With silent, feline grace, Eric stalked towards her. He braced a hand above her, against the craggy bark of the tree. He stroked a thumb down the side of her face, stopping to trace the outline of her lips, and she opened them for him without even thinking about it. His thumb darted into her mouth, and she nibbled at it playfully.
Eric’s nostrils flared as he caught his breath. He leaned his head down to her. His lips smothered hers, urgent and demanding, unrelenting. Amanda arched towards him, feeling the heat of him all up and down her body. His hands came down around her waist and held her tight against the hard evidence of his own arousal as the kiss continued. He tasted of the limoncello and the wine they’d had earlier, and Amanda thought she would be drunk with the taste of him.
Eric’s lips moved away from hers as he nuzzled her, nibbling at the side of her neck. His hand skimmed over her hip and down her thigh. He caught the hem of her skirt and slipped his hand under it. She should stop him, really she should. This was crazy and irresponsible and self-indulgent. But she’d made the choice for crazy when she followed him to this lonely place. It was probably too late to back out now.
His fingers stroked her bare thigh beneath the skirt. Amanda sighed. With his other hand, he turned her face up to his and crushed his lips against hers. His hand slithered between her legs in an intimate caress, and she was ready for him. So ready it was embarrassing. He rained a flurry of kisses down on her hair, her face, and her throat, as he continued to toy with her. Her legs wobbled in the three-inch heels, and she nearly collapsed, shaky with excitement and fear.
“I haven’t wanted anyone this much in a very long time.” Eric’s low whisper sent a shiver through her. His hand slipped from between her legs, and he moved to lower her to the ground.
They were so close now, so close. Their haste and urgency was unlike anything Amanda had ever experienced. The way he’d crushed her to him, the fire in his eyes when he looked at her—the intensity of his desire for her amazed her. She’d thought she wanted casual sex, but could anything that passed between them be casual? It felt like quite the opposite—like something earth-shattering that threatened to break into her life and disrupt every little piece of it. And it would, she realized with a start. Come the morning, everything about her would be different if she went through with this.
“Wait, wait.” She hated herself even as she spoke. Pressing a hand against his chest, she pushed, gently but firmly. “I’m sorry, Eric. I just can’t do this.”
FIVE
Eric saw her face change in an instant, saw her trying to fight her own inhibitions. She bit her lower lip, and her breath caught on a sigh as she shivered against him. When she spoke up, it came as no surprise. Indeed, in a strange way, he found himself relieved. More times than he could count, he’d played this game and won. Flirt with a shallow, empty-headed girl, spirit her off to some out-of-the-way spot and give her a quick tumble, then forget her the next day. Pure, meaningless sex. That’s what he’d been looking for tonight, but that wasn’t what he’d get with a girl like Amanda. Even with all the blood still rushing away from his brain and heading to points south, he understood there would be nothing meaningless, nothing at all shallow, about sex between the two of them.
Regarding her in the moonlight, he saw that her elegant updo was gone, her hair a tousled, sexy mess that made him want her all over again. She laid a hand on his arm.
“I don’t think you should touch me right now.” He swallowed hard. “The bad news hasn’t made it to every part of my body yet.”
She drew back her hand like she’d been burned. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a tease.”
Eric straightened. Forgetting the warning he’d given her, he laid his hand on her cheek. “Don’t think that of yourself. It’s always a woman’s right to change her mind. Even in this age of birth control, you still have far more at stake than I do. I suppose you know that better than most people, because of your parents.”
She stared down at the ground, as though he was scolding her, and he cursed himself for embarrassing her. Although why that should matter to him, he couldn’t say. He did have every right to be furious, or at least damned aggravated with her. Yet instead, a ridiculous tenderness came over him whenever he looked at her. “Look here,” he said. “You tried something new. It wasn’t to your liking. Rather how I felt when I tried sushi.”
Amanda managed a weak laugh.
“There may have been a time when I’d have been annoyed with you, but this has been an educational year for me in all regards. This is probably for the best. Stacey says there are three kinds of women, you know.”
Amanda eyes narrowed. “She says that, does she?”
“Those who do, those who don’t—and those who do but then regret it horribly next morning. You would have been in the last category. I’ve suspected it all night, but I got a bit carried away by the sight of you in that dress.”
“I suppose I should thank Stacey for helping you to understand women so well.”
Eric paced away from her and took several quick, deep breaths. No luck. Parts of him were still stiff with shock, so to speak. Amanda stepped away from the tree she’d been leaning against, brushing off her dress.
How had he dared?
The half-formed thought startled him when it popped into his head, but he knew it for truth. She was engrossed in picking pine needles out of her moonlit hair, barely aware of him beside her. Every move she made was so simple and fluid, it brought a lump to his throat. He should have done better by her, should have spent weeks wining and dining her. And when he bedded her, it should have been in a real bed, with rose-scented sheets and buckets of champagne to toast her magnificent eyes.
“I guess we should head back.” Amanda eyed him with a look of patient concern.
How long had he been staring at her? The blood must not have found its way back to his brain yet. What he needed was a bracing shower. Possibly even two. Yet he didn’t want to say good-bye to her, which made no sense. Good Lord, if he didn’t get himself under control as soon as possible, he’d be sending her flowers or doing something even more overwrought—writing love poetry.
Amanda gave him a timid wave and backed away, heading down the slope they’d climbed.
“Hang on!” he called, following her. He caught her elbow, then snatched his hand back when she stared at it in amazement. “I promised I’d show you the Arch. Why don’t we do that? We’re almost there.”
Amanda eyed him with comical skepticism.
He raised his hands like a man surrendering, then stuffed them in his pockets. “Just as a friend. I hate for us to part like this. My word of honor, I’m not trying anything with you again.”
She blinked a few times but said nothing.
“I won’t try anything tonight, at any rate. I don’t know if my body could handle another round. But a walk might do me good.”
When she nodded her agreement, he was thrilled and disgusted, marveling that he, Eric Greyford, had practically begged a woman to stay with him. He should definitely call that supermodel tomorrow. She’d be able to put out this fire.
They walked beside one another, both silent and preoccupied. After a short stroll through the narrow thicket of pine trees, they came into a wide clearing on a high plateau. To Amanda, the Natural Arch looked like the remnant of some ancient portal to a fairy castle.
“What is it? Or what did it used to be?” she asked.
“It used to be a grotto.” The rich depth of Eric’s baritone gave her a chill and made her knees shake. Even when he’d started talking about Stacey Dakota, his voice had turned her on. Lucky Stacey, to hear that voice every day, possibly for the rest of her life.
“The elements eroded the stone,” Eric continued. “And now all that’s left is the arch. A doorway to nothing.”
Amanda stepped into the archway. “Doesn’t it look like you could walk through it and disappear into another universe?”
Eric’s back stiffened, and he reached a hand out
to her. She backed up another step, afraid to have all those urges come rushing at her again. She wouldn’t be able to refuse him a second time.
He drew his hand back. “You might not disappear into another universe, but you could go right over the edge of the cliff.”
Amanda turned and looked off to the side. About a half-meter in front of her, the uneven terrain came to an abrupt stop. She turned fully and looked out over the Tyrrhenian Sea. Moonglow shone down on the water, and the dark outline of the Italian mainland loomed in the distance. She’d always been comfortable in high places, the schoolgirl who frightened her friends by getting too close to the edge on their annual field trips to the Grand Canyon. Now she stepped a few inches closer to the land’s end, wanting to look over at the rocky outcroppings below. Like lightning, Eric was upon her, yanking her back through the archway and pulling her against him.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I just wanted to look down at the water!” Amanda’s voice shook. Anger warred with excitement at being in his arms again. There’d still been a good foot of ground between her and the edge, so he couldn’t truly believe she was in real danger. It had to be another attempt to get close to her, so he could add another name to his list of conquests.
She squirmed in his arms and was taken aback at what she saw when she turned to face him. His eyes were wide and wild with—fear?
“Were you afraid?”
His eyes narrowed to stern, angry slits, and he released her in silence.
She stepped away from the Arch and moved in the direction of the path, not wanting to panic him again.
“I wasn’t thinking,” she said gently. “Your brother died so suddenly, it must make you fearful about so many things now.”
“My brother has nothing to do with this. It’s dark, it’s late, and you’ve had a great deal to drink. And you’re wearing those maddening shoes. You could catch a heel on a rock and lose your balance.”
A great deal to drink? The nerve of him.
“Well, I didn’t. Because I have a good sense of balance, and I always have, Eric. People who don’t would never get that close to the edge in the first place. I think you were afraid I’d kill myself because you think everybody’s going to die too soon, yourself included. Am I right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Clenching and unclenching his fists, Eric circled her like a hungry panther.
Amanda could have done some pacing and circling of her own right about now. Her insides were still a roiling mass of sexual frustration and anger and utter confusion. Plus, Eric’s mention of Stacey had left her seething inside.
“You were known for being an outdoorsy adventurer before you took charge of your dad’s company. I wouldn’t expect you to balk at someone standing near the edge of a hill. Either you’re trying to put the make on me again, or there’s something deeper upsetting you. Or does Stacey like it when you play these mind games with her? Because I don’t.”
Eric whirled at her, his eyes flashing silver in the moonlight. “First of all, I don’t see how Stacey comes into this discussion, or my brother. You bloody Yanks are all such a bunch of amateur psychoanalysts. Second, that is much more than a hill and you know it. And third, the key words are, ‘before I took charge.’ My father and brother taught me that running a business takes control and caution, not going off on crazy impulses. But I suppose crazy impulses are your trademark, what with your unique mode of introducing yourself to me and your recent performance over there in the pine trees.”
That was unfair. She’d struggled to make that decision, and he’d seemed so kind and understanding in the wake of it.
“No wonder your company is so threatened, Eric,” she sniped.
“I beg your pardon?” His hands curled into fists again.
“Honestly, Eric, Tate Global didn’t become this great big behemoth because my fa—. It didn’t become so huge because my boss was exceedingly cautious. He took risks, with the business and with people. If anybody or anything held him back, he just kicked it over the side of the boat! He’s not a cautious man by nature, and I don’t think you are either. But trying to become one appears to be making you miserable. I’m going back to my hotel now.”
Eric glared at her with wide-eyed amazement. Amanda doubted Stacey or anyone in his stable of beauties spoke to him in this way. Well, Stacey Dakota was welcome to this temperamental snob. Amanda stalked away from him, then halted at the path into the pine trees.
“Hey,” she called. “It’s not like you’re cautious with women, though, is it? Takes a pretty bold guy to ask someone for a date when he catches her breaking into his room. Maybe you should try treating your business the way you treat women—take what you can get from it and then toss it aside for a new one.”
She turned and continued on her way. Behind her, a swift rustling sound told her that Eric had followed. He caught her by the arm and spun her to face him. “It’s not my business making me crazy, woman. It’s you.”
His mouth came down on hers, claiming her with hungry authority. His tongue forced its way between her lips, but she took him into her willingly. Oh, the taste and smell of him again. It broke her heart. He could be so handsome and gentle and funny, and yet he was such a manipulative egotist. To have him so close and know she meant nothing to him at all, just another quickie in the woods to boast about with his rich playboy buddies. And after he’d told her he was relieved by her rejection! He only kissed her now because he was a control freak who couldn’t take no for an answer.
She’d resolutely kept her hands at her sides throughout the kiss, but now she raised them, torn between pulling him closer and shoving him away.
Instead, he released her first. “Bloody hell. I don’t know what came over me.” He ran his hands through his hair and backed away. “I don’t force myself on women. You should go.”
He turned his back on her and strode towards the cliff’s edge, head down and hands jammed into his pockets.
***
Amanda tossed and turned on her bed at the Loreley. So much for getting the big story. Not to mention missing out on an evening of uninhibited passion. She grimaced at the ceiling. Only one thing would’ve led to a good night’s sleep for her, and she’d rejected that offer not once, but twice. No doubt, he and Stacey were together right now. A vivid image of the two of them twined together sent her pulse and temperature skyrocketing. She leapt up and boosted the room’s air-conditioning another notch. She’d been doing that all night, as if cool air would ease the oppressive heat burning deep in her belly.
Going back over to the bed, Amanda picked up the tableside clock. It read two a.m., which meant it was about eight back in New York. Dan might be in her office, since she put in a lot of late hours. Amanda decided there was no time like the present to burn all her bridges, so she picked up her cell phone and dialed.
“Hey, sweetie!” Dan’s gravelly voice burst through the phone’s tiny speaker.
“Dan, I can’t do this anymore,” Amanda declared. “I want to resign.”
“Now, sweetie. Did Greyford back out of the interview?”
“You could say that.”
“And another prince turns out to be a frog.” Dan made a dismissive razzing sound with her lips.
“Aren’t they all?” Amanda flopped back down onto the bed.
“Pretty much. Sounds like you’re learning.”
“The hard way.” Boy, had it been the hard way.
“I didn’t hold out much hope, sweetie. He’s the competition, after all. So what are you saying about quitting?”
Amanda took a deep breath and launched into her answer. She had no affinity for celebrity news, she was a waste of office space at Fame, and it would be for the good of all concerned.
“And what are you going to do next, eh?”
Amanda mumbled out the same reply she’d given Eric about teaching or going back to the Lake Havasu Star.
“That old rag?” Dan barked at her. “Sweet
ie, your dad will be disappointed. He wants to know that you’re a go-getter. Small town newspapers are a dying breed, and I doubt he’d be willing to move you to one of his other magazines if you don’t try harder here. You know him, family ties mean nothing if you don’t pull your weight.”
“You know, that’s just it, Dan—I don’t know him. I thought I might get to know him if I took a job with one of his magazines in New York, but it hasn’t worked out that way. Either he’s out of town when I’m there, or I’m out of town on assignment when he’s there. And I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
Amanda sat up again and gazed out her window at the nearby lights from the hotel’s terrace bar. Dan’s cheerful, tobacco-roughened voice had sparked a wave of homesickness. Home would always be Arizona, but right now, even New York seemed more welcoming than Capri.
“I want to be done and come home.”
A sour note came into Dan’s voice. “You can’t come home. You are on this staff, and you’ll stay on it until I receive a written resignation. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give at least two weeks notice. Writing for Fame is a dream job for a lot of young reporters, ones who aren’t related to the publisher.”
Amanda bristled. “I never asked for special treatment!”
“No, that’s true.” Dan’s tone softened. “Let me put it this way, Amanda. Whether or not you like the job is immaterial right now. You need to act like a professional, and your daddy issues are keeping you from doing that. Now, you’re in Capri on this magazine’s dime, and you will have to stay there until this festival is over. I have a lot of events going on, and the staff is spread pretty thin. I’m not bringing you home until Stacey Dakota closes down the show in a week and a half. Concentrate on doing some behind the scenes interviews with people and little news briefs on which celebs have arrived, who they’re dating, what they’re wearing. You can do that much.”
Love Capri Style Page 7