MIRANDA NEVER REALIZED how much hard work went into an actual seduction. After she completed the entire regimen of mud bath, mineral Jacuzzi and massage, she ate a light lunch on the balcony of her room then took a leisurely walk up the beach. Pampered and primed from her time in the spa, she didn’t intend to waste all her newly buffed and exfoliated skin. As she strolled past the small hotels and private homes lining the waterfront, her plan formed. She would make love with Noah, despite his ill-timed reluctance.
And though Miranda wasn’t so sure about herself anymore, she was certain one thing hadn’t changed. Once she made up her mind about something, there was no turning back.
The journey to this decision began a week ago. When she’d surrendered her body in the garden, she’d honestly believed she could keep the confines of her heart off limits no matter how far their lovemaking went. Actually, up until this morning, she’d believed her powers of self-preservation were fully charged. But listening to Noah admit, however briefly and reluctantly, that he was to blame for the failure of his marriage and that he still respected and admired his ex-wife, opened her eyes. This was a man she couldn’t help falling for, even if falling meant taking a risk. Like a skydiver jumping for the first time, she had to trust her ’chute—which, in this case, was woven with threads of insatiable desire and bundled by the regrets she’d feel if she let this opportunity slip away.
She wanted more than an orgasm, more than a roaring good time. She would connect with Noah tonight, truly connect, even if she had to pull out all the stops to do it.
When she returned to her room, she discovered a message from Noah on the hotel voice mail apologizing for his childish retreat. He asked her to go for a walk with him at sunset. They’d talk then, he promised. She’d left him a message agreeing to the walk, but left out the part about conversation. They’d done enough talking. It was time for action. Miranda made the arrangements with a girlish giddiness that belied her intent to be nothing but a full-blooded woman in just a few hours.
Luckily, Noah made himself scarce until a quarter before eight o’clock, the agreed-upon time for their rendezvous. Miranda found him at the edge of the pool deck, leaning against the gingerbread railing and staring at the gray clouds brewing a mile or so offshore. The threat of a full-fledged Florida thunderstorm sent most of the tourists inside, except for a few children shouting “Marco” and “Polo” in the pool while their exhausted mother begged them to get out of the water.
“Looks like rain,” Miranda said, touching Noah’s arm lightly to announce her arrival. Though painfully inane and cliché to start a conversation with an obvious observation about the weather, she didn’t know how else to begin. Hi, I’d like to go make love with you right now seemed entirely too pushy, even for her.
“Want to cancel our walk?” he asked.
When he turned to face her, her ability to form even the simplest syllable fled. Her tongue grew thick and dry. Her jaw clamped shut. This wasn’t the Noah Yeager she expected.
Something was different. His skin seemed darker, as if he’d spent the entire day in the sun. The ruddy tan contrasted against the whites of his eyes and intensified the blue of his irises so they shone with a lethal turquoise glimmer.
He wore his hair wet and slicked back, though it had dried just enough for a crown of waves to curl along the top of his forehead. Dressed in a light cotton shirt completely unbuttoned and his signature wrinkled khakis, he’d hooked his sandals in his fingers and wore a relaxed expression that contrasted sharply with the tension he’d exuded when he’d left her that afternoon.
Nothing in his physical appearance explained the subtle difference she sensed in him—a difference that made her heart clench in her chest so tight that her hands shook. But her attention returned to his eyes. Somewhere beyond all that blue was a man who’d made a decision. A decision about her.
She swallowed deeply and shook her head.
“Let’s go then,” he said.
He slipped his hand into hers with a natural grace and innocent tug. And yet, not so innocent. The days of denying the attraction that haunted them were over. Miranda had decided last night that loving Noah would be worth whatever conclusion resulted. If she had her heart broken, so be it. Like Teri once said, heartbreak made her human. Heartbreak could yank Miranda from the ivory tower she’d hid in, behind her academic journals and impossible moral standards.
She’d needed today only to figure out the details.
Using his hand to keep her balance, Miranda leaned over and removed her strappy sandals. He took them from her, holding them with his as they stepped into the powdery white sand. He started to lead them north, but Miranda resisted. The only resisting she planned to do tonight.
“Let’s go this way,” she suggested, gently drawing him southward.
“There are mostly just houses that way. I thought we’d walk past that new hotel. Their margaritas are supposed to be outstanding.”
She crinkled her nose. “I’m not a big fan of tequila. There’s a beach house under renovation just a mile or so down. I want to look at it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Thinking of buying some gulf-front property?”
“I might—” she laughed, towing him quietly in the direction she intended them to go “—when the university triples my salary.”
“Your house in the ’burbs isn’t exactly a ram-shackle cabin.”
When he followed her lead toward her destination, Miranda took a deep breath, releasing with it all her pent-up fears and expectations. She reminded herself that she could only plan so much. Most of what happened once they reached the beach house would be entirely up to him. Until then, she’d distract him with small talk.
“I indulge myself from time to time. I bought that house with the royalties from my textbook. I never expected so many universities would add it to their curriculum.”
They talked about work a bit while they strolled, zigzagging closer to the water. The sand became wetter and flatter; ground seashells pinched the bottom of their feet until the rising tide splashed over their ankles then receded in foamy, rippling waves. The sun, effectively prevented by the clouds from setting with any degree of magnificence, instead gently faded, turning the sky from silver to gunmetal in fifteen minutes’ time.
Not wanting to appear too anxious, Miranda stopped to pick up a large curled shell that had washed ashore. When the tide reached for her, she rinsed away the sand, then held her prize for Noah’s admiration.
He turned the conch over, holding the shell close to examine it in the dim light. “I never knew you liked the beach so much until I read it in the newspaper,” Noah admitted, handing the shell back to her.
“I bet there’s a lot you didn’t know about me until that article.” Irony danced in her voice, surprising even Miranda. Her mind raced back to the afternoon in her garden. From the darkening of his irises, she knew he was remembering too.
“I’ve learned considerably more since then.”
“Yeah? Besides the obvious—” she didn’t even bother to avert a blush “—what have you learned that’s changed the way you think about me?”
He reclaimed her hand before he answered. “In my professional opinion, I’ve decided you’re crazy.”
“Really?” She tried to match the forced seriousness with which he made his pronouncement. “Fully certifiable or just a little crackers?”
Noah held her hand tighter. “Fully certifiable, of course. This moment right here is a perfect example. You’re taking a quiet, secluded walk—with me—toward a quiet, secluded house, wearing the sexiest sundress ever designed.”
She glanced down at the gauzy peach wraparound she’d purchased at the spa. Nothing more than a long swath of cotton strategically twisted around her body and tied at the neck, she’d intended to use the loungewear at home where no one would see. But when she’d set her sights on an evening of seduction, she could think of nothing more appropriate—or inappropriate—to wear.
She flipped the short hem outward, revealing a generous sweep of bare thigh. “Too much temptation?”
“You’ve reinvented the word, Miranda.”
They crossed in front of the house she’d been admiring—the one she’d called the listing real estate agent about this afternoon, the one that was still under construction and had no one looking after it.
A bit secluded, a bit public. They could be discovered at any moment. Miranda experienced that fantasy in action last weekend. Worked on her. Worked on Noah. She wasn’t one to argue with a sure thing.
She tugged him toward the wood frame just as a crack of lightning flashed against the sky. “Interesting you should think that…but, trust me, I haven’t even started reinventing that word.”
Concrete-block steps led through a tangle of sea oats, weeds and brushy grass to the open doorway of the house. At least, she assumed it was the doorway. With the frame only partially enclosed, the layout was hard to visualize, even in the afternoon sunshine, when she’d first spied the perfect setting for their rendezvous.
“This is a renovation?” Noah eyed the empty frame curiously.
“Actually, the real estate agent said they tore down most of the original structure, except for a few interior rooms.”
“You called about it?”
“Why not?” She stepped over a stack of two-by-fours. “I’ve made some good investments over the years. Maybe this is what I need for my retirement more than a fat IRA. Come on. I want to look around inside.”
Lightning flashed once more against the sky, followed by a reverberating clap of thunder. The sound rolled over the open gulf waters, reaching a rumbling crescendo that made both of them flinch.
“This storm’s a fast one,” he said. “We should go back.”
Miranda felt the first splashes of raindrops, blown in by the wind. Mother Nature is definitely a woman, she decided. She’d just been handed the perfect ruse to get Noah inside.
“Too late to go back. Come inside. The interior rooms are covered by the top floor.”
She disappeared into the structure, traversing the lumber, drywall and blocks littering the floor.
“Watch out to the left. There’s a stack of—”
“Ow! I see it. I felt it anyway,” he muttered. “Miranda? Where are you?”
She had the decided advantage, having traversed the maze of construction supplies only an hour before. She’d set up her wares in the first solid interior room, which she assumed would be a kitchen judging by the configuration of pipes sticking up from the floor. She’d chosen a corner near the open doorway. After quietly fumbling inside the basket she’d brought over just before meeting Noah by the pool, she lit the quartet of ruby glass votives she’d picked up at the five-and-dime across the street from the hotel. The inexpensive quilts she’d bought warmed under the crimson glow.
She’d filled the basket with a bottle of Cabernet, an assortment of cheeses from the specialty shop beside the drugstore and two tins filled with a scrumptious meal, courtesy of the hotel’s five-star chef.
Along with a supply of condoms and a special surprise for dessert, Miranda’d thought of everything.
“What’s that glow?”
“Candlelight, can’t you tell?”
“Where did you…?”
His question died as he crossed the framework that would someday be a doorjamb. He braced his arms on either side. He didn’t move. The sky behind him had darkened from leaden gray to deepest charcoal. The wind kicked up, flickering the candle flames. His eyes, surely a shade darker than the storm, reflected the fiery gleam.
“Miranda?”
“So I planned this. Except for the storm. It’s a nice touch, though, don’t you think? Makes me believe in the power of Mother Nature.”
To stop her nervous rambling, she popped the cork on the wine and poured. Her shaking hands sloshed drops of dark red fluid over on the crisp, new quilt. Noah knelt beside her and took the bottle from her grasp.
“You’re shivering. Cold or scared?”
She closed her eyes as he laid his hand over hers. “Scared—to death. No, that’s not true. Scared to life, if there’s such an expression.”
“You’re right to be afraid, Miranda. I can’t give you what you want.”
She sat back onto the quilt and curled her legs beneath her. She spoke to her lap, not entirely sure she was prepared to confront those powerful blue eyes of his this close up. “All I want is one night to make love with you. Completely. No strings. No commitments. That’s how you like things, so that’s how it will be. Can you manage that?”
When he started to answer, Miranda realized she was using the wrong tactic. She and Noah didn’t need to talk. She knew he believed he could never fully commit to a woman. She knew that for this one instance, his belief didn’t matter. Yes, she wanted someone who would love her forever. Yes, she wanted to find one man who could fire her soul, her body and her mind with a single glance—a man who would be there for her for a lifetime.
But right now, she wanted Noah. Right now, he could be all that she needed, and more. And she could be exactly what he’d been searching for—a woman who shared his passions, but would walk away in the morning.
No matter how hard it was. She’d walk away. She’d made that promise to herself. And now, to him.
He meant that much to her.
“Miranda, you don’t know what you’re saying. You’re not a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of girl.”
“No, I’m not. I’m not a girl at all—good or otherwise. I’m a woman, all grown up and, by now, pretty damn certain of what I want. Now, I went to a lot of trouble to execute this seduction.” She lifted her arms beneath her hair, prepared to pull out every last stop if that’s what it took to convince Noah that she could fend for herself. She didn’t need his noble restraint. “You game, or what?”
ONCE AGAIN, he’d underestimated Dr. Miranda Carpenter. Grabbing her wrists with slightly more pressure than he intended, he kept her from lifting that glorious dark blond mane of hers. If she did, he’d feast on the sight of her lean, long neck in crimson candlelight. A man could only take so much.
“This isn’t a game, Miranda,” he warned.
“Can’t it be? Not all games are trivial.”
Her eyes gleamed like rare gems, a mix of amethyst color and opal fire. If he allowed himself the luxury, he could lose himself in those eyes. But he couldn’t forget who he was or how he could never give Miranda the future she deserved.
“Every game I know of has both a winner and a loser. That’s enough to keep me off the field.”
She glanced at his hands, then dared him with those deep sparkling eyes to release her.
He didn’t, which prompted her to gasp with frustration. “Noah, you don’t have to be my white knight. Last time I checked, this damsel was not in any distress.”
“You don’t know—”
“Noah! Drop it. I know you hurt your wife when you couldn’t make your marriage work. I know you hurt that girlfriend of yours when she wanted more than you could give. But as far as I see it, they have to take some responsibility for the failures. They obviously didn’t know you as well as they thought they did. Maybe they asked too much. All I’m asking for is one night, maybe two. You, me.” The sound of her voice, so throaty and deep and insistent, lured him to relax his grasp. She tugged free, releasing her hands and the top of her dress in one swift movement. “And the storm.”
The gossamer fabric fell aside, peeling away from her body like a layer of translucent skin. Her nipples, dark and peaked, contrasted against the pale milkiness of her sweet, rounded breasts. His mouth watered in anticipation of tasting her again.
She reached out and cupped his chin, splaying her fingers along the entire side of his cheek, then combing her palm into his hair. “Sometimes, Noah, good girls do. And they ‘do’ very well. Let me show you what I mean.”
Raising herself on her knees, she leaned forward and buried her lips in his neck. “Isn’t this what you’ve wanted to do to me?” She murmured, nipping the sensitive skin along his throat, then soothing the line of nibbles with her tongue. “You have a thing about my neck. I catch you staring all the time.”
“You have a beautiful neck.”
“It’s a fascinating fetish. Very Anne Rice.”
Noah could hardly speak for the magic she wove just beneath his ear, but he didn’t want her thinking he was some sort of sexual predator with a vampire fantasy.
“A fetish applies to someone whose sexual fantasies focus on that one area of the body alone.”
She leaned back and bestowed him with a smile that lit her entire face. “You’re interested in other parts of me? Darn. Here I had this whole Antonio Banderas fantasy going.”
“Antonio Banderas?”
“As Armand in Interview with a Vampire?”
“Didn’t see it. Besides, I don’t want you thinking about someone else when you’re with me.”
“Fantasies are healthy, you know that as well as I do,” she teased, growing bolder the more he protested. She buried her face against his neck again, this time flicking the soft flesh of his earlobe with her tongue.
“Not when the real thing is better than the dream,” he said.
She sat back and looked him square in the eye, her expression a mixture of seriousness and exasperation.
“Now, how the heck would I know that?”
“Have you forgotten last weekend?”
“Yes,” she lied, her grin challenging him to remind her, bit by bit, in intimate detail.
He shook his head. “You’re a regular pyromaniac,” he said, knowing she’d understand his reference. She was toying with fire right now. The hottest fire of all.
“Better than a nymphomaniac,” she quipped.
He laughed at her playful banter, hardly believing how her teasing was turning him on even more than her mouth against his skin. “How?”
“You know what?” She looked up, her eyes alight with amusement and flaming with desire.
“What?”
“You think too much like a psychologist. Anyone ever told you that?”
As a matter of fact, yes, he thought. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember who. Not with her tongue dipping into the shell of his ear, teasing him with a rhythmic caress so like making love.
He managed an “uh-huh,” before she slipped her hands into his shirt and tore the material off his body, leaning him back into the layers of quilt she’d placed on the floor.
“One thing I remember from last weekend is that only one of us really had a good time.” She leaned over him, her breasts heavy, her nipples erect and straining for his mouth.
“That must have been me,” he answered.
Her eyebrows shot up. “You think that was a good time? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”