Maggie wiped her face and laughed. “I think I'm going to step out of the splash zone. Is that okay?” She looked at Vane.
He felt instantly guilty. Here he'd declared this their day off and yet Maggie was still on the clock. She wasn't doing this out of the goodness of her heart; she was his nanny, his employee. And he hadn't given her an actual day off in way too long. “Of course. Go relax. We're doing fine.”
“My friend texted me this morning. Mind if I see what's up?”
Vane realized he'd never once seen her use her phone. Not around Annabelle and certainly never around him. “Of course. Go right ahead.”
She smiled her thanks and pulled her phone from her bag.
“Look, Uncle Vane! I did it!” Annabelle squeezed her eyes shut and plunged her face into the water, sending up an eruption of bubbles.
“You did! Great job!” He gave her a high-five and they moved on to floating on her back. With Annabelle suspended safely in his arms, he allowed himself another quick glance at the beach.
Maggie paced the edge of the surf, idling turning in circles and dipping her toes in the water with her phone pressed against her ear. Vane couldn't see her face from this far away, but the lines of her body troubled him. She curved her body like she was attempting to comfort an invisible person.
“I'm going to blow bubbles again,” Annabelle announced once he'd stood her up again. “Are you watching?”
“I am totally watching.”
Annabelle plunged her face into the water again, but she'd mistimed her breath. She inhaled just as her nose went in. “Augh!' she cried as she emerged, sputtering.
Annabelle looked so offended that the ocean would dare mistreat her this way that Vane had to hide his amusement behind his hand. “That must burn pretty bad, huh?”
“Ugh, it tastes like butt. I'm done.” Annabelle marched back up to the beach and wrapped herself in her towel with a huff. She plopped down on the blanket, looking miserable.
“Hey, don't give up. We can take a break if you want, but you're doing really well. If you keep at it, I bet you'll be swimming by the end of this week.”
Annabelle gave him a baleful side-eye. “Can I build a drip castle? I don't want to swim.”
“A drip castle? I don't know what that is.” He knelt in the sand. “It's your turn to teach me something.”
Annabelle was deep into her explanation of sand-to-water ratios for proper drip consistency when Maggie returned. She tucked her phone back into her bag and then stared off into the distance, looking troubled.
“Everything okay?” Vane asked, even though it clearly wasn't.
The corner of Maggie's mouth kicked up in a guilty smile. “My best friend makes some...” She eyed Annabelle and chose her words carefully. “She has always had a problem with…”
Vane picked up her meaning immediately. “Doing her taxes?” he supplied.
Maggie's eyes glinted. “Uh, yeah.” She plopped down on the blanket. “She's been seeing her, uh, accountant for a while now, but she can't get him to—”
“Sign a contract?”
Maggie looked even more amused. “How did you know?”
“I've met a few accountants like that.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Annabelle wanted to know.
“Boring grown-up stuff,” Vane answered quickly. He grinned at Maggie. “Does she want him to sign a contract?”
“She thinks she doesn't. She always said she, uh, likes to keep her options open. You know. In case someone”—she eyed Annabelle again—”who is better at doing her taxes comes along. But this accountant is the best one for her, uh, tax bracket.”
“Are you sure? I mean, if he won't sign a contract, it doesn't sound like he values her as a client.”
“This is so boring,” Annabelle complained.
“Most grown-up things are,” Maggie said. Vane hid his laugh again.
“That's what I was trying to tell her. She deserves to have an accountant who will take care of all of her, uh, write-offs. Not just the fun business expenses.”
“She doesn't owe him her business just because she's been his client for, how long?”
“Two years.” Maggie smiled ruefully. “Cumulatively. Over the span of the last five years.”
“If I were her, I would let my accountant know that a business relationship is a two-way street. And communication is key. Sometimes accountants are oblivious to their clients' needs. They need to have expectations laid out clearly. If they're left to guess, they might not even realize they're not fulfilling their contractual obligations.”
“Seriously. So boring,” Annabelle sighed with an epic eyeroll.
Maggie laughed. “Okay, kiddo, we're done.” She gave Vane a look of such warmth that he felt like he needed to jump back into the water. “Thanks for the advice. You, uh, know a lot about accounting.”
He grinned back. “I hope so.”
He didn't.
But the longer he spent with Maggie, the more he wanted to.
10
Their lives had settled into a pattern. Vane worked during the day while Maggie and Annabelle played together, then the three of them came together for dinner. On nice nights, they'd go for a walk along the beach. On rainy nights they'd see what board games they could unearth from the store they'd found in the attic. So far they'd had a bitter game of Monopoly and a hilarious game of Pictionary. None of them could decipher the rules of Risk, so they made up their own.
Vane had forgotten how much fun games could be. They let him see a side of Maggie, the kind, generous side that deliberately lost games rather than make anyone feel bad, that made him even more tender towards her than before. And they let him get to know Annabelle better, too. She had Colby's competitive streak, a discovery that had made him ache the night she won Monopoly by ruthlessly jacking up rents. But she was empathetic in a way Colby hadn't been. She could read Vane's face, and sometimes dropped amazingly perceptive insights that made his heart stop. It was both amazing and heartbreaking to realize that he would have never had the privilege of getting to know her so well if Colby hadn't died so young. If her father were still around, Vane would most likely only see her at various holidays. He would only know her as a passing blur who gave him grudging hugs hello. The idea of loving her in a hands-off way, rather than in the fierce, deep way he'd grown to love her now, made him so sad. The idea that she had to lose so much for him to gain her was so sad. But he was also so very grateful.
Maybe that was what people meant when they said something was bittersweet.
The routine seemed to be helping Annabelle, as well. She hadn't had a night terror in a full week. But just to be certain, Vane always brought the baby monitor with him whenever he and Maggie went out to the beach at night.
“Right here, listen,” he said. He took one step forward in the sand, and the hiss of the monitor cut out.
“So this is the limit of its range over here,” Maggie laughed. “We were able to get halfway around the south side of the island last night, but the northern side is a dead zone?”
“Seems that way.” He stepped back and the monitor hissed back on. He grinned and opened his arms. “Come here.”
She took a step forward, and that was all the invitation he needed. With a groan, Vane crushed her to his chest and slammed his mouth against hers. All day long he'd been thinking of this. All day long he'd been angling for ways to get close to her body, to bury his face in the soft space where her neck met her shoulder and inhale the sweet scent that always clung to her skin. All day long he'd only been able to catch moments with her, but now she was all his again. His to savor. His to devour.
“Lie down,” he ordered as he leaned her back. She sank into the soft sand. Her loose-fitting dress bunched at her thighs, and for a moment all he wanted to do was savor how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. The soft, silvery light made her gold hair seem to glow from within as it spilled across her shoulders.
But he'd been waiting all day
for this, and patience had never been his strong suit. He dropped to his knees and lifted her legs, encouraging her to rest them on his shoulders. “We're miles away from the nearest house,” he told her. She went wide eyed, and he grinned. “What, you think you know what I plan on doing to you?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“Tell me.” Hearing Maggie say filthy things had quickly become an obsession. There was something about her perfect combination of innocence and sexiness that drove him mad. “Tell me exactly what you think I'm about to do.” He let his hand wander up the smooth skin of her thigh and watched her face.
She snagged her bottom lip between her teeth. “Based on my experience of the past few nights, you're going to put your mouth on me.”
“And then what will happen?” He stroked higher, toying with the elastic of her panties before hooking his fingers around the waistband and tugging them down.
She gasped. “I think,” she groaned once he'd exposed her silky center to the cool air, “you're probably going to make me come.”
“How many times?” he urged, lazily tracing a line up her center and brushing against her nub as if by accident.
She stiffened immediately.
“You're already wet for me,” he observed. “So go on. Take a guess. How many times do you think you're going to come tonight?”
“Three?” she gasped when he started using his thumb.
“On my face? Sure. Let's go with three this way, and then we'll start over once I'm fucking you.”
“I can't believe,” she gasped, her voice tightening as his fingers moved faster, “there was ever a time I thought you were too buttoned-up. You're an animal.”
“Only for you, gorgeous,” he promised as he shifted her higher and opened her legs wider. “Only for you.”
He buried his face between her thighs. That first slow, lingering stroke of his tongue was all for him. He let her taste fill his mouth, groaning his appreciation because he knew how much she loved it when he was filthy, too.
“Why do you taste so good?” he demanded, his voice muffled against her silky flesh. “Sweet as candy.”
Her reply was a high, keening cry that told him she was already close. He knew all her cries now, the impatient, kittenish whimpers that urged him to give her more, the harsh, hoarse cries when she fell apart. And these, his favorite. The high, animal noises that almost sounded like a seagull's call when she was seconds away from shattering.
He sealed his mouth against her and gave a gentle suck before sliding his tongue over her swollen nub. She arched right up off the ground with a cry that echoed off the waves, then she collapsed back onto the sand in a boneless heap. Her chest heaved as she stared up at him in wonder.
He grinned. “One,” he counted.
“I might die,” she complained. “You'll be a murderer.”
“No judge on earth would convict me.”
Her cheeky grin was his undoing. “I'm going to have to fight back.” She grabbed his waistband and before he could think, she'd plunged her hand inside and gripped his length, then smiled even wider. “Ah, a weakness.”
“Weakness? Thanks a lot—that's just what a guy likes to hear.” She tugged gently, and he almost collapsed. “Okay, fair enough,” he said through clenched teeth and tried to hide his triumph. “I yield, I yield.”
“It's self defense,” she laughed, pushing him flat on his back on the sand. She lifted her dress to straddle him.
He saw his opening and pounced. Gripping her full ass, he yanked her forward. She yelped as she lost her balance.
And yelped again when he gripped her thighs.
Maggie on her back in the sand had been bliss. But Maggie like this, straddling his face and riding his tongue like a cowgirl at a rodeo was a thousand times better. He held her in place as she bucked and arched, grinding herself against him. “Holy shit, Vane. Jesus. Vane!”
Her voice rose as he fucked her mercilessly with his tongue, and her taste filled his mouth. He groaned against her, thrusting his hips in time with his licks. He was so close to the brink already, and she had driven him there. “Come for me.” He wasn't even sure his voice was audible against her skin, but she obeyed him almost instantly.
With a hoarse, sharp cry, she clamped her thighs together and fell forward. Vane held her in place as she arched her back like a cat. “Vane!” she cried.
He flipped her onto her back as she thrashed. Her eyes flew open as he thrust himself deep inside her in one powerful stroke. “You're still coming,” he groaned. “Shit, Maggie, I can feel you coming.”
“Vane.” She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him tight. “Jesus.”
“I still—” He was close to frantic with need but forced himself to take his time. Savor her in slow, steady strokes because it would be at least twenty-four hours before he could have her again. “I'm still going to make you come with my tongue one more time. I got carried away. Sorry.”
“Fucking hell, you're forgiven. Now fuck me, please.”
The perfect combination of innocent and sexy. She drove him crazy. He braced himself on his elbows above her and did exactly what she asked. He fucked her. No matter how hard or rough he was, she seemed to want more. She raked her nails down his back as he thrust faster and faster. White-hot lightning surged up his spine until it exploded behind his eyes and everything went black. He came with a roar just as Maggie shrieked. Burying his face in her neck, he pumped the last throes of his relief as she came, letting her use him to get off one last time, because damn. She was just... perfect.
* * *
“Are you sure?” Vane asked Al one more time.
The contractor rolled his eyes. “Look, thanks for breakfast and everything, pretty boy. But the day I can't handle a meeting with the city inspector is the day I hang up my hard hat and finally move to Palm Springs like the missus wants.” Al rolled his eyes again and glanced at Maggie as she buttered Annabelle's toast. “You've got more important things to do.”
Vane opened his mouth to protest. And then closed it with a snap. No doubt, in his own gruff, sarcastic way, Al was doing him a favor by offering to handle this meeting. And while he would have insisted on being there for something as important as a permit review in the past, right now, with Maggie floating around the breakfast table like some kind of angel of the dawn, he really couldn't think of anything more important than being with her.
“You're right, I have way more important things to do,” he joked to Al as he stood up. “I'm a busy, important man, after all.”
Al gave him a good-natured salute with his middle finger—checking that Annabelle was not paying attention first—and then downed the rest of his coffee. “Do me a favor and get the hell out of my way. Go clear onto the other end of the island if you can. Last thing I need is a fancy suit butting into my business.”
He set his mug down, wiped his face, and then left the kitchen without saying goodbye.
“Well then,” Maggie said, sounding half amused, half-scandalized.
“I think we've been summarily dismissed,” Vane agreed. “We'd better do what he says.”
“What are we doing?” Annabelle asked. She looked up at Vane with naked interest. Crumbs clung to the corner of her mouth. Her hair was still in a snarl from her pillow, and she had the bright-eyed look of a kid about to set off on an adventure.
His heart swelled just to look at her, and he had a strong impulse to catch this moment and preserve it in amber. Freeze her forever, just like this.
And there was only one way he knew to do that.
“How about,” he said slowly, “we take some pictures?”
“Yay!” Annabelle jumped from her chair. “I'll dress pretty!” She dashed off.
Maggie looked at him in confusion. “You're a photographer?”
“Hardly. I'm an amateur with fancy enough equipment that I can fake it pretty well.”
“Why didn't I know this?”
“I bet there's a lot you don't know about me.” He
took advantage of Annabelle's absence to slide his arm around Maggie's waist and pull her close. “But if you stick around, you'll find out all my secrets.”
Her smile faltered. Vane dropped his hand as his neck heated. “I'm just kidding,” he tried to recover. “I know you're leaving soon.”
“Yeah,” she said, and turned to busy herself with the breakfast dishes.
11
Maggie dragged her toes across the sand. Ahead of her, Annabelle splashed dramatically in the water, posing for all she was worth.
“Stop looking at the camera!” Vane laughed for the millionth time. “These are supposed to be candids, and you're posing!”
“I'm not posing!” Annabelle protested before posing again.
Vane looked over his shoulder, laughing. But his smile fell when he caught Maggie's eye. “What are you doing way back there?” he asked. “Come here. Front and center. I want to see you.”
“Come on!” Annabelle yelled.
For the girl's sake, Maggie allowed herself to be drawn into the game. She tried to push aside the flare of fear that Vane's offhand comment in the kitchen had ignited in her and joined in with Annabelle's calculated splashing. With Vane's encouragement, she found herself being able to push away her mother's voice in her head exhorting her to, “Keep moving. Never grow moss,” and enjoy the moment. Vane moved in closer and closer, the shutter on his fancy camera clicking like he was a paparazzo on the red carpet. Before long, he glanced down at his bag.
“I need a new SD card,” he sighed. “Just when I was starting to warm up.”
“You've taken at least a thousand pictures already.”
“Like I said. I'm starting to warm up.” He grinned at her, and she felt more of her apprehension melt away. “It must be close to lunch time anyway. Let's go eat, and I'll download these.”
They gathered their strewn belongings and headed back up to the house, only to be met with a stone-faced Al.
“First thing I want to say is it's on me,” the contractor announced. “And it'll be done on my dime, Vane.”
McClellan Billionaires: The Complete Series Page 27