicked up into a rueful smile. ‘Guess that perfume almost lived up to its name.’

Soft moonlight reflected in his eyes, and while she couldn’t fathom their expression, she knew hers was horrified.

‘In your dreams, lover-boy.’

She blinked, wondering where that rapid retort had come from. The quick comeback had shocked her almost as much as her eager response to his kiss.

To her amazement he chuckled—a deep, rich sound that had no right warming her. ‘I guess here’s where I should say it was my fault and that the kiss was way out of line.’

Her head snapped up, her stare accusing.

‘You’re right on both counts—but you’re not going to apologise, are you? You’ve been charming the pants off me ever since I issued that stupid dare, so the way your warped mind works you probably think of it as all part of the game.’

‘Charming the pants off you, huh?’

He dropped his gaze to her dress, and she blushed before jabbing a finger at him.

‘You’re incorrigible, you know that?’

‘So I’ve been told.’

He grabbed her finger, lowered it, taking the opportunity to hold her hand, strumming the back of it with his thumb, soothing her anger just when she was getting worked up. Anger was good. Anger was distracting. Much better than focussing on the other emotions whirling through her: wonder and awe and a soul-deep yearning to feel half as good now as she had for those brief seconds in his arms.

‘What do you want to hear? That I’ve wanted to kiss you for days? Damn straight. Do I want a repeat? Hell, yeah.’

A few of Jax’s parting shots echoed through her head: frigid, frosty, aloof, cold. How could she be any of those things when a kiss from Zac set her alight and he wanted a repeat performance?

But it couldn’t happen again. Not when Jax’s other comments still resonated: how their relationship had been a bit of fun, nothing serious, a fling. She’d given him her heart; he’d given her a case of dating stage-fright for the next three years. There was no way she’d ever get involved with a guy again without having the relationship parameters spelled out at the start.

As if a transient sailor boy who lived his life at sea would be interested in anything more than a fling.

She yanked her hand out of his, folded her arms. ‘A repeat is not an option.’ She frowned for good measure, her old prickly exterior firmly back in place. ‘It was a mistake. Just forget it.’

He shook his head, the hint of a smile curving those incredible lips she’d never forget. ‘Impossible.’

Great. Was he referring to not repeating the kiss or forgetting it? No way was she asking for clarification.

With her head a riotous confusion of thoughts and her heart a frightening jumble of emotions, she knew she had to escape. Fast.

Her usual shyness wasn’t justification for this desperate need to run. This had more to do with the growing horror that she’d totally embarrassed herself by kissing him like a sex-starved Playboy Bunny, and the deep, unshakeable fear she’d like to do it again.

‘I have to go.’

She didn’t wait for a response. Kicking off her shoes, scooping them up with trembling hands, she made a mad dash across the sand, wishing she could flee the memories of her insane response to his kiss as easily.