returntobelletori_GEN

by Michelle Hoppe

  Taking a small step back, he released her arm, apparently taking her silence as a refusal. “It was only an idea.”

  Comprehension finally caught up with her. Lana halted his egress with a hand on his arm. “No.” She sounded panicked and breathless, and that wasn’t the word she’d wanted to say at all. “I mean yes. Now. I want to. Dance with you, I mean.” Jeez, way to articulate, Lana.

  Something in his eyes flared, a mixture of heat and what she thought might be self-recrimination. Then he opened his arms and she moved into them like she was falling into heaven.

  The band played Van Morrison and he smelled deliciously like subtle cologne and warm skin. With her in heels their faces aligned nicely. She would only have to tilt her head a little and their lips might brush. How would he react if she did it?

  “Are you having a good time?”

  Lana blinked and raised her eyes to his. “It was a lovely ceremony. They’re such a great couple.”

  “I know.”

  Lana thought of his speech, which had been short but poignant. What he’d said about the bride had made every female in the room expel a collective sigh. To Sid. If you could pick the perfect woman out of a catalogue, honey, you’d be it.

  Yes, blonde and vivacious was definitely Brody’s thing. Still, it was a full moon tonight, and everyone liked to try something different every now and again. She was dancing with him, which was a start.

  Her gaze roved over his clean-shaven jaw. “I saw Rufus didn’t get called into service.”

  He grinned. “I managed to find a razor. I didn’t want to spook anyone else.”

  “You weren’t that scary. The beard was very…” she searched for a suitable descriptor, “…rakish. I like this look better though.”

  Lana’s heart raced at her bold words, the flirtatiousness inherent in them. She averted her eyes, avoiding the sharp focus in his before she remembered she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do that tonight. If Brody showed even the slightest interest she wanted to capitalize on it.

  Resolutely, she turned back to face him. His attention was trained on her neckline, and Lana decided all the work she’d done to create cleavage had been worth the effort.

  Catching her gaze, he said a little huskily, “Nice dress.”

  “Thanks. I bought it off the Internet.” Great, Lana. He really wanted to know that. She flushed. “Sorry. Champagne makes me babble.”

  “No problem. Babble away.”

  Assuming he didn’t mean it literally, Lana remained silent. She dared to move a little closer, wanting to sink further into the virile masculine heat he was giving off. He turned his head and their cheeks brushed. Lana held her breath, wondering if the move had been intentional. From the way his chest seemed to still against hers she didn’t think so.

  They danced like that for what seemed an eternity, encapsulated in a perfect little bubble. For once, Lana was glad she was tall for a female. Her steps easily matched his and her face fit perfectly into the curve of his neck. Without stopping to talk herself out of the impulsive gesture, she turned and brushed her lips lightly over his throat.

  The hand resting on her hip flexed, anchoring harder to her flesh. “Christ, Lana,” he rasped against her ear. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I don’t know.” She really didn’t. She had no clue how this was happening, how he seemed to lean closer to her with each dance step, how she was managing to somehow draw him in with the sway of her body. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  “Coming on to me.”

  “Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “I’m not the kind of guy you should tease. I might take you seriously.”

  One could only hope. Lana’s pulse thundered in her ears, so she was barely aware of when Van Morrison ended and Eric Clapton began. “Who says I’m not serious?”

  “I do. You’re not exactly…”

  When his words trailed off Lana filled in, “I’m not your type.”

  His soft chuckle tickled her earlobe. “Lana, female’s my type. I was going to say you’re not the kind of girl who flirts with the likes of me. Perhaps you ought to ease up on the champagne.”

  “I’m not drunk. And I’m not a girl.”

  His hand moved from her hip, sliding around to the small of her back. He used the grip to draw her toward him until her breasts settled close to his chest. “I did notice that. But this—it’s not a good idea.”

  “Do you ever do things simply because you want to?”

  “All the time. Too damned often. I don’t always think before I act.”

  Lana sighed wistfully, thinking of all the years she’d done her best to be good, decent, unobtrusive. Of how it had gotten her nowhere while a few audacious moves had her right where she wanted to be. “I envy that.”

  “Most people would tell you it’s not a virtue.”

  “Being virtuous isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” she said, using his retort of the other night.

  “What is it you want, Lana?” he demanded, his voice suddenly terse. “You want me to find one of the empty rooms here, take you there and fuck you senseless? Because I’m warning you, I’m not above it.”

  The sound of applause penetrated the hazy cloud of thrilling desire that had woven around her. Lana felt stung, as if he’d slapped her. One part of her recognized that, as crude as the suggestion was, it wasn’t without appeal. Perhaps she wasn’t above it, either. Yet another, more sensitive part knew he wasn’t really offering, but being intentionally rude in order to send her away. That he would go to that much trouble to put her off made her feel acutely unwanted.

  She took a step back, leaving the heat of his embrace, feeling very much like she’d been burned. “Sorry, I forgot for a moment.”

  “Forgot what?” His voice sounded choked.

  “That I’m dull and ordinary and not nearly daring enough to interest you.” She couldn’t believe she’d failed to remember that, even for a few short moments. “Thanks for the dance. Excuse me.”

  She managed to leave the floor without running like she wanted to. Lana decided to view that as a victory.

  Chapter 3

  Brody figured he was going to kick himself tomorrow, but he couldn’t let Lana leave like that. Following her outside, he found her standing on the balcony. The elegant outline of her shoulders, the flowing lines of that silky dress silhouetted against the backdrop of the moon-gilded bay made her look like a mythical beauty, ethereal and unattainable.

  But she wasn’t unattainable. She’d made that pretty clear back on the dance floor before he’d fucked things up. Why had he done that anyway?

  The rapid thump of his heart gave the answer as he crossed the balcony tiles. Something about her made him feel almost imperiled. He was intimidated by sweet, whip-thin Lana Green.

  Crazy.

  Lifting a hand, Brody touched it to her shoulder. She stiffened beneath his palm and he curled his fingers over her skin. “I’m sorry I said that in there. It was rude.”

  There was a pause before she spoke and when she did her voice was half-missing. “It’s all right.”

  Brody’s stomach dropped when he realized she’d been crying. “Jesus, Lana, don’t cry. Not because of me.” Regret seared him. “You’re not dull or ordinary.”

  “You don’t have to say that. I know I made a fool of myself.” She lifted a shoulder. “But I thought the forward approach might be worth a try.”

  She made to move away, but he circled her wrist with his fingers, feeling the way her pulse jumped beneath his touch. Her eyes widened when he drew her toward him. He felt the soft imprint of her breasts against his chest and it made him as hard as it had out on the dance floor. Harder now, because there wasn’t such a critical need to mask his reaction.

  Reaching up, he sank his hands into the softness of her hair, awakening that spicy apple scent. “It was worth a try,” he said, and brought her mouth to his.

  She sighed against him and immediately her lips parted. A
relieved, hungry sound fell out of her and called to him, made his actions speed swiftly toward urgency. He settled her against the cool stucco of the wall and pressed into her. Concealed from the guests inside by a potted palm, Brody kissed her like there was no tomorrow, no good or bad choices. Making sure he did a more exhaustive job of it than he had last time, he nibbled at her lips, sucked gently on her tongue and barely held back from flat-out devouring her. He didn’t stop until he ran out of air and she lay boneless against the wall.

  The breath gasped into her in one long drag when he pulled away. She stared at him, her eyes wide with wonder, her lips plump and not as artfully painted as they had been. Her hair was mussed, a riotous cloud around her face. Moonlight did amazing things for her sex appeal.

  “Wow,” she said at last. “That was some kiss.”

  “Damn straight,” Brody agreed. “Better than fine.”

  She laughed softly. “Oh. Was your pride hurt?”

  “Doesn’t take much.”

  Her gaze drifted over him with such blatant appreciation that he sucked in a breath. “No way should your ego be fragile.”

  Like a bullet train gone off the rails, there was no stopping him. Brody swept her up in his arms again and reveled in her instant response. She kissed like a wild creature who lived for nothing but this, as natural and committed to the process as a bird is to flight. When he lifted a hand between them and settled it over the slight swell of one breast she didn’t flinch or hesitate. Arching into his touch, she breathed a word into his mouth that killed him, then brought him back to life.

  Yes.

  Releasing her mouth, Brody dropped his gaze to the place where he cupped her in his hand. The strap of her dress slipped down her arm, exposing the barest hint of pink lace. Pink. In his experience women usually wore black, as though it came as a package deal with the evening dress. But Lana wore pink and he was reminded once again that she was no ordinary woman. He really ought to tread carefully, because although he was by no means a monk, he also sensed that he’d never been anywhere quite like this with a woman before.

  He brushed his fingers lightly over the edge of her strapless bra. There was barely anything to it. He watched, his hunger growing ferocious, as her flesh quivered, expanding so the lace tautened over the pebbling tip of her breast.

  Suddenly the words tread carefully seemed like a foreign language. With little more than an encouraging tug, the lace dropped and Lana’s ripe, dusky nipple popped out. “Sweet Jesus. I’m headed for trouble.”

  He took that enticing nub between his thumb and forefinger and gently pinched. Lana gasped and curled away from the wall, into his hand. “Take me with you.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Nash?”

  The chirpy pep of the wedding coordinator’s voice had never grated on Brody’s nerves as much as at that moment. He turned slightly to face the woman wearing a red power suit and a smile, shielding Lana from sight as he did so. “Yeah?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan are preparing to cut the cake. We need everyone to gather inside.”

  It took him a moment to realize the Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan she referred to were Drew and Sidney, not Drew’s parents like he’d initially thought. One of these days he would have to get used to his best mate being a married man. “Right. We’ll be in shortly.”

  The woman disappeared with a satisfied nod, the glass door swinging closed with a thud that once again muffled the music filtering out from inside. Laughter drifted up from somewhere below them, a couple out getting some fresh air. They weren’t alone, yet he’d gone at Lana like they had been.

  Well, almost. If they’d had complete privacy he wouldn’t have stopped.

  Turning back to her he saw that she’d covered herself, that pale, hard-tipped mound of soft flesh now hidden from view. Damn shame. “I didn’t mean to go that far,” he said. “But I can’t say I’m sorry.”

  To his surprise when she met his eyes there was nothing but mischievous glee in hers. “Me neither.”

  As if he hadn’t already been hard enough. “I wasn’t serious inside when I said we could find an empty room. But it’s not the kind of thing I’d stop at on moral grounds.” He held her gaze. “Are you sure you want to get involved with a guy like that?”

  Her lips curled slowly. “Yes.”

  He expelled a long sigh. “You should go inside.”

  She took a couple of steps toward the door then stopped, turning back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

  Not yet, but I will be. “I need a minute.”

  It took her a moment to comprehend his meaning. When she did her eyes dipped to his crotch before immediately skittering away, as if she was ashamed of the fact she’d given him a hard-on he was having trouble getting rid of. Most women wouldn’t be, but Lana wasn’t most women.

  Yet she was, most definitely, a woman, one who apparently wanted him. Brody was not prone to throwing away opportunities like this one.

  He closed the distance between them and looked down into her face. “You know where I live?”

  She laughed a little. “Yes.”

  “Once this thing is over you might want to stop by. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  She smiled, unconfused about what that meant. “I’d like that.”

  Although his cock still strained against his fly, an irritant with only one satisfactory cure, he said, “If you change your mind, Lana, no harm done.”

  A touch of irony tempered her smile. “I won’t change my mind.”

  Brody watched her walk away, her strides assured and elegant. There were few things hotter than a woman who knew what she wanted. He was going to seriously enjoy giving Lana just that.

  A few minutes later the cool night air had finally worked its magic. Brody had himself more or less under control when he turned to see Drew stepping out onto the balcony. “So this is where you’re hiding.”

  “I’ve been enjoying the view.” He thought of Lana’s sweet little breast cupped in his palm and tried not to smile.

  “As soon as we’ve finished the obligatory stuff, we’re going to head off. Don’t even think you’re going to get out of saying goodbye.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Drew and Sidney planned to spend tonight at a nearby five-star hotel, bonking each other’s brains out most likely, before flying out tomorrow for a fortnight in Mauritius.

  “Was that Lana I saw you talking to out here?”

  All of a sudden Drew didn’t seem in such a big hurry to go back inside, and Brody took his lead, slowing his progress toward the door. “Yeah.”

  “She looks good, doesn’t she?”

  Brody tried for a nonchalant shrug. “Suppose. If you like the skinny type.”

  “She’s not that skinny and you’re not that fussy.”

  “Are you making a point here?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Hey, don’t tell Sidney this but Lana’s the best waitress I’ve got. Knows how to do everything at that place. If she could cook, she could run it.”

  “Maybe you should have put her in charge.”

  “I thought about it.” Drew grinned. “But I trust you.”

  A ribbon of warmth curled inside Brody, bringing humor along with it as a cloak. “Give us a kiss then.”

  “Shove it, Nash.” Drew laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “All I’m saying is, I’d hate for Lana to quit. Say, if something happened to upset her.”

  Brody recalled how he’d driven her to quiet tears not so long ago, the memory and its implication killing what was left of his libido. Disappointment ripped through him. How could he have forgotten he had responsibilities now? Two weeks of being a stand-up citizen, that was all Drew had asked of him. Surely he could at least try to do that.

  He thought of Lana’s wild kiss and the brave, arousing way she’d come on to him. His words sounded bitter. “I get your point.”

  “I figured you would.”

  *

  It was nearly midnight by the time Lana climbed aboard the Sunset.


  The bouquet had been tossed and through valiant effort Amy ensured she caught it. With smug satisfaction she took the flowers as well as Mick and his blue silk garter off the dance floor and neither of them were seen again. Courtney seemed inordinately irritated by the whole scenario, whether because she’d missed out on the flowers or Mick’s hitherto constant attention, Lana wasn’t sure. She drank far too much champagne and Lana avoided keeping pace with her, a decision she later congratulated herself for when she was as sober as a judge and Courtney had her head in the toilet.

  “All I want is a nice guy. Just one nice guy,” Courtney had wailed between bouts of retching. “Someone with a decent job and no Internet porn fetish. Is that too much to ask?”

  Lana refrained from pointing out that Mick was actually a pretty nice guy once you got to know him and he had a decent job. But she couldn’t swear either way on the Internet porn, so she kept her trap shut while she held back Courtney’s long brown hair and patted her shoulder soothingly.

  Shortly afterward, the crew from the Grill—sans Mick Jensen—called a maxi taxi and headed into town to continue the festivities at O’Ryan’s Pub. Dropping a sore and sorry Courtney off on the way, Lana joined the others for a drink but spent most of the time staring out the window that fronted onto the street. It gave a good view of the marina, only a few hundred meters away. When she could extricate herself from the group without being noticed, she slipped out of the pub and walked the short distance.

  Now she found herself on the deck of Brody’s yacht, her shoes in hand. Fiddling with the latch that led to the lower cabin, she eventually got it open and slipped down into the warm darkness.

  It took her eyes a moment to adjust. Then she managed to make out the dark paneling and navy blue upholstery. Moonlight streamed in a porthole, glancing off the stainless-steel galley and what she guessed was navigational equipment. In such a small space it wasn’t difficult to locate the cabin Brody slept in.

  The bed was neatly made, draped in a navy quilt. Indecision gripped Lana. Should she sit on the bed and wait? If so, would under or on top of the sheets be better? She was a virgin and had never been this close to a man’s bed before. She had no idea what to do.