by Alice Gaines
She should let it go through to voicemail. But the button was right there. If she pushed “Accept,” she could answer the call. She sat and stared at it. She’d only known one Vivian in her life—the stereotypical evil stepmother. That Vivian. The one who’d made her life miserable for years. She couldn’t possibly be calling. Her father had thought Vivian and Adam were working together, but surely Adam would never do something like that, no matter how angry he was. Would he?
The phone rang again, taunting her. Daring her to answer. After a few seconds, the devil inside Nicole won out, and she pushed the button and lifted the phone to her ear.
For a split second there was silence. Finally, a voice spoke. “Adam? Adam? Are you there?”
Holy crap. It sounded just like that Vivian, the harpy who’d called Nicole “that brat” and had tried to bully her father into sending her to boarding school.
“Adam, darling, where are you?” Vivian continued.
Nicole’s heart pounded so loudly she almost couldn’t make out the words. But she knew, without a doubt, that it was her former stepmother on the other end of the line. Instead of calling her father “Maurice, darling,” she was saying, “Adam, darling.” Darling, of all things. This couldn’t be happening.
“Maybe this is your voicemail,” Vivian said. “I’m tired of leaving messages. I’m tired of not knowing where you are. I need to see you, darling. We have things to discuss.”
Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Nicole put the phone away from her ear and hit the button to end the call. Then she sat there, numb. Empty, the way she always felt when someone was leaving her and taking part of her with them.
The phone rang again, and “Vivian” jumped out at her. She dropped the phone, got up, and backed away from the table. She watched as it continued to ring and ring, the same “Accept” button calling to her.
No. She was not going to listen to anything more. She didn’t need to. “Adam, darling” had been enough. After what felt like a full five minutes, it stopped. Vivian’s call had gone through to his voicemail, and Nicole would have to have had his passcode to retrieve the message. No way in hell would she do that, even if she could.
Okay, what did this mean? Vivian had Adam’s phone number, and he’d put her in his contacts list. Not as Mrs. Westmore or St. James or whatever name Vivian used now, but simply by her first name. Vivian called him “darling” and insisted they had things to discuss.
No, it was worse than that. Vivian obviously had a proprietary interest in him, demanding to know where he was. At least he hadn’t told Vivian that. But why would he? Would he tell another lover he was alone on an island…with Nicole? Could Vivian be his lover?
Vivian was a seductress. She’d seduced Nicole’s father well enough. She’d be older than Adam, but not by much. And she had the sort of beauty that didn’t diminish with age. Especially with the help of artful makeup. She might be attractive enough to catch Adam’s interest. She’d sure as hell enjoy having him.
Nicole went back to the table and sat down with a thud. After pushing the phone away, she rested her elbows on the tabletop and put her face in her hands.
That hollow feeling started up in the pit of her stomach—the same sensation she’d experienced when she’d lose someone else she’d loved. It helped to keep pain away, but it also robbed her of any sense of pleasure. No, she would not succumb again. If her emotions wouldn’t cooperate, she’d work her way through this with her mind. Only how?
What did she do now? Confront him with what she’d just learned? Then he’d know she’d answered his phone. No thanks. Pretend nothing had happened? That wasn’t only dishonest, but she’d also have to let herself get numb to pull that off. Then again, what choice did she have?
They’d never given each other a promise of exclusivity. They were both free to see other people. But Vivian? Really—Vivian? That wasn’t something she could put behind her. He was involved with the worst person Nicole had ever had the bad fortune to meet. Still, she didn’t have to talk to him about it. Vivian’s name wasn’t one she could drop into a conversation.
But that left her with nothing. She couldn’t do anything with this information except obsess about it, especially with the upcoming stockholders’ meeting. Adam and Vivian could be working together to bring her down. And she couldn’t do a damned thing about it.
Okay. She had to remain calm. If he could hide something like this, she could pretend she didn’t know about it. Deception—dishonesty—could work both ways. She’d cook dinner and pretend nothing had happened. But she’d serve it at the table, rather than in bed.
She got up, went to the stove, and measured oil into a large, heavy frying pan. Maybe the time had come to end this experiment. She hadn’t come here to recapture his heart but to make a point about her resort. If they remained cordial, maybe he’d stop his efforts to close down her company. That had been her goal—not to fall in love with the man all over again. She’d succeeded as well as she was going to, so they should be able to return to their normal lives. They both had work to do.
But her regular life hardly seemed normal anymore. Not after everything she and Adam had shared here. How was she going to live without him? She’d tasted heaven with him and didn’t want to give it up. Oh, God, what had she done?
Just then, the door to the bedroom opened. Adam emerged wearing shorts and nothing else. Even his feet were bare. He stretched his arms above his head. “You let me sleep.”
“You earned it, wouldn’t you say?”
“You’re something else, baby.” He went and put his arms around her waist.
She immediately lifted her hands to push him away. “Watch out! Hot oil here.”
“Sorry.” He moved back.
Oh, no, that hadn’t been the best reaction. More of that, and he’d know something was dreadfully wrong. Thank heaven she’d had the oil as an excuse. She couldn’t do that every time he touched her. She had to act a lot more casual.
“It’ll get even hotter when I add the flour for the roux.” She’d measured the flour already, so she picked up the bowl near the stove with one hand and the wire whisk with the other. As she’d predicted, the flour sizzled as she stirred it into the hot oil. Now she had something to concentrate on other than the man standing a few feet behind her…or the phone call she’d intercepted.
She had to get out of this situation with her dignity intact so she could figure out her next move. Above all, her main goal remained—saving Westmore Hotels with a grand success at Savvy. To do that, she had to determine how Adam intended to ruin her and come up with a way to counter him. She most decidedly did not have to fixate on what had just happened between them in the bedroom.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Would you mind finishing the salad?”
He gave her an easy smile. “I thought I already worked for my supper.”
“You did, but I can’t concentrate on this with you standing there, watching me.”
“Okay, I’ll go sit at the table and watch you.” Which he did. Or at least, he sat. She turned back to her work to avoid meeting his gaze. Besides, she needed to keep an eye on the roux. It had to be a very dark brown but not burned. When she had it right, she added the vegetables she’d already chopped. That created a loud hiss as a cloud of steam rose from the pan. So did an amazing aroma.
“I’ve been thinking…” she said. God, this was going to be hard. Her chin wobbled a bit, so she took a breath. He didn’t say anything, so she’d have to finish her statement. “It’s probably about time both of us got back to work.”
“Work? Like, you mean, New York?”
“That’s where our offices are.” She continued stirring the étouffée, as though she hadn’t just called an end to an amazing affair.
“Yeah, I guess.” He sounded pretty casual about going their separate ways. But what had she expected? Declarations of undying love? They’d done that once, and it hadn’t worked out very well.
“I can contact the yacht and have the
m pick us up tomorrow,” she said.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No.” She turned to face him—quickly. Way too quickly.
He’d stopped in the act of tearing up the lettuce. One eyebrow rose as he studied her.
“I just thought you might want to get back to your office,” she said. “I know my work has been piling up.”
“You’re right.” He continued tearing the lettuce apart with much more precision than necessary. “Everything has to end. Even Christmas is only a day.”
“Spring lasts for more than three months, but we don’t have that kind of time.” She went to the table and took the lettuce from him before he turned it into confetti. Now, she’d add the broth to the étouffée and let it simmer while she made rice. They’d have a good meal, and then what? They’d sleep in each other’s arms again. They’d do it on the yacht, too. Maybe they’d have sex before they parted.
That old feeling in her chest—almost a shortness of breath—told her something was dying in there. Something that had had no right to exist at all. Hope. Hope that this sex-laden truce might blossom into something else. But it couldn’t. They had too much bad history, and their present wasn’t looking rosy, either. They couldn’t erase the pain they’d caused each other in the past, and it didn’t seem like they’d be able to work through it. Everything that had happened between them here would soon become no more than a memory…or a dream.
Chapter Eight
Nicole had to admit the trip back on the yacht passed pleasantly enough. When they got to the Charleston airport, Adam’s private jet was waiting to take him back to New York. It made no sense for her to call for her own company plane or take a commercial flight, so she agreed to share a small cabin with him for several more hours. It only put off their goodbyes, but that was just as well. She hadn’t yet figured out what to say that would make parting any less awkward.
When the captain and copilot had taken their places in the cockpit, she and Adam buckled into seats next to each other and waited for takeoff. He wore casual clothes (thank God the resort gift shop had been well-stocked) and sported a slight tan from their days in the sun. As usual, his masculine good looks commanded her attention. The line of his jaw. The startling blue of his eyes. His athlete’s body. In a few hours, she’d be losing him for the second time. He might go to the arms of her former stepmother. Maybe the two of them would laugh about how she was still a silly little rich girl.
He put his hand over hers. “I can’t get over the feeling there’s something you aren’t telling me.”
“You’re reading too much into it,” she said. “We had a good time. It ended. That’s all.”
He blew out a breath, obviously not happy with her answer. But it was the only one she had for him.
“Where do we go from here?” he asked.
“Back to our companies.” And she had a vote of no confidence to face—likely something he and her stepmother had brought on with their plans to sink her company.
“Yeah.” His jaw tightened.
“I hope you’ve seen now that I can make Savvy work,” she said. “Please let me have that chance.”
“For old time’s sake?”
No, for the sake of the time they’d just spent together, but she wouldn’t say that. She’d get through this plane ride and then walk away from him. Somehow, she’d make her feet do it.
She removed her hand from under his and extended it toward him to shake. “Truce?”
He shook. “Truce.”
She melted against her seat with relief. She’d accomplished her goal with this trip. If she’d put her heart in danger by doing it, fine. She’d gotten over him once. She could do it again.
Maybe she should try dating, as Cissy, her assistant, kept encouraging her to do. Adam was a tough act to follow, for sure, but she might meet someone nice.
“This doesn’t have to be goodbye, you know,” he said. “Manhattan isn’t that big a place.”
Yeah, and she could stir up hope for a relationship with him all over again while he played the field. She might even end up sharing him with Vivian. The mere thought made her blood chill.
“We’ll see each other,” she said. Maybe they would at some event like that wedding—where they’d come alone. With any luck, her answer would sound like the brush-off it was.
“Yeah,” he said.
Neither of them spoke. She stared out the window but wasn’t really looking at the landscape. Her mind was spinning. This was it—their final flight together.
“I think we should celebrate our truce. Excuse me for a moment.” He unbuckled his seat belt and went to the door separating the cockpit from the main cabin. After stepping inside, he muttered something to the pilots that wasn’t audible. Then he closed the door and returned to his seat. “Here’s something I’ve never done before.”
“And that is…”
He turned toward her, scooting down in his seat until their faces almost met. “You ever heard of the Mile-High Club?”
She could only stare at him. “Having sex in an airplane bathroom?”
“Bathrooms are way too small these days. But we do have this whole cabin to ourselves.”
“Holy cow.” She pointed toward the cockpit. “Did you tell them we were going to do that?”
“I told them I had something very important to discuss with you and we needed half an hour of absolute privacy.”
“You’re insane.”
“I have to say goodbye to the woman I’ve had world-class sex with for the last several days. And…” He tapped the end of her nose with his fingertip. “She won’t give me any assurance we can continue. She’s not giving me any choice.”
“I can’t have sex if a stranger might discover us,” she said.
“They won’t. They’re good guys, and besides, they like their jobs.”
“What if there’s some kind of emergency?” He wasn’t joking. The ridiculous man wanted to do this.
“If we lose cabin pressure or an engine blows, my erection will go right with it,” he said. “I’m good, but I’m not a machine.”
“Do you have an erection?”
He took her hand and placed it on the front of his pants. He wasn’t completely hard, but as her palm lingered, he swelled and stiffened. She jerked her hand back.
“You don’t have to do this, of course.” He straightened and looked straight ahead of him. “I just thought a little danger might spice things up.”
“Well…yes…maybe. I suppose so.”
“And we don’t know when we’re going to get another chance.” He raised an eyebrow and gave her the side-eye, obviously blaming her for their lack of future plans. Cute, but she wasn’t going to change her mind about sharing him with other women. So, maybe he had a point about doing the nasty one more time. And the risk of being discovered—no matter how remote—did make things interesting.
“You’re absolutely sure they won’t interrupt us?” she said.
“As sure as I can be of anything…including you.”
That last was a challenge. He knew he’d already won the point, and the taunt solidified his victory. She could turn the tables on him and show him who was boss here.
“I assume you have protection,” she said.
He rose briefly, fishing a condom out of his back pocket. “Always, around you.”
“Get it ready.”
While he opened the packet and set it on the table next to him, she unbuckled her seat belt and got out of her panties. Luckily, she’d worn a sundress—as she had the very first time they’d made love—so if someone came in, she’d appear fully dressed unless the person looked down around her feet.
Her secret nakedness sent a little thrill through her. This was so much like the times they’d had sex in the backseat of her father’s limousine. Rushed, half-dressed, and earth-shattering. The excitement had added to the pleasure, although she’d understood little about sex at the time. She could feel the same way now, except that
years of experience had made both of them better lovers. And right about now, she was going to demonstrate just how much better she’d become.
First, she simply put her hand on his shaft again and rubbed it through the cotton of his pants. It was erect now, bulging against his fly. She stroked it from the base to the tip and gently squeezed the head.
She placed her mouth against his ear. “Are you getting hot?”
“You know it, baby.”
“I can get you much hotter than this.” She squeezed him again before using both hands to unfasten his belt. After undoing the button at the top of his fly, she grasped the zipper pull and eased it down slowly. Once she had his erection free, she wrapped her fingers around it and pumped.
“How does that feel?” she whispered into his ear.
“I’ll show you.” He reached around her arm to the hem of her dress and eased it upward until his fingers found her sex. Parting the lips, he made firm strokes over her clitoris. A master with that sensitive spot, he used just the right pressure to make her vision blur with arousal. For a moment, they simply sat, touching each other, petting the most sensitive parts of each other’s bodies. They could continue this way, bringing each other to orgasm. But then the condom would go to waste, and she wouldn’t have his hardness inside her. Who knew when they’d do this again…or if they would? This might be her last chance to feel him moving, stretching her inner walls. No, she wouldn’t finish him this way, but for the next several seconds, they could enjoy the foreplay.
“You’re wet,” he murmured. “Do you know how big a turn-on that is?”
“And you’re as hard as a rock.” She could memorize every inch of him. The firm shaft, the prominent head, and the ridge around it that was so sensitive. She thumbed it now as she continued stroking him. And his fingers never stopped moving against her most sensitive flesh. She had grown wet, moistening the space between her thighs. Even when they were young and she’d had no experience with sex, he could make her lose control. He’d had to work really hard the first time, but before long, her response had intensified so she could climax quickly, even during the stolen moments they’d had to create when they had time alone. And now, he was pushing her closer to the breaking point. But she had other plans for him.