by Gina Wilkins
All her senses seemed heightened. The night looked more beautiful than any she could remember. The air smelled sweeter. The breeze felt incredibly sensual against her face. Kit’s hand was warm and strong around hers.
“Magic,” she murmured.
“What was that?”
She smiled up at him. “Magic,” she repeated. “This night seems too perfect to be real.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “I was just thinking much the same about you. Almost too perfect to be real.”.
Savannah shook her head, disturbed by his words. “I’m far from perfect.”
“You couldn’t convince me of that.”
She glanced away from him. “That’s because you don’t really know me.”
“I’m hoping to remedy that soon.”
She knew this was the time to tell him that she would be leaving early the next morning. That there would be no chance for them to know each other better.
She suspected that Kit would be very surprised to discover that the real Savannah McBride was very different from the woman she’d allowed herself to be on the island. She doubted very much that he would continue to be interested in a woman with as many commitments and responsibilities as she had. Other men had been intrigued at first by her appearance, but they hadn’t been interested in the baggage she would bring with her into a relationship.
She’d been right, she decided again. It would be best if she kept quiet about her departure plans.
Kit paused outside his own cottage. “I have champagne inside,” he said invitingly. “Will you have one last drink with me this evening?”
One last drink with him. Period. There would be no others. Savannah’s chest tightened with what might have been grief, but she forced it down, reminding herself that she intended to have no regrets. “Yes, I’d like that,” she said.
Kit unlocked his door.
Savannah swallowed hard before she stepped through it.
Kit’s living area looked much like her own, Savannah noted, wiping her suddenly damp palms surreptitiously on her skirt. He’d left the overhead light off in favor of the soft illumination from a lamp beside the sofa. The dim light cast deep shadows in the corners, making the room appear smaller and more intimate.
The shirt Kit had worn earlier lay over the back of a chair. She pictured him peeling it over his head and tossing it there, and the image made her mouth go dry.
“Did you say you have champagne?” she asked, her voice sounding a bit odd in her ears.
Kit smiled and nodded. “Have a seat,” he said, motioning toward the deep-cushioned sofa. “I’ll get it.”
The small wet bar was tucked discreetly into one corner of the room. He stopped on his way to turn on the stereo unit. When Nat King Cole began to croon “Unforgettable,” Savannah realized Kit had already loaded the CD changer with old standards.
But she didn’t need a song to remind her that she would never forget this night.
Or Kit.
He filled two champagne glasses, then carried them back to where she sat on the sofa—perched as far to one side as she could possibly fit
Ignoring the other end of the sofa, he sat close to her, draping his right arm behind her and holding his glass in his left hand. He held his glass out toward her.
“To magic,” he murmured.
She touched her glass to his, making an effort to hold it steady. And then she lifted it rather desperately to her lips.
Kit watched her, taking a more sedate sip of his own wine. “Trying to find courage in that glass, Savannah?”
She cleared her throat and avoided his eyes. “I was thirsty.”
He took her glass out of her hands and set it on the table beside his, giving her little chance to resist. And then he placed a hand on her cheek and turned her face toward his, so that she had no choice but to look at him.
“Are you afraid of me?”
His question was blunt, yet it held an undertone of tenderness.
She twisted her fingers in her lap. “Of course not.”
She wasn’t afraid of Kit, she assured herself. She was afraid of herself, perhaps, and the way she reacted to him. Afraid of the feelings he aroused in her. Afraid that he would haunt her for the rest of her life. But she wasn’t afraid of him…at least, not very much.
He stroked the side of his finger down her cheek. His skin felt so warm against hers. She wondered if hers felt icy to him.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.
She wasn’t quite comfortable with his compliment. Being pretty had been her biggest asset in high school. It was because she’d been pretty that the boys had wanted to be with her. Her face and figure had been what had attracted Vince to her; he’d liked the way she looked hanging on his arm.
It annoyed her that she thought of Vince now. This was her fantasy, she reminded herself as Kit lowered his mouth slowly toward hers. Her private, secret celebration of everything she’d put behind her, of all she’d become.
She’d chosen to be here. And she would be an idiot not to make the most of it, she told herself as she allowed her hands to slide up Kit’s chest and around his shoulders.
The CD player was set on random play. An instrumental version of “Isn’t It Romantic?” swelled through the room.
Against her lips, Kit murmured, “Don’t be afraid, Savannah. Can’t you feel how very right this is?”
Nothing had ever felt more right to her.
Kit made love to her mouth while his hand slid down her bare arm and then moved to her thigh. She felt his warmth through the filmy fabric of her dress, and an answering heat pooled inside her.
He shifted his weight so that he was leaning over her. Murmuring endearments, he buried his face in her throat, nibbling at the skin there until she arched beneath him, her entire body tingling. His legs tangled with hers, the crisp fabric of his slacks deliciously rough against her bare skin. Her full skirt foamed around them. Kit’s fingers slipped beneath the hem, sliding up her thigh toward her hip.
Savannah shifted involuntarily closer to him, longing for him to touch her more intimately. Aching to feel his hands on her, his skin pressed to hers. Without stopping to think about her actions, she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.
She had to bite back a moan when she was finally able to spread her hands across his bare chest. She felt his muscles contracting sharply beneath her fingertips. Felt the hardness pressing greedily against her thigh.
She wanted him inside her, so closely entwined with her that she wouldn’t know where she stopped and he began. She wanted to feel sensations she’d never felt before, wanted to know the kind of passion she’d only fantasized about until now.
Kit could give her those things. She couldn’t have created a more perfect fantasy lover had she tried.
Beneath her skirt, his fingers slid across her stomach, and brushed across the part of her that throbbed with need.
She gasped.
He nuzzled against the low neckline of her dress, pushing the fabric out of the way to bare the top of her breast. His mouth was avid, his breath warm on her chilled flesh. He slid the tip of his tongue along the lace edge of her scanty bra, just missing her distended nipple.
She shuddered helplessly.
“Savannah.” Kit’s voice was hardly recognizable. He drew back to gaze down at her, and his face was flushed, his eyes glittering with an almost feral intensity. His chest heaved with his ragged breathing, and she knew his need matched her own.
The air around them seemed to crackle and sizzle with the heat they’d generated. This had been building between them from the time their eyes had met. Savannah wasn’t certain she could control it now, even if she tried.
“I want you,” he said, and there was a man’s raw, possessive hunger in his words.
Panic shot through her, and she froze beneath him. Suddenly this moment seemed, too strong, too real.
What was she doing?
4
KIT’S EYES narrowed, as t
hey swiftly searched her face. He groaned.
“Don’t do this,” he grated, half command, half plea. “Not now.”
He crushed her mouth beneath his again, lifting her into him. She felt the power in his arms, the sheer strength of him. And now she shivered in desire as well as fear.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered, feathering kisses across her temple. “I would never hurt you, Savannah.”
She looked up at him, and she realized with staggering abruptness what a fool she’d been.
Kit wasn’t a fantasy. He was a man. A strong, virile, healthy male whose borderline-arrogant self-assurance had already made her think of him as a pirate on more than one occasion.
Pirates, she reminded herself, didn’t like to be refused when there was something they wanted. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed her mind.
Why hadn’t she paid more attention to her own mental warnings?
She’d tried to convince herself she was in love with him. Tried to rationalize her behavior with romantic fantasies. Now she couldn’t be sure whether what she had felt was love or mere lust. And that uncertainty was an all-too-painful reminder of her past.
“Kit, I—-I don’t think I can do this,” she said, forcing her voice through the knot of mingled remorse and anxiety in her throat.
“Sure you can,” he replied bracingly, burying his fingers in her tumbled hair. “There’s nothing stopping us.”
He suddenly stiffened, and looked down at her with a frown. “You aren’t—tell me you aren’t married.”
“I’m not married,” she complied. “I never have been. But—”
He let out a deep breath of relief.
“Oh, man. That shook me for a minute,” he admitted. And then he slanted his pirate’s smile at her again and started to gather her close. “So there’s absolutely no reason we can’t—”
“I can’t,” she repeated, using her hands on his forearms to hold herself away from him.
She hoped he wouldn’t insist that she explain her sudden change of mind. She didn’t think she could, even to herself. She only knew that everything had suddenly become too real to her. Too serious.
She saw the instinctive refusal in his expression, the temptation to sweep past her objections and continue where they’d left off. She couldn’t help remembering Vince, thinking back to the bruises he’d given her when she’d annoyed him.
She reminded herself that she wasn’t that inexperienced, insecure girl now. She would never be treated that way again.
She held Kit’s gaze levelly with her own.
He studied her expression closely, and seemed to see something there that made up his mind.
He sighed and closed his eyes. She sensed the battle going on inside him. She knew that it had been hard won when the tension left his arms and he nodded and drew away.
“I’ll walk you to your cottage.”
She swallowed, only then admitting to herself how uncertain she’d really been about Kit’s reaction to her last-minute rejection. She couldn’t blame him, of course, for being annoyed with her. After all, she’d been all over him all day, she thought with a twinge of guilt
“Kit, I—”
He spoke quickly, overriding her halting attempt at an apology. “Let’s, er, not discuss it any more right now, okay?” he asked, standing to button his shirt. His movements were a bit stiff, as if he was experiencing physical discomfort.
Savannah supposed that he was, at that.
Her own body thrumming in irritable frustration, she stood and straightened her clothes. One of her shoes had fallen off; she groped for it awkwardly.
The romantic music continued to play from the other side of the room. Savannah winced when she recognized the tune. “People Will Say We’re in Love.”
She turned away from Kit to slip into her shoe, hiding her reaction to the number.
This wasn’t at all the way she’d hoped to end her last evening with Kit, she thought regretfully. It had been such a perfect day, such a beautifully romantic evening. She’d wanted him to remember her with pleasure, not with disappointment
THEY WALKED BACK to her cottage in silence. Savannah was peripherally aware of the beauty of their surroundings—the full moon, the starry sky, the fragrant, night-blooming flowers—but she was even more aware of Kit, walking close beside her and yet seeming very far away.
He turned to her at her door. “Are you all right?”
She moistened her lips. “Yes. I’m fine, thank you.”
She didn’t ask how he was. She suspected that he was still suffering from acute frustration.
She almost started to apologize again. And then she reminded herself that she had nothing to apologize for, really. She had had every right to call a halt when she’d become uncomfortable with going further.
Her caution came from experience. She’d made enough mistakes in her past. She hadn’t wanted to make another one tonight
Besides, she thought, it really was best to end the interlude between them now. No explanations. No regrets. Nothing but very sweet, very romantic memories.
It was all she dared ask of this man who was so very different from all the other men she’d known.
Kit waited until she’d unlocked her door, then touched her shoulder.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said gently, perhaps letting her know that he wouldn’t hold her rejection against her.
Savannah only smiled rather sadly in return, ignoring the nagging little voice inside her that urged her to tell him the truth about her departure plans. There was no reason to, she assured herself. Once he learned that she was gone, he would forget all about her soon enough. They didn’t even know each other, really.
It wasn’t as if there’d ever been any chance of anything permanent developing between them.
Given the choice, Kit would probably be no more enthusiastic about exchanging awkward goodbyes than she was, Savannah told herself.
She reached up impulsively and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for making this such a special vacation for me.”
He reached for her. “Savannah—”
She took one last look at him, then turned quickly away to open her door. “Good night, Kit.”
He caught her when she would have slipped inside, drew her toward him and pressed his mouth firmly, forcefully against hers for one long, thorough kiss. There was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes when he finally drew back, leaving her trembling and aching for more.
“Good night», Savannah,” he said gruffly. “Dream of me.”
Maybe he’d considered it an appropriately romantic line with which to conclude the evening, she thought as she closed herself into her silent cottage. But somehow his words felt more like a prediction—or a curse.
She suspected she would dream of him for years to come.
Knowing that it would be a while before she would be able to sleep—if at all—she went into the bedroom and pulled her suitcase out of the closet. She might as well pack now to save time the next morning. She would be on the first launch off the island, just after dawn.
And there would be no regrets, she assured herself. No one had been hurt. No promises broken. No dreams shattered. She’d spent a few hours with a wonderful man and, though she’d come dangerously close, she hadn’t done anything foolish.
The mistakes of her past had taught her well.
AFTER LEAVING SAVANNAH at her door, Kit took a long walk on the beach and then a very long, very cold shower. Neither helped. He was still hard and aroused when he went to bed, still both frustrated and baffled by her behavior.
Maybe he would have tried to change her mind if he hadn’t seen her expression when she’d asked him to stop. He could have seduced her with pretty words, with experienced touches and skilled caresses. And maybe he would have succeeded. But he wouldn’t have been able to forget that she had asked him to stop with fear in her eyes.
The fear had shaken him. At first, he’d thought she was afraid of him. Afraid
that he wouldn’t take her rejection well. That he would try to overpower her, despite her resistance. And that had hurt. Surely the hours they’d spent together had taught her more about him than that.
He hadn’t wanted to stop. But that didn’t mean he was an animal, unable to control his impulses.
Sometime during his walk on the beach, he’d come to the conclusion that it hadn’t been his reactions Savannah had feared. It had been her own.
He supposed he could understand that, to an extent Because if he was totally truthful with himself, he’d have to admit that the powerful attraction between them scared the hell out of him, too.
He hadn’t expected to fall this hard. This fast. And he wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do about it. He only knew that he wasn’t ready to walk away from what he’d found during these past two days in paradise.
After a restless night, Kit slept late the next morning. He awoke somewhat rested, invigorated, and more determined than ever to convince Savannah that what was happening between them was unique. Special. Not something they could ignore, no matter how hard she might try.
He was aware of how foolishly he was behaving. He felt like an infatuated schoolboy as he shaved and dressed, taking extra pains with his appearance. When was the last time he’d acted like this about any woman? Ninth grade?
He didn’t even know her last name.
But that, he told himself as he slipped on his shoes, was going to change. They’d spent yesterday just enjoying each other’s company, indulging in a bit of fantasy. Today they were going to talk.
He had only three days left on the island. And he wanted to spend those days getting to know Savannah better.
She’d said she was from Georgia. He lived on the west coast. Could be a problem. Then again, he’d never been one to be bothered by minor details. Not when something mattered to him.
Three days from now, he would know whether Savannah fit permanently into that category.
It was another gorgeous day on Serendipity Island. As he strode purposefully toward Savannah’s cottage, Kit wondered briefly if his old friend Rafe ever tired of waking up in paradise. Actually, Rafe seemed incredibly happy with his wife and his son and his thriving resort. Kit envied the contentment Rafe had found, something that had been sadly missing from his own life of late.