Volcano

by Patricia Rice

  “Let’s go to the balcony. I called ahead and they’ll have our room prepared and lunch ready, but I think a drink is called for first.”

  Their room. Penelope suppressed a shiver and followed Charlie across spectacular peacock blue tiles to terrace steps adorned with terra-cotta pots filled with flowering bromeliads, orchids, and bougainvillea vines that spilled down the stairs to dangle over the terrace below. The hand-painted tiles of the terrace reflected all the colors of the ocean, from sea green to midnight blue, and the walled terrace overlooked a white sand beach with gracefully waving palms. She should be furious and maybe even a little bit scared, but the setting was too stunning to do more than gape in awe.

  “Charlie, I appreciate your choice of accommodations, but I—”

  “Do you like it?” He swung his hand to take in the whitewashed walls and the bright splashes of sea-blue shutters. “My company built it. The owner gives me use of it for sales pitches since he’s seldom here. If I had a place like this, I’d never leave.”

  Penelope took the cushioned wrought-iron chair he offered and drank in the beauty of her surroundings. How could one man own all of this? Terra-cotta roof tiles gleamed in the sunlight. Silica had been added to the whitewash so the walls sparkled and glittered like diamonds. She supposed Charlie had little to do with the pots of plants, and perhaps the architect took responsibility for the way the color and design blended so perfectly with the setting, but she’d lived in Florida long enough to know the difference between shoddy construction and quality. Tropical sun and hurricane winds deteriorated badly constructed buildings rapidly. She didn’t see a single sign of chipped tile or cracking stucco or mildewing wood anywhere.

  “It’s gorgeous, Charlie. How long has it been here?”

  He shrugged and pulled out another seat. “It was one of my first projects when I persuaded Dad to get out of home improvements and into major contracts. Friend of mine from college designed this place and told me about it. Since I know the islands pretty well, I could make a bid lower than most other offers. My father’s company had a reputation for quality, so the owner took a chance. It was risky, but worth every bit. All I have to do is fly people out here and they’re sold.”

  She wanted to be angry. There was safety in anger. She had easily scorned other men who had tried to impress her with their Jaguars and expensive condos. But Charlie wasn’t trying to impress her with what he owned. He owned a damned GTO and probably had an apartment under a bridge somewhere. He was trying to impress her with what he could do. She didn’t know why that made a difference. It just did.

  She took the umbrella-adorned cherry-red drink a servant brought out and pressed the icy glass to her cheek. She was doing it again, falling blindly for a man who thought he could tell her what to do.

  Damn, but she loved him anyway. Charlie sat there looking vaguely uncertain of himself, waiting anxiously for her reaction. He had the audacity to kidnap her and disrupt her entire life, but he still wanted her approval. She ought to dump her daiquiri over his swollen head, but she loved that look in his eyes too much. Damn, but she was an idiot. Maybe she could try reasoning with him.

  “It’s magnificent, Charlie, and if you wanted to impress me, consider me overwhelmed. That doesn’t change anything. I still have to get back to Beth and to my clients. I thought you would be working with the police and whoever, to pin down Jacobsen. Isn’t that what you wanted?” She sipped the icy drink in hopes it would cool her off. Charlie looked all too appealing sitting here in all his sun-bronzed glory, chestnut hair tousled in the breeze.

  “I learned a long time ago that to get what I want, I have to set priorities. I want lots of things, but I can’t go after all of them at once. I have to pick and choose. I choose you. Jacobsen can wait.”

  He seemed deadly serious. Penelope could only stare at him. Until this minute, their choices had been fairly limited by circumstances. They’d been thrown together by danger and desperation. They hadn’t had a chance to explore a leisurely courtship where they learned about each other in a succession of civilized meetings. For a long time, she’d considered him little more than a half-cocked barbarian.

  She reminded herself firmly that Charlie Smith was a construction worker who drove ancient behemoths, lived in jeans, drank beer, and watched football. They had nothing in common.

  Men who gambled and took risks like her father were dangerous. Charlie took risks and was definitely dangerous.

  Of course, she had nothing in common with men in pinstripe suits who drove Jaguars either. She’d gone to bed with Charlie and not the men in suits. She’d risked her life, her career, and her twin’s health for Charlie, because he was doing the same for his sister and partner and the well-being of the unsuspecting islanders.

  She loved him. She would make any excuse for the damned man. Despairingly, she set her drink down. “Where do we go from here?”

  He reached out and brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “We take one step at a time. Lunch, then a swim in the ocean maybe.”

  “What about my job?” she whispered.

  “I keep telling you I have friends.” He caressed the tip of her nose. “You don’t need those jerks. You can have your own business. You can work in mine. You can do anything you damned well want. Let go, Penny. Let them all go. Readjust your priorities and take time to explore what we have.”

  Definitely a dangerous man. She’d spent a lifetime plotting her career, step by step, knowing exactly where she was going, working around every obstacle thrown in her way, never losing sight of her goals. And within two short weeks he had her contemplating throwing away a lifetime of achievement and planning to start all over.

  “But Beth...”

  He handed her the daiquiri. “Will get her operation, one way or another. We can make it work. I’ll put both of you on my payroll, make certain we have insurance that covers it, pay for it myself if necessary, whatever it takes. We might never have a chance like this again, Penelope. Put yourself first, just this once, and I won’t ever ask it again.”

  What if they had this little island idyll and decided they wouldn’t suit after all? What if they ended up arguing as usual and stormed back to Miami and never spoke again? She’d be out of a job, Beth would go without her operation.... He was asking her to take a huge risk, to trust him, to jump off a cliff without a parachute. She didn’t do those things.

  He wasn’t asking any less of himself. He had dangerous men trying to kill him, to steal a multimillion-dollar project, to ruin his business and harm his friends and family, and he’d tucked them all away to bring her here so they could straighten out what was happening between them. He was the scariest man she’d ever met.

  “Tammy and Raul?” she whispered, still looking for an out.

  “I told them to take the company credit cards and get the hell out of Miami while the FBI does its job. John’s taking Beth home with him. Now that we’ve quit meddling, they should be safe. Let the rest of the world go for a little while. Let’s just concentrate on us. Start by admitting there’s something between us.”

  There was a hell of a lot more than “something,” and he knew it, or he wouldn’t be doing this. Gulping, Penelope studied the intensity of Charlie’s expression, the way he looked at her as if all this magnificence around them didn’t exist and they were the only two people on the planet.

  Saying the one simple word he wanted was far more terrifying than landing alone in a foreign airport in an exotic country. For the first time in years, she listened to the little voice inside her screaming to be free.

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  “Thank you,” he said solemnly, and then he leapt up, grabbed her out of her chair, and swung her around the terrace with wild crows of triumph.

  THIRTY-ONE

  The Caribbean sun disappeared behind thin layers of rainbow-painted clouds, coloring the turquoise sea with midnight blue and gold and illuminating the sky with a last green flash of brilliant light before the first star
of the evening popped out.

  A gentle surf lapped at their toes, indicating the tide had turned. Exhausted, skin tingling from the sun’s caress, coated with layers of lotion and salt, Penelope couldn’t move a contented muscle. Beside her, Charlie clasped his hand around hers. A callused finger stroked her palm, and instantly, every nerve ending in her body leapt to attention.

  They wore their bathing suits, but their awareness of each other was such that they might as well have been naked. True to his word, Charlie had gone slowly, never once taking advantage of the physical need pulsing between them with every touch, every gesture, every look. They’d danced in the surf, slept in the sun, hunted for shells, and adorned themselves with orchid chains, but they’d never gone near the dim coolness of the room and bed waiting for them, although the knowledge of its presence was with them every minute of the day.

  An assortment of kiwi, papaya, plantains, and other exotic fruit lay half-eaten on a platter above the cotton-covered rattan mat they lay upon. The beach was in a secluded cove out of sight of the house but within easy walking distance. They should probably roll up the mat and return for dinner, but Penelope didn’t want to disturb the perfection of this moment. She watched the star rising on the horizon and curled her fingers around Charlie’s broad ones. His bare foot tilted to rub against hers.

  “Dinner?” he suggested lazily.

  “Bath first,” she decided.

  “Shower?” He eased up on his elbow and gazed down at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

  Her heart pumped a little faster as all that suntanned heaven of muscled shoulders and naked chest leaned within easy reach. “Jacuzzi,” she countered.

  A smile teased the corner of his lips. “With champagne.”

  She grimaced. “I don’t like champagne.”

  He grinned wider. “Gotcha. Neither do I.” His gaze dipped to the slope of her swimsuit top. “How about another swim first?”

  Penelope could tell by the tone of Charlie’s voice that swimming was the last thing on his mind. They’d played these word games all day, disagreeing at every turn but always finding a compromise that showed how shallow their differences actually were. He was simply letting her take the lead, because she had what he wanted. He wanted her. It was as simple as that.

  Amazed that she’d never understood how easy a relationship could be, Penelope stroked the bristle of his jaw. “Naked,” she whispered naughtily.

  Charlie eyed her. “We could be seen.”

  “And?” she taunted, knowing that didn’t bother him at all.

  “In my current state, it could definitely be dangerous.” This time, the gleam in his eye was noticeable.

  “That’s never bothered you before,” she scoffed, trailing a finger down the sandy expanse of his chest, twirling it in a curl of dark hair.

  Charlie hooked his finger in the clasp between her breasts and, with a flick, unfastened it. Penelope’s breath caught as he stared at her breasts, hunger and admiration blatant in his expression. The waiting had ended, then. He wanted her, and he would do whatever she liked to have her, but this was definitely a two-way street. Desire poured like warm honey through her veins and pooled in her lower abdomen until all her muscles drew tight with expectation.

  “I bother you,” he amended with a note of triumph. “Cool, elegant, untouchable Penelope, hot and bothered by a dumb jock. Admit it.”

  “That you’re a dumb jock?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  He stroked her erect nipple and she nearly grabbed his neck to haul him down where she could reach him, but they fought a war here, and she didn’t give up easily. He had been right when he’d said they were competitive spirits. She wanted to win.

  “Not so dumb, maybe,” he answered more thoughtfully than she’d expected. “I’ve been told it often enough to believe it. Maybe I’ve tried living up to my reputation. But I’m smart enough to know a good thing when I see one, and I’m smart enough to go after what I want and get it. I want you, Penelope.” He said it as a warning.

  Before she could reply, he leaned over and licked the peak he’d caressed to screaming sensitivity, and she arched upward, digging her fingers into his thick hair as he wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her against him.

  “If you want more time, you’d better tell me now,” Charlie whispered, brushing kisses across her temple. “Because when I come into you this time, I’m going to make you mine. I’m going to take all this heat and electricity we’re generating and pump it into you until we’ve welded shackles around our hearts that can never be broken. Every time I take you, I’ll forge another link in the chain.” His hand stroked downward, slipping beneath the elastic of her bikini bottom, pulling it over her hips so she had to wiggle out or be trapped. A sea breeze lapped at her nakedness.

  Charlie’s big hand covered her where she was most vulnerable, sheltering her against the breeze. “I’m a man who works with his hands, Penelope. What do you think your chances are against me?”

  None, absolutely none. She should laugh at his silliness, but she knew Charlie meant every word. She should be furious at his arrogance, but she understood what drove him. She should be terrified at how swiftly she succumbed to his domination, but she knew her own power and that she could use it against him, or with him. The choice was hers. He’d opened himself entirely for her attack. His words had stripped him of shield or weapon, exposing his vulnerability, something few men dared do. And she loved him for it, loved him wholly, without question, mindlessly, insanely, hopelessly.

  “I dare you,” she threw at him, having no other words to express the challenge she knew they faced.

  Charlie swung his leg over her hips so she lay trapped beneath him. His weight held her pinned against the mat, his breadth blocked the stars. The powerful tendons of his arms strained to hold him back. Penelope knew his expression despite the darkness. It would be taut with expectation, his eyes hot with desire, his mouth turned slightly upward, revealing the dimple that gave away his joy. Silly man, thinking he was in control here.

  “This isn’t a game, Penelope,” he warned again, as if she hadn’t taken him seriously enough. “This is for life. If I take you now, I’ll want you again in the Jacuzzi, in the shower, in that bed waiting for us upstairs, all night, every night, from now until forever.” He pried his knee between hers and parted her legs so she lay spread-eagled beneath the stars and the palm trees.

  He was talking commitment. That scared the hell out of her. She hadn’t really thought about it, although she should have. She wanted it. She just didn’t know if she could handle it. Panic surged through her veins, along with the hot flood of desire. “I’m a coward, Charlie,” she whispered.

  He stared at her incredulously. “You? The woman who gave up her own life for her sister? The woman who risked her career for an old man she didn’t even know? More people should have your kind of cowardice.” With those scoffing words, he rolled off to remove his trunks.

  She had an instant’s reprieve while he stripped, but his words held her spellbound. He didn’t think she was a coward. Could her strength really lie deeper than her career?

  She didn’t have longer to think than that. The moment Charlie rolled back over her and took the tip of her breast into his mouth, she was lost. His heat surrounded her, enveloped her in a raging inferno, cast her into that volcano that had smoldered at their feet all these nights. Bathed in fire, cast in the furnace, consumed, and resurrected into something shiny and new and entirely different—

  Penelope’s cry mixed with the call of a night bird overhead as Charlie surged into her and the fire melded them together. From the inside out, the clay became porcelain, the iron turned to steel. Neither of them shattered in the process. Stars exploded and surf pounded at their ankles. Penelope surrendered to the tide, to the moment, to the man and the elements as their separate parts bonded into one. Waiting for that surrender, Charlie joined her with a wild cry, his big body shuddering as he flooded her with all the potential he p
ossessed and held her while she accepted the possession.

  He’d done it, then, she thought idly moments later, looking up into the tropical sky as Charlie’s heavy weight pressed her into the earth. He’d forged her into a crucible for his seed, molded her body into one she didn’t know, linked her heart to his so they could never be fully apart again, no matter what the future would bring.

  Joy flooded through her as thoroughly as the waves washing up their legs.

  ***

  They sat on opposite sides of the spacious Jacuzzi, wineglasses nearly empty, skin cleansed, muscles relaxed, but Penelope thought the steam rising between them had more to do with the heat they generated than with the hot water. Charlie rested his muscular arms on the pool’s edge, providing her a full view of his powerful chest and shoulders, and she didn’t think she could swallow another drop.

  “Dinner?” she suggested cautiously.

  “We can eat anytime. Are you coming over here or do I have to go over there and get you?”

  The gleam in his eyes warned that dinner would wait. Just that knowledge heated her skin and tightened her lower muscles in anticipation. She didn’t understand why only Charlie could turn her on like this, but now that he had, she couldn’t find any way of turning herself off. Didn’t want to. Still, she made no move toward him.

  Charlie took care of the matter. In a single step he was beside her, lifting her from the seat and into his arms. He was already as aroused as she was. Once on the beach wasn’t enough, would probably never be enough.

  “We’re not using protection, Charlie,” she whispered as he buried his lips against her nape and shot shivers straight down her spine.

  He cupped her wet breasts and teased them tenderly. “I know.”

  His mouth moved to hers, and for long moments, Penelope had no other thoughts at all. The play of his hands and tongue drove her mind out the door and she was all nerve endings begging for more.

  Then he lifted his head and, in the moonlight, gazed down at her. “We’ve wasted enough time making money. Now it’s time to do something more productive.”