by Gina Wilkins
It had been all he could do to pull back last night To keep himself from sweeping her into his arms and carrying her inside her cabin and straight to bed. Only the knowledge that she hadn’t been ready, that it was much too soon, that he would ruin everything if he gave in to the impulse, had given him the strength to turn and walk away, before the quick flare of panic he’d seen in her eyes prompted her to cancel their plans for today.
She seemed to be relaxing a bit with him now. They’d discovered a mutual passion for old movies— particularly musicals—and that had given Savannah renewed confidence with him.
He could listen to her talk all day, he thought, finding himself gazing across the table at her again. He had no idea what he’d eaten, but he knew that Savannah liked Cary Grant better than Clark Gable, that she had wanted to grow up to be Leslie Caron, that she would happily watch any movie that starred Gene Kelly or Bing Crosby, and that she preferred old comedies and musicals to the tearjerkers typical of the Bette Davis and Joan Crawford era.
“The sillier the premise, the more I seem to like it,” she confessed wryly. “I’m a movie critic’s nightmare.”
“Maybe,” he agreed with a chuckle. “But you’re a movie producer’s dream. Have you checked the premises of the big blockbusters this summer? We aren’t talking rocket science.”
“If I wanted rocket science, I would read a science journal. I watch movies for fun and escapism, usually, though I can appreciate a truly serious film when I’m in the mood for one.”
“So,” he asked a bit too casually, “do you like adventure films? You know, flying bullets and two-fisted heroes?”
What Kit really wanted to know was whether Savannah was really unaware of who he was, what he did for a living. She seemed to have no idea that he was Christopher Pace, award-winning novelist and screenwriter. He’d suspected last night that she didn’t have a clue about his identity, and he’d found that refreshing, especially after the hectic pace of the past couple of years. It was nice to be with someone who didn’t seem to want anything from him, who seemed more interested in what he had to say than in who he knew or how much money he made.
It was nice to be with Savannah.
“I like them sometimes,” she replied, bringing his attention back to their conversation. “As long as they don’t get too blatantly gory. And especially if the two-fisted hero falls for an equally dashing heroine during the escapade. But I tend to watch more of the old movies on TV than the newer releases. I always seem to be too busy to get to a theater, but I often have the television set on while I do other things in the evenings.”
“What do you do?” he asked, wondering why she stayed so busy. He’d already pegged her as a successful, professional woman. He assumed she was taking a solitary vacation for the same reason he was—because she’d needed a quiet break to ward off total exhaustion.
“I make a living,” she answered with a shrug. “But I don’t want to think about work right now.”
“Neither do I,” he seconded immediately, a little relieved.
There was plenty of time to talk about real life, he thought in satisfaction. For now, he was simply enjoying being with her.
SAVANNAH FOUND Kit’s total attention to her both flattering and unnerving. Every time she glanced up from her meal, she found him looking at her. He listened closely to every word she said, making her feel that her words were interesting, important.
A striking redhead in a microscopic bikini passed by just on the other side of the glass wall, and Kit didn’t even seem to notice, though every other male head in the vicinity swiveled to follow her. Savannah couldn’t help remembering the way Vince had always watched every other girl around, making her feel slighted, unimportant. Other men she’d dated had behaved the same way. But not Kit.
No man had ever made Savannah feel so special. She found herself falling a little harder for him each moment they were together, but her reckless side insisted it was okay. Last night, after Kit had gone, she’d decided she could handle this…as long as she kept reminding herself that it wouldn’t last. She could enjoy being with Kit, even fall a little in love with him—as long as she didn’t let herself start to believe in the fantasy.
This vacation would be a memory she could treasure, that she could pull out and savor when she found herself alone and lonely, nights in the future, she promised herself. She wouldn’t lament the inevitable ending, but would rejoice, instead, that she’d had this experience just once before she settled comfortably into her thirties, directing all her energy into the hairraising task of raising two active teenagers.
I deserve this, she thought with just a touch of the old defiance. After thirteen years of being cautious and dependable and utterly predictable, she deserved this time just for herself. A chance to feel young again, and pretty, and desirable, and daring.
All the things she felt when Kit smiled at her.
AFTER BREAKFAST, as they stepped outside the restaurant, Savannah turned her face upward and closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the sun and fresh air like a tropical plant that had been confined indoors all winter.
She opened her eyes to find Kit standing close, looking at her again. She smiled.
“It’s so beautiful here.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he agreed without taking his gaze from her face.
She felt a blush stain her cheeks.
Kit reached out to take her hand. “Walk with me.”
Even as Savannah wound her fingers with his and fell into step beside him, she wondered if anyone ever turned this man down. He had a way of making requests that didn’t leave a lot of room for discussion.
Savannah had been very careful to avoid arrogant and overbearing men since Vince Hankins. She wondered if those tendencies didn’t lurk behind Kit’s charming, attractive exterior. It occurred to her that even in fiction, gentlemen pirates could be ruthless when crossed, relentless when in pursuit of something they wanted.
But then she shook those nervous, fanciful thoughts away, telling herself she was being ridiculous.
“Where are we going?” she asked, as Kit led her around the main compound and along a flower-lined path that led upward toward the high center of the island.
He smiled down at her. “Does it matter?”
When he looked at her like that, she would willingly follow him anywhere, she realized dazedly. “No. It doesn’t matter.”
His smile deepened. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and matched his steps to hers on the well-worn path. She couldn’t resist spreading her fingers over his bare arm, testing the muscles beneath his skin, feeling the brush of hair against her palm. She couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to run her hand over all his skin, or wondering if his chest was sleek or hairy.
How could she care where he led her as long as they were walking this closely together? She lifted her eyes to his face, and found he was watching her again. She could almost imagine that he was reading her thoughts.
He seemed to know where he was going, so she paid little attention to the twists and turns the path took. She did notice, however, when they reached a low chain across the path, and a sign that clearly said Do Not Enter—in several languages.
Kit stepped over the chain and held his hand out to Savannah, silently inviting her to follow him.
She lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t read English? Or French, or Spanish, or—”
“I know what the sign says,” he assured her. “In all the languages. Come on. I want to show you something.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry about it. The owner is a friend of mine. I’ve been up here before.”
He laughed softly at her skeptical expression. “You don’t believe me?” At her sheepish shrug, he added, “Tell you what. If we get into trouble, I’ll nobly take the blame. I’ll claim that I kidnapped you and forced you up this path under threat of dire consequences.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “What dire consequences?”<
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“A fate worse than death,” he assured her. “You can tell them I threatened to ravish you.”
Savannah’s cheeks burned. Being ravished by Kit didn’t seem like such a terrible fate, at all.
She cleared her throat. “You’re sure this is okay with the owner?”
He nodded, his hand still extended to her. “Trust me.”
She seemed to have no choice. She placed her hand in his in a gesture that was becoming intriguingly familiar.
This path, though clearly marked, was obviously not as well-traveled as the public walkways. Flowers and vines crowded the edges, and more than once Kit had to move a heavy palm frond out of the way so that Savannah could slip beneath it. The ground climbed rather sharply under their feet, and she was grateful for Kit’s steadying hand.
Just where was he taking her?
At last they slipped through another curtain of greenery and Savannah’s breath caught sharply in her throat.
“Kit! This is spectacular.”
He smiled smugly and stood to one side so that she could take full advantage of the breathtaking view from the edge of the bluff at which the private path ended.
This was probably the highest point on the island, Savannah realized in wonder, gazing at the exquisite scenery spread out below them. They could almost see the entire resort from here—the neat little cottages, the two waterfall-accented swimming pools, the tennis courts and stables, the beach with its colorful splattering of umbrellas and convenient drink stands.
Tiny white Jeeps that looked like toys from where they stood darted around the resort, carrying guests to the shuttle launches to the larger shopping-and-casino islands nearby, transporting employees from the main resort to the separate staff village that Savannah knew lay at the far end of the island. And at the horizon, endless blue water melded into endless blue sky, effectively creating the illusion that no world existed beyond this one.
“No wonder the owner wants to keep this spot for himself,” she murmured. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”
“Neither have I.”
Kit’s voice was gruff. Deep. And very, very close.
She turned to find him standing only inches away from her, his gaze devouring her face.
She shivered and twisted her fingers in front of her. She tried to smile. “You’re always staring at me,” she accused, trying to make light of it. He didn’t return the smile. Instead, he answered her with her own words. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”
She almost moaned. How could she possibly be sensible when he said things like that?
She couldn’t
She didn’t try to resist when he reached for her. He moved slowly, as though making an effort not to startie her, but she could have assured him there was no need.
She wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe she should have been afraid—or at least wary of the feelings he aroused in her—but she wasn’t.
Looking up into his dark eyes, she saw herself reflected there, saw the wonder and curiosity on her own face. She lifted a hand to his smooth-shaven cheek, thinking again that he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He had the dark, polished, cleanly chiseled look that heroes had in the old movies, the kind of face the cameras loved, and yet he seemed so real, so touchable.
Kit stood very still, letting her study him, explore his face with the tips of her fingers. He seemed to be holding his breath, as if his patience and restraint were hard-won. She felt the faintest quiver go through him when she trailed her hand down his throat and across his broad chest. That involuntary reaction on his part gave her the courage to move closer and lift her mouth invitingly toward his.
Kit didn’t waste any time taking her up on her silent offer. His mouth came down on hers with a force that rocked her back on her heels. Savannah locked her arms around his neck for support, bringing her into full contact with his long, hard body, her breasts flattened against his chest, her bare legs tangled with his. His hands slid down her back, pressing, shaping, holding her close.
He wanted her.
The evidence was unmistakable. The sensation unbelievable. Heady. Electrifying. More intoxicating than the fine champagne they’d shared the night before.
He wanted her with a grown man’s passion, with an honesty and an intensity that she found almost irresistible. He was doing wonders for her feminine ego, which had taken so many hits during the past years, and she was immeasurably grateful to him for giving her back something she’d thought irrevocably lost. A sense of her own desirability and her own worth, apart from her family and her commitments.
He was giving her back herself. And even if she didn’t really know him, she couldn’t helping loving him for it. At least a little, she thought, tilting her head to allow him to deepen the kiss.
His tongue thrust eagerly between her lips and swept the inside of her mouth with a thoroughness that thrilled her. Tentatively, and then more confidently, she responded in kind.
Oh, he tasted good. Warm. Spicy. Male.
He moved slightly against her, fanning the fire inside her. A heavy ache throbbed between her thighs, and she pressed closer to the answering hardness between his.
Kit groaned and cupped her hips to hold her more firmly against him.
“Savannah,” he gasped, tearing his mouth from hers to allow them oxygen. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
Oh, yes, she knew exactly what she was doing. Even if she hadn’t felt his arousal against her abdomen, she could see it in the hot flush on his cheeks, hear it in the ragged edge to his breathing, feel it in the tremors that ‘ ran through him.
And she laughed in sheer exhilaration, feeling freer and more alive than she’d felt in years.
In response to Savannah’s laughter, the corners of Kit’s mouth kicked up into his wicked, pirate’s grin. He lifted her off the ground and spun her until she was clinging to him helplessly, laughing and begging him to stop.
“That’ll teach you to laugh at me,” he said with exaggerated fierceness as he set her back on her feet.
She had to cling to him for support until the scenery stopped whirling around her.
“You,” she said breathlessly, “are dangerous.”
His expression turned abruptly tender. He cupped her face between his hands. “Not to you, sweetheart,” he assured her gruffly.
And he kissed her again, this time so sweetly that it brought a hard lump to her throat.
She fell just a little more deeply.
“Hey, can’t you read, buddy? This place is off-limits to the guests.”
The unexpected voice was a low, menacing growl, making Savannah gulp and draw quickly back from Kit.
The intruder looked as dangerous as his voice. His hair was midnight-black, his narrowed eyes obsidian, his features dark and formidable. Well over six feet of solid muscle had been packed into a thin white shirt and loose white slacks.
Kit tilted his head arrogantly and met the other man’s challenging gaze. “What are you going to do? Throw me off the bluff?” “I just might,” the man in white drawled, sounding entirely serious.
Savannah thought maybe it was time for her to intercede before the testosterone levels built to an explosive’ level.
“It’s okay,” she assured the newcomer, speaking with a breezy confidence she had to fake. “Kit’s a friend of the resort owner.”
The man raked his dark eyes slowly across Kit’s face. “Is that right?”
Kit glanced down at Savannah. “Er—did I say I was a friend of the owner?”
Oh, great. He’d lied to her, and now they were both in trouble. She glared at him. “Yes. That’s what you said.”
The other man heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head. “Trying to impress a pretty woman by claiming friendship with me again, Kit? How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?”
Savannah had just figured out that she’d been snowed when both men broke into dopey grins.
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�Savannah,” Kit said. “This is Rafe. He likes to pretend he’s the supreme ruler of this little island of his. A Napoleon complex, you understand.”
Rafe’s reply was low-voiced and mildly obscene, from what Savannah could hear of it.
Leaving Kit chuckling, Rafe Dancer turned courteously to Savannah. “I can have security here in moments if this man is bothering you, ma’am,” he assured her.
A reluctant smile tugged at Savannah’s mouth. “No, I think I can handle him,” she lied. “But thank you for the offer.”
“It’s my job to make sure my guests are comfortable,” he replied smoothly.
“We’ll be sure and let you know if we need anything,” Kit said, his tone rather arrogantly dismissive.
Rafe only lifted an eyebrow. “I meant my valued guests, of course,” he remarked, making it clear that Kit did not fit into that category.
Kit only laughed and shook his head. “I never could get the last word with this guy,” he said to Savannah.
“I hope you’re enjoying your stay at the resort, Ms.—er—”
“Savannah,” she corrected him with a smile. “And, yes, thank you, I’m having a wonderful time.”
He inclined his head, apparently satisfied with her reply. “Then I’ll let you get back to it. Don’t hesitate to let me or one of my staff know if there’s anything you need. Kit, I’ll be seeing you later.”
The words seemed to hold as much warning as promise. And then Rafe Dancer slipped away into the greenery, as swiftly and silently as he’d approached.
Blinking, Savannah turned back to Kit.
“Forgive me, but your friend is a bit scary,” she said frankly.
He laughed. “If you think he’s scary, you should meet his wife. And their two-year-old terror of a son.”
Savannah was rather surprised to think of the man she’d just met as the father of a toddler. And then she remembered the warmth of his flashing smile and decided that maybe she could imagine it, after all.
“Okay, what are we going to do now? Shall we make passionate love in the bushes or go for a swim?”