“You won’t need any,” he said.
He must have read her expression of trepidation because he chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything.”
“But—”
“I consider it my personal mission to take care of you until Monday morning.” He wagged his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer that almost made her chuckle. “You won’t regret putting yourself into my hands.”
From his tone, she couldn’t miss the double entendre. And her mouth went dry. Without another word, she marched toward the helicopter’s door. “Where should I sit?”
He strapped her into the passenger seat with efficient moves, then handed her a headset with a microphone, similar to the hands-free set she often used at work, but this one covered both ears instead of just one.
“Put this on,” he instructed, suddenly all business. “It’ll protect your ears. There’s a radio in the headset that will enable us to talk to one another without noise interference from the engines.”
She placed the headset over her ears. With efficient maneuvers that told her he’d done this many times before, he strapped himself in, then performed a thorough preflight check. After he turned on the engine, the overhead rotor slowly circled and gathered speed. The smooth liftoff reminded her of an amusement park ride. Once she got over the eerie feeling of sitting in a flying chair, a condition aggravated by the clear Plexiglas that began at the ceiling and curved to the floor, she took in the magnificent view of the city below.
Although she’d lived in New Orleans her entire life and knew the city and its surroundings reasonably well, she had difficulty getting her bearings. From overhead, the buildings, streets and parks looked different than from on the ground. The Mississippi River appeared like a dark snake winding and slicing through city lights.
Within minutes they left the shine of the city behind to fly over water which had to be Lake Borgne, the name misleading since this body of water connected to the Gulf of Mexico. She tested the microphone. “We’re heading east?”
“Yes.” His voice came through her headset as clearly as if he had spoken directly into her ear.
“Is your island part of Louisiana or Mississippi?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“You don’t know where we’re going?”
He chuckled. “I could give you latitude and longitude. But I’d have to check our records to find out where we pay our real-estate taxes.”
Must be nice to have so much property that one didn’t know which state they were in. Grey’s attitude toward piloting his helicopter to a private island was as casual as most men driving their car home. “You’re taking me to the Masterson family vacation home?”
“Yes, though the island was left to me by my great-grandmother Roquellaire.”
“What’s it like?”
“Relaxing. Nice.”
“It’s kind of overwhelming the way you bog me down in details,” she complained.
“You want details, I’ll give you details.” He glanced at her, his expression mischievous. “Louisiana and Mississippi’s shoreline is like the edge of a fraying tapestry with thousands of barrier islands. Most are bird sanctuaries that house thousands of residents like gulls, terns, pelicans, plovers, wrens, rails and skimmers.” Damn, she’d asked for details, not a lecture. Still, she couldn’t help but be impressed by the scope of his knowledge as he continued. “In addition, there are millions of other birds which are part-time residents of the marshes—waterfowl from the north arrive in autumn, wading birds breed there in the spring. Huge herons and egrets and bitterns often fill the sky. And we have the tiny romantic hummingbirds and warblers and vireos, some flying from as far away as twenty-five hundred miles away.”
She thought of her sister who lobbied for every environmental cause that came down the pike. “My sister Jude would be in heaven.” However, she couldn’t think about her sister for long. Grey had surprised her with his knowledge. Who would have figured the businessman for a bird enthusiast? Or a chopper pilot?
He seemed to know a lot about a great many things. She supposed that curiosity would be normal in a newspaperman, but the way he could concentrate intensely, then relax just as totally was a trait that kept taking her by surprise. Once away from his business, he didn’t call in, didn’t seem to worry or obsess the way she did about Feminine Touch. It was almost as if Grey the businessman was only one facet of his personality.
“The wild beauty of the island is as fascinating as the birds. My great-grandmother’s family from Canada settled on the island and built the first structures. Storms occasionally wash away the house, but we always rebuild. And except for a few acres around the house and stables and a riding path, we’ve left the land natural. It’s a natural salt dome.”
“What’s a salt dome?” she asked, content to listen to his husky voice in her ear, curious to see if his knowledge extended into yet another subject—geology.
“Our island, and three hundred others like it, are the product of salt beds, buried deep in the ground and formed over one hundred and fifty million years ago when the ancient sea became landlocked and then evaporated. Since the salt is light, it was gradually squeezed upward to form an island.”
She couldn’t imagine much growing on top of salt. But she supposed the salt acted as a base, something she learned about on a trip her family had taken to Mt. Saint Helens. Ten years after a volcanic eruption, trees grew through the lava. And if birds lived on the island, the place couldn’t be barren. But what interested her more than birds or geology was the way Grey spoke about the island. His knowledge gave away his fondness for the place.
“You took family vacations there?”
“Almost every summer. My brother and I ran wild, exploring and swimming and riding.”
“There’re just the two of you?” she asked. “You must be close.”
“What about you?” he asked, avoiding her implied question. She thought it odd that this was the first time he’d mentioned his brother. But then they hadn’t spent that much of their time together talking.
“Jude is the oldest, then Bobby, then me, and Mickey is the baby with a wise soul. After our folks moved to Baton Rouge two years ago, they sold the family home in the suburbs and my sisters and I bought the house in the French Quarter. We wanted to stay together.”
He checked one of his scopes on the instrument panel and made a minor change in their direction. “Losing the home you grew up in isn’t always easy.”
“We all responded differently. Jude studies and promotes her causes. Bobby went on a diet and lost thirty pounds and Mickey is learning to be a chef. I buried myself in my designs and the store.”
“Which is doing well and going to do better after my story in tomorrow’s paper hits,” he promised.
She felt guilty for misleading him. He’d been nothing but kind and decent to her. And before they made love, she wanted to tell him the truth. She figured now was as good a time as any to come clean. “My boutique has nothing to do with…us.”
He shot her another sideways glance. Able to discern his face only by the lights from the glowing instrument panel, she couldn’t read his expression.
But she recognized sarcasm when she heard it through her headset. “You stalked me because I’m so charming?” he asked.
“Not exactly.”
“You stalked me because I have an irresistible body?”
“Afraid not.”
“You stalked me because I’m into incredibly hot, kinky sex?”
She chuckled. “Now you’ve got it.”
It took him several moments to catch on that she wasn’t kidding, that she’d meant every impossible word.
His lower jaw dropped, before he appeared to collect himself and closed his mouth. “We’re about to land. Why don’t you wait until we’re on the ground to explain?”
“Okay.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to need all my concentration on you.”
“That’s what you
promised,” she replied.
ZANE LANDED THE CHOPPER on the landing pad, shut down the engines, then removed his headset. Before he’d even opened the door, Jon Blanche, the caretaker, strode out of the darkness. “You have a good flight, sir?”
“Just fine. Jon, this is Toni. Toni, Jon.”
Jon held a cell phone toward him. “I know you don’t like to be disturbed while you’re on the island, but they said it’s an emergency.” Jon headed toward metal rings in the concrete with straps that lined up with the chopper’s landing gear. “Don’t worry about the tie-downs, I’ll take care of that as well as the suitcases. My Melly has fortified the kitchen, and the horses are waiting. If you won’t be needing anything else, I’ll be going once I’m done.”
Zane paid no attention. He held the phone to his ear, almost hoping that reception had been lost. He didn’t want interruptions. He wanted to focus on Toni and his plans. But he couldn’t dismiss all of his brother’s obligations without causing suspicion. “Yes?”
“It’s Stephen.” His brother’s right-hand man reported through the almost static-free connection. “Someone hacked into the computer system and changed our headlines. Reprimand Of Judge Advised is now Spanking Of Judge Advised. Heat Between The Storms is now Heat Between The Sheets. Saints Favored To Win is now Saints Cheat To Win.”
“Production caught the errors before the main run?”
“Yes. The errors no longer concern me, it’s the sabotage. What do you want me to do?”
“Call the police. Can you hold down the fort until I get back Monday?”
“Don’t you think you should be here?”
“Stephen, I have every confidence that you can handle the situation.”
Zane’s mind raced through possibilities. The computer system had firewalls to protect them from hackers, yet someone had gotten in. Maybe from inside?
He couldn’t help recalling that Toni had had free access to his secretary’s computer for the better part of an hour. While they had passwords to get into the computer, his secretary could never remember them and had them printed on a card that she kept under the blotter on the desk. A little snooping and Toni could have found the codes. She’d certainly had the opportunity to break into their network, and, once in, anyone with typing skills would have the means to change a few headlines. But what kind of motive would she have?
He recalled that before they’d landed how she’d been about to confess why she’d been stalking Grey. She’d more or less admitted that she wasn’t creating a scandal to increase store profits. Was she on a mission to ruin Grey’s reputation or bring down the paper? She didn’t seem to have a conniving bone in her luscious body, but he knew better. She’d already admitted to stalking him at Club Carnal, and again at his dinner with the mayor.
“What’s wrong?” she asked the moment he ended his phone conversation. “Why do you need the cops?”
Was she worried about him? Or herself, because she feared the police would catch her?
And why didn’t his suspicions of her complicity make him want her less? What was it about her that made him need to believe she was innocent? Her wide eyes that seared him through the darkness? The genuine-sounding concern that touched him like a caress?
“We had another break-in at the newspaper.” He kept his reply deliberately vague, hoping that if she knew more, she might slip up and reveal her part in the matter.
She found him in the darkness and eased her hands around his waist. “Was anyone hurt?”
He hadn’t told her that the damage was done on the computer, but if she’d made the alterations through his secretary’s system, she’d already know the answer to her question—which she could have designed to throw him off track. He made a mental note to ask Stephen to try and trace the history on the secretary’s computer.
He realized the evidence against Toni was all circumstantial. She might be exactly what she seemed, a desirable woman who cared about him. As much as he wanted to believe her concern was genuine, Zane’s experiences with women led him to believe otherwise. His regular jet-set crowd might not be into sabotage, but the women he knew had grown up mostly spoiled by their rich daddies and mommies. Wealthy and busy people who threw money at their children instead of love often failed to teach their offspring ethics and morality. So the women Zane knew usually saw no harm in lying to achieve their goals.
From the first, Toni had seemed different, but he was going more on instinct than experience. And with the newspaper at stake, no way could he trust her, not even enough to reveal his real first name, his true identity. For now, he’d continue to be Grey and keep his suspicions to himself. No point in confronting her openly, because if she was guilty, she’d only deny her treachery and be more careful.
“No one was hurt. And I don’t want to think about business.” He held her close, and she responded by leaning into him, as if sensing his intentions, arching her neck, so that when he dipped his head, their lips met. She didn’t hesitate or hold back this time, parting her lips, her arms winding around his back, holding him tight.
At the sudden heat flash, he groaned. One kiss and his thoughts spun. That he wanted her while he suspected her of treachery didn’t bother him. She could do little harm to the business on the island and he might learn a good deal if she slipped up. More accustomed to going with the flow than analyzing his own actions, he didn’t alter his plans. However, his plans didn’t include ravaging her right here on the chopper’s landing pad, no matter how much she tempted him. He intended to ease her into lovemaking slowly because when they finally came together, he wanted her mindless with need.
He found the strength to break their kiss and step back. In the moonlight, he couldn’t see her, but he heard her hitched breath which matched his own. Forcing himself to ignore his arousal, he drew oxygen deep into his lungs.
“Come.” He took her hand. “I have a surprise for you.” He led her from the helicopter pad down several steps toward the stable, eventually regaining control of his anatomy. “How do you feel about a midnight ride?”
“That’s why I came,” she told him, and he realized she’d misinterpreted his words. And after that sizzling kiss, he couldn’t blame her, but thought he’d have a little fun before setting her straight.
“I was talking about riding Samson,” he replied, using his amusement to cool the heat she’d kindled.
“Samson?” She chuckled, obviously mistaking his reference to his horse for part of his anatomy. “You don’t think you might be exaggerating?”
“Samson’s a stallion.”
“I’m sure he is.” She giggled. “And when do I get to meet Samson?”
“Right now.” He flicked on the light. “He likes to eat carrots.”
“Carrots?” She looked around the immaculate stable, her gaze settling on his black horse with astonishment. “Samson is a horse? You were talking about riding a horse?” She broke into a delighted chuckle. “I thought—”
“I know what you thought,” he teased.
Jon had left several carrots by the feed bag, and Zane picked one up and placed it in her fingers. “Hold your palm open, and he’ll eat right out of your hand.”
Seemingly without the least bit of trepidation, she offered the carrot. “That tickles.” Toni patted the horse’s neck and scratched him behind the ear. “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”
“He has a smooth gait and adores swimming, although we’ll save that for another time.” Zane fed the animal the last two carrots, then slipped a bit into the horse’s mouth and the halter over his ears before handing Toni the reins. “This is going to be a ride we’ll never forget.”
He placed a saddle pad with stirrups over Samson’s back, then tightened the girth. Next, he placed a clean linen sheet on top of the saddle pad, wondering how long it would take for her to think about—
“I can’t ride in a dress.” Disappointment filled her tone. “I don’t suppose you thought to—”
He flicked off the lights and to
ok the reins from her hand. “I thought you could ride without the dress.”
“You want me to ride naked—like Lady Godiva?” Her tone reflected more astonishment than outrage.
“We have the island to ourselves.” He led Samson out of the stable. Obediently, Samson followed, his tail swishing. “And it’s dark.”
“What about Jon and his wife?”
“They have their own cottage and won’t be up until morning.” Zane held his breath. He had a backup plan. In case she said no, there were all sorts of clean riding clothes in a locker back in the stable.
She didn’t take long to make up her mind. “Fine. I’ll agree on one condition—wait, two.”
“And what would they be?”
“First, I get to keep my scarf.” Zane eyed the strip of silk edged with glassy beads. His mind reeled with devilish possibilities. “Absolutely. Next?”
“I get to take off your clothes,” she demanded.
“Agreed.” Pleasure at her willingness to be daring filled him. “Now, turn around and let me unzip you.”
For a moment, she appeared to have second thoughts. “I’ve never been outside without any clothes.”
“It’s scandalous,” he encouraged her. “Not to mention invigorating. The breeze on bare skin is sheer freedom.”
She kicked off her shoes, then gave him her back and held up her hair. Slowly, he tugged down the zipper, giving her every chance to change her mind. She didn’t.
In the moonlight, the fabric slowly parted to reveal her pale skin, the graceful curve of her back and a slender waist. He sucked in his breath in appreciation. Bathed in moonlight, she reminded him of a wood sprite or nymph out of a fairy tale—but there was nothing childlike about her demeanor. Mysterious shadows and lush curves, she was all woman, enticing and compelling.
Her dress fell past her hips to reveal nicely rounded feminine buttocks. And when she wriggled her hips to step out of the dress, then strolled to the fence post to hang it up, his mouth went dry. Then she boldly strode back to him, clad only in moonbeams, the scarf dangling from her fingertips, her hips and pert breasts swaying with feminine allure.
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