Scandal on the Sand

by Roxanne St Claire

  After they exchanged phone numbers and Liza kissed Dylan a few dozen times, they drove off, with the two boys sitting on the back of the golf cart, waving like lunatics. Liza stood and watched them rumble away.

  “Hey, Wonder Woman.”

  A shiver of anticipation worked its way through her body at the low and sexy tone of his voice. She didn’t turn, instead taking a steadying breath and trying to consciously hold the moment in her hand. “Yeah?”

  “It’s time.”

  Yes, it was. Very slowly, she turned to see him standing in the doorway, holding up some papers. “Access permits.”

  Smiling, she took a few steps closer, holding his smoldering gaze, aware of each pulse beat in her throat, each strained breath, each spark of electricity arcing through the air.

  “Access”—she took the papers with one hand and pressed his chest with the other, pushing him back into the villa—”no longer denied.”

  He answered with a slow, deep, hungry kiss as she let the papers flutter to the floor.

  * * *

  “It’s about time,” Nate murmured into the kiss that had them both breathless in under a minute. Liza didn’t answer, tunneling her hands into his hair and gripping his head to press their lips harder.

  She heard Nate kick the door closed and then inhaled sharply when he backed her right into the mahogany frame, blocking her with a body that was as hard as the door behind her.

  “You’re not going to wait for a dinner date, are you?” she asked with a half laugh.

  “Oh, we’ll have dinner. Later.” He pinned her arms over her head with one hand, annihilating her mouth and throat with hot kisses. “Much later.”

  He already had her sweater halfway up her torso.

  “Nate. Here?” If he hadn’t been holding her, she’d have probably melted to the floor.

  “Anywhere you want.” He got the sweater over her head, tossing it to the side and making her laugh. But nothing was funny to him. His face was raw intensity, his hands already all over her breasts, his erection slamming mightily into her stomach, making her want to...ride.

  “C’mon.” Still kissing and unsnapping her bra, he walked her across the room, flipping lace and satin strips in the air.

  He stopped, holding her back to look at her half-naked body, his eyes shuttering as he took her in. “Gorgeous. Gorgeous.”

  She tried to laugh, but the chill of desire and air-conditioning made her quiver and reach for his warmth. “We’re never going to make it to the bedroom.”

  “Not this time.” He closed his hand over her bare breast, dipping his head to kiss and lick, and she automatically bowed her back to offer him everything, dizzy and disoriented. He stepped her backward, and her backside hit a piece of furniture. Some papers shifted. The stapler fell. And the next thing she knew, he had her flat on her desk.

  A pile of file folders dumped to the ground. “Oh, there went the capital expenditures analysis.” She bit her lip and rolled against the crazy hardness of him.

  He sat up enough to unbutton his shirt and flatten her with another fierce look. “Sorry.” He shook off his shirt, his broad chest heaving with the next breath.

  “No, you’re not.”

  He flashed a grin and rocked his hips against her, then came back down for more kissing, more touching and exploring, and something slammed to the floor. “And the zoning surveys hit the dirt.”

  Laughing, he unzipped her jeans. “As they should. Take these off, Liza.”

  She lifted her hips and let him help her slide them down, his head following the route so he could kiss her belly. Squirming on the desk, she gripped his shoulders, digging her fingers in and lifting her head to enjoy the view of him nibbling at her panties.

  He looked up and caught her eye.

  “Careful,” she said, nodding to the last pile of folders next to his legs. “The investor presentation handouts are about to eat it.”

  He didn’t look away as he pulled her panties down her thighs. “So am I.” He practically growled the sexy promise.

  She fought a scream when his tongue slid into her, making her flatten both hands on the desk and send her to-do list flying.

  She didn’t care. The only thing she had to do was…this. Pleasure careened through her, tightening every muscle and firing every nerve ending. Her fingernails dug into her desk blotter as she rose to meet every stroke of his tongue, fast and furious, then slow and deep.

  Suddenly, he stood, making her open her eyes in a panic. He couldn’t stop. But he was yanking off his jeans, pushing down a pair of boxer-briefs and, oh...my.

  She pushed herself up to appreciate the sight of his manhood. Opening her mouth to speak, she stared. And ached for him—all of him—inside her.

  “Nate,” she finally whispered, reaching to touch him. “I want you.”

  “You got me.” Before she could close her fist over him, he slapped his hands on the desk, forcing her back again. “I mean that.”

  Falling back, ignoring a pen cap that jabbed her shoulder blade and the ring of the phone a few inches from her head, she stared up at him, absolutely certain there was more to that statement than sex.

  “You got me,” he repeated, coming closer like he was going to kiss her. But he inched to the side and put his mouth right over her ear. “You got my attention.” His breath tickled and teased. “You got my interest. And, Liza, sweetheart, you got my heart.”

  The phone went silent, and so did her head. No quips, no jokes, no comebacks. She had his heart?

  Neither one of them moved, despite the heat of his hard-on throbbing between her legs, the stickiness of bare chests pressed against each other, and the matching drumbeats in their chests.

  “What are you saying?” she finally asked, her voice little more than air.

  “I’m saying...” He lifted up enough to look at her. “That this isn’t...” He struggled for the word, and she didn’t begin to try and fill in the blanks. “That this is...” He swallowed, searching her eyes, holding her gaze. “That we are...”

  Finally, she smiled. “I get it. We’re a good team.”

  He closed his eyes and returned to the safer place next to her ear, denying her the chance to appreciate the raw honesty in his eyes. “You make me a better man, Liza.”

  She closed her eyes against the sting.

  “Nate, I...” Love you. Could she admit that now? Was it the kiss of death or—

  “Open the door! I know you’re in there!”

  They both bolted upright at the shock of intrusion, Liza letting out a little cry of surprise.

  Who could that be? One of his friends? Someone on staff? Who would—

  A fist—or something wooden—smacked against the door, and the handle jiggled furiously. “Open up, Nathaniel Ivory! I have the DNA tests!”

  What? Liza put both hands over her mouth. Jeff Munson? Was he here to make good on his promise to hurt Nate? Fear and confusion collided, nearly blinding her as she blinked in shock.

  “Holy shit,” Nate muttered, leaping off her and frantically looking for clothes in the mess.

  Liza rolled off the desk, smashing her hands over her breasts in case whoever it was broke down the door, because they sounded mad enough to do just that.

  “Let me in!”

  “All right, all right!” Nate hollered. “Hang on.”

  “Who is it?” she demanded, scooping up his shirt to slide her arms into it for protection. “What is he talking about?”

  He looked at her, and for the first time, she noticed he’d gone pale...and silent.

  “Who is it, Nate?”

  “My grandfather.” He stepped into his jeans and gave her a nudge. “Go hide in the bedroom.”

  Her jaw dropped so hard it nearly hit her chest. “Your—”

  “I will shoot the damn lock, young man.”

  “Go! You don’t want to meet him like this.”

  No, she didn’t. But... “Did he say he has the—”

  “Liza!” He barked t
he word, stunning her into silence. “Go back there.”

  She froze, vaguely aware of the door handle shaking hard again but fully aware that she stood naked but for Nate’s shirt over her shoulders.

  “Please,” he added. “This might get ugly.”

  Get ugly? It was already pretty damn unattractive from where she stood. Closing her eyes, she pivoted, stepped over a sea of papers and underwear, then walked around the corner to the bedroom, her head buzzing and her heart still slamming her chest.

  But she didn’t close the door. Instead, she stood stone still and listened as Nate opened the door.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Demanding to take what is mine.” It was easy to hear now that it was the voice of a much-older man, accompanied by heavy, uneven footsteps into the room. She cringed, thinking about what he saw. How would she ever—

  “Where is he?”

  She put her hand on the doorjamb, frowning. Where is who?

  “Listen, Colonel—”

  “No, you listen to me. You were right to send me that test. One hundred percent right. That boy is an Ivory through and through, and there is only one thing to do. We take him home, son. Damn the torpedoes! We take him home.”

  All around her, the world grew darker, shakier, and completely airless. What was he saying? What was he...

  The question faded, replaced by the obvious answer. Nothing made sense. Nothing. Except her worst fears had been realized.

  The Ivory family was going to take Dylan away from her.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What?” It was the best Nate could manage under the circumstances. The intrusion, the news, the plummet from a sexual high to a disaster. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  The Colonel powered into the room, waving his cane like a scepter, his steel-gray eyes taking in the hot mess, then settling on Nate’s barely dressed state. “You call this work?”

  “I call it...private.” Which was unheard of in the Colonel’s eyes. “What do you mean that boy is an Ivory?”

  “You called it!” he bellowed, leaning heavily on his cane as he looked down at a jumble of papers. And clothes. He used the end of the cane to lift a pale pink bra by one strap and let it dangle in front of Nate’s face. “Is this what you call being a changed man?”

  Nate closed his eyes and ignored the taunt. “Please tell me what you found out.” Except, he already knew. He’d known when he impulsively sent the DNA kit Liza had left on his smaller boat up to his grandfather for private testing.

  When he left Jeff Munson in Key West, he simply hadn’t been as satisfied with the man’s signed paper. He’d tried to put it out of his mind, but every time he saw Dylan, he wondered. Sending the DNA test to his grandfather was really to prove the truth to both of them, since the Colonel had already talked about forcing the issue himself.

  “I found a match right down to the cell matter, son. This young man is part of our family, and we will raise him as ours.”

  Oh, God. His? Dylan was his.

  Nate stole a glance over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the bedroom door from where he stood. Could Liza hear this whole conversation? Would she come barreling out here any minute to fight tooth and nail for the child she considered her own?

  Even though that child was his?

  Nate stabbed his fingers into his hair, swiping it back with a deep sigh. “Look, Colonel, I will handle this.”

  “Like hell you will.” Using his cane, he flipped the bra into the air, sending it flying to land on Liza’s desk.

  Nate bristled, swamped by frustration, compounded by an intense and unfamiliar coldness. Because he’d been yanked from sex with a woman he deeply cared about? Or was his grandfather’s disapproval leaving Nate cold?

  “I will handle it,” he repeated, keeping his tone low and calm. “Liza has full guardianship—”

  “Pay her off, get her signature, and...” He looked around, surveying the oversized living room that doubled as a main office. “Where is the boy? I thought he was on the premises.”

  “He’s not here. And you can’t pay a person for her child, like—”

  “He’s not her child.” The older man pounded his cane, drawing his bushy eyebrows together, deepening the crevice between his eyes. “Nathaniel, you can pay a person for anything, and you know it. She’ll have a price. When can I see him? I’d like a look at him and so would Mimsy. She’s resting right next door at the little villa called Saffron. Nice place, by the way. I like this re—”

  “No, you can’t.” He ground out the words, the effort to balance his seething temper with a lifetime of compliance to everything this man wanted. “You can’t give someone money and expect them to accept that in exchange for a living, breathing child.”

  “Nathaniel.” The Colonel’s tone showed he knew what kind of battle was brewing inside his grandson. “I’m disappointed in you.”

  Nate waited for the words to hit their target and make him feel like a failure. But that sensation didn’t take hold in his heart. Something else did.

  A deep, profound, wholly alien feeling that made him want to protect, defend, and support Liza Lemanski...over anyone, including the Colonel.

  “I don’t care if you’re disappointed in me.” The words surprised him as much as his grandfather.

  An old gray eyebrow launched north, rising above silver-rimmed glasses. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t,” he said, the reality picking up steam inside him. “I don’t care if you withhold your almighty approval or tie up your purse strings or cut me off from family dinners on Sunday night. I don’t care.”

  The words were so liberating, he almost laughed out loud.

  “Did you hear that?” Nate asked, raising his voice so someone not in the room had to hear it. “I don’t care what you say or do or threaten, Grandfather, because I will not let you hurt Liza or have her...my”—our—”son.”

  “I hear you,” the Colonel said, pushing himself off the cane. “And, by the way, a young man from Key West sent me a package in the mail. I was going to throw it away, but I think it might be of interest to some of the private investors you’re trying to interest in this little baseball project of yours.”

  His jaw dropped as he stared at a man he thought he loved, a man he thought ruled a family with a velvet fist. But what he saw was a man he didn’t want to be like at all.

  “I’m not afraid of a scandal, Colonel,” he said. “But I will fight to the death if you try to take Dylan from Liza.” He swallowed. “And me.”

  “I wouldn’t care if you wanted to raise him, but”—he waved the cane over the chaos of papers and clothes—”you are clearly not the changed man you claim to be, and I would worry for the boy.”

  “I don’t need your worry or your care.” Nate closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I really don’t need your approval. So, if you don’t mind, you can leave now.”

  The Colonel stared him down, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. “Nathaniel, I—”

  “You can leave now.”

  A slow, sly smile pulled at the older man’s face as he made his way across the room to the door, his slightly lame gait more pronounced than Nate remembered.. “Well, son of a bitch, I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “What day?” he asked. “The day I really changed?”

  The Colonel put his hand on the door and opened it, standing to face the sunshine for a brief moment. “The day you fell in love.”

  Maybe they both happened on the same day.

  The Colonel stepped outside, and Nate opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again, along with the door. Inside, alone, Nate stood for one second, letting the adrenaline dump through him.

  Holy hell, he’d stood up to his grandfather, and won. He’d broken that debilitating need for the Colonel’s approval, and he could breathe. He’d proved to Liza what he’d been trying to tell her: that he really was a better man.

  Hadn’t she heard?

  He turned, expecting her
to come darting out of the hall, eyes bright with pride, arms extended, her heart soaring like his was. Now they would make love. And talk about Dylan and how they would...

  But all he heard was silence.

  “Liza?” He walked toward the bedroom, his pulse ratcheting up. “Liza, did you hear that?”

  He stepped into the room to see the sliding glass doors that led to the back wide open, the sheer curtain fluttering with the beach breeze.

  She hadn’t heard enough of it, because she was gone.

  * * *

  Liza darted across the Casa Blanca parking lot, clutching the too-large sweat pants she’d found draped over a chair in the bedroom. Nate’s shirt was buttoned all wrong, so the right side of the collar kept tapping her in the chin, and stones and shells jabbed her bare feet as she ran toward the sanctuary of her little blue Ford Focus. She shouldered her bag, eternally grateful she’d been in the habit of hanging it in the bedroom closet. Who knew she’d have to make an emergency getaway out the back door one day?

  Twenty more feet. Just twenty more feet and—

  “Liza!”

  She froze, recognizing Nate’s voice even from across the resort property. Fisting her hands with a grunt, she used everything she had not to turn and look and melt and forgive. Because what he’d done was unforgivable.

  “Liza, wait!”

  She powered on to her car, already digging in her bag for keys.

  “Liza, damn it, don’t leave!”

  With one hand on the door handle and one grasping the sweats that were threatening to eliminate any possible chance of a dignified escape, she turned toward the sound of his voice. He was running full-out, still bare-chested and wearing jeans and no shoes.

  He seemed to move in slow motion, calling her name, holding out his hand, desperation pouring out of him.

  “Liza, please wait.” He slowed down when he got close enough to stop yelling, catching his breath from the sprint.

  She shook her head and held up one hand. “Don’t, Nate. Don’t come at me with explanations and rationalization. You lied to me. You went behind my back and had that test done. And you called in your biggest artillery to get what you want.” She squared her shoulders and pointed her finger at his face. “You think some rich old Marine and his brood are going to take my child away from me?”