Читать книгу Single, Sexy...And Sold! - Vicki Lewis Thompson - Страница 9

SHE REALLY DID NEED a friend, Natalie thought as she looked into Jonah’s eyes. A friend who would help her mother reenter the world of the living. And she specifically needed Jonah to be that friend.

But just as it had been that night in the cab, friendship was being nudged aside by something a little more exciting. She really couldn’t let that happen, at least not until she’d talked to him about her mother’s book.

Jonah handed her his drink. “If you’ll hold this a minute, I’ll go topside and see if the TV motor launch is still after us.”

“Sure.” Their fingers touched as she took his glass. Yep, the chemistry was strong between them. Watching him bound up the steps to the deck made her go all warm and tight inside. She would just have to ignore the feeling and concentrate on becoming Jonah’s good buddy instead. Maybe they could play chess.

Putting both champagne flutes on the table, she poked around the cabin but didn’t turn up a chess-board. Finally she gave up. Untying the sleeves of her sweatshirt, she hung it on an ornate hook by the door before sliding onto the leather banquette and nestling among the pillows tossed there.

The gentle rocking motion of the boat coaxed her to lean back, put her feet up and relax. After all, she should try to enjoy herself a little, considering she’d sacrificed her retirement account to be here. She’d ordered the champagne in hopes it would make her forget about the money. And here she was not even drinking it.

She picked up her drink and helped herself to a chocolate-covered strawberry. This wasn’t half-bad, she thought, biting through the chocolate into sweet red pulp. If she could forget how much this weekend was costing her, maybe she’d enjoy being pampered for a change.

As a young and inexperienced woman in the stock market, she’d had to hustle the past few years to keep her head above water. Even with her rent held lower than the other tenants’ because of an old agreement made by her great-uncle, she still didn’t have lots of cash for luxuries left over at the end of each month. Lately she’d been spending all her spare money and energy trying to lift her mother’s depression.

At least that was working. Whenever Alice wasn’t wrestling the bachelor-auction theme into her manuscript, she was brainstorming ways for Natalie to make a good impression on Jonah this weekend. The white outfit had been Alice’s idea. The illusion of purity always fascinated a man, she’d said.

Meanwhile, Natalie struggled to keep her two roles straight. In her mother’s presence she had to pretend to be crazy in love with Jonah, but in Jonah’s presence she had to squelch any sexual feelings, or risk compromising her mission. Her brain was tired from the effort, come to think of it. She ought to have another strawberry.

She closed her eyes and took a bite. When the juice spurted out, she tried to catch the runoff with her tongue before it dribbled down her chin. She missed. Damn. She should have been more careful. Her illusion of purity was probably compromised. Opening her eyes, she glanced down at the front of her blouse. A red dot marked the exact position of her left nipple. She grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at it, which only spread the stain and made her nipple pucker under the soft material.

A soft sound drew her attention to the stairs, and she realized Jonah had been standing there for several seconds. Even across the distance separating them, she could feel the heat in his gaze. Unfortunately her body was responding to that heat. This buddy plan wasn’t working too well.

He cleared his throat and walked over to sit on the opposite end of the banquette. He picked up his champagne glass and drained it before he spoke. “The launch is still keeping up with us. The captain says there’s not much he can do about it, as long as they don’t come close enough to be any kind of navigational danger.”

“So what do you think we should do?” It came out sounding much more suggestive than she’d meant it to. She couldn’t help it if being nervous made her voice husky. And she was definitely a wee bit nervous being alone with him. The look he’d given her a minute ago hadn’t worn off yet, either.

He put down his glass and turned, his glance dropping to the red spot on her blouse, then moving back to her face. “I think you’d better tell me what you expect for your thirty-three thousand.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“Then I’ll be more clear. Do you expect that before this weekend is over I’ll make love to you?”

The idea sent a thrill of reaction through her system. “Of course not! What sort of woman do you think I am?”

“Damned if I know!” He scooted across the banquette and leaned toward her. “And if you don’t want sex, I have no earthly idea what you do expect for your thirty-three grand, lady. It’s making me nervous.”

Her chin came up. “All I expect is a fun weekend.”

He leaned closer, obviously ready for a fight. “And what, may I ask, is your definition of fun?”

She got right in his face, irritated with his automatic assumptions about her. “Probably the same as yours, buster.” Even if she was mad at him, he smelled nice. And she’d never noticed that freckle high on his cheekbone, or the way his lashes curled.

“I doubt it.” His eyes darkened. “I can just imagine what sort of wild, exotic experience you’d consider worth all that money.”

“Oh, can you?” She thought maybe his imagination was affecting his breathing, because it wasn’t much steadier than hers.

He drifted closer still, and his voice took on a husky tone. “We might as well settle the main issue right now.”

“I’m all for that.” She loved watching his mouth, and the dimple that flashed in his cheek when he talked.

“I have…absolutely…no intention…of making love to you.”

“That’s good, because I have absolutely…no intention…of making love to you…either.”

His kiss came hard and fast, but not fast enough to suit her. She wanted to be gobbled up, consumed by the fire. He plunged his tongue deep, and she moaned with delight. This was good, very good. Pushing her down against the leather bench, he began working at the buttons of her blouse as he continued to kiss her breathless.

She pulled his knit shirt from the waistband of his slacks and ran her hands up underneath to feel the play of muscles across his broad back. To touch him was heaven. And to be touched was…unbelievable. She gasped as he unfastened her bra and cupped her breast in his supple fingers. It was the right touch, the one she’d waited for, dreamed of, thought might be an illusion.

Bells rang. Or rather, one bell rang, quite persistently.

He lifted his mouth from hers.

Slowly she opened her eyes to gaze up at him.

“Lunch,” he murmured.

She struggled to speak. “Let’s…skip it.”

“If we…” He paused to take a deep breath. “If we don’t go up, they’re liable to come down after us.”

“Oh.”

He stroked his thumb across her nipple. “I meant what I said.”

“Okay.” Her eyes fluttered closed as she absorbed the ecstasy of that gentle caress. “About what?”

“I’m not going to make love to you.”

She clenched her jaw. She’d gone and forgotten her mission again. This was going to be a tougher assignment than she’d thought. “That’s good, because I’m not going to make love to you, either.”

“You’re not?” He sounded disappointed.

She opened her eyes and strengthened her resolve. “Nope.”

“Is that reverse psychology?”

“It’s the truth.”

“So no matter how I coaxed you, you’d say no.”

“That’s right.” Scooting out from under him, she sat up and reached behind her back to refasten her bra.

He cleared his throat. “Well, then we both understand each other.”

“I think we do.” She glanced down at the stain on her blouse. It should be put to soak or it might be permanent, and this was a good blouse.

“I’m glad we cleared the air and settled everything.”

“Me, too.” She’d just take the blouse off and rinse it, she decided.

“And I think it’s—what are you doing?”

“Taking off my blouse. What does it look like?”

“Natalie, please don’t do that.”

“I need to put it in some water to soak or it will be ruined.” Carrying the blouse, she walked back to the galley.

“How do you expect me to stick to my decision if you’re going to parade around practically naked?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sticking to mine. But if it bothers you so much, why don’t you bring me my sweatshirt?”

“Okay.”

She found a little liquid soap and rubbed it vigorously into the spot.

“Here’s your sweatshirt.”

She glanced up and noticed his gaze riveted on her cleavage.

He shoved the sweatshirt at her. “Please.”

She dried her hands on a nearby towel and took the sweatshirt. “Thanks.” Then she pulled it over her head and fluffed her hair with her fingers.

He leaned in the doorway of the galley, watching her. “I like your hair.”

“Me, too. Just wash, dry and go.”

He nodded, as if he approved of that approach. “Why are you worried about the blouse? Couldn’t you just buy another one?”

“I don’t operate that way. I like this blouse, and I might not find another one exactly like it, so I’d rather take care of this one and make sure I have it for a while.”

He gazed at her, his expression speculative. “You don’t talk like rich women usually talk. Or the way I imagine they would.”

“Maybe you’re stereotyping.”

“Maybe I am.” He pushed away from the doorjamb. “Let’s go up on deck and have some lunch.”

“The TV people may still be hanging around.”

He shrugged those broad shoulders. “Then they’ll get boring footage of two people eating.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Besides, she had to get out of this cozy little cabin. She headed for the stairs. “Maybe the best way to get rid of them is to go up there and demonstrate there’s nothing going on between us.”

“Yeah, right.”

Something in his tone made her glance back at him.

He looked defensive. “Okay, I think it’s stupid that you paid all that money to spend time with me, but I have to admit it’s kind of a turn-on, too.”

“No, really?” She gave him an exaggerated look of surprise and breezed past him up the stairs.

LUNCH WAS SOMETHING right out of the movies, Jonah thought, and he was sitting across from a starlet in casual clothes and dark glasses. To complete the illusion, they had a camera crew keeping pace with the Satin Doll.

“Just ignore them,” Natalie said. She picked up a jumbo shrimp and dipped it in cocktail sauce.

“I guess you’re right.” He thanked Suzanne, who’d just refilled his champagne flute. Then he spread a cracker with warm Brie. “Why should we ruin a great meal like this worrying about being on Candid Camera?” Natalie looked terrific, he thought. The breeze ruffled her short hair and brought a pink blush to her cheeks.

Or maybe the blush had something to do with that scene in the cabin. God, she was hot. Apparently she was as turned on by this bizarre situation as he was. Maybe that was her motivation in the first place, to buy a guy for the weekend and tease him to death. She could be into power.

If so, she was on a roll. Watching her dip another plump shrimp in cocktail sauce and nibble her way to the tail was giving him an erection.

“Do you have a job?” he asked. Mundane conversation might keep his mind off sex.

“Of course.” She wiped her fingers on her napkin. “I’m a stockbroker.”

“You must be pretty good at it.”

“I do okay.” She peeled a leaf from her steamed artichoke and dipped it in melted butter. “How about you? I know all firefighters don’t do the same job. What’s your specialty?”

He struggled to remember her question as she raked the meat off the artichoke leaf with her even white teeth. Either all the food was designed to be sensuous or he was becoming obsessed. “I’m the forcible-entry man.”

“Really?” Her mouth turned up at the corners. “That sounds very macho.”

“It’s not.”

“Of course you wouldn’t think so, Mr. Modest.” She glanced over his shoulder. “I hate to tell you this, but there’s another motorboat on the other side of us, and somebody’s got a video camera pointed in our direction. They’re probably just tourists who think we’re famous.”

“Or they work for a tabloid.” Jonah didn’t bother to turn around. No use letting them have a good shot of his face. “Don’t you think this is getting out of hand?”

“Yeah, but what can we do about it?” She reached for another jumbo shrimp. “At least they’re not making much noise.”

A helicopter headed their way.

“Guess again,” Jonah shouted as the helicopter swooped overhead, turned and made another pass.

Natalie glanced up at the helicopter as she chewed her shrimp. “Unbelievable,” she said as she swallowed and glanced back at him. Then her eyes widened and she started to gasp for air.

Jonah’s chair crashed to the deck as he leaped around the table and pulled her out of her seat. Circling her in his arms, he clasped his hands under her breastbone and applied quick upward pressure. Her sunglasses flew off and the piece of shrimp that had lodged in her windpipe sailed across the table and landed on the deck.

Suzanne and Eric hurried toward them.

“Is she okay?” Eric asked.

“I think she’ll be fine in a minute.” Jonah supported Natalie gently as she took several long, shaky breaths.

“Wow. I’ve never seen anybody react that quick.” Suzanne picked up Natalie’s sunglasses. “No wonder you’re a hero.”

“I’m definitely not a hero,” Jonah said. “Anybody would have—”

“Not true,” Natalie said, her voice slightly hoarse as she extricated herself and turned to him. “Not just anybody would have saved my dog, either.” She cleared her throat and gave him a tremulous smile. “First my dog, now me. It seems I owe you a great deal, Jonah.” A warm light shone in her eyes.

“You don’t owe me a thing.” But as he looked in her eyes, he wondered what form her gratitude might take, and if he’d be strong enough to refuse it.

IN THE FACE OF Jonah’s heroic and sexy persona, Natalie struggled to keep sight of her original goal. She needed to get her mother’s request on the table soon, before she accidentally forgot herself again and ended up in his arms. But she hadn’t figured out exactly how to broach the subject. She still wasn’t sure Jonah would cooperate, especially if he thought he’d be identified somehow as the hero of the novel.

To give herself time to think, she suggested they spend the rest of the afternoon on deck, and Jonah readily agreed. That helped some, until Jonah got his chance to take the wheel. Natalie watched him grin with pleasure as he guided the sleek craft up the river, and she began to ache something fierce. Keeping her distance wasn’t the easiest job she’d ever had.

Except for the helicopter that continued to dog their progress and the boats cruising alongside the yacht, the day was perfect. The sky looked as if someone had scrubbed it that morning before turning on the sunlight, and the wind blew enough to fill the sails without blasting the passengers off the deck. The new green of spring covered the hillsides along the river, and Natalie had a moment’s daydream of sailing the boat all the way to Lake Champlain, alone with Jonah.

But that wasn’t her goal, so she had to be glad they had chaperons galore. They kept the conversation light. As they passed Sleepy Hollow they compared notes on how much the Headless Horseman had scared them as kids. That led to a discussion of childhood, and she found out he was the oldest of four and an Eagle Scout. He learned that she was an only child who had never made it past Brownies.

At one point she slipped in the information that her father had died six months earlier, and the look of sympathy in his eyes made her want to snuggle in his arms, but she didn’t. Besides, the cameras still rolled, and she’d begun to resent them almost as much as Jonah did.

On the trip back, they took turns going below and changing into their dinner clothes. Jonah went first, and the whole time he was belowdecks Natalie imagined him undressing. No matter how she tried to distract herself, she pictured what he’d look like without his shirt, without his pants, without a stitch on that glorious body.

Jonah’s transformation to dinner jacket and tie made her catch her breath.

“Am I okay?” he asked as he joined her on deck.

She looked him up and down. “More than okay,” she said with a smile.

But when it was her turn to appear in her red cocktail dress, she was a bundle of nerves. She never remembered caring so much how a man reacted to her outfit. Twilight had arrived by the time she stepped out on deck, and Jonah stood at the railing gazing at the jeweled skyline of the city slipping by. He must have heard the click of her heels, because he turned as she started toward him.

He didn’t say a word as he held out his hand. She should have ignored his gesture. Touching him was a dangerous occupation, even with chaperons around preparing the yacht for docking. When she placed her hand in his firm grip, she looked into his eyes and her heartbeat quickened. There was no mistaking the message in his eyes, no matter what he had promised her or himself. He wanted her.

“Do I look okay?” There was that husky nervousness again.

“Okay doesn’t even come close to describing how you look,” he said, drawing her over beside him as he returned his attention to the sparkle of lights. He stared at the skyline as his hand tightened over hers. “If you planned to seduce me this weekend, you’re doing a hell of a job.”

“Believe me, I didn’t plan to do that.”

He glanced down at her. “Then I guess you’re just a natural.”

She looked away from his compelling gaze and swallowed. As she focused on the lights of Manhattan, she prayed she’d be able to keep her wits about her for just a few hours more. Soon she’d find the right moment to tell him about her mother’s book. Soon.