THE audience with Jack Forrester—and audience was definitely the way Claire saw the man’s agreement to a meeting with Nicholas on Saturday morning—was as frustrating as their previous interactions.
When they emerged from the room, Claire was fuming. Anger sparked in her veins and loosened her tongue. The man had been positively rude to Nicholas. It was totally intolerable!
‘Aren’t you annoyed? He seemed to barely listen to you half the time. Where does he think he gets off, treating the head of Monroe’s that way? You’re brilliant. You made a great presentation, and Monroe’s is the best he’ll get. What’s his problem? I’m glad you let him know you won’t wait around for ever for him.’
When her tirade had ended, she closed her mouth in surprise. Nicholas had butted heads with other businessmen plenty of times in the past, but this was the first time Claire had wanted to tear his opponent apart as a result.
Great. Now she could add Mama Bear Syndrome to her other problems. You touch Papa Bear, and I’ll take this furry paw and cuff you all the way into next week with it.
‘Don’t worry about it. The meeting served its purpose. Now we wait to see what happens next—and I, for one, plan to enjoy the rest of my weekend here.’ He smiled as he stuffed the last of his papers into his briefcase and strode up the corridor. ‘Aside from turning up to dinner tonight and a golf game tomorrow, I’m free to do what I want from now on.’ His gaze rested on her with sudden intensity. ‘How do you want to spend the afternoon, Claire?’
‘Ah…a whole afternoon?’ The perfect way to spend the time dropped into her thoughts, and heated her blood. Unfortunately it seemed to be all she could think of lately, since that explosive kiss.
Making love might seem the perfect idea, but in fact it would be nothing short of disaster. Make love. Hand Nicholas her heart on a plate. What was the difference? Easy. There was none.
‘I don’t know. I guess I’d like to explore more of the island.’ That should be safe enough, shouldn’t it?
Yes. As safe as wandering in an idyllic getaway with a man who abhorred romance yet made her feel warm and fuzzy all over just by being himself could ever be.
Nicholas quickly made their needs known to the resort staff, then turned to her. ‘Let’s go back to the cabin. Change clothes. They’ll bring a Jeep to us there.’
Nicholas proved an able guide, and disarmed her when he remembered her interest in seashells. See? He was doing it again. Being nice and making her feel all mushy in the no-go emotional zone.
They examined hundreds of shells on a little piece of secluded beach on the opposite side of the island, with the tropical sun caressing its warmth onto them from above.
It was fun, actually. Enough so that Claire forgot to be uptight for a little while and just relaxed.
Nicholas, she discovered, was fun to relax with. He made silly quips that forced her to laugh. Led her along the sand as though she were a pre-schooler let loose for the afternoon. Just generally made her feel good. It might have been shortsighted, but she decided she would live for the moment, would let herself enjoy this little piece of fun and worry about the rest of her life again later.
‘These are wonderful.’ She rinsed another small shell in the surf and dropped it into a plastic bag with the others. ‘I’d better stop collecting, though. Otherwise I’ll sink through the sand from the weight of them all.’
‘Time for a swim, then.’ He spoke blandly enough, but his gaze challenged her and brought a sexual edge back into the day. ‘You do have a suit on under that dress, I hope?’
‘Ah, I do.’ Her heart pounded with a mixture of awareness and dread. The latter was quite real, and for once had nothing to do with her boss or her hormones. ‘But actually I don’t swim in the sea. I only paddle.’
‘Excuses, Claire?’ He shook his head and turned to strip off his shirt and trousers and drop them on the sand. ‘Come on. It’s too nice a day to waste time. I promise I won’t ogle you too much.’
She heard the teasing tone, but her gaze remained on the expanse of ocean. So innocent when she dabbled at its edge. So threatening further in.
‘I don’t swim in the sea. I’m not joking or trying to have an argument. It’s simply a fact. I’ll join you, and I’ll go in up to my thighs. That’s it.’ She couldn’t have committed to more at gunpoint.
It was all she could do not to beg him to stay in the shallows with her. She could imagine how well that would go down, but right now her newly discovered mother bear instincts were tangling with her fears. The result? She wanted Nicholas right where she could watch over him, thanks.
That wasn’t going to be an option. She knew that, and strove to put on a calm front. Nicholas would swim; she would dabble in the shallows. It would all be okay, and that was that.
She pulled her sleeveless dress up over her shoulders and head, and tossed it on top of his clothes on the sand. Only then did she look his way, and she had to stifle a gasp at the sheer physical beauty of him.
His shoulders were broad and muscled, his chest firm, with a smattering of curly black hair that narrowed to a vee on the way to his trim waist. The swimming briefs did little to disguise his masculine shape. She quickly dropped her gaze to the strong legs, then raised it back to his face. Only to find he was looking at her, too.
‘You’re perfect.’ His praise was simple, but his gaze on her was hot, heady, as it travelled over her, lingering on her breasts, her hips, the length of her legs. ‘I think that outfit is even more provocative than a bikini.’
The one-piece suit was red, streamlined, high-cut at the thighs, and cupped her breasts firmly. She had thought it perfectly sedate until his hot gaze bored through it to the flesh beneath. Her breasts tingled in response to him, and she turned quickly away. Maybe a dunking wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all.
‘Last one in and all that.’
Claire didn’t venture in far. Just waded while Nicholas went further out. He rode the waves, his dark head bobbing confidently in the water.
She clenched her fists at first, worrying about him, wanting to call him back, but she eventually convinced herself he was as confident at taming the waves as he was at everything else. He would be okay. It was a calm day, he knew what he was doing, and he wasn’t in any danger here.
‘Come out with me, Claire. I’ll look after you.’ He spoke from right beside her.
At the sound of his voice she jumped and shook her head. ‘I’m happy here.’
‘Happy? Or scared silly?’ He flicked the hair back off his forehead and took her hand in a firm grip. ‘I’ll hold onto you the whole time, but you have to face this. You can’t live in a harbour city the way you do and stay terrified of the water. It’s crazy.’
He looked so confident and reassuring she almost believed him. Almost, but not quite.
‘I’m not terrified.’ The rest of her words died away as he tugged her close. So close that their bodies melded from chest to hip. Their legs entwined in a sensual dance and he led her further out into the water.
Bam went her thought-processes, her objections, any hint of coherency at all. Her fear was overridden by her awareness of his nearness. The tang of salt water meshed with the scent of his sun-warmed skin, turning her senses to liquid fire.
Before she knew it they were out of standing depth, bobbing up and down on the ebb and flow of the waves. Claire couldn’t believe she was letting this happen.
‘The current is gentle here.’ He spoke softly, his gaze roving her face. ‘Feel it. All you need to do is move with it, ride it.’ He took her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, his touch a fiery caress. ‘Just as I long for you to ride me.’
Her legs had gone automatically around his waist in a panicked reaction that now became wholly erotic. Dear Lord, what was she doing? What was Nicholas doing to her?
Despite herself, she pressed closer, embracing the danger of the ocean and the danger of Nicholas, only two flimsy layers of cloth away from her.
A wave lifted them, buoyed them up, and they pressed nearer as his mouth lowered to cover hers. His hands pressed her spine until her chest flattened against his, her nipples rasping in sensitive awareness against her swimsuit, against his chest.
Claire forgot the sea. Forgot trying to keep her distance from Nicholas. Forgot her troubles, her concerns—everything but the feel of him, so right against her as his tongue probed the depths of her mouth, learning her, sweeping her away on a tide of longing, of rising need.
They were moving into shallower water. She scarcely noticed it until she realised he had stopped, had planted his feet firmly on the seabed. The water lapped over them at chest level and he continued to mesmerise her with his mouth, with his hands, and his hard, strong body.
He groaned, rocking against her, and she pressed closer, wanting him. Needing him. A moment later he lowered the straps of her swimsuit and pushed them down until her breasts were exposed to his gaze, to his touch.
‘Look at you. So beautiful. So exquisite. Let me touch you, Claire.’
‘Yes.’ She groaned the word, desperate for it. Her nails grazed his back as he lifted his hands to cup her. The slide of his fingers sent roll after roll of sensation right to the heart of her.
She wanted to touch him, too, to be able to hold him close and never let him go. Slowly she unlocked her legs, sliding against him until they were both standing. Until her hand could reach tentatively to stroke his chest, his waist, and the hard, throbbing mound beneath his swimsuit. He came alive beneath her touch, groaned and swept her close, pressing kisses all over her face and shoulders in a heated rush.
‘Claire, I want you so much.’ He panted between each gasping word, his chest heaving.
Claire wanted him, too, wanted him with an ache that consumed her whole body and probably all of her soul. Every part of her cried out for him, for the fulfilment he would give her. This was nothing like that first, fumbling experience years ago, which had left her bewildered and wondering what all the fuss was about.
Her eyes opened. A slow, languorous sweep of her lashes that brought her gaze to his intimate, stroking green-flecked one. Green like the ocean, or the expanse of lush foliage at their backs.
At the thought, her eyes widened. Her gaze flew to his and glanced away, over her shoulder, to the deserted beach behind. They stood in the middle of the sea, where any passerby could observe them.
She didn’t want observers. Didn’t want this at all. Or at least couldn’t let herself have it, even though she craved it. Shock and withdrawal set in. Her body began to tremble with an entirely different reaction, and she pushed at his shoulders, wedging distance between them like a shield.
‘Not this way.’
It was all she could grind out between her chattering teeth. It wasn’t what she meant to tell him at all, but the passion in his eyes banked, and he, too, looked towards the beach.
‘No. Not this way. Not now. Go paddle in the shallows.’ The muscles in his face were granite-hard as he held himself in check. ‘I’ll come out in a minute.’
After his swim, after she had made an attempt to calm herself, they ate. A picnic meal on the beach, thoughtfully provided by Nicholas for her comfort and enjoyment. Another romantic touch that he would vehemently deny if she tried to thank him for it on those terms.
She had no idea what she put in her mouth, or what she said. She knew only that her gaze couldn’t meet his. That tension lay between them like a live thing, waiting to consume them both with greedy hands and fists and unrelenting passion.
The sun caressed her, drying her skin, but it couldn’t warm away the chill of separation. Of stopping Nicholas from giving her what she had wanted so much. Of leaving a void that cried out for him.
‘We haven’t discussed actual plans for the wedding.’ His words cut across her meandering thoughts. ‘I’m reliably informed that there are hundreds of things that have to be taken care of. How do you want to go about this? Would you like to hire a wedding planner? Or handle the organising together, just you and I?’
Her head whipped around. Her gaze clashed with his. It was so easy to forget what had started all this. But she couldn’t afford to forget. Not for a moment. Wedding plans? No, no, no. Quiet ceremony. Small. Easy to back out of.
‘The wedding plans. Right.’ She tried to pull herself together, to at least sound half-coherent. She gulped down a breath. ‘Since we’re keeping it small and intimate—’ the word choked her to a stop, and she had to take a deep breath before she went on ‘—I want you to leave it all to me.’
It was the only possible way she could maintain control of the plans. Or rather keep from making any.
She gave an emphatic nod, and hoped she looked more confident and assured than she felt. ‘I’m sure you’ll be surprised by the results.’
‘You want to totally surprise me, then? I won’t be involved at all?’ A mask slid over his face, blocking out his thoughts. One brow quirked in polite enquiry.
He wanted to be involved. Claire was positive of it. The man claimed to be made of concrete, but he wasn’t. He did have feelings, just like everyone else. He just refused to let himself show them. Did he have any idea how much richer his life would be if he embraced his emotions rather than stuffing them into a box and sitting on the lid?
Oh, right, Claire. And you should encourage him to bring out those emotions, to expose them and explore them. So he can be really hurt at the end of this.
She hadn’t meant that at all. Had got carried away with her thoughts for a moment, that was all. With her own foolish wish that they could grow close emotionally. It was happening to her more and more.
Focus on the conversation.
The wedding. Right. Oh, he would be surprised, all right.
She nodded—she hoped not desperately. ‘Um, yes. I want to surprise you.’
‘If that will please you.’ He still seemed disappointed. ‘I’ll organise a transfer to your bank account, and you can just go for it, okay?’
Money she couldn’t afford to spend. Would have to pay back if she did.
‘I’m—uh—I’ve been living frugally, as I mentioned when you first visited my apartment. I have savings in the bank. You won’t need to advance me anything. Certainly not soon, anyway.’
Because I won’t be investing anything in our wedding plans. Because—well, because there won’t be a wedding.
‘How about if I let you know if I need a cash boost?’ she suggested. ‘That might be best.’
‘Provided you make sure you do so.’ He toasted her with his bottle of apple cider. ‘Whatever makes you happy, Claire, makes me happy. I hope you’ll remember that.’
The day went rather dim at that point. Oh, the sun kept shining, the sea stayed as sparkling and blue. But a shadow moved over Claire’s heart and stayed there, and she just couldn’t shake it off.
To cover her unease, she tried extra hard to be bubbly and happy, and asked to see and do everything she had read about in the brochure in their cabin earlier.
Nicholas did his best to accommodate her, just like a loving spouse would. As if that thought helped her any.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, until at last they went to dinner—where at least she could share his company with others.
‘You dance as gracefully as you do everything else.’ His compliment brushed across the sensitive skin behind her ear, a forcible reminder that she was in trouble again. Already.
She wanted her boss. Physically, intimately. But she wanted more. A place in his heart. Fool that she was.
Being in Nicholas’s arms did make a fool of her. When he held her reality and forbidden dreams mingled, blended until she couldn’t distinguish one from the other.
She shivered and told herself not to melt into him. But it was too late. She was already melted. Melted, and overheated, and devastated by this man. And by her guilt over deceiving him.
‘If I dance well, so do you.’ She met his gaze, then regretted it when she noted the slow, burning intensity in his eyes. They were only just past the appetisers, still waiting on the main course. How on earth would she survive until dessert? Even if he only wanted her body, she didn’t know if she could resist him. ‘But, ah, perhaps we should rejoin the others?’
He gave a significant glance to the surrounding dancers. ‘I doubt we’ll be missed. Half of them are out here, and the other half seem to have migrated to the bar.’
‘Oh.’ She fell silent, and hoped the number would end before she gave in and simply laid her head to rest against his chest, where she wanted it most to be.
After that it seemed a good idea to fortify herself for the remaining ordeal of the evening. She helped herself to some of the island specialty fruit punch, and thought the less than subtle after-kick was just what she needed to bolster her courage.
‘You’ve had a couple too many drinks, I think.’
Nicholas’s observation cut right across what Claire knew was a very amusing anecdote.
It was late. Very late. A half-dozen fruit punches late. Everyone else seemed to have deserted them, leaving them alone at the long cloth-covered table.
‘I was telling you a story, Nich—o—las. In case you hadn’t noticed.’ She enunciated each syllable of his name with great care, then frowned at him. ‘Now you’ve rudely interrupted me, and I can’t remember the rest of my tale.’
‘Let’s go back to the cabin.’ His suggestion was accompanied by a wry smile. ‘You can tell me the rest then, if you like.’
‘Oh, well, I suppose that might be okay.’ In the foggy recesses of her mind, something suggested that being alone with Nicholas wasn’t supposed to be a good idea, but she couldn’t quite think why. ‘I’m yours to comm—comm—To tell what to do.’
‘Right.’
Nicholas helped Claire out of the restaurant. And she needed quite a bit of help.
Outside, she stopped, a startled expression on her face. ‘I’m three-parts sozzled, aren’t I?’
‘Yep.’ He caught her arm as she stumbled again. ‘You are that.’
‘I didn’t think the punch was that strong.’ She pressed her lips to his ear to impart her secrets. ‘It was for courage, you know.’
A shudder of response moved through him. Vulnerable like this, she made him want to protect her. To keep her close to his heart where nothing could harm her.
Damn, she had him twisted into knots. Inside, outside, sideways. He did his best to ignore the feelings. ‘Yes, I know. Why don’t you stop talking until we get back to the cabin?’
‘I could, but I don’t know if I’m going to make it to the cabin. I’m very wobbly.’
Her last words emerged in an endearing blur. He turned to smile at her, and caught her just in time as her legs crumpled under her.
‘Home we go, little one.’ He swept her into his arms, where she lay boneless and trusting against his chest. Exactly what he didn’t need to feed the protective surges plaguing him. ‘You’ve had about enough of life for today, I suspect.’
‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head, then wound her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss against the skin there. ‘I’m okay. In fact….’ She paused and pressed closer, lowered her voice. ‘I really want you. I think it would be a good idea—no, a great idea, for you to make love to me, Nicholas. Please. In the cabin, not in the sea. Where nobody will see.’ She giggled. ‘Hear that? I rhymed.’
She might have been laughing, but her hands had risen to stroke the sides of his neck, offering both invitation and promise. And Nicholas wanted to take her. To possess her. As if in some way that would give him the right to protect her from the world as well.
There had always been secrets in Claire’s eyes. No-go zones that Nicholas had wanted to break through. He wanted to get past those zones more than ever now, despite his belief that emotional involvement was a huge mistake.
It was. His own confusion right now was testimony to that.
They arrived at the cabin at that moment. Nicholas put off answering her until he had her safely inside. Although he wasn’t sure if the word safely could be applied to any aspect of this situation.
‘You think that would be a good idea, do you? Us making love where nobody can see?’ His body was responding to holding her, to having her so close and so willing. But he couldn’t take her. Not when she wasn’t in control of herself. Not when he wasn’t in control of himself.
He strode through to her room and lowered her onto the bed. ‘Why don’t you rest on that idea for a minute?’
‘Don’t need to rest. I’m quite wide awake, I promise you.’ She clutched his shoulders. ‘Don’t go, Nicholas Monroe.’ A giggle shot out of her mouth. ‘I rhymed again.’
‘Yes, I noticed that.’ He also noticed how adorable she was. Adorable and completely at his mercy, damn it all.
‘Stay with me, Nicholas.’ She sighed and shifted voluptuously on the bedcovers. ‘I know you want to.’
‘That’s true. I want to.’ He pressed a deep kiss onto her mouth, one kiss only. He let himself savour her, warm and willing, for just a little bit. Then he took her arms from about him, tucked them close to her body, and rolled her onto her side. ‘Go to sleep, Claire.’
‘I don’t want….’ Her words drifted off and, although it clearly hadn’t been her intention to do so, so did she.
Nicholas closed the door on her and left the cabin, in the hope that a few hours roaming the beach might cool him off. He really wasn’t in the mood for a second sleepless night, but he had a feeling he was going to get one anyway.