And keeping his identity from her had begun to bother him, not simply the dishonesty, but his inability to be himself, having to temper his words, thoughts and deeds in deference to what Grey might say, think and do.
When they reached the beach, he continued to lead her above the high-tide line. Then he dropped to his knees and scooped out about twelve inches of sand, tossed the condom in the hole and buried it. “We try not to interfere with nature when we can,” he explained. “Too many birds die needlessly trying to swallow manmade objects.”
She stared down the beach and he followed her gaze. Samson had finished his swim, waded to shore and started a brisk canter toward the stable.
She chuckled. “And here I was worrying about Samson finding his way back in the dark.”
He stood, brushed the sand off his hands, then took one of hers. Together, naked, they walked down the beach, as comfortable with one another as an old married couple. “Samson can’t get lost on this small island. No matter where he goes, he’ll smell his breakfast waiting for him and return.”
“Are you saying Jon is already awake?” It was the first time since entering the water that she’d seemed the least bit self-conscious about her nudity.
He shook his head, and he explained as they headed toward the house. “The horse feeder is on automatic timer. That way if a storm kicks up while Jon’s on the mainland and he can’t get back here, Samson won’t go hungry.”
“And if a hurricane comes this way?”
“We move Samson inland by barge. Thanks to modern satellite forecasting, we can keep ahead of the weather. Back in my grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s times, they weren’t always so lucky.”
“You’re lucky the island didn’t wash away.”
“The island’s highest point is only fifteen feet above sea level, but, heck, New Orleans is below sea level.”
He kept walking at a steady pace, and the gentle breeze dried the water from their skin, leaving him refreshed, clean and not the least bit sleepy. Sure enough, as they took a shortcut across the point along a sandy path, he spied Samson cropping grass by the stable, pawing the ground and shaking his head, impatient for Zane to remove the wet saddle blanket from his back.
Samson neighed a greeting, walked over and nuzzled him. Zane stroked the horse’s neck. “He looks so sweet.”
She scratched behind his ear. “You think he deliberately dumped us?”
“He most certainly did.” Zane unstrapped the girth, removed the wet saddle blanket and sheet, then laid it over the fence rail to dry out once the morning sun rose. He removed the halter and reins, carefully dried the tack with a soft chamois, then hung the hardware back where it belonged inside the stable.
He returned to Toni to find her holding her dress and shoes, seemingly reluctant to put them back on. He’d retrieved clean robes from the stable and handed her one before snatching his shirt, slacks and footwear. He led her down a path she’d never seen, wanting to show her the place from the best angle.
She shrugged into the robe. “This leads to the house?”
“Yes.”
“Can we watch the sunrise from there?”
Toni wanted to watch the sunrise.
Her words sang to him, the sentiment matching his own so perfectly that for a moment he just stared at her in wonder. Most women would be asking about a shower, breakfast, the sleeping arrangements or contemplating if they were about to step on a sandspur or be attacked by mosquitoes.
Toni wanted to watch the sunrise.
His heart leaped and he dipped his head down to take a quick kiss, almost to reassure himself that she was real and not some flight of fancy that his imagination had conjured out of thin air.
The way she simply dropped her shoes and dress by her feet and threw her arms around his neck showed him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Although both of them had experienced release, he wanted her again and she seemed to feel the same way. They’d found an ease together that was rare around people who had known one another for so short a time. However, that comfortable familiarity didn’t mean that the sparks had gone out. On the contrary, those sparks could be kindled into a blaze with just a moment’s notice.
Toni wanted to watch the sunrise.
His desire for her surged back, as elemental and relentless as the incoming tide. His cock rose with renewed life and urgency, demanding not to be denied. Maybe he responded to her so easily because he adored the way she kissed, feverishly, ferociously, foolishly wearing every emotion. She used her entire body, leaning into him so he had to support her. Her robe parted and she snuggled her breasts against his chest, her hard nipples ripe for his tongue.
But her nipples would have to wait until after he finished devouring her delectable mouth. Her lips fused to his, her tongue danced, frolicked and dipped, leading, then following and shooting his pulse sky-high.
The night had passed like the blink of an eye. At the very first lightening of the eastern sky, he knew that if he wanted to share this sunrise with her from his favorite perch, then they had to get a move on.
With a ragged pant he drew back and lightly swatted her very firm butt. “If you want to catch the sunrise from my favorite vantage point, we need to—”
“Okay.” She pulled back, then kissed him again. “Okay, but don’t forget where we left off.”
As if that was possible. She had no idea what it felt like to stroll down the sandy path with his balls tight and full, his erection straining for release. Wanting her this badly reminded him how long it had been since he’d been this eager for a second time so quickly. Not since he’d been a teen and a walking hormone.
Now that he was older and more experienced, he was enjoying the waiting, the anticipation. Making love with Toni had already been one of the best encounters he’d ever had. And he was looking forward to exciting her all over again from scratch, to investigating not just every inch of flesh, not just where she liked to be touched, but what made her tick.
Perhaps even learning whether of not she was hiding other kinds of secrets—like a motivation for sabotaging the newspaper.
THE SAND PATH OPENED into a wide grassy area that sloped to a rounded point and the Gulf. With the house constructed at the island’s highest point, the land swept downward toward the sea.
A C-shaped three-story home, constructed of layers of glass and stone balconies, bracketed a vast crescent-shaped screened enclosure. The multilevels of patios included a pool with a waterfall and whirlpool and extensive gardens in bloom. A soft lapping of waves against a seawall and the view outward drew her attention. The waters of the Gulf rippled, the tangy breeze a heady inducement to romance.
Toni, hand in hand with Grey, padded barefoot beside him as they climbed a half staircase that led to a higher view. The soft tinkle of flowing water accompanied their footsteps through the stepped garden levels.
“The top floor is my favorite,” he told her. “We can grab some blankets from the master bedroom, if you’re cold.”
“I’m fine. Actually, I’m surprised by the lack of bugs.”
“Tonight the onshore breeze is keeping them away, but that’s not always the case. The island is full of no-see-ums and mosquitoes. That’s why we screened in so much of the backyard.”
They climbed one full flight of steps to a captain’s deck off the master bedroom. The layout was unlike any building she’d ever imagined, the bedroom extending toward the sea, completely open to the elements.
“What happens when it rains?” she asked.
Grey showed her doors which interlocked and closed off the carpeted and wallpapered part of the room. Now blissfully open, the bedrooms seemed part of the landscape. Huge skylights let in the gleaming stars and caught moonbeams that reflected off shimmering black wallpaper.
But again the sea called to her, and she turned to explore the captain’s walk, a deck that totally surrounded the master bedroom, allowing a 360-degree view of the island. From here she could see the stable, tennis
courts, helipad, golf carts, a putting green and a boathouse.
Noting the direction of her view, Grey commented, “Tomorrow—make that later today—we can take out the personal watercraft, sail a catamaran, go fishing, or windsail. There’s scuba gear and—”
She gasped, stopping in her tracks, and pointed. “What’s that?”
He grinned. “My favorite spot.”
“Your favorite spot is a trampoline?”
The workout area came with all the trappings: free weights, treadmills, butterfly machines and leg machines which took care of both inner and outer thighs. Tucked into a corner was a steam bath, sauna and his-and-her whirlpools, even a Japanese soaking tub. He walked over to a fully equipped kitchen, and extracted a plate of fruit, cheese and a bottle of chilled wine he’d earlier requested the caretaker’s wife supply.
With food and drink, they strode back toward the perimeter, then climbed onto the trampoline and arranged a few pillows to tuck under their heads. Then he took the tray from her and balanced it on his stomach.
“Hungry?”
“I’m starved, but I’ve never eaten on a trampoline.”
“It’s good for lots of things.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Like stargazing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We used to have a hammock here, but this is much more comfy.”
He patted a pillow beside him. “Try it.”
Losing the robe, she rolled beside him and let out a contented sigh. The webbed matting had some elasticity to it and was more comfortable than she’d have thought. Their heads ended up next to each other on one of the pillows, and they stared at the sky.
Without lights from a large city or the island, the stars shined brightly, giving them their own private show. The water made a slightly harsher sound than on the beach, the waves ricocheting from the seawall and combining with the flowing tinkle from the patio fountains. Rugged and elegant, the building surprised her, as did Grey.
From the book she’d read about him, he was supposed to be the man who held the family business together, the workaholic, the conservative one, the Mr. Business, the man with the don’t-bother-me-with-anything-but-work ethic. But he certainly hadn’t had any trouble letting loose with her—then again, according to Lane’s book, he hadn’t had trouble relaxing with the movie star, either.
Clearly he didn’t like to discuss his parents or his brother, which she found odd. Most people enjoyed talking about themselves, finding the subject matter utterly fascinating. Grey acted as though he’d rather think of anything but his regular life. She wondered about his reasons, but didn’t know him well enough to judge. She couldn’t help hoping, though, that if she opened up to him, he might just reciprocate a little.
With the intimacies they’d already shared, it was important to her that they felt free to discuss their feelings about their family, their businesses and their lives. While she felt perfectly comfortable opening her body to Grey, she wanted to open up to him on other levels. And number one was sharing her reason for stalking him—something she’d meant to do before they made love the first time.
Grey plucked a piece of fruit from the plate and held it to her lips, allowing sweet juice droplets to tease her bottom lip. “Do you like pineapple?”
She opened her mouth, and he ever so slowly placed the tidbit between her lips. The tangy treat reminded her that she could use a meal to keep up her strength. After having spied Grey discreetly retrieving a condom from a cabinet, she figured he intended to use the trampoline as a bed. She hoped, anyway.
But food first. Her confession would be second, before pleasure, she vowed.
He fed her bite-size pieces of lobster, cheese, more pineapple, and green grapes. And they sipped their wine through bent straws, the kind that children use. Silly, but fun.
And whenever her hand brushed his hip or his fingers touched her thigh, the accidental contact became a caress, a delicate stroking that induced their need for more.
With the food demolished, Grey left her side to remove the empty plates to a nearby table. When he returned to the trampoline’s matted padding, her entire body bounced as if they shared a floating air mattress. But the trampoline was better and bigger than any air mattress. There was no chance of flipping off into the water. One drenching a day was enough, thank you very much.
As the sun rose, all pink streaks and purple slashes on a band of yellow-gold sky, she figured both her confession and their lovemaking could wait just a few more minutes. Reaching out, she took his hand, eager to drink in every precious second of the rapidly rising sun in the fiercely blue dawn sky.
The back of the house faced the mainland where she could just make out on the horizon. Although there was land to the north, east and west, their immediate view was mysterious sea and sultry sky, the mainland much too far away to mar the spectacular view.
She held her breath at the steady chirps of crickets and the song of deep-throated bullfrogs. A hawk launched himself from a willow tree and soared proud and high over the eaves. She watched until she could no longer see him, realizing that he’d probably landed on another low-lying island for a rest before continuing his journey.
She was going to feel as free as that soaring hawk, she vowed to herself, even if it was only for a few hours. But her need to explain her motives to Grey and share her reason for stalking him increased in proportion to how much time they were spending together. She hadn’t felt guilty about misleading a stranger, not when he’d had so much to gain in return. Grey’s reputation had been restored, just by the press noticing him with another woman. By bouncing back with a new woman, Grey would only become that much more attractive as an eligible bachelor.
But Grey was no longer a stranger, and she’d come to care for him in ways she hadn’t expected. He’d been considerate to offer her a robe, thoughtful to feed her, romantic to offer her this magnificent view of the sunrise. Perhaps it was his gentlemanly conduct, mixed with his rakish confidence, but she wanted this man to know she was stalking him for a much more personal reason than money. And she was wise enough to realize she wanted to tell him because she wanted him to like and respect her back—not necessarily a requirement for good sex, but definitely a requirement for a good relationship. And that’s where she thought she might like to go. To freely jump in, give him her best, take what she wanted and see what happened. Normally, she wasn’t so carefree. But then again, normally, she didn’t hook up with men she read about in Southern Tycoon Magazine.
She laced both hands through his and sat opposite him on the trampoline mat, cross-legged so both their knees were touching. “There’s something I have to tell you. I tried back on the helicopter, but then we had to land and I lost the chance.”
“You came here because you’re really my father’s illegitimate cousin on his mother’s side and want a share of the island?” he teased.
“That must be it. After I let you freely sample all my delectable charms, you’ll simply sign over the island to me,” she teased him back, but realized that his words clearly revealed his memory of their conversation right before the helicopter had landed. He must have been curious, yet he’d asked no questions, allowing her to reveal her reasons in her own way. Was he so patient a man? Or was it that he just didn’t care enough to ask?
“Sorry, you can’t be an owner.” He gazed at her nudity appreciatively, the heat from his gaze searing her, and almost, but not quite, distracting her from the conversation. “A female can inherit only after she marries and supplies an heir.”
“A male heir?”
“Of course.”
She chuckled that he could so ably insert a measure of silliness into serious conversation. Clearly, he intended to befuddle her, but she wasn’t letting him get away with such lame tactics.
“Well, let’s see,” he deadpanned. “If you didn’t come to stake a claim to a false inheritance, perhaps you came to kill me?”
She frowned at him. “What would be the fun in that?”
“Well, you certainly don’t mind torturing me,” he teased.
Like he should talk after what he’d been doing to her ever since they’d met. And he still hadn’t satisfied her craving. She wanted more of him and this was one man who deserved a payback—in spades.
She allowed her frown to turn upward into a grin. “Riding you was rather interesting.”
His eyes glimmered with renewed heat. “So then I might persuade you to try again?”
“You might.”
9
TONI EYED ZANE WITH mischief and an odd combination of need and hesitancy. “First, we need to talk.”
With another woman, Zane’s first inclination would have been to delay serious talking until after making love again. But with Toni, having her again wouldn’t satisfy him. He wanted to know what was bothering her. He wanted to know what made her tick. He wanted to know everything about her.
Zane had known many women and didn’t claim to understand everything about them. Some women’s faces and thoughts were as clear as a four-inch headline. Others hid their opinions in the fine print. With Toni, he was willing to read the entire paper, front to back, to find out more about her.
Yet, every male instinct told him that what she was about to say could make him stop wanting her. He felt as though he was balanced on the edge of a cliff, where one precarious move could shove him over. The playboy in him struggled to fight down his own automatic reactions.
She wanted to talk.
And as much as he wanted to listen, he also ached to take her into his arms.
She felt the need for words.
He felt the need to be inside her.
One look into her earnest face and serious eyes told him that any move to make love to her would insult such determination. Especially once he picked up the mixture of sadness and worry on her face, as if she expected her revelation to lead to his disapproval and rejection.
Double the Thrill Page 12