Devil in a Dark Blue Suit

by Robyn Grady

  A relatively safe means to an end.

  But if her frankness had dented Devlin’s ego, she could always soothe the sting with a dollop of flattery. Getting a bit more off her chest might even do her good.

  She wandered towards the ibis, idly shaping a fingertip over the nearest outstretched wing.

  ‘I was nervous when I contacted you about Sabrina and Nathan,’ she told him as, with his back to her still, he poured the wine. ‘I was close to shaking sitting at that restaurant table, watching you take control of the situation outside, wrenching away that woman’s bat, talking with the police. While I pretended to read that menu, one word blinked repeatedly in my mind. Know what that word was?’

  He finished pouring. ‘I can guess.’

  She smiled. Perhaps he could.

  ‘I had good reason to be antsy about seeing you again. It was clear I was still attracted to you. That I needed to see you one last time. I was holding onto the past.’ Holding onto bad feelings that had festered too long. Her voice dropped. ‘I wasn’t very happy with you when we broke up.’

  Without facing her, he set the bottle on the timber with a thud. ‘You mean after you refused to return my calls.’

  ‘I mean after you callously dismissed my concern for your safety.’

  She flinched. She sounded like a martyr. Most unattractive now it had worn so thin.

  Finding her calm centre, she moved toward the bedroom and ended on a high note.

  ‘But that’s all in the past,’ she said, setting a hand on the door jamb. ‘And although I have reservations about your brother’s true intentions towards Sabrina,’ she admitted, ‘I’m glad I’ve seen that other side of you.’

  Without meeting her gaze, he turned his head fractionally, providing an evocative picture of his classic profile.

  ‘Which side?’ he asked.

  ‘The side who cares enough to believe in and stand by someone, rather than closing down and walking off in the other direction.’

  He peered at her then over his broad, bronzed shoulder. His tone was sombre, his eyes almost hard.

  ‘Is that the kind of man you think I am?’

  Her heart twisted but, given what she knew of him, she could only return a mock-tinged smile.

  ‘Self-awareness really isn’t your strong suit.’

  Getting back on track, fighting down the regret, she tapped the door jamb and drew up tall. ‘But let’s not be morbid. This is two days out of our lives, and I’m happy to say that they’re opening up a side of me I never knew existed.’

  ‘Never knew existed,’ he clarified, collecting the wine glasses and prowling towards her, ‘or kept locked away?’

  She blinked. That didn’t make sense.

  ‘You said yourself I’ve never been the adventurous type.’

  ‘What was that about self-awareness and strong suits?’

  When he stopped before her, her skin heated at the deliberate challenge in his gaze. A challenge she had no intention of tackling now.

  This conversation was over. They needed to get back to that other place, the easy, fun place they’d shared by that lake. She had one more beautiful day coming to her, as well as two scintillating nights. And, come hell or high water, she was going to enjoy them. And that meant sharing her body with Devlin without letting him see any more of her heart.

  She curved her lips into a light smile. ‘Keep that glass safe for me. I’ll be back out soon.’

  She closed the shutter doors and stood behind them for a long moment allowing her warmed flesh to cool, her tripping heartbeat to wind down. Then, with renewed vigour and determination, she headed for her overnighter, which sat in a corner of the room.

  Tonight she’d wear a silk-sheen georgette scoop-necked flapper dress, her only accessories matching chandelier earrings and a smear of warm red lipstick. Stylish yet casual with an emphasis on fun.

  No more talk about self-awareness, she vowed, kicking off her sandals. She’d done enough soul searching. Starting yesterday it was the year of no regrets. She’d said what she had to say. Even felt better for it. But her ‘sharing’ just now was meant to make up for her calling a spade a spade. She wouldn’t let her recollection of her deeper feelings change the mood of the time they had left.

  Halfway to her bag, her step faltered and her gaze skirted across to the bed.

  On the burnished silk spread lay a dusky pink evening gown, fitting from bodice to hip before the cut flowed out into a skirt as light and delicate as gossamer. Drifting nearer, she saw the dress straps, above a square neckline, were made up of delicate rosettes. The skirt’s twin splits travelled either side of the centre front and didn’t stop until they hit above the panty line.

  Simple, sexy, the ideal shade.

  One of the most exquisite gowns she’d ever seen!

  Earlier today, when they’d set off on the path that led to the lake, he’d made an excuse to jog back to the bungalow. Guess he’d wanted to set this out. She’d never had anyone do something so romantic. So perfectly thoughtful.

  She wanted to race out and bowl him over with a huge thank-you hug for his gift—not of perfume or flowers or jewellery, but something that truly spoke to her. Outstanding fashion, here on a deserted island, of all places.

  But such a display would clash with the cool and breezy persona she wanted to convey. She couldn’t appear overly emotional. Vulnerable. Hopelessly overwhelmed by feelings she’d fought so hard to beat down—

  A hot tear slipped down her cheek. Pressing her quivering lips together, she held her hitching breath and swiped the wet away with the back of her hand.

  Damn it, she’d thought she’d found a way to fix it, but her heart still hurt from missing him all these years. Her soul still ached because he hadn’t tried hard enough when she’d refused to return his calls.

  The stupid truth was that three years ago she’d wanted him to chase her, to confess how unfair he’d been distancing himself from her, waving off her concern. She’d wanted him to apologise and at last profess his undying love. She’d called his bluff and had lost dismally. The insane part was that, deep down, she’d known she would.

  She crumpled onto her knees beside the dress and, with the empty ache in her chest growing, carefully lay her head on the bedspread, looking at the layers of airy fabric, feeling the suffocating lump build more in her throat.

  She’d been an idiot—a complete and utter moron kidding herself she could enjoy these days away without repercussions. But, like a kid with a lollipop, she’d just had to have him. And if she hadn’t managed it before, how could she possibly forget about him after this? How could she forget his kisses, the graze of his hard, hot body against hers?

  Once again she was in danger.

  In danger of falling right back in love.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AFTER Devlin changed into casual trousers and a collared shirt, which he left untucked, he set a match to the half-dozen garden torches then, in the flickering light, waited for his girl out on the veranda. When Eden emerged a few minutes later, he turned from the roll of dark waves crashing on the beach and almost dropped the wine glasses he held.

  She looked like a vision. A beautiful, golden-haired, heart-pounding vision.

  She glided more than walked across the wooden floor towards him, her face freshly kissed by today’s sun, her eyes shining in the scattered torchlight.

  ‘Thanks for the dress.’ Stopping before him, she rotated, holding the skirt out so it wafted in the evening breeze. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  He remembered to breathe and inclined his head. ‘Glad you like it.’

  ‘It was the perfect surprise.’

  ‘So I’m slowly making up for past offences,’ he teased, offering over her wine.

  Brow creasing, she dropped her skirt and accepted the glass. ‘I’m afraid I said too much earlier—’

  ‘Not at all. I’d rather hear it straight than try to read between your lines.’

  ‘Am I really so cryptic?’


  Her tone was gently goading, but her eyes were round, almost pleading, and he suspected her comment might also refer to an earlier time when she’d browsed through a jewellery pamphlet rather than openly broach the subject of diamond rings.

  However, given their sombre mood before she’d gone to change, keeping his response relevant but light seemed best.

  She wanted fun. He’d give her fun.

  He smiled over the rim of his glass. ‘Cryptic? A more fitting word might be teasing.’

  Humour returned to her eyes and her lips curved into a luscious smile. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Should be more of it.’

  ‘More of this?’ She craned up on tiptoe and feathered her lips over the square of his jaw.

  He hummed in his throat. ‘Much more of that.’

  To support his observation, he held her nape and, arching her slightly back, kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding over hers, his respiratory rate spiking at the contact and anticipation of what the coming evening would bring.

  When he broke the kiss, she murmured against his lips, ‘You’re not sick of doing that yet?’

  ‘What a silly question.’

  Her eyes sparkled.

  When he eased her back up from the dip, she inhaled and looked down at her gown, holding her glass out and twirling again. ‘Mind if I ask where you got the dress?’

  ‘I have my contacts.’

  She laughed. ‘Now who’s the tease?’

  ‘I rang a designer friend yesterday,’ he confessed, ‘after I dropped you off. Tulleau was beside himself when he heard my surprise gift was for none other than the celebrated owner of Temptations.’

  ‘Tulleau? As in the Nicolas Tulleau?’

  ‘I’ve impressed you.’

  ‘I would die to design gowns as recognised as his.’

  ‘You’re on your way. I hear you’ve been nominated for an award this year.’

  She shrugged modestly but her blush told him she was pleased that he knew. ‘It’s great to make the list but I can’t see myself winning.’

  ‘You might be pleasantly surprised.’

  She merely smiled, then wandered towards the stairs. He followed and when he stood beside her, she asked while gazing up at the heavy full moon, ‘What’s the one unachievable thing you’d love to achieve?’

  ‘Besides world peace and the ability to balance a pea on my nose? Let’s see. I’d like to race in the Monaco Grand Prix. To feel the power of a Formula One rumbling around me as we hug the turns. I have a friend who’s a pit-stop chief and…I’m totally boring you.’

  She blinked back from the moon and her thousand-yard stare. ‘Not at all.’ She cringed. ‘Maybe a little. Zooming around the countryside at three hundred kilometres an hour isn’t my idea of achieving anything other than hives.’ She shrugged. ‘Sorry.’

  He ran a fingertip down her arm. ‘Hey, where’s that fun side you showed me earlier?’

  ‘Well, there’s fun—’ she waggled her brows ‘—then there’s fun.’

  ‘I’ll have the latter.’

  ‘Sure you can handle it?’

  He almost licked his lips. ‘Try me.’

  She held up a finger—just a minute—and sped off. She returned with a towel and when she floated past him she laid the towel on the middle step before sitting down. With the flowing skirt protected and falling either side and between her exposed long tanned legs, she grabbed a stick off the ground to draw lines in the sand.

  When he recognised the grid—noughts and crosses—he clutched at his heart. ‘Wait. My blood pressure can’t handle the excitement.’

  ‘I read somewhere Formula One cars cost millions to build. This time-honoured pastime, on the other hand, is completely free. I was the champ in fourth grade.’

  When she drew a nought in the centre square, he sank down beside her. ‘Because you always took the advantage?’ Anyone knew whoever went first was destined to win.

  She pursed her lips to hide a grin. ‘I didn’t think you wanted to play?’

  ‘I’m just saying we should’ve flipped a coin to see who kicked off.’

  ‘Tell you what. If I win this one I’ll let you win the next.’

  With a fingertip, he marked an X in the top right corner, then sent her a wink. ‘Here’s a tip. Men don’t like to hear “I’ll let you win”.’

  ‘No kidding,’ she deadpanned and put a hug below his kiss.

  ‘There’s something to be said,’ he intoned, concentrating on his next move, ‘for putting your all into coming first.’

  She laughed. ‘It’s just noughts and crosses.’

  He expanded his advice. ‘What about that award? Don’t you try your best to score sales and build a reputation for your boutique?’

  ‘That’s different. That’s not a game. It’s important.’

  He held her eyes with his and, whether it was wise or not, tried to see more…know more.

  ‘Tell me, Eden, what else is important?’

  Her gaze and mouth softened. ‘Accepting that some things just aren’t winnable.’

  Then her slim nostrils flared and her gaze fell to the sand. Tossing the stick, she held herself, rubbing her arms as she glanced around. ‘It’s getting cool, don’t you think?’

  Clearly she didn’t want him to delve deeper into that remark, but he had to wonder who or what was unwinnable. Was she saying he couldn’t win her, or she couldn’t win him? Maybe she meant their fight to beat their physical attraction for each other was lost. On that point, he’d have to agree.

  A sudden cool breeze ruffled the hem of her skirt and he levered himself up. ‘I have the perfect remedy to keep us warm.’

  He crooked a finger and she accepted his help up. They moved to the centre of the clearing and when he took her in his arms they began to dance to the music of the night birds and palm fronds whispering in the wind.

  She rested her cheek against his chest. A few moments passed before she murmured, ‘I must say, you do dance well.’

  Savouring the feel of her against him again, he brushed his lips over her crown. ‘I try.’

  ‘Did you take lessons?’

  ‘It was compulsory before the senior year formal.’

  ‘An exclusive school, no doubt.’

  ‘My father’s old stomping ground.’

  ‘You never spoke much about your parents.’

  ‘Didn’t I?’

  She stiffened at his sullen tone. ‘Guess it’s a banned subject.’

  He set his jaw and peered at a cobalt night sky crowded with stars. ‘My father wasn’t the nicest of men.’

  Startled, she looked up into his face. ‘To you?’

  ‘If ignoring your sons can be classed as not nice.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  He tucked her head back under his chin. ‘His biggest regret was getting married.’

  He felt the breath leave her body. ‘Wow. That must’ve been hard on your mother.’

  Huge understatement.

  ‘Growing up I felt sorry for her,’ he explained, ‘but my father was such a strong character. She must’ve seen the writing on the wall. She must have known what kind of man he was.’

  ‘The kind she couldn’t win?’

  Her subtext this time was clear.

  He was the man Eden hadn’t won. But what kind of man was that? Someone who believed in and stood by someone he cared about? Or a man who closed down before walking off in the other direction?

  A man like his father.

  The only thing he was sure about was that he’d mistakenly thought he could get Eden out from under his skin with little more than a kiss. But the more he kissed her, the more he held her, the more he didn’t want to let her go.

  And that frightened him like nothing else could. He never wanted to hurt Eden as his father had hurt his mother. He didn’t want to pursue this relationship if he couldn’t fully commit. But when could a man be sure about such things? Was it better to let someone walk rather than expose them to that kind of ri
sk? Eden had already escaped his growing ambivalence once. She’d got too close. He’d put up a wall and had got his space back.

  All of it.

  In the weeks following their break, he’d decided that was best.

  Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Her cheek against his shirt, she interrupted his thoughts. ‘Tomorrow we should have a look at that map Gregory left. We can do some exploring.’

  His grip on her hand, on her back, tightened even as he pulled her marginally away.

  ‘I’m not thinking about tomorrow. I want to focus on tonight.’

  She blinked slowly. ‘Good.’

  He narrowed his eyes. What was behind that Mona Lisa smile?

  ‘Why good?’ he asked.

  ‘Now that is a silly question.’

  But as he held her close again, resting his cheek against her silky hair, hearing the dark waves roll upon the beach, he had to wonder just how silly it was.

  Was this time away about ‘letting go’ or discovering what was truly important? Learning what was worth winning.

  Worth winning and this time keeping.

  Who said that meant getting married?

  CHAPTER TEN

  THEY didn’t eat until almost midnight.

  Before that, Eden and Devlin had danced and talked and laughed. Then they’d talked and laughed some more. When they’d been unable to deny the magnetic sizzle arcing between them a moment longer, Devlin had swept her up and, his eyes not leaving hers, carried her to their cosy cushioned bed.

  Their love-making was…different. Even better. Was that possible? He helped her out of her gown, then she watched him undress. In nature’s quiet, the atmosphere felt almost sacred, as though, if they dared make a joke or spoke above a whisper, the magic would dissipate and, suddenly, they’d be back home.

  Perhaps it was only wishful thinking on her part that Devlin felt that way too. Organising and bringing along her beautiful gown was one thing. Being in love all over again—and she was falling in love—was something else entirely.

  Yet something dark and foreign in his eyes said he wanted this night to last as much as she did, and beyond the physical…although the physical was way better than good.