“What’s your name?” the woman asked Veronique as she handed her a paper napkin.
Veronique blotted her lips with the napkin. The woman was so friendly and direct, she couldn’t help liking her. “Veronique Whitcomb. What’s yours?”
“Sadie Green, owner of the heap behind you,” she said, jerking her thumb toward the now defunct bar.
“Glad to meet you, Sadie.”
Sadie nodded. “Likewise. This is Ron and that’s Linda,” she said, motioning toward a young couple across from Veronique. The couple nodded a greeting, but kept to themselves. She gestured to the remaining three at the bar. “That’s Rafael and Juanita. They work for Ron and Linda,” she said, pointing her chin toward a couple drinking what looked like Cuba libres, rum and cola.
“Hi,” Veronique said. They acknowledged her greeting with a smile and a raised hand.
“And that’s my husband, Jerry,” Sadie said, waving a freckled hand at the pot-bellied man who looked like a sea captain with his shock of white hair, leathery skin and white beard.
“Nice to meet all of you,” Veronique said, noting the curious looks they gave her.
“Where are you staying?” Jerry asked, leaning back to study her as he puffed on a stinky cigar.
“I came from Fort Myers. I was dropped off by a colleague who has a boat there.”
“And you brought a bike with you?” Sadie asked with a puzzled look.
“Yes, I figured it would be a good way to get around.”
Sadie nodded. “I could use a bike right about now. Fuel is precious and I don’t want to use it up. We need it for our boats and to run the generator.”
Veronique smiled. “I’m a reporter for Ace News. I’d love to talk to you about why you stayed behind even under mandatory evacuation orders.”
“Jer and I have lived here for the past fifty years. The last hurricane that came by was Hurricane Charley. It was a cat four and we weathered it just fine,” Sadie said emphatically.
“What about this time?” Veronique asked, pulling a notebook and pen out of her backpack. “How did you make out after the hurricane?”
“We survived just like we did the last one.” Sadie shook her head and clicked her teeth. “Lotsa hoopla for nothing. Why just this morning I was telling Jer that…”
Veronique let the woman talk as she scribbled notes for a story.
* * *
All morning, Nick worked on pulling up the wooden planks that had buckled from the flooding. When hunger pangs reminded him it was lunchtime, he went to the kitchen in search of Veronique. One large, wrapped sandwich on a paper plate sat on the table beside a thermos of coffee and a mug. She’d left a scribbled note on the sandwich anchored down with a toothpick. The note said, “Going to explore. I’ll be back in time for dinner,” nothing else.
He went straight to the guest room where she kept her things. The moment he entered it, her almond scent filled his nostrils. She had a maddening habit of slathering her skin with a scented body cream that knocked his socks off…and perfumed his sheets at night. Having her in his bed, all soft curves, creamy skin and smelling like honeyed almonds was like having a succulent dessert handed to you with a warning to look, but not taste. Ronnie was too soft and appealing to ignore and her body was slim, curvy and toned all over—just how he liked a woman’s body to be.
He could still feel her silky skin when he’d laid his hand on the slight curve of her belly. When she’d turned on her stomach, hugging her pillow with one slender leg bent at the knee, her sheer bikini panties had hiked up to reveal the sweet curve of her pert bottom. He’d broken out in a cold sweat as his body reacted swiftly and powerfully. It had taken every ounce of grit and willpower to get out of bed and ignore the throbbing ache that made him want to take her right here. Setting his jaw, he forced her delectable image from his mind.
She must have left right after breakfast. She hadn’t taken the rental car; it was where he’d left it before the hurricane. Her suitcase was still in the bedroom so she obviously meant to return. She wasn’t the neatest person, but he didn’t care. Her flip flops were haphazardly strewn on the floor—one beside the bed and the other next to the desk. Her tank top and panties were flung on the chair in front of the desk that faced the window. She must have changed in a hurry and left.
He headed outside and checked the double car garage. He found his Land Rover and Vespa there, but noticed his road bike was missing. He usually parked it beside the Vespa and the space was empty now.
A sharp twinge of disappointment made him realize he missed her. It annoyed him that she’d left like that without letting him know first. He was getting used to having her around. Well, not exactly used to it, more like looking forward to it. She had gotten to him all right. Her saucy smile and twinkling emerald eyes lightened his mood. Not once in the past year had he laughed like he had when he’d seen the caricature she left on his pillow. His laughter had awakened a part of him that had lain dormant for too long—the fun of kicking back and enjoying the lighter side of life.
Spontaneous, spirited and unpredictable, Veronique was like a colorful rainbow after a storm. He hated having to send her back. His desire to make love to her was primal and urgent, yet when she gazed at him with those fiercely trusting eyes, he couldn’t risk breaking her heart. She was becoming too attached. If they had sex, she’d never leave. He wouldn’t want her to go either. But she had to. She would vehemently object and find a million reasons to stay.
It was time to send her away, off the island and back to the mainland, he decided resolutely—even if he had to take her there himself.
But first he had to find her.
Chapter Twelve
Veronique didn’t realize how far she’d drifted into the ocean until the sound of cawing seagulls drew her attention to the sky. She’d intended to take a short swim and then a long walk along the coast to see what treasures the hurricane had washed ashore. But she ended up swimming much longer. She couldn’t seem to get enough of the turquoise sea. She’d been alternating between floating and swimming, reveling in the freedom of all that expanse of water.
She had left Nick’s bike under a tree next to a secluded, winding path that led to the beach. She needed to gather up her towel and backpack quickly and head back. If she got caught in a downpour, she wouldn’t really mind. It might be fun to race in the rain, riding Nick’s road bike the way it was meant to be ridden. It was sturdy and equipped to handle rough terrain. For the most part the roads had been cleared, save for some pieces of driftwood, stray shrubs and twigs, and rocks that she’d have to avoid.
Her frame was a tad small for his bike and reaching the pedals was a stretch, but she’d found a way to lean forward enough to handle the challenge. She’d pay for it tomorrow with sore legs and glutes, but the workout was worth it for the rush she got cruising on his bike.
Purple clouds suddenly appeared, darkening the sky. Where had they come from? When she’d started swimming, she’d felt the hot sun on her back. Now that the sun was partially covered, everything felt cooler. As the clouds gathered closer and completely covered the sun, her arms and legs paddled vigorously to reach the shore.
She swam closer to the shoreline and when it was shallow enough, she tried to get up, but her limbs gave way as the surf pulled her down. She had underestimated the stamina needed to swim in turbulent waters caused by an abrupt weather change. Between the ride into town and her long swim, she’d spent the whole day exercising and it felt good, but her muscles were fatigued. She’d pushed her body to the limit.
* * *
Nick drove the Land Rover down Begonia Way in search of Ronnie. When he’d left the house, the sun had been shining, but now rain clouds covered it, lowering the temperature and ushering in gusts of wind. With mounting frustration, his eyes scanned both sides of the two-lane road, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He was about to turn in another direction, when he saw a flash of silver in a parking lot at a distance on the gulf side, near the beach.
Approaching the parking lot, he saw the silver object was his road bike resting under a bedraggled banyan tree stripped bare of leaves by the hurricane. A disturbing feeling of imminent danger snaked up his spine when he didn’t see Ronnie nearby. He swerved into the lot, parked the Land Rover and bolted out.
Calling Ronnie’s name, he ran down the twisting path to the beach. His mind raced with all kinds of horror when she didn’t answer his calls. Was she injured? Unconscious? There were sharp rocks and snakes and the mighty ocean to contend with. She was healthy and athletic, but it had been stupid of her to venture to the beach alone during an oncoming storm.
“Ronnie!” he roared, growing more agitated by the second. Across the expanse of white sand, he saw a figure emerge from the water. His legs propelled him forward with energy wrought from despair. The impact of his feet pounding the seashells and crushing them was nothing compared to the powerful hammering of his heart. It felt like an elephant’s foot was trampling on his chest as he raced forward.
As he got closer, he saw the distinct curves of a woman’s figure before she stumbled back into the water. His blood ran cold when he realized it was Ronnie. When she tried to get up again, a wave knocked her down and pulled her further back in the ocean. Her arms flailed and he heard her shout something, but her words were garbled as she sputtered with water. What the hell was she doing swimming alone when a storm was coming? There could be a riptide! Frantic to save her, he leaped across the sand like an Olympian athlete.
Nick dove in the water, swam to her and looped an arm around her neck. Propelled by a rush of adrenaline like none he’d ever felt, he swam hard and fast, pushing against the rising tide as he brought them ashore. His heart hurtling, he rose and hauled her up beside him. She slumped against him and gulped in air as she coughed. Harnessing his temper, he thumped her back between her shoulder blades to help clear her lungs.
“Whew, that was a close one,” she said in a shaky voice as she straightened. “Good thing you showed up, I might not have made it.”
Ronnie’s bikini top had come loose, he noticed, when his gaze lowered to make sure she was all right. The neck straps of her bikini top were dangling and the small scrap of coral fabric hung around her waist. Pale and round with tight pink nipples, her pretty breasts made him go instantly hard.
She followed his fevered gaze and blushed bright red. “Whoops. My top got loose with all that thrashing around.” She turned her back to him as her shaking hands struggled to fix the straps. “Can you give me a hand here?”
“Forget it, it’s broken.” He spun her around by the shoulders and stared at her, furious that she could have drowned and desperate over the impact of that kind of loss. “Damn you! Don’t you know better than to swim in this kind of weather?” He shook her when she didn’t answer.
Her chin shot up belligerently. “Hey, don’t yell! I’m not stupid. It was sunny when I got in.”
There was just so much he could take. His hand wound in her wet hair as he tilted her head back and bent his head, his mouth covering hers, hard and possessive. His hands slid down and cupped her buttocks, lifting her up and anchoring her against him. Perched on her tiptoes, her thighs were nestled intimately between his.
“Nick—” she uttered in a strangled voice.
“Don’t. Ever. Do that. Again,” he gritted furiously between crushing kisses.
She pulled back and stared at him, her eyes huge with wonder. “So you do care, Nick Cameron.”
Her words were his undoing. He swore under his breath, beyond control now. Unrestrained, primitive desire reared up inside him, making him go wild. Oblivious to the surging gulf behind them or the soft rain on his back, his mouth covered hers with an urgency born of desperation.
He could have lost her.
He’d have her now or he’d die wanting her.
* * *
Nick’s savage reaction stunned Veronique. His blue eyes gleamed in a stone hard face as he kissed her again and again. Greedy, grinding kisses that made her knees buckle and her heart beat a wild staccato. He held her steady as she opened her lips and drank in his ravenous kisses, tasting his carnal hunger, feeling his heat. The dominant intent to mate radiated in waves from his rigid body. His large hands felt like iron on her bottom as he anchored her against his solid, jutting arousal. He kissed her long and hard, sucking the very marrow from her, making her tremble with excitement when he lowered her to the sand.
He tore off his clothes while she tried to get out of her bikini. She pulled the bottoms off, but the back knot wouldn’t give on the top. He yanked the ends apart and threw the top aside before taking her in his arms. Her sensitive nipples brushed against his chest and pebbled. She shivered as raw, urgent desire coursed through her veins, singeing a dangerous path to her heart. She wanted him with her whole being, was blind to everything but Nick—his male scent of arousal, the feel of his large body on hers. She had never ached so much for a man, had never yearned to give herself so fully.
The rasp of his faint beard on her soft breast made her arch to receive more as his mouth closed over her nipple and sucked deeply. The aching tip puckered in his mouth, igniting a fire deep in her belly as intense, unbearable excitement began to build. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably when his hand eased them apart and his long fingers delved into her feminine folds, caressing, stroking, until she was mindless with wanting him. His touch was so pleasurable, she could barely breathe.
Slick with arousal, she whimpered and writhed at the feel of his calloused fingertip on her achingly sensitive nub. Her sweet spot clenched and pulsated with exquisite spasms. “Nick! Come inside me,” she pleaded as he continued to stroke her with maddening finesse. “Please. I can’t take anymore.”
His dark head bent further as he kissed her navel. When his hot mouth lowered on her belly, she gripped his face and cried frantically, “No. I want you now.”
He jerked his head up and met her eyes with a look so intensely aroused, all breath left her lungs. His fiery blue eyes held hers, glazed with passion and tortured with need. He spread her thighs and positioned himself between them. Primed to take her, his nostrils flared and the veins in his neck bulged as he braced his powerful body on his forearms and slid his hands under her buttocks, tilting her pelvis up to receive him. He kissed her neck before sliding his tongue inside her mouth and entering her at the same moment. She gasped as her tight entrance gave way to his voluptuous intrusion. Her womb convulsed with pleasure-pain quivers as she adjusted to his size.
“Relax, baby. Take it all,” he murmured hoarsely.
“Yes,” she whimpered against his mouth, “please, Nick. More!” Her hands dug into his hard hips as he drove into her, his lovemaking demanding, explosive, utterly exquisite. Frantic, arcing desire catapulted her to a soaring crescendo. Her head thrashed from side to side, her limbs shook violently as her heart lurched and every sane thought left her mind. He was everything she wanted and more.
“That’s it, baby. Give me everything,” he growled, his voice gruff with need. “I want all of you.” He surged inside her and her pelvis rose taking him in as deeply as she could. She clung to him whimpering and grasping and spiraling out of control under his driving thrusts until she came with a shattering cry, repeating his name over and over again.
Descending back to earth, she reveled in his deep, primal cry of release, a sound that filled her heart with joy. He buried his face in her neck. “Aah, Ronnie. So beautiful…so exquisite,” he moaned, the sound rough and husky. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
Blissful tears rolled down the sides of her face as she lay beneath his spent body, willing him not to move. She loved the weight of his strong body on hers, the possessive way he held her anchored to him. She ran her fingers through his damp, dark hair and kissed his temple as the tension left his body. With a low, satiated groan, he rolled to his side, taking her with him and cradling her to his chest. His strong arms wrapped around her protectively and held her firmly.
<
br /> Love welled up inside Veronique over her complete oneness with Nick and the deep intimacy they’d shared. She had never felt happier…or more sated. The depth of her feelings for him was overwhelming and humbling.
After this, she’d never be the same.
They lay entwined together for a long, long time as fresh rain cleansed their naked bodies and the ocean breeze cooled their skin.
Chapter Thirteen
Daisy waited until Nick’s Land Rover was far enough down the dirt road, away from his house, before she left the thicket of pine trees. It was a stroke of good luck that he’d left and she could investigate what Veronique was about without him around.
She knocked on the door several times, surprised when Veronique didn’t answer. She went around to the back of the house to check if she was in the patio. When she didn’t find her there or in the back yard, she returned to the front and let herself in with her key.
She entered cautiously and the first thing she noticed was the stillness. Complete silence inside and no sign of Veronique. Could she be so lucky that the bitch was gone? After a thorough search, she went to Nick’s bedroom and pulled down his bed linens. Leaning forward, she smelled the pillows. She inhaled deeply of the first one and smiled when Nick’s masculine scent filled her hungry nostrils. She moved onto the other pillow and recoiled at the sweetly feminine scent of almonds. Her gut clenched with rage and jealousy. Just as she’d suspected—the loathsome bitch was already shacking up with Nick.
Daisy threw the pillow back on the bed and straightened the sheets with brisk, violent movements. Acid hatred burned a hole in her gut as she imagined them having sex. She searched the room for the bitch’s things and when she didn’t find any, she headed to the guest bedroom to snoop.
Entering the bedroom, she sneered when she saw Veronique’s tank top and panties on the chair and her flip flops strewn on the floor. Her hair brush and toiletries were scattered on the desk beside a pad of paper and pens. She shook her head in disgust. The room had been perfectly tidy before Veronique’s arrival, thanks to Daisy’s meticulous housekeeping. A rich man like Nick deserved a perfect home, one kept beautifully by Daisy, not that messy bitch!
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