by Diana Palmer
She laughed self-consciously. “Well, surely you’ve heard that some women do?”
“It wasn’t that,” he said. “I love it. But I prefer deep-sea fishing.”
Her eyes brightened. “Really?”
“I’ll hire a boat,” he told her. “We’ll go for blue marlin, how about that?”
“You’ll go for blue marlin,” she protested, “and I’ll watch. I’m not nearly strong enough for that kind of battle.”
“If you’d rather fish from the pier—”
“No,” she protested quickly. “Please, I’ve never been deep-sea fishing.”
He laughed softly. “All right. You’ll have to get up early.”
“Is four o’clock all right?” she asked eagerly.
He touched her cheek lightly, sending delicious shivers down her spine. “Four o’clock is fine,” he said softly.
She smiled, and moved reluctantly away from him toward the staircase.
“Margie?”
She turned with her hand on the banister, searching his dark face.
“Wear your hair long tomorrow,” he said gently.
She smiled shyly and nodded. Then she went slowly up the steps, dragging her feet, not wanting to leave him. And he watched her every step of the way until she was out of sight.
* * *
She was up at three-thirty, despite the few hours’ sleep she’d had. She paced the floor restlessly, wanting the hands on the clock to move so that she could see him again.
The sudden knock on her door made her jump. She ran to open it and found Cal standing there, wearing jeans and a red pullover emphasizing his darkness. A light jacket was hooked over his shoulder.
“Ready to go?” he asked, smiling, his eyes moving over her slender body. She had dressed in jeans, a pale green knit shirt and a green sweater with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows.
“Oh yes,” she said. “I didn’t know if you’d be awake.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he confessed, the smile fading. “Not one damned minute.”
She looked up at him for a long time. “Neither could I,” she said gently, watching him.
His fingers tangled in her loosened hair, bringing her face up so that he could touch her mouth with his. It was like touching a flame to dry grass. She caught her breath at the feel of his lips, and her hands gripped his hair-roughened forearms so tightly that they went white under the pressure.
“Oh, God…” he groaned, reaching for her.
His foot caught the door, closing it, and he lifted her, with his mouth still covering her own, and carried her to the bed.
“No,” she whispered, pleading, as he laid her down on the spotless coverlet that she’d pulled over the neatly made-up sheets.
“I won’t take you,” he promised, coming down beside her, his chest easing against hers, his arms supporting his formidable weight. “I only want to love you a little,” he breathed at her lips. “To taste you and touch you and feel you all up and down my body.” His lips brushed teasingly across hers, taunting. He smiled as he felt her involuntary response.
He laughed softly, dragging his chest lightly, abrasively, across her breasts, feeling their helpless response to the sensual pressure.
“Delicious,” he breathed into her open mouth. “Like making love to a virgin, feeling those first sweet trembling responses…. Still afraid of me, Margie?”
“More than ever,” she confessed breathlessly, her eyes wide and full of the newness of wanting. Her hands touched his cheeks, moved down to his throat, the front of his shirt, feeling the warmth and strength of him through it.
“I’ll stop whenever you want me to,” he said against her mouth. “Kiss me, wildcat. Trust me enough to kiss me properly this time.”
And she did, yielding her mouth up to his, letting him do what he pleased with it while her body throbbed and delighted in the nearness of his own above it. Her legs moved, tangling in his, and she clung to him while the kiss went on and on and on.
“Oh yes,” he breathed shakily, looking down into her wild eyes. “This is how it feels to make love. To really make love. You didn’t know, did you?”
“No,” she whispered, feeling the sweet trembling all down her body. “I didn’t. Cal…?”
He took a deep breath and ruffled her hair affectionately. “Something you want to know?” he teased gruffly. “Ask me.”
“Only if you promise not to make fun of me,” she replied, watching him.
He twisted a long strand of her dark hair around his index finger. “I won’t laugh.”
“Are most men in a terrible hurry once they have a woman in bed with them?” she asked quietly.
“Some men,” he said. His eyes searched hers. “Selfish men, who are only interested in their own pleasure.”
Her hands pressed against his hard chest, feeling the hard rise and fall of it. She started to ask the next question on her mind, and hesitated.
“No, I’m not,” he replied, reading the question in her eyes. “I get nothing out of it unless I give as much pleasure as I take. Is that what you wanted to know?”
She felt her cheeks go hot, but she didn’t drop her eyes. “Can it really be good?”
His face hardened, and he touched her cheek lightly. “Poor little scrap,” he muttered. “My God, he must have put you through hell to leave such deep scars.”
She dropped her eyes to his throat. “Maybe I could have tried harder,” she said, sparing herself nothing. “If I had…”
“I doubt very much if it would have mattered. Stop looking back. You’ve done enough of that already.” He tugged her hair, forcing her to look up at him. “Well, lovely lady, do we start undressing each other, or do we get up? You may have noticed that you’re beginning to have an unmistakable effect on me.”
She burst out laughing, exploding inside with the most beautiful sensations. She felt warm and protected and utterly feminine.
He smiled back, dropping a hard kiss on her parted lips before he rolled away from her and got up. He reached down to pull her up beside him.
“Think it’s funny, do you?” he growled in mock anger, linking his hands behind her waist to jerk her against him. “Leading a poor defenseless man into your bedroom, wrestling him down on a bed and then tossing him over at the worst time…?”
“Poor defenseless man, my foot.” She grinned, linking her hands around his neck. The smile faded as she looked up into his dark, gleaming eyes. “It’s magic with you,” she said involuntarily, letting the words express her emotions.
He studied her rapt face for a long time before he spoke. “I won’t rush you,” he promised.
“I know that.” She reached up and kissed the line of his jaw gently. “Friends?”
“Unless you’ve gone numb,” he murmured with a wicked smile, “you’ll realize that what I’m feeling is a far cry from friendship.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m unshockable,” she told him, but she drew away from him all the same, and he laughed like a devil.
He picked up his jacket from the floor, where it had fallen minutes before, and gently pushed her out into the hall.
* * *
It was the most exciting day she could ever remember. Cal had hired a fishing boat, and she stood beside him while he fought to bring in a fierce blue marlin. The captain and his crew watched with excited faces while the big, dark man in the moving platform chair braced himself and fought for minutes on end while the beautiful marlin leapt and tried to jerk the line away.
Cal laughed the whole time, his eyes on fire with the challenge, his dark face flushed with the pleasure of the battle, and Margie knew she was getting a glimpse of the corporate giant who probably enjoyed battles with his board of directors just as much.
When he finally hauled the huge fish up to the side of the fishing boat, his legs were trembling with the effort of standing.
Margie had jumped and screamed like a fan at a ball game the whole time, but when she saw the huge, gallant fish hanging out
of the water, she felt a surge of pity for it. It had fought so hard only to lose, and it seemed a shame to kill it just for a trophy.
“Don’t look so disheartened, honey.” Cal chuckled, pulling her close against his side as he turned to tell the skipper to free the huge fish.
Margie could hardly believe her ears. She looked up at him in a daze as the fish was set free, and saw something in his face that she’d missed before.
“He gave it a good shot, didn’t he?” The elderly captain grinned at Cal and Margie as they watched the marlin get his bearings and set off quickly away from the fishing boat.
“A run for my money,” Cal agreed. “But he looks a hell of a lot better out there than he would on my wall.”
The captain nodded, turning back to his duties. “That he does,” he agreed with a chuckle. “It’s the sport, after all, not the trophy that makes the challenge.”
“You’re a nice man, Cannon Van Dyne,” Margie said gently, and meant it.
He shrugged. “We don’t have such an abundance of wildlife that we can afford to pursue it relentlessly for sport. I don’t need trophies to make me feel like a man.”
She stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss across his mouth.
“What was that for?” he asked quietly.
She dropped her eyes, moving closer as the skipper turned the fishing boat back toward the harbor. It had suddenly occurred to her that she’d never known a man who was as much a man as the one standing beside her.
“Hey,” he murmured softly, tucking a finger under her chin and raising her face up to his.
She smiled shyly. “What?”
He searched her eyes for a long time. “I’ve never been with a woman who made me feel the way you do.”
“How do I make you feel?” she asked softly.
He touched her mouth lightly with his finger and drew in a long, slow breath. “As if I could conquer the world. You make me feel whole.”
He made her feel the same way, but she was still too unsure of herself to admit it. She dropped her eyes and nuzzled her face into his shoulder, hiding it in the soft folds of his jacket.
“Oh, God, don’t do that when we’re surrounded by people,” he groaned, tightening his arm.
“Do what?” she managed.
“Touch me like that,” he whispered, catching the hand that had unconsciously found its way into the opening of his shirt and was discovering the warmth of hair-roughened skin just below his collarbone.
“Oh,” she breathed, stunned. She hadn’t realized what she was doing.
He looked down into her wide eyes. He was breathing heavily, roughly. “We’ll go swimming when we get home,” he said tautly. “And I’ll let you touch me any way you want to.”
She hid her face against him, embarrassed, excited, trembling with a kind of pleasure that she’d never experienced before.
“Don’t be afraid of it,” he whispered, drawing her closer as the boat made its way to shore. “Just let it happen, Margie.”
As if she could stop it, she thought dizzily, closing her eyes. She felt as if she were caught in an avalanche, with no way of saving herself. And she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.
* * *
Jan and Andy were talking to Victorine when they got back to the beach house. Margie found she hated the very thought of other people. She wanted to be alone with Cannon.
Cannon let her hand go with a noticeable reluctance, his eyes holding hers as they walked into the living room.
“Well, where have you two been?” Victorine asked, her eyes amused.
“Deep-sea fishing,” Cannon offered, lighting a cigarette.
“Catch anything?” Andy asked.
Cannon laughed. “A blue marlin, but I threw it back. It was just a baby.”
“Several hundred pounds worth,” Margie murmured with a grin.
“I’ll never understand you.” Victorine sighed. “Why catch them if you don’t intend to keep them?”
“The challenge, Mother,” Andy answered for his brother. “It’s like mountain climbing, or automobile racing…high adventure.”
“A trout is pretty exciting, too,” Jan murmured, glancing shyly at Cannon. “Margie and Dad and I used to go up into the mountains every year during trout season and wade out into the shallows of the Chattahoochee hoping for a strike.”
Cannon actually looked impressed. “Catch many?” he asked the younger girl.
Jan smiled. “My share,” she admitted. “But I’m afraid I didn’t throw them back. I love broiled trout.”
Cannon laughed. “So do I. But marlin doesn’t suit my palate.”
“Where are you off to now?” Victorine asked Cannon.
He was still watching Margie. “We thought we’d go for a swim,” he said absently.
“What a great idea,” Andy chimed in, catching Jan around the waist. “We’ll join you. Come on, hon, I’ll drop you off at your door while you change. Coming, Margie?”
She glanced at Cannon, hoping the disappointment she felt wouldn’t show. To her delight, he looked as unhappy about it as she did.
* * *
Margie almost turned around and ran when she and Jan got down to the beach. Cannon was waiting for her. He was sensual with all his clothes on, but in a pair of white trunks, he was devastating enough to make her breath catch in her throat.
She was so engrossed in looking at him that she didn’t even see Andy come up behind them and lead Jan off into the water. Her eyes were riveted to Cannon. He was bronzed all over, like a painted Greek statue. His chest was matted with curling black hair that arrowed down into his trunks, and his powerful legs were equally sprinkled with black hair. He was the most deliciously masculine man she’d ever seen in a bathing suit, and her hands tingled at the mere thought of touching him.
Sensing that intense scrutiny, he turned his head and looked at her, a cigarette held absently between his fingers. All the mockery, all the antagonism was gone. There was something new in his dark eyes, and Margie felt her knees go weak as she felt the impact of his gaze.
He moved toward her, his eyes going boldly over her low-cut black and white maillot. His gaze returned pointedly to the small curves of her breasts, revealed by the low v-neck of the top.
He threw away the cigarette and his hands moved to her waist, measuring it as he looked down at her.
“I want to be alone with you,” he said quietly.
She managed a teasing smile. “Do you suppose they’d go away if we offered them a quarter apiece?”
He chuckled softly. “Shall we try?”
Her eyes softened as they met his and she felt her body go warm all over at his proximity. “It’s happening so fast….” she whispered absently.
“I know.” He bent suddenly, lifting her and turning toward the surf. “I hope you can swim,” he murmured.
“Like a fish, Mr. Van Dyne.” She laughed, clinging to his neck, loving the feel of his hard body against her breasts.
He looked down at her, cocking one eyebrow. “In the nude?” he asked.
She felt the warmth rise in her cheeks. “Actually,” she confessed, “I’ve never done that.”
He searched her eyes for a long time. “Would you like to?” he asked deeply. “With me?”
She could hardly breathe. She couldn’t break the hold his eyes had on hers, and she was only aware of being in the water when it came up over her breasts, chilling her all at once.
She clung to him, and he laughed at her efforts to stay above water.
“I won’t let you drown,” he chided. “Just relax. It’s not even all that cold.”
“It is so,” she argued, laughing back at him.
“Oh, I’ll keep you warm, if that’s your only complaint,” he murmured, letting her slide out of his arms. He drew her against him, wrapping her tightly against his body as his legs tangled with hers.
“We’ll sink,” she whispered, feeling his breath on her lips.
“What a lovely idea,” he murmured, glancing
over at Jan and Andy, who were playing in the water. “They can’t see us kiss if we do it under water, can they?” he asked.
Her lips parted, and she throbbed all over, wanting it.
“Oh, God, come here,” he groaned, catching her hair to bring her face toward his. “Hold your breath, darling…” he whispered just as his mouth took hers.
They went under together, her mouth locked on his, his hands on her buttocks, pressing her hips against him until she cried out in a soundless moan. Her fingers found the rough hair on his chest, and she clung to him, loving the feel of his body under her palms. She was drowning, out of air, and it didn’t matter, because she wanted him enough to die of it.
They broke the surface together, gasping for air, breathless from lack of oxygen and desire. He took her hand firmly and led her back to the shore.
“Making love under water has its hazards,” he explained with a rueful grin, stretching himself out on the sand and pulling her down beside him. “I didn’t want to drown the two of us in the process.”
“It was…incredible,” she whispered, trying to put what she felt into words.
“Yes.” His eyes traced the lines of her body possessively. “I want you so much I ache, and I can’t even touch you.”
He caught her hand and drew it to his chest, pressing it palm down into the thick growth of hair, his breath quickening again when her fingers moved on his body. “I want to lie down with you in the sand,” he whispered, holding her eyes, “I want to peel that bathing suit off you and put my lips to your skin and taste you. I want to stroke you and tease you until you burn all over with a thousand fires. And then,” he whispered, leaning close to her, his voice low as he watched the hunger he’d kindled shimmer in her eyes, “then, I want to ease my body completely over yours and feel you wanting me as much as I want you….”
“Don’t,” she pleaded in a soft whisper.
“Want me?” he whispered, tracing patterns on her cheek with a slow, maddening finger.
She licked her dry lips. “Yes,” she admitted, feeling a shock run through her taut body at the sound of the word.
“And I want you,” he whispered. “I’m burning up with it, and as much as I love my brother, right now I damned well wish he were in Singapore and your sister with him!”