by Day Leclaire
“Because I’m a schoolteacher.”
Right. It made perfect sense. “Schoolteachers are immune to seduction? Gee, I never realized that.”
“Well, sure. It’s a law or something.”
“We wouldn’t want to break the law, now would we?”
She shook her head, but he didn’t think she looked too certain. It was a good sign. “It probably wouldn’t be the best idea.”
“You’re forgetting two small problems.”
“What are those?”
“First, I’m a Beaumont.”
“And that makes you immune to the law?”
“It sure does.”
“And second?”
“I promised to compromise you.”
Was that a hopeful gleam in her eye? “And you never break your promises.”
“Never.” Another wave broke over them and this time her skirt swirled around her hips. It was more temptation than he could stand. He allowed the rush of water to carry him into her arms. “This is the second time I’ve gotten lucky,” he teased.
To his relief, she didn’t attempt to push him away but permitted him to anchor her close. Though considering her hair bound them together in a silken net, he didn’t see that she had much choice. “What do you mean?”
“First my bedroom. Now we have this deserted beach just begging for a good frolic. It looks like the fates are working against you, sweetheart.”
For a brief instant, she regarded him with serious eyes. Then the corners crinkled and she smiled in a way that stopped his breath. So poignant. So mysterious. So filled with longing and regret. What he chose to focus on, though, was the tiny spark of desire lurking in their blue depths. It was a reluctant wanting, he didn’t doubt that for a minute. But it was there and he intended to take full advantage of that fact.
He framed her face, giving her ample time to try to change his mind. The sun kissed her cheeks while the sky painted her eyes with the intensity of its color. Her lips were damp with sea spray. He’d taste the ocean’s salty tears on them when he kissed her. Taste it, too, along the sweep of her neck and on the budding tips of her breasts.
A tumble of water lifted them, gently tossing them higher on the shore before washing them clean of sand as it receded. Overhead, a laughing gull dipped low to confirm they hadn’t brought along bread crumbs to share. Not finding anything of interest, it tacked on the wind and wheeled from view.
“You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?” he asked, shading her from the sun’s rays with his body.
“I believe, Mr. Beaumont, that you’re going to do your level best to seduce me.”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do, Miss Delacorte.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you going to resist?”
Laughter blossomed within her gaze. “Maybe just a little.”
“You don’t look too worried.”
“Oh, I’m not.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s you, Sam.” So guileless, so certain. More certain than he was, that was for damned sure.
“And why does that make a difference?”
The amusement faded, replaced by more regrets than any one person should ever have to bear. “Unlike most men who’ve been hurt, you’re not one to hit back.”
Anger rippled through him. “You’re kidding yourself, princess.”
She shook her head. “Anyone else I’d keep as far away from as I could.”
“But not me?”
“Not you. You might try to make good your threat. But...” She broke off, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Go on. Finish it.”
“But somehow you’ll make sure I don’t get hurt in the process.” Her brows drew together. “I know it doesn’t make any sense.”
“No sense at all. Shall I show you how wrong you are?”
“You can try.”
He wouldn’t get a better offer. He lowered his head, surprised when she met him halfway. She tasted of salt, just as he’d expected. But he hadn’t anticipated the heat or the way he’d want to use her mouth, first penetrating, taking her with hard, consuming bites. Next to snatch a gentle nibble, teasing, playing with the swollen fullness of her lips. And then to take them slowly. Languid and moist and thorough, her mouth was as ripe with passion as it was raw with hunger.
The wave came back, hitting them hard, flinging her skirt to her waist. He took it as an invitation and rolled between her legs. Sliding his hands beneath her, he filled his palms and urged her close, showing her how nature had designed them to fit together. Her knees clamped around his hips and she whispered his name, the husky sound carried off on a tropical breeze.
“Are you seduced yet?” he demanded.
She closed her eyes, her breath escaping in a soft moan. “I’d say I was a single wave away from utter ruination.”
“I’d say you were right.”
He turned his attention to her dress. Buttons slipped through buttonholes almost of their own accord. And then Sam eased the edges of her dress apart. She was so beautiful, her breasts pale and full, the tips beaded from the ocean. Unable to resist, he seared them with a kiss. Her back arched instinctively and her fingers dug deep into the sand. She was open to him, offering herself in the sweetest of surrenders. His revenge was at hand. All he had to do was strip away the bit of cotton that was her final barricade and she’d be his.
He hesitated, more torn than he’d ever been in his life. With a reluctant groan, he rested his head on a heavenly cushion and silently cursed himself for a fool. Annie was right. How the hell had she known? He couldn’t hurt her. Nor could he break the vow he’d made to himself when they’d first started dating. A vow that demanded he take her to wife before he took her to bed.
“I’ve made a decision, Annie.”
He could hear her heart pounding against his cheek. “What decision?”
“You can keep your sign up for a little longer.”
Her fingers slipped through his hair. “You’re not ready to keep your promise?”
“Not quite yet.”
“You might not get another opportunity,” she warned.
“Oh, I suspect I will.” A breaker tumbled over them, cooling their heated skin. “I expect I’ll have years and years of opportunities.”
Before she could reply, a shout drifted across the open water toward them. “There they are!” There was no mistaking the voice. It was Mayor Pike.
“Hurry, boys, before it’s too late.”
“Rolly, sit the hell down. You’re gonna flip us over. And leave that gun where it’s at. I don’t know what it is with you and that pistol, but I’m beginning to think you have a fixation or something.”
“I’m the sheriff, dammit all! I’m supposed to have a weapon fixation. Watch where you’re steering this tub, Pike. You’re about to run us aground.”
“Durn it all, Roily. I’m telling you to plant yourself on that seat. If I run us aground, it’ll be due to your backside blocking my blasted view. Now, who’s jumping overboard after Annie? Ben, you’re sitting there with nothing to do. Go get her.”
“But... she’s...she’s—”
“She’s what? Spit it out, Ben.”
“She’s got her dress all in a twist.”
“Well, what the hell are you waitin’ for, boy?” Rolly roared. “Haul your can overboard and get that Beaumont away from her before he has that dress twisted right off.”
Sam heaved a sigh and helped Annie to her feet. “Looks like you’ve been rescued again.”
Delicious color stained her cheeks. “Stand in front of me while I get my dress buttoned up,” she pleaded.
“That’s what I planned, sweetheart. No matter what I said, it wasn’t my intention for anyone else to see you compromised. Just me.” He gave her a minute, then glanced over his shoulder. “How’s it coming?”
“Darn it all, Sam. Everything’s wet. And sandy. And I’m having the devil’s own luck getting these buttons done up. Do you suppose the salt
water shrank the holes?”
Suppressing a grin, he pretended to ponder the matter. “As I recall, cotton does shrink. So I suppose it’s possible.” He risked another quick look and promptly wished he’d resisted. If Ben weren’t swimming steadily toward him, they’d be frolicking in the surf again. “Need some help?”
“No! What I need is your promise that you won’t unbutton me anymore.”
He frowned. “Gee, honey, I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Try!”
“You know I’m a man of my word. If I give a promise like that, I’m obligated to stick to it.”
“Which is exactly why you’re going to make this one. Now say it, Sam Beaumont. Promise you won’t unbutton me again.”
“Tell you what. I’ll promise not to unbutton you the next time we’re in this sort of predicament. How’s that?”
“Not good enough. I wasn’t planning on being in this sort of predicament ever again.”
“I assume that means you’ll bring a spare can of gas with you on your next outing with Lulubelle?” He wasn’t joking any longer and hoped his tone conveyed as much.
“Trust me. I’ve learned my lesson on that score.”
“And your oars?”
“I’ll pick them up from Pansy later today.”
“Fair enough.”
“What about your promise?”
He simply grinned. “You almost done with those buttons, Annie? Ben’s getting mighty close. Lucky for you he’s such a slow swimmer.”
“I can’t get the top two,” she wailed.
“Guess the Musketeers are in for a treat, then.”
“Sam! You haven’t promised.”
“Tell you what. I’ll promise not to unbutton any of your dresses for... oh, how does a week sound?”
“Not nearly as good as a month.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized, not sounding the least regretful. “A week’s the best I can offer.”
“Fine. A week. But I’m holding you to that, Sam.”
“I’m sure you will. Just as you can be sure I’ll do my damnedest to talk you out of it.”
“Not a chance.”
“We’ll see.”
Ben tromped up the sand toward them, ending their discussion. He eyed them warily. “Hey there, you two.”
To Sam’s amusement, Annie offered her most saintly smile. He also noticed that Ben carefully kept his gaze away from her drooping neckline, though he must have noticed the problem since ruddy color tinted his cheeks. “Oh, hello, Ben. Fancy running into you here,” she said, using her best parlor manners.
“Is there a problem, Miss Annie?”
“Why, yes, now that you mention it. There is.”
Ben glanced uneasily at Sam. “Something I...” He threw a quick look over his shoulder at the boat containing a glowering Mayor Pike and Sheriff Rolly. Reassured, he addressed them again. “I mean, is there anything we can do for you?”
“How kind.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, apparently realized how it drew attention to her unbuttoned dress and just as quickly flipped it back to help fill in the gap. Sam was willing to bet a week’s salary she’d start wearing a bra from now on. What a shame. “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I ran out of gas.”
Sam snorted. “You should have tried for something more original, sweetheart. Like water in the fuel line. Or a broken prop.”
She turned on him in a flash. “Ben’s not stupid, you know. He can see full well the prop isn’t broken.”
“Somehow I doubt he’d have called you on it.” He slanted Ben a look of inquiry. “Would you?”
“No sirree. I surely wouldn’t.”
Sam nodded. “Thought not.” He addressed Annie again. “But perhaps the clogged fuel line would have been a better bet. No one could come right out and call you a liar with that one.”
“Why should I lie?” She must have forgotten about the buttons because she whipped her hair over her shoulder, smacking poor Ben across the chops. Not that she noticed what she’d done. Or the way the poor man turnbled back into the water. “We did run out of gas.”
“You know...I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t need to go setting up this elaborate charade.”
“That’s it!” She spun on her heel. “Ben...what the heck are you doing in the water?”
He splashed ashore. “I...ah...tripped.”
“Well, come over here and help me pull Lulubelle off this sandbar. We can tie her to the mayor’s boat for a tow in.”
“Sure thing, Miss Annie. Anything you say.”
“I want to go home. Now.” She must have finally heard how churlish she sounded because her eyes widened in dismay. “I mean...if it wouldn’t be too much trouble?” She offered another of her sugary smiles.
“No, ma’am. Happy to help.” He circled her warily. “You leaving, too, Sam?”
“I’ve pretty much accomplished all I could under the circumstances.” He grinned. If Saint Annie’s back got any stiffer, it would snap. “Unless there’s something more I can do for you, Miss Delacorte?”
She gave Lulubelle a good, hard shove toward the sea. “Not unless drowning yourself is on the list. It would sure save me the trouble.”
By the time they’d safely moored at the dock, all Annie wanted was to climb into a shower and never leave. Instead, she hopped onto Sam’s old motorcycle, crammed her helmet over her sand-and-salt-crusted hair and flew through town toward home, her damp skirts flapping around her legs. She didn’t need to look in her side mirror to know that Sam was hot on her tail.
“I warned you,” he started in on her the instant they arrived at Myrtle’s. “I warned you what I’d do if you didn’t slow down. Since the law doesn’t seem interested in stopping you, looks like I’ll have to.” He thrust out his hand, palm up. “Give them to me.”
She retreated a step. “Give you what?”
“My keys, as you damned well know.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll take them from you.”
A low, husky chuckle came from the porch behind them. “Hell, Sam. Don’t tell me you returned home just to scare little girls and take away their toys?”
Annie spun around and stared at one of the most striking women she’d ever seen. Her hair was as dark as Sam’s, only shorter, brushed back at the sides and spiked on top. On anyone else, such a hairstyle would have looked ridiculous. But somehow this woman had the panache to carry it off. She sauntered down the porch steps—at least Annie assumed it was sauntering. It certainly looked like a saunter. But whatever that particular walk was, it drew instant attention to her endless legs, legs topped by a minuscule skirt. Vivid green eyes appraised Annie every bit as carefully as Annie appraised her.
She had to be a nasty, man-eating witch, Annie decided. Of course, another word offered itself as a potential substitute for “witch.” But the town saint wasn’t supposed to have such uncharitable thoughts, which caused her no end of grief when they insisted on leaping into her head.
But, really! Why else would the woman have shown up at this precise moment? Somehow she knew Annie would happen along, reeking of fish from Mayor Pike’s boat and wearing a sand-encrusted cotton dress that was busily shrink-wrapping itself around her with each passing second. Not to mention dripping salt water from long, stringy, wind-whipped hair. And why hadn’t she thought to do spikes instead of a silly purple stripe when it was perfectly apparent that Sam adored spikes? At least then she wouldn’t be dripping all over the place.
“I take that back,” the woman said, taking due note of Annie’s gaping bodice. “Not such a little girl after all.” She slanted those wicked green eyes in Sam’s direction. “You dirty dog.”
“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.” Sam grabbed the woman and swung her around, giving her an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. “What are you doing here, Diana?”
“Hello, lover.” The greeting had to be
deliberate, a zinger that successfully hit its intended mark. Annie glanced over her shoulder, expecting to find a big fat bull’s-eye plastered to her shrink-wrapped backside. “I was just passing through so thought I’d drop in and see how you were doing.”
Her accent betrayed her New York origins, which gave lie to her story. Delacorte Island wasn’t on the way to anywhere. Delacorte Island was the end of a destination, not a stopover point. Annie folded her arms across her chest and waited for Sam to call the woman a flat-out liar. Instead, he laughed. “I’m glad you did.” He turned to Annie. “Diana Starr, meet Annie Delacorte. Diana’s my partner.”
The woman had the unmitigated gall to smile pleasantly and offer her hand. As if! “Soon to be ex-partner, unless I can talk him out of it,” she confessed.
Ex-partner? That perked Annie up some, at least enough for her to shake hands and bare her teeth in what she hoped would pass for a smile. “I’m so very pleased to meet you,” she said in a voice that dripped honey. Southern women excelled at that, offering a bit of sugar so their victims wouldn’t notice the knife sticking out of their backs. And Annie was no exception despite being branded a saint.
Beside her, Sam snorted. “Don’t get too close, Diana. She’s not as harmless as she looks.”
“Is she the one, then?”
“Yup. She’s the one.”
“One what?” Annie asked suspiciously.
“The one who has an entire island named for her family,” Diana lied gracefully. “It’s a beautiful place.”
“We think so.”
Diana turned to Sam and slipped her hand through his arm. “Listen, hon. I don’t have a lot of time and I’ve already spent most of it tracking you down. We need to talk.”
“Sure. Why don’t we go over to my place. I can show you around and you can do all the talking since I suspect I’ll be doing all the listening.”
She chuckled. “Perfect.” Turning to Annie, she offered another charming smile. “I’m glad we had a chance to meet.”
“That makes one—I mean two of us.” Annie worked on offering a friendly expression. But with salt crystals caking her skin, it was tough. Salt always made her pucker. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m in desperate need of a shower.”