A Contract Seduction (Southern Secrets Series Book 2)

by Janice Maynard

  Lisette reclined her seat, reached for the small pillow and blanket and closed her eyes.

  Jonathan studied her as she slept. Or maybe she was pretending to be asleep. Who could tell? Their honeymoon was off to a stunningly bad start. If this was how it was going to be for the next seven days, he might as well call the whole thing off.

  Not that he really had that option. He and his new wife were headed to the Caribbean for a week that the outside world thought was all about sex, sex and more sex.

  He snorted inwardly. He’d hoped he and Lisette could use this time to get to know each other on a more intimate level, not sex necessarily, but he had at least entertained the notion.

  Even now, his body stirred at the thought of taking his new wife to bed. At one time, it had seemed like a possibility. Not today.

  With nothing to occupy his time, he reached for the copy of the Wall Street Journal that had been tucked in the seat pocket in front of him prior to his arrival. The usual financial predictions and analyses failed to hold his interest for more than a few minutes.

  At last he snapped the paper shut and tossed it aside, muttering his displeasure with the newspaper in particular and the situation in general.

  His travel companion stirred, sitting up and yawning. “What’s the matter with you? I’ve traveled with toddlers who were quieter.”

  “Sorry,” he said, not bothering to hide his sulky tone.

  She glared at him. “If you have something to say, say it. You’ve been in a bad mood all afternoon. Is it the wedding? Are you regretting what we did earlier? Is the old ball and chain cramping your style?”

  “It’s everything,” he said.

  Ten

  Lisette blinked in shock and her temper began to boil. “You’re the one who insisted on marriage. Is the big, bad alpha wolf having second thoughts?”

  His ill humor dented her feelings though she wouldn’t tell him that for the world. She wasn’t a real bride. If her husband chose to behave like a bear with a thorn in his paw, she shouldn’t take it personally.

  Jonathan stretched his arms over his head and sighed lustily. “I hate flying,” he muttered.

  “But you can’t drive to Antigua.”

  “Exactly.”

  His scowl should have intimidated her, but she was tired of pretending this day was about love and romance. “Feel free to ignore me,” she said sharply, staring out the window where white puffball clouds put on a show.

  “I can’t ignore you, Lizzy. That’s the problem.”

  She spun her head so quickly her neck protested. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re temptation personified in that dress. I’ve wanted to strip it off you all afternoon.”

  Her jaw dropped. Heat spread from her throat to her face. “You can’t be serious.”

  He shrugged. “I’m a man. You’re my legally wed wife. No red-blooded male I know could entirely ignore the ramifications.”

  “I thought you were second-guessing our agreement,” she whispered, her throat tight.

  “I was. But not the way you’re thinking. I’m frustrated that I ruined this day for you. No matter what happens next in your life, this will always be your first marriage. And as celebrations go, this one was a bust.”

  His wry honesty soothed some of her hurt. She waved a dismissive hand. “I wouldn’t worry about it. My expectations were pretty low.”

  “Ouch.” His shocked laugh restored her confidence. The odd balance of power between them was unprecedented territory. In their roles at Tarleton Shipping, the lines had been crisp and clear. No gray areas.

  Now their entire relationship was one big gray area.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, studying his face for signs of pain or discomfort.

  The scowl returned, though not as dark and brooding as before. “I don’t want to talk about my health, remember?”

  “So I’m never allowed to check on my husband’s welfare? That seems cold. I’d do the same for an acquaintance who was ill.”

  “I’m not ill,” he snapped.

  “I don’t understand.”

  He unfastened his seat belt and stood up to walk the aisle. Back and forth. His energy and passion, momentarily chained by circumstances, nevertheless vibrated in the close confines of the jet’s cabin.

  Without warning, the plane jolted and Jonathan staggered.

  The attendant stuck his head out at the back of the plane, intercom phone in hand. “Rough weather up ahead, sir. You’ll have to take your seat.”

  Jonathan nodded and sat down, belting in with quick, practiced movements. He glanced at Lisette. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. You never answered my question.”

  “It wasn’t really a question as I recall.”

  “Don’t play with words. Why did you say you aren’t ill?”

  He stared straight ahead, his classic male profile carved in grim lines. At last he exhaled. “I have a time bomb inside my skull. But I won’t tiptoe around, always worrying about when and if it’s going to blow up and kill me. I have a life to live. A future to plan, though it might not be as long as I had hoped. I’m not going to spend every waking day assessing my slow decay. I can’t do that. I won’t. Do you understand?”

  His hands gripped the armrests so tightly his knuckles turned white. She knew he wasn’t afraid to fly, so his turmoil came from another source.

  Lisette reached out her right hand and linked her fingers with his. “I do,” she said quietly. “I won’t ask again, or at least I’ll try not to. As far as I’m concerned, you’re going to live until you’re ninety. Does that work for you?”

  Some of his tension winnowed away. He shot her a sideways glance that was both sheepish and relieved. “Thanks.” His thumb caressed the back of her hand. “I swear I’ll ask for help when the time comes.”

  “Fair enough.” She hadn’t realized that holding hands with her husband on her wedding day was going to affect her so strongly. She had reached out to him in a gesture of comfort and understanding. Now she was reluctant to let go. But she did. She was a wife in name only.

  Gradually the turbulence outside the plane subsided. The flight attendant reappeared with coffee and sodas and snacks. “We’ll be on the ground in forty-five minutes,” he said.

  “So soon?” She was startled.

  Jonathan’s smile was smug. “And now you know the benefits of chartering a private jet. Hassle-free. Besides, nothing is too good for my new bride.”

  The flight attendant smiled, so their charade must be working. Maybe no one would be able to tell they weren’t really a couple.

  Landing in St. John’s and deplaning was smooth and easy. Jonathan had planned this end of the trip as well. Instead of a private car, he had arranged to rent a four-wheel-drive vehicle that would handle the sometimes precipitous roads leading up to his friend’s hillside villa just below Shirley Heights.

  The air was lush and humid, but not more so than Charleston, and the wind off the ocean was heavenly. Flowering trees and shrubs scented the air with exotic fragrances.

  After loading their things into the back of the Jeep, Jonathan helped her up into the high passenger seat, and soon they were off on the next leg of their journey. He handled the narrow, rough road with confidence. When they pulled up in front of the beautiful home that was to be their own private retreat for the week, Lisette was speechless. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this lavish, stunning luxury.

  A uniformed maid met them and gave them a brief tour before excusing herself to finish preparing their dinner. The house overlooked English Harbour, a glittering field of blue dotted with a hundred sailboats. Colorful bougainvillea surrounded the property and draped over railings.

  “We can have dinner here,” Jonathan said, indicating the elegant glass-and-rattan table on the wide veranda
. “A bird’s-eye view for our first sunset.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  His gaze raked her from head to toe. “You look beautiful in that dress, but would you like to change into something more comfortable for the rest of the evening?”

  She searched his words for hidden meanings, but found none. The thought of a cool shower after a busy day of wedding preparations and travel sounded wonderful.

  “I would,” she said. “If it’s just us, we don’t have to be formal, do we?”

  “Not at all. This week is ours.”

  His quiet words and the intimacy in his smile sent a thrill through her body. Spending time with Jonathan under any circumstance would be enjoyable. He was a charismatic, fascinating man. But he was also intensely virile and masculine, and she dared not let herself think about what might unfold here in this tropical paradise.

  The maid had shown them the master suite with its hedonistic glass-walled shower. Jonathan fetched both large suitcases from the Jeep and placed them on matching teak chests at the foot of the massive king-size bed. Its carved posts reflected the English colonial influence in Antigua, as did the vibrantly colored watercolors depicting points of historical interest, which were spread around the room.

  Lisette set their carry-ons beside the dresser. Being here with Jonathan in this lovely room that was so obviously created for couples to enjoy rattled her considerably. “I’ll use the bathroom across the hall,” she said, trying not to look at either the bed or her new husband. “We don’t want to be late for our first meal. The maid said half an hour.” She grabbed what she needed and tried to smile as if her nerves weren’t escalating by the minute.

  Jonathan nodded, his gaze hooded. “Sounds good.”

  She clutched her toiletry kit and clothes and fled. In the other room she locked the door and collapsed onto the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. Did Jonathan mean for them to be intimate tonight?

  The prospect filled her with a confusing mixture of anticipation and dread. The sexual attraction between them was no longer veiled. Jonathan didn’t even try to hide the hunger in his gaze. But he had said they needed time to get used to each other. Was that only for her benefit?

  Probably. Men rarely missed a chance to be physically intimate with a woman when the woman was available and interested.

  As his wife, she was definitely available. And she had been interested for a long time.

  Though she needed breathing space to find her bearings, the clock was not her friend. She undressed and jumped in the shower, keeping the water frigid. The brisk jolt of cold against her heated flesh revived and refreshed her. Wrapping up in a thick terry robe afterward felt wonderful.

  She had worn her hair up in a complicated knot for the wedding and the flight. Now she took it down and brushed it out. Carefully she caught back the sides in gold clips and stared at herself in the mirror.

  Jonathan claimed he’d had no serious relationships recently. She had no reason to doubt him. Even so, the prospect of getting naked with him was intimidating. Her own sexual experience was fairly limited, and she certainly couldn’t match his innate confidence.

  Nevertheless, she had made a monumental decision on her own behalf. After being halfway in love with her handsome boss for a very long time, now they were alone together, sharing a faux honeymoon. If the moment seemed right and Jonathan was receptive, she was going to let him know she wanted a real marriage in every sense of the word. And she was going to revisit the baby idea whether he liked it or not. She was giving up a lot for him.

  Sighing deeply, she picked up the outfit she had chosen for this first evening. The garment was loose and flowing, with a halter neck. What made the dress provocative was the partially sheer lawn fabric. The color was ecru, adding to the impression that she was seminude. Tiny gold threads sifted through the cotton from throat to toe, catching the light with each movement.

  She dropped the robe to the floor and debated the available undergarments. Dispensing with her bra wasn’t a hard choice. She slid the lovely dress over her head and let it fall to her bare feet. The incredibly soft material caressed her sensitive skin. Though her rigid nipples pressed against the cloth in a provocative fashion, the look was certainly appropriate for an intimate dinner, particularly during a honeymoon.

  The impulse to go full commando was strong, but she wasn’t quite that brave. So she stepped into the brand-new pair of undies she had bought yesterday afternoon at a lingerie boutique. The lacy thong matched the color of her skin and did nothing to disturb the pleasing flow of the dress.

  Her light eye makeup still looked good, though she added a bit of dramatic color for the evening. Then, all that was left was to add some gloss to her lips.

  When she was ready, she stepped back and tried to study her reflection as a man would. The dress flattered her body and hinted at more curves beneath.

  Would her new husband like the way she looked?

  Her heart rapped in her chest as if she had run a mile. She tried to take a deep breath, but it didn’t help.

  She was nervous as a skittish Victorian virgin on her wedding night.

  When she could delay no longer, she opened the guest room door and peeked out into the hall. Jonathan had left the master suite open, so she was able to see that the room was empty. Unless he was still in the bathroom, which seemed doubtful.

  She had spent far too long getting ready. Jonathan was probably on the terrace waiting for her.

  Her instincts were correct. She found him standing at the low stone wall, staring out at the idyllic scene below as if he hadn’t a care in the world. His appearance surprised her. Instead of his customary dark suit and tie, he wore lightweight khaki pants and a crisp white linen shirt that stretched across broad shoulders. Leather deck shoes with no socks completed the look of a man on vacation.

  For some reason, this relaxed version of Jonathan made him seem like a stranger.

  She inhaled sharply. “I hope dinner is ready. I’m starving.”

  * * *

  Jonathan spun around. All the blood in his body rushed to his groin in a painful arousal that left him unsteady on his feet. “Lizzy,” he muttered. “You’re here.” Her tentative smile dazzled him. Why had he ever thought of her as average? Now that they were on intimate terms, her subtle, understated beauty caught him by the throat and wouldn’t let go.

  She was wearing some kind of sultry dress that was designed to make a man drool and stutter. It clung to her stellar breasts and slid over her body like a raw caress. Was she naked underneath? The possibility consumed him.

  The maid appeared at exactly the wrong time. Jonathan wanted to curse at her and send her away, but the tray she carried was laden with culinary delights that made his stomach rumble even in the midst of his desperate desire for his bride.

  The table was situated so that both parties had an unobstructed view of the ocean. He held Lizzy’s chair and waited for her to be seated. Her hair brushed her bare shoulders. He wanted to run his fingers through it.

  Instead, he took his place across from her and listened with half an ear as the maid/cook explained each dish. There were fried plantains and local grouper with pineapple chutney. Toast points with a Creole dipping sauce and a beautiful key lime pie.

  Lisette chatted animatedly with the older local woman, at last coaxing a smile from her dour, expressionless face. Jonathan was struck suddenly by how different he and Lizzy were in temperament. She opened herself up to everyone, while Jonathan kept himself in check.

  His recent diagnosis had only exacerbated his instinct to hide behind his CEO persona. Even so—sweet, generous, compassionate Lisette had agreed to his outlandish plan. Perhaps unconsciously, he had known she would. Which made him an opportunist and a user.

  The realization shamed him, because it was too late for second thoughts.

  Once the maid was assured that Jonat
han and Lisette had everything they needed, she disappeared, leaving the newlyweds to their private wedding-night feast.

  Jonathan forced himself to eat and talk and smile. Everything a normal groom would do. Some of his turmoil subsided, winnowed away by the sheer magic of a tropical night.

  Lisette leaned back in her chair, meal forgotten, when the sun neared the horizon. “I can’t imagine this would ever get old,” she whispered. She reached across the table and took his hand. “Watch it with me,” she said. “And make a wish.”

  He gripped her fingers, feeling how slender and delicate they were in contrast to his larger hand. “I don’t think that’s a real thing. Isn’t it only shooting stars?”

  “It can be whatever we want it to be. Look,” she said urgently. The sun seemed to sink more quickly now. The bottom rim kissed the ocean. The sun melted into a fatter, wider ball, and then it was gone.

  Jonathan stared at the colors swirling on the horizon. How many more sunsets would he live to see?

  He cleared his throat. “I understand now why my buddy bought this place. It’s more than a tax write-off.”

  Lisette grimaced. “A tax write-off? Oh, Jonathan. Surely you have a tiny bit of romance in your soul.”

  “Maybe. Did you make a wish?”

  “I did, but I’m not telling you.”

  “I’ll bet I could make you talk.”

  She blinked, perhaps as surprised as he was by the blatantly sexual comment. He hadn’t even known he was going to say it.

  “Um...” She released his hand. “May I ask you something?”

  He waved a hand. “I’m feeling pretty mellow at the moment. The floor is yours, my beautiful bride.”

  “We’ve danced around the issue of whether or not this marriage, our marriage, is going to include physical intimacy. And we talked about having time to get used to each other...to know each other in a different way than we do at work.”