by Sandra Field
He came back to the present; Lise was gazing at him just as steadily. He had no more idea what Lise was thinking than he’d had with Emmy, he thought in exasperation. He’d built a multimillion-dollar business from the ground up and he couldn’t think what to say to a woman he barely knew? He opened his mouth and heard himself say, “Emmy wasn’t what you’d call enthusiastic.”
Lise said dryly, “For once, you’re being honest.”
“You deserve honesty,” Judd said slowly, and knew he’d said something very profound. What the devil was going on? He didn’t like subterfuge, but never before with a woman had he had this burning urge to avoid even the smallest of deceits. Lise looked a little disconcerted, he noticed. Good. If he was off balance, it wouldn’t hurt for her to be, too.
“I’m not going,” she said evenly, crossing her arms over her breasts. “Emmy won’t be disappointed, and I’m sure you’ll manage to find someone else.”
“I don’t want someone else. I want you.”
“No way.”
Judd held on to his temper. Taking her by the hand, he walked down the hallway toward the front door, where he undid the gleaming leather suitcase he’d brought with him. “I went shopping yesterday,” he said. “For you.”
“You mean you bought me clothes?” Lise demanded, her green eyes full of hostility.
“Yeah. Figured your wardrobe probably wasn’t loaded with stuff suited for the tropics.”
“How did you know what size?”
“I’ve held you in my arms, Lise.”
She blushed scarlet, in interesting contrast to both her robe and her hair. Ignoring her flaming cheeks with a disdain he had to admire, she gave her head a defiant toss. “You’re going to be busy when you get back from Dominica,” she said. “Returning everything.”
“Beachwear, a couple of nightgowns, shorts, tops and an outfit for dinner,” he said equably. “But why would I bother returning them? I’ll just keep them for the next woman who comes along. Right?”
“So you were planning on buying me?” Lise flashed. “Stick a few fancy clothes in a suitcase and she’ll follow me anywhere? Panting like a puppy dog?”
“No,” he said tightly. “That wasn’t the plan. I can’t buy you, Lise—you think I haven’t figured that out yet?”
“I don’t want your money. Or your clothes.”
She was telling the truth, he thought in a great surge of exhilaration. It was a long time since he’d been wanted for himself. Not for his money, his possessions, or the power he wielded. He said the obvious. “You want me, though.”
“Maybe I do. It’s called lust. So what?”
“So come to Dominica with me and Emmy. Separate bedrooms, a private beach and a swimming pool, and no responsibilities.”
“I can’t, Judd,” Lise said in sudden anguish. “That’s not the way I operate. I’d be using you—don’t you see?”
She meant every word she was saying and she wasn’t playing hard to get; he’d stake his whole fleet of jets on that. Putting all the force of his personality behind his words, Judd said, “You saved Emmy’s life, Lise. You might be forgetting that. I’m not. Three days in the sun—not much recompense for something that’s beyond price.”
Her eyes dropped before the blazing intensity of his to the suitcase open at his feet. Then she said in a strangled voice, “What’s underneath that yellow thing?”
That yellow thing was a very expensive coverup for a miniscule bikini. Judd knelt, pushing it aside to reveal a jade-green silk dress with cap sleeves, a plunging neckline and a long flare of skirt. “Quite by chance I saw it in the window of a boutique near Westmount Square. It seemed to belong to you—Lise, what’s wrong?”
Her hands were clasped in front of her; tears glimmered in her eyes. Swiftly Judd stood up, taking her by the shoulders. “Don’t you like it? It’s just that I could picture you—”
Her words tumbled over one another. “I saw it, too. Last week. Before I met you. I was shopping one day, just wandering, and I saw it in the window and it was so beautiful and I knew I’d look wonderful in it, that it was made for me. I also knew I couldn’t possibly afford it, and where would I wear it anyway? To the annual firefighters’ dinner? To the drugstore? It was from another woman’s life. Not mine.” She shivered. “I—it scares me, Judd. That you saw it and bought it because you knew somehow that it belonged to me.”
“Lise,” Judd said harshly, “go put on jeans and a shirt. You’re coming with us, and I swear I won’t as much as lay a finger on you the whole time we’re there. And when you get home, you can keep the dress—it’s yours.”
A tear slowly trickled down her cheek. She said raggedly, “I never cry. I can’t afford to, too many awful things happen in my job and four or five of the guys would give their eyeteeth to see me behave like a typical female.”
Judd ached to take her in his arms and kept his hands rigidly at his sides. “A few days away from your job,” he said quietly, “that’s all I’m giving you. That and a dress that’ll make your eyes look like a tropical sea.”
She scrubbed at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’ll go and get ready,” she muttered. “I won’t be long.”
With none of her usual grace, she scurried from the room. Judd watched her go. He’d said he wouldn’t touch her; he had no idea how he was going to stick to that vow. But he’d have to keep his hands off her even if it killed him. Because he’d promised. Stooping to close the suitcase, he carefully tucked the dress away. He owed it a huge debt of gratitude; Lise had capitulated because of it.
He’d done some difficult things in his life. But he had the feeling that nothing would measure up to the challenge of staying out of Lise Charbonneau’s bed.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS evening. Judd was indoors putting Emmy to bed. Lise was sitting by herself on the tiled patio that overlooked the ocean, where the sun had set in barbaric splendor. The first stars were piercing a sky soft as velvet; the doves had fallen silent, and the brilliant magenta hues of the bougainvillea that clambered over the trellises had been swallowed by darkness. How long since she’d relaxed so completely in a setting so utterly beautiful? So luxurious?
Never.
She’d stepped outside her ordinary life the minute she’d climbed into Judd’s limo outside her apartment. The uniformed chauffeur. The sleek private jet on the tarmac at Dorval, bearing the elegant logo of one of Judd’s international airlines. And then, hours later, the arrival at the villa here on Dominica’s east coast, the forested grounds opening to reveal a sprawling bungalow artfully constructed of native materials, its interior painted in tranquil pastels and open to the ocean breeze. Flowers everywhere, hibiscus and orchids and scarlet anthurium. Delicious meals that she, Lise, neither had to prepare nor clean up. She felt as though she were living in a dream, as though none of this was real.
Judd, so far, had been a perfect companion. Unobtrusively he’d made sure she had everything she needed, and he hadn’t as much as laid one finger on her. He was keeping his promise.
A faint breeze stirred the palm trees, whose fronds clashed gently together like taffeta skirts. Lise stretched out a little more comfortably on the teak recliner, feeling the silk of her loose cream trousers slide against her thighs; her shirt was also silk, in a subtle shade of primrose yellow. Clothes Judd had chosen and paid for.
She should go to bed before he came back. Just in case his promise was an empty one and he planned to seduce her in this paradisiacal setting. Her lashes drooped to her cheek. She could trust him. Surely. It would be small thanks for saving Emmy’s life were he to make love to her against her will.
Too sleepy to worry, too tired to remember how she’d fallen into his arms as easily as ripe mangoes fell from the trees on his estate, Lise closed her eyes. The soft gossip of the waves gentled any fears she might have had. Her breathing settled into a slower, deeper rhythm.
Ten minutes later Judd walked back out on the patio. It led from the spacious open-air dinin
g room, which was edged with banks of purple and white orchids, toward the pool and the beach, so that house and sea were linked in a way that pleased him. Then he stopped short.
Lise had fallen asleep.
The golden light from the dining room angled across her face. Her hair glowed like a banked fire; her breasts rose and fell with her breathing. There were blue shadows under her closed lids, he noticed with a catch at his heart. Or at least he supposed it was his heart. How would he know? Other than Angeline, he’d never allowed the women in his life to affect him emotionally. No time to. No need to. No desire to.
His thoughts marched on. Today he’d gotten what he wanted: Lise here in his beloved Dominican retreat. For four nights. Yet in her apartment when he was trying to persuade her to come, he’d promised he wouldn’t seduce her.
You’re a goddamn fool. Why else did you invite her here?
Why else indeed? Gratitude, of course. But even that, deep though it went, seemed a pale force compared to his aching need to possess Lise. To make her his own in the most primitive way possible.
Lust. That’s all it was. It was a long time since he’d been with a woman; and he certainly wasn’t in love with her.
He’d fallen in love once, at the age of twenty-three, with Angeline. He could remember as if it were yesterday his first sight of her. He’d come out of the office tower in Manhattan where he’d been negotiating the purchase of four Boeing 737s, negotiations where he’d put his entire financial future on the line; as a result, adrenaline was racing through his veins. He’d crossed the street, glancing at the small crowd that had gathered on the sidewalk to watch a photo shoot, and then he’d seen her: an exquisite creature with a swath of straight blond hair and eyes of a midnight-blue. She was modeling a flared mink coat; diamonds blazed at her lobes and around her throat. Their eyes had met and he’d known instantly that he was going to marry her. That he wouldn’t rest until he had.
Eventually they had married. But they hadn’t lived happily ever after. Far from it.
Never again.
Lise stirred in her sleep. Her neck was crooked at an awkward angle; asleep, she looked both younger and more vulnerable. Less likely to bite his head off, he thought wryly. Yet wasn’t her spirit one of the many things that drew her to him? Maybe tomorrow he’d see that Emmy had her supper early, and ask Lise to wear the green dress for dinner.
And then what? Leave her at the door of her room without as much as—his own words—laying a finger on her? What had possessed him to make that promise, so easily spoken, so impossible to achieve? He was no saint, that he knew.
But for tonight, he’d better keep the promise.
He stooped and gathered Lise in his arms. She mumbled something under her breath. Then, in a way that made his heart thud in his chest, she curled into his body with a small sigh of repletion. The warmth of her cheek seared through his shirt; her fragrance drifted to his nostrils, hinting of a tangled garden filled with light-dappled flowers. And hummingbirds, he thought, remembering her T-shirt the day he’d cleaned up the spilled rice, the way it had hugged the curves of her breasts.
His face set, Judd stood up. Holding Lise in his arms, he marched across the patio and through the dining room. The bedrooms were angled to catch the trade winds; his was next to Lise’s. As he pushed open the door to her room with his knee, inadvertently her elbow bumped the door frame. Her eyes jerked open, startled as a young bird’s. He said quickly, “It’s okay, you fell asleep and I was just—”
Her gaze had flown to the shadowed bedroom with its big bed heaped with soft pillows. She cried, “Judd, you promised!”
Swiftly he crossed the room and dumped her on the bed. “And I’m keeping that promise,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t you believe one word I say?”
Lise lurched to her feet, shoving her hands into her pockets. She’d been dreaming about Judd, the heat of his skin suffusing the dream, entwining her in its magic. And now here he was, his big body looming over hers to the soft whisper of the winds in the palm trees. Belatedly, she noticed something else: he didn’t look the slightest bit interested in seducing her; he was far too angry for that. Trying desperately to gather her wits, Lise said stiffly, “I’m sorry, I jumped to conclusions.”
“You sure did.”
“I’ve apologized, Judd.”
“Next time, try giving me the benefit of the doubt.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
Judd’s breath hissed between his teeth. “Damn right there won’t,” he said, turned on his heel and marched across the room, shutting the door behind him with exaggerated care. Lise stood very still. She wanted to scream and yell. She wanted to pound the pillows until feathers flew all over the room. She wanted Judd in her bed.
Slowly she sank down on the mattress, her eyes wide in the darkness. The dream, she thought numbly. She was simply trying to transpose a dream into reality. Or else her judgment and coolheadedness were being destroyed by the total sense of unreality that had taken hold of her in the limo and stayed with her ever since she’d arrived in this gorgeous retreat.
Of course she wasn’t going to make love to Judd. She’d made some mistakes in her life, but that would outdo them all. Big time.
Judd had made a promise to her. Now she was making one to herself. Don’t make the smallest move to encourage him. Treat him like a piece of furniture if that’s what it takes. But stay out of his bed and don’t let him in yours.
Her fists were clenched in her pockets; she made a valiant effort to relax them. She’d be all right. Of course she would. If she could handle a whole fire station full of men, she could handle Judd Harwood. On which resolve Lise stripped to her underwear, pulled the sheets to her chin and eventually fell asleep.
At the breakfast table, which was shaded by vines hung with big, lemon-yellow blossoms, Emmy made it clear she wanted to spend the morning on the beach. “Sure,” Judd said, adding easily, “bring your sunscreen, Lise, and wear a hat.”
“Oh, I think I’ll hang around on the patio and read.”
He raised one brow. But all he said was, “The room across from my bedroom is a library—help yourself.”
So Lise was settled in the same recliner when Judd and Emmy left for the beach. Judd in a pair of navy trunks took Lise’s breath away; she dragged her eyes from the breadth of his tanned back, the taper of his waist, his long, tautly muscled legs. It wasn’t fair, she thought wildly, burying her face in her book. No man should look that good.
But she was keeping her promise.
Unfortunately Emmy plunked herself down on the sand well within view of Lise. Which meant Lise had to watch the long curve of Judd’s spine as he knelt beside Emmy building a sand castle; and then watch him cavorting in the waves with his daughter. She could have joined them. She didn’t. But she did very soon throw her book down on the tiles with an exclamation of disgust, and go indoors to change into her bikini. At least she could work off some energy in the pool.
The bikini, chosen for her by Judd, comprised two scraps of yellow-flowered fabric that left very little to the imagination. Lise hauled her hair back with a ribbon, marched back outdoors and dived into the long, rectangular pool, which glittered turquoise in the sun. She began with a breaststroke that favored her sore arm, gradually working up to an overarm crawl as her muscles loosened in the warm, buoyant water. The exercise calmed her. After all, she could be back in Montreal, clinging to the fire truck as it careered through the icy streets. Anything was better than that. She darn well wasn’t going to ruin this holiday just because of Judd Harwood. Or Judd Harwood’s body.
Somersaulting at the near end of the pool, she pushed off, arrowing through the water with her eyes open. Then Emmy’s body suddenly cannonballed into the pool in a swirl of bubbles. With a strong thrust of her left arm, Lise burst upward to the surface. Judd was in the pool, too, his slate-blue eyes laughing at her. “We’re playing tag,” he said. “You’re it, Lise.”
“I’m getting
out now,” she sputtered.
“Catch me if you can,” Emmy yelled.
Emmy was laughing, too; she looked very different from the little girl huddled in terror in the far corner of an attic. Oh God, thought Lise, get me out of here, and swam toward the child as fast as she could. But at the last minute Emmy dove deep and suddenly Judd was beside Lise. “Bet you can’t catch me,” he teased.
Play it safe. Remember your promise.
Go for broke.
Lise lunged for him, but he twisted away from her, splashing water in her face. With a vengeful cry she went after him, slicing through the water, angling so she headed him toward one corner of the pool. At the last minute she dove and touched him on the knee before streaking to the very bottom of the pool. Then he was swimming alongside her, his body wavering in the rippled light. Swiftly he stroked closer and kissed her hard on the mouth; her eyes still wide-open, she watched him rise to the surface.
Badly out of breath, Lise pushed off from the bottom, gulping in mouthfuls of air when she reached the surface. In a flurry of spray she set off in pursuit of Emmy. Even under eight feet of water, she’d loved being kissed by Judd. Technically, of course, he still hadn’t broken his promise. He’d only touched her with his lips. Not with his fingers.
Twenty minutes later all three of them climbed out of the pool. Lise said breathlessly, “That was fun—you’re a good swimmer, Emmy.”
Emmy gave Lise one of her level looks. “Dad taught me,” she replied and reached for her towel.
It wasn’t so much what Emmy said, Lise thought ruefully, but how she said it: as though she were closing a door in your face. Judd said casually, “Here, have a towel.”
Water was trickling down his chest, his body hair slick to his skin. The curve of his rib cage, the hollow at the base of his throat, his narrow hips: he entranced her, Lise thought helplessly, grabbed for the towel and buried her face in it. Stay away from him. Ignore him. Pretend he’s a chair by the side of the pool.