The roof was eerily empty as Nicole made her way across the pool patio. She scanned the expanse of red clay tiles, noticing how nice the newly completed section looked, but the view was bereft without the inclusion of hot, sweaty, glorious Quinn.
Sally was at her desk, on the phone, when Nicole arrived. “And here’s your confirmation number, Mrs. Young.” She looked up at Nicole and tossed a quick thumb’s up, before she frowned into the receiver. “The beach picnic? Uh, yes, I’m sure we can arrange something for you.”
At Sally’s vague response, Nicole’s heart flipped. The ad had gone up. “Where’s Ma—Quinn?” she asked as Sally hung up.
“Gone to Lumberland.”
“Lumberland?” Nicole shot a hand up to her mouth. He’d have to take Route One. At Sally’s curious look, she added, “What does he need there?”
“I’m guessing lumber. Or whatever men buy in those mysterious warehouses of wood. Hey, I just took two more reservations for tonight.”
A broad smile broke across Nicole’s face. “Son of a gun. We’re nearing capacity.”
“Damn right.”
“Things are looking up, Sal.”
“Well, you have been.” At Nicole’s questioning look, Sally pointed skyward. “At least up to the roof.”
Nicole picked up two messages from Sally’s desk. “It looks good, doesn’t it?”
“Mmm. Gorgeous.” Sally grinned, but Nicole let it go and headed into her office. Sally was right behind her. “This last lady asked about a beach picnic. Is that a new service we’re offering?”
Nicole turned and tried for her most professional look. “Can you do me a favor and get me the name of that new gourmet-sandwich place everybody’s been talking about?”
“Taste Sinsations.”
Perfect. “Can you get me their phone number?”
“If you tell me what’s up.”
“I’m going to try our new private beach-picnic service tonight. If it works out, we may just add it to our ever-expanding list of guest amenities.”
Sally raised an eyebrow, then walked past Nicole and lifted a large manila envelope from her desk. “By the way, a courier delivered the bank papers that Quinn had requested. Apparently, Tom Northcott couldn’t hold him off anymore. He said Quinn’s office called from New York and demanded the papers.”
A trickle of perspiration danced between Nicole’s shoulder blades. “Really?”
“Everything’s in here. I checked.”
Nicole bit her lip as she took the envelope from Sally and willed her hands to stay steady. Why would he force the issue of the paperwork? Didn’t he say…well, he hadn’t really promised anything. But over lunch with Aunt Freddie, she could have sworn he was starting to back off the sale a little. She sighed and rifled through the documents, her gaze falling on the infamous insurance policy.
“You still want that phone number?” Sally asked softly.
Nicole looked up and saw the sad expression on her friend’s face. “Yeah. The guy’s been killing himself on the roof. I owe him dinner, at least.”
But until she found out exactly what his intentions were, dessert would wait.
As dusk fell that evening and the promised hour of “moonrise” approached, Nicole realized she hadn’t planned well enough. She had the food and wine from Taste Sinsations, but she’d forgotten she had to move out of her villa and into a room for guests arriving late that night. She had just enough time to dress, shove her clothes and personal belongings into some suitcases and fling them into the back of her car. She’d have to get a key to the room Sally held for her later.
As she descended the wooden stairs, she checked the horizon. The sun dipped halfway into the Gulf, splashing tangerine-and-scarlet streaks over the water in its bid farewell. Nicole slipped to the south side of her villa, away from Mac’s view. There, a private garden faced the water, embraced by a circle of palm trees and a wall of gardenia and oleander bushes. Amidst the foliage sat a round stone table. It was the perfect, secluded location. Too bad they’d have to evacuate by ten o’clock, when the guests were scheduled to arrive in her villa.
By then, she’d know where Mac stood on the property sale. And she’d decide whether or not to invite him into her temporary room in the main building. After a few trips to set up the picnic, she made one final run into the house, added a dash of lip gloss and took one long look at herself.
She twirled in front of her dresser mirror. Before she’d packed, she’d picked a long, gauzy, white skirt that rested low on her hips and was sheer enough to show the outline of her legs. Feeling daring, she abandoned the loose, flowing blouse that came with the skirt, choosing instead a short black-and-white top that left her waist bare. With her only front-clasp bra and a whisper of silk panties underneath, she felt spine-tinglingly sexy.
Oh, she hoped Sally was wrong about Mac’s behind-the-scenes work on the property sale. Not that it should matter. She wanted him. He wanted her. If Mac weren’t buying Mar Brisas, then some other mogul from New York would be down there, sniffing around for a deal. Why should she punish herself on principle?
Because she wanted it to be right. She wanted to trust him, not just lust after him.
For once, she wanted to give someone a real chance at her heart. Maybe he’d take it, maybe he wouldn’t. But Freddie was right. She was twenty-eight and it was time to live.
She did a quick check of the villa, which had been thoroughly cleaned that afternoon. Flowers on the coffee table, a bottle of wine in the fridge. These guests ought to be happy. She’d kept this villa up very well, even after the storm.
She grabbed the manila envelope on the kitchen counter, hoping she wouldn’t ruin the mood of her meal by getting the unpleasant stuff out of the way up-front.
Checking her picnic area, she lit some candles to ward off mosquitoes and tiptoed barefoot through the maze of stilts under her villa. She saw him before he saw her. Walking the beach, wearing khakis and a soft blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He carried his shoes in one hand and something else in the other and strolled in the sea-dampened hard sand, his gaze locked on Nicole’s villa. His hopeful expression touched her heart.
Anticipation sang through her nerve endings as she watched him move with slow, animal grace. She studied the breadth of his shoulders, the ease of his gait. His hair shone black as night, slightly ruffled by the sea breeze; his chiseled face looked clean shaven and she imagined the intoxicating aroma of his aftershave and soap. Her heart thudded in time with each of his steps, her breath trapped in her throat. God, she’d never wanted anything so much.
Nicole stayed in the shadows under the house, holding on to one of the support stilts, purposely hiding from him. He paused at the foot of her wooden stairs, his attention mistakenly upward instead of twenty feet away where she waited.
His bare foot hit the first stair without making a sound.
“Are you here about the ad?” she whispered into the night, a teasing lilt in her voice.
She heard him suck in a tiny breath and freeze in his spot. He squinted into the network of two-by-fours that formed the stilts. Silently, he snaked through the maze toward the sound of her voice, his gentle smile deepening to a sexy grin.
He stopped in front of her, inches away. “I’m looking for someone in blue.” The expected masculine scent of him hit her almost as hard as the hungry look on his face. Her legs nearly buckled. Dear God, she’d never make it through dinner let alone dessert.
“You’re not mad about the ad?” She arched an eyebrow.
He reached out and held up a single rose, letting the petals graze her chin and the sweet aroma tickle her nose. “You have quite a way with words, lady. This time, I took them for the absolute truth.”
She attempted a shaky smile. Where was her wit and brilliant repartee? Why did this man reduce her to shivering, dancing, gyrating hormones with one touch?
“Consider it my way of thanking the roofer.”
He looked over her shoulder at the garden. “Candles? A table? I didn’t expect anything so formal.”
“What did you expect?”
“Just my favorite flavors.” He leaned closer, a breath from her face. “Starting with this.”
He brushed her mouth with a kiss, the tip of his tongue parting her lips and tickling her. She heard his shoes hit the soft sand and then felt the heat of his hand on her waist, burning her bare skin instantly. He deepened the kiss, but remained a chaste few inches away from her body, breaking their contact after less than thirty seconds.
“I’ve missed you.” His voice was low, sweet.
She wet her lips, still tasting him on them. “Not enough to call off your dogs in New York.”
Instantly, he backed away, a question in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“The paperwork from the bank. It arrived today. Evidently someone contacted Tom Northcott and put a squeeze on him yesterday.”
He frowned thoughtfully at her. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Really?”
“Honestly. I believe it, though.” He slipped a casual arm around her shoulders, picked up his shoes and led her toward the garden. “I’ll look at the papers tomorrow.”
“No.”
He sighed, laughing a little. “You know, I hate it when you say no.”
They reached the table and Nicole picked up the manila folder. “Let’s get this over with. Is there anything in here that can make you change your mind?”
His gaze dropped over her, lingering on the abbreviated top and the way the skirt skimmed her hips. In one smooth move, he picked up an edge of fabric and let the moonlight shine through the gauze and reveal the outline of her legs.
“No. But something in here might.”
She ignored the tingle of excitement that ricocheted through her. “I’m not a bargaining chip, Quinn.”
He let the skirt fall with a sincere, warm expression. “I was playing with you. Truthfully, I wish we could keep these two issues completely separate.”
“What two issues?”
He held up the folder. “This.” He cupped her chin and lifted her face toward him. “And us.”
Holding her breath, Nicole suddenly crossed her arms and made an impulsive decision. It was forcing his hand. It was an ultimatum. It was her only chance. “As long as there is a this,” she said tapping her fingernail on the package in his hand, “there isn’t an us.”
Disappointment darkened his eyes for a second, but his gaze stayed riveted on hers. “I know you well enough not to doubt you, Nicole.” He moved closer to the flickering candles and opened the folder. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
While Quinn spread the papers in the candlelight, Nicole disappeared into her villa, then returned with a bud vase, arranging her rose and some greenery in it silently. He skimmed Northcott’s cover letter while she poured two glasses of wine. Taking the crystal she handed him, he automatically held it up for a toast.
She shook her head. Denying him even the pleasure of touching her glass. He sighed and set the glass on the table without drinking it. Later. He’d toast her later. He lifted the thick packet of mortgage paperwork with a quick glance at the bottom line.
She owed a lot on the property. The payments weren’t outrageous, but she definitely needed to keep this place hopping to make them. He sensed her settling in next to him, close enough to read along, far enough away to avoid physical contact.
He stole a glance at her. She bit her lip and stared at the documents. He wanted her so much, already, after one kiss, that he hurt. Flipping a page, he squinted at more numbers. Could there be something so amiss in this pile of papers that he could convince Dan to call off the deal?
To what end? a little voice inside him asked. So he could finish his vacation by having wild, fantastic sex with her, then say goodbye and head back to New York? She certainly wasn’t leaving her beach. Where was this thing going, anyway?
He gulped in a breath at the unfamiliar and outrageous thought.
“What?” she asked anxiously. “What do you see?”
He forced himself to focus on the fine print. “Nothing yet.”
She leaned a little closer, teasing him with the aroma of a citrus shampoo and a sexier, muskier fragrance than she usually wore. All his senses went on alert. His fingers itched to touch her. He ached to wrap her up in his arms and smother her glossy lips with his mouth. To taste all those flavors…
“Mac,” she said, ruffling the corner of the page he held, “this is a signature page. Why are you studying it so hard?”
“Just making sure it’s real,” he murmured, turning to the next packet of paperwork. Oh, it was real, all right. The way he felt was real. His need was real. His mental musing about their future was frighteningly real. He hadn’t even had sex with her—yet—and he was thinking about geography.
“Sheez,” he sighed, whooshing out a breath of disbelief at the stunning thought.
“I know,” she agreed, surprising him. She knew? “The insurance policy from hell.”
He forced himself to concentrate and read every word. Then he did swear softly. “Nicole, how could you sign this?”
She looked up at him and shrugged. “I just thought it was all part of the bank paperwork. You know, you sign your name seventy-five times during a closing, after a while the documents don’t mean anything.”
“Who did the closing?”
“Marine Federal.”
“This Northcott geek?”
She stifled a little laugh. “He’s not a geek. He’s just very conservative.”
“You gotta watch the conservative ones,” Quinn warned. “They could be wolves in banker’s clothing.”
“He’s not a wolf,” she said with a smile. “I’ve known him since high school.”
“Hmm.” She was probably an eyeful in high school. The wording about flood and storm damage caught his attention, forcing him to stop imagining her in a short cheerleader skirt. He held the paper up to the light to see any signs of white correction fluid or tampering. “There’s no way an insurance policy could be worded this way,” he said.
“It is.”
“Well, this is a copy.”
“I’ve seen the original. Believe me. The bank has it all and I spent hours with a lawyer there, trying to discern fact from fiction.” She shook her head and toyed with the stem of her wineglass, which, he noticed, she hadn’t touched, either. “At least the local insurance rep admitted it was an odd policy, not one that they usually issued. But he stood by it. And held on to, oh, a hundred and fifty thousand dollars of claims.”
He blew out another breath. “That must have hurt.”
“You have no idea.”
On the last page, something jumped out at him. “See that?” He pointed to a tiny line of print at the bottom. “Policy remains with property.”
“What does that mean?”
He turned to her. “Maybe it means we don’t want to buy this property.”
Her eyes widened hopefully. “Really?”
“Which means that I might go away and take Dan’s bulldozers, but you still have problems, sweetheart.”
She sighed and looked hard into his eyes, her combined expression of hope and despair squeezing him. Good God, he wanted to kiss her. Instead, he laid a gentle hand on her arm.
“Look, the best I can do is promise to dig through this mess first thing in the morning. If there’s a way I can at least stall Dan or even convince him that this isn’t a good idea, I will.”
“Why?” she asked with a wary look. “To shut me up, so we can get on with…you know.”
He felt his lips curl in a smile. Oh, he knew. “I’m doing it to help you, plain and simple. Plus, if this is a lousy purchase, then he doesn’t want it. It makes good business sense.” He grazed her silky arm with his fingertip, tickling the inside of her wrist. “And if I can string this deal along for months and make regular visits to see the lady in blue, maybe we can get on with ‘you know’ on a long and repeated basis.”
She smiled back, her blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. She picked up her glass of wine and waited for him to do the same. She touched the rim of hers to his. “To stalling,” she said softly.
He frowned and froze before he drank. “Stalling what?”
“You know.” She swirled the wine, but didn’t drink. “The inevitable.”
“I don’t want to stall another minute, Nicole.” He heard the serious note in his voice and could tell from her expression that she had, too.
“First, we have dinner,” she announced.
Torture. Eating anything—well, almost anything—was sheer torture to a man as hungry for her as he was.
Slowly, she stood and unveiled the dinner as he took his sip of wine. “I hope you like spicy chicken,” she said with a meaningful glance. “This dish is from Taste Sinsations, the new gourmet shop in town. It’s called Hot Chick Sautéed in Her Own Juice.”
He almost choked on the wine. “Oh, yeah. I think I’ll like that.”
Nicole arranged each of their plates, watching Quinn from under her lashes. His desire was obvious and, now, she believed his intentions were good, if not noble. She could trust him. A tingle of expectation coiled through her.
A long and repeated basis.
Well, that wasn’t forever and maybe that was okay. Safe. No love, no loss. Just…desire.
And how long would they last through a civilized meal before they started to act on that desire? He devoured her every movement with an intense gaze, sending shivers of response over her body.
Half an hour, tops. She sat across from him. There was space on the bench next to him, but if she let her thigh touch his one more time, they might as well put the food away now. A sudden slam of a car door caught her attention.
“Oh, what was that?”
“Company?” Quinn asked casually, sipping his wine.
Voices and another car-door slam floated toward them, then the sound of feet crunching on the gravel at the back of her villa.
“Oh, God.” Nicole stood and peered through the stilts toward the small circular drive where her own car waited packed and ready. “They’re early.”
“Who’s early?”
“The guests in 1801.”
He squinted at her. “You have guests tonight?”
“I rented my villa for a week.”
“You…what?”
“We’re nearing capacity, Mac. And we have lots of couples calling.” At the bottom few stairs to her villa, she saw a man carting two suitcases. “Oh, yes. The Cusicks. David and Virginia from Ft. Myers.” Her eyes danced. “My ad is working.”
“Nicole.” He stood and walked around the table, standing behind her. The better to see the Cusicks, she assumed.
But the sudden touch of his hand under her hair told her she assumed wrong. “If I’m going to be the poster boy for hotel sex,” he said, kissing the back of her neck, sending a spray of goose bumps down her spine. “I need more on-the-job experience.” His teeth nibbled playfully.
An erotic rush sliced through her. She bit her lip and held the table to keep from swaying, but forced herself to think. “We have to get out of here, Mac,” she said. “This is such an intrusion on their privacy.”
“On their privacy?” His tongue grazed the back of her earlobe. “This is a full-frontal attack of mine.”
Suddenly a bright floodlight lit the garden, bathing them both in its brilliance. She jumped and he slipped both arms around her waist, pulling her into the shadow of an oleander bush. “Come on. We’ll hide out in the sand until they get settled, then come back and quietly take the picnic to my place.”
She heard the sliding glass door open. “Look at the view, honey,” a woman said. “It’s so romantic.”
Nicole let him slip her through the foliage, down a stone path to the beach. He tugged her toward the moonlight on the water. “We’ll watch the villa from here. When the honeymooners turn out the lights, we’ll slip back up.”
“That could be hours,” she said.
“Hmm.” He tightened his grip around her. “What’ll we do to pass the time?”
The moon slipped behind a silver cloud, blanketing them in darkness. They neared the water, arm in arm, silent except for the powerful pounding of her heart and the far-less-powerful pounding of the pint-size waves of the Gulf. White foam tickled her toes and she opened her mouth to gasp as the cool water splashed on her ankles.
But her breath was trapped as his mouth swooped down on her in a demanding, hungry kiss. She felt a guttural vibration of desire in his chest that sent her blood rushing. He dropped his hands over the back of her skirt, pulling her into him and letting her feel how she affected him.
“You do that to me every time I look at you, Nicole,” he whispered into her mouth. “Every time I think about you.”
She shuddered at the knowledge, and the ache it caused in her. “Do you…think of me very often?”
“Oh, about every minute and a half.” He slid his hands up to the bare skin exposed by her crop top. “No. Every minute.”
His fingers grazed the bottom of her bra. Her knees started to buckle and she felt him taking her down. Together, they folded into the sand. “The tide is going to hit us on the next wave, Mac,” she warned.
But his only response was another anxious kiss, as his thumbs found the front latch of her bra. “Good. I want to see you wet.” In a flick, he had it undone. “I want to feel you wet.”
He raised the blouse, exposing her breasts in the muted light. She fell on her back, the wet sand shocking her skin. “I want to make you wet,” he added huskily just before he closed in for a taste of one hardened peak. She jerked forward as his mouth connected with her, tender at first, then sucking with an anxious fury.
He sighed, tasting one, then the other, then the first again.
She clung to the corded muscles of his shoulders, barely able to hold on and unable to stop herself from sliding against his erection. He reached down under the material of her skirt, gliding his fingers along her thigh, toward the center. Toward his destination. A lazy wave splashed around her legs.
He eased the silk of her panties aside and touched her flesh. She spasmed into his fingers. “Mac,” she moaned.
He licked the valley between her breasts, cupping one and grazing his tongue on the underside, tasting her, teasing her with sexy sounds. Erotic promises. Beautiful, he pronounced her. The most beautiful body he ever touched. Every shred of sanity disappeared into the night as he circled his fingers deeper into her folds.
“My hot chick sautéed in her own juices,” he whispered into her skin.
She wanted to laugh, but the fire between her legs burned. She heard the surf, felt it move higher against her thighs. “We’re going to get soaked,” she mumbled.
“You are soaked, sweetheart.” He licked the swollen buds of her breasts, never exiting the hot, slick opening where his fingers controlled her. The nerve endings sparked and sizzled, as powerful waves of pain and pleasure washed over her. Or was that the salt water of the sea? She had no idea.
He wouldn’t stop. He tortured her with long, even, steady strokes of her flesh coupled with the demanding pull of his mouth on her breast. She saw the moon tangle with a cloud and closed her eyes as white lights flashed in her head. Over and over, his thumb moved against her throbbing center, taking her further away from reality.
She murmured his name and he urged her on until the lights exploded into a blinding sea of white behind her eyes and her body did the same in his hand. She heard her breath, hot and hard and lost, then the pounding surf and the low, provocative tones of his voice. But she couldn’t think of anything but the intensity of the pleasure he’d just given her.
Then she heard a woman squeal with delight.
“That wasn’t me,” she said.
“Shh,” he kissed her lips. “Listen.”
The voices floated down from the villa. “Look, Dave! They left us a romantic dinner for two. With candles and wine!”
In the moonlight, Nicole found Mac’s amused look and they both bit back a laugh. A man’s quick footsteps tapped on the villa stairs. Then quiet. Then more laughter.
She buried her face in his chest. “Oh, Mac. I’m sorry. Your dinner.”
He kissed her forehead. Her eyes. Her mouth. “I don’t care. I’ve just had an appetizer,” he whispered. “Now I want the main course. Let’s go to my villa.” He leaned on one elbow and started the process of re-fastening her bra, taking his time to cup her breast in his hand. “Unless, of course, you rented that out, too.”
“No.” She lifted her chest toward him, to help, but it just slowed him down. He had to kiss and caress and admire before covering her. “We’ve reserved that for the poster boy of hotel sex.”
He grinned and tugged her top over her bra. “I love my job.”
Arms entwined, legs pressed together, hungry mouths finding each other, they crossed the beach and stumbled up the stairs, laughing at their mutual impatience.
Halfway up the steps, he stopped and pushed her against the wall of the house, taking another taste of her with a long, ravenous kiss. His hands moved over her skin like branding irons, making every cell in her body dance in anticipation. Nearly suffocating her, he pressed his aching erection into her stomach.
“I want you, Nicole.”
Her response was half moan, half laugh. “I noticed.” She moved her hands toward the front of his pants. “Only about thirty more feet, honey. Can you make it?” She ran her hand dangerously close to where his flesh throbbed. She bit her lip, held his gaze and slipped her fingers into the waistband of his pants.
“Not if you do that.”
He sucked in a furious breath as her fingers closed around him. A moan caught in her throat as she dropped her head back and looked at him with a wide, delighted smile. “I had no idea you real estate moguls were so, uh, well-endowed.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and grunted low as she stroked him once. “I’m a construction worker this week,” he managed to say, rolling against her fingers.
“Oh, yes. I saw you on the roof,” she whispered. “Pouring water over your head and turning me into water.”
“You liked that?” His own voice was tight, strained.
“Mmm. It made me want to…” she said, her nails grazing him lightly, “…see you sweat some more.”
“Mission accomplished.” He took her mouth in another furious kiss. “Let’s go inside, Nicole. Let me make love to you.”
Her eyes flashed and her hand froze on him. “Is that what you call it?”
Oh, God. She’d accepted that she was sleeping with the enemy and come to terms with what was probably the best casual sex she’d ever have. But love?
It was only an expression. A classier description than what this groping on the steps really was.
“Yes, Nicole,” he said softly. “When it’s with the one…the one woman on earth who matters, then, yes.”
Her heart stuttered and then just threatened to stop. She shouldn’t do this. She shouldn’t let herself go into this most dangerous of territories. Love means loss.
Silently he tipped her chin up to him. His eyes were nearly black with intensity. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking that this is anything but the real thing, lady.”
She lifted her hand out of its nest between his legs. Her head told her to run from him. Her heart told her to talk to him. Her body told her to…
She kissed him on the mouth, as soulful and passionate as she could. Her tongue danced with his in a slow, erotic waltz.
Tonight, she would listen to her body.