by Diane Leyne
“Orange or apple?”
“Huh?”
“Orange or apple? You wouldn’t tell me what you liked so I brought one of each.”
Maggie felt herself blushing. “Orange, please.”
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Chris pulled a pair of reading glasses out of one pocket and started perusing the brochures.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because this is a beautiful location and I like the idea of exploring it with a beautiful woman at my side?”
“I don’t buy it.”
“It is true. But there is another reason.”
“I knew it. You’re planning on using some kind of Dom trick on me, aren’t you?”
“Dom trick?” He was laughing at her now.
“Yeah, Dom trick. My three best friends are now kneeling before the men in their lives. I’ve agreed to be trained by you. Trained! Like I’m a dog or something. And speaking of dogs, my brother has somehow convinced my friend to pretend to be a puppy! There has to be some kind of trick or hypnosis or something that makes grown women lose themselves like that.”
“Lose themselves?”
“Yeah. That’s what I said.”
“You really have no idea, do you? Have you discussed this with them?”
She saw the disappointment and hurt in Chris’s face and regretted being the cause. She almost apologized when she realized that this was probably another one of his Dom tricks.
“I’ve tried,” Maggie sighed. “But they all talk about how wonderful submitting is, how free they feel, how strong you have to be to submit, and how being beaten by a man who claims to love you is a good thing. Bullshit!” Maggie knew she wasn’t quite telling Chris the truth. Okay, she was out-and-out lying about how the conversation went.
“If you feel that way, then why do you care so much about being the one to photograph Jillian’s book? It is called The Strength to Submit, you know. Hell, why did you agree to train with me?”
“Because I have to understand.”
She looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping that he would drop the subject. She wasn’t about to admit to herself why she needed to understand, and she damned well wasn’t going to admit it to him. Her breath caught in her throat as he looked into her eyes with his laser-blue gaze. Finally he sighed and broke eye contact. She felt a strange lessening of the tension in her body. She looked down at her plate, suddenly hungry again, and began to eat, not looking at him.
When she finished, she saw he was smiling at her as he sipped his coffee. She expected a snarky remark about her appetite, but all he did was ask if she wanted coffee as well. When she answered in the negative, he indicated the brochures.
“Pick one. I’d like to go snorkeling, and I’d like to go with you, if you are amenable. If not, pick one and I’ll pick a different one.”
Maggie found herself blinking in surprise.
“So, if I pick one and tell you that I don’t want you to come, you’ll book another one.”
“Yup.”
“This isn’t some kind of trick?”
“Hardly. I’ve been down here three times previously but always went straight to Libertine Island, worked twelve-hour days, and then headed back to Chicago. Now I have some time to explore that I booked before you ever agreed to come down.”
He sorted through the brochures and picked one called Pirate Tours. It featured a thirty-six-foot speedboat and visited several snorkeling spots on the western side of the island.
“If you don’t want to pick or think it’s some kind of a trick, fine. I pick this one. I’m going to book it for tomorrow, and I’m taking the tour whether you are or not.”
“Tomorrow? Not today?”
“Yes. This afternoon I’m booked on a tour of the island. It includes the French side as well as the Dutch side where we are now. I thought of just renting a car, but I want to relax and leave the driving to someone else.” He set down his cup and dabbed is mouth with his napkin. “Now I’m going down to the beach for a while, and at one I’m leaving on the island tour, which will pick up in the lobby at 1:00 p.m. If you are around tonight, I’d enjoy dinner with you at seven if you are interested. Your choice. No pressure. And tomorrow, I’m taking the Pirate Tour.”
With that, he got up, picking up a beach bag that she hadn’t noticed on the ground beside his feet, and walked out, leaving the brochures on the table in front of her. She leafed through them, finding both the half-day island tour one and the Pirate Tour. Damn him.
The server came over to the table to ask if she wanted coffee. She didn’t, but she did ask for directions to the tour desk. Damn him. He was using some kind of reverse psychology on her. Or maybe it was reverse, reverse psychology. Damn him, she thought as she stomped down the stairs to the tour booth and booked both tours.
* * * *
Chris forced himself to walk away and not look back. Luckily Maggie was too caught up in her own thoughts and fears to notice his raging hard-on when he walked away before he could hide it behind his bag. He was going to have to rub one out before the tour so as not to embarrass himself if he came. Or maybe two. Of course, if she didn’t join the tour, it would all be moot, but he was choosing to be an optimist.
For now, he’d head down past the two pools. They were nice, but there were pools everywhere, including his own backyard in Chicago. He wanted to swim in the Caribbean and then lay back on a lounger under the shade of one of the numerous beach umbrellas and read one of the dozens of books on his e-reader that he had been adding to for the last six months while only having had time to read a single one.
Dropping his bag on a lounger, he slid off his sandals before walking down to water’s edge. There was a bit of a slope, and then he was standing thigh-deep in the warm waters. Walking further out until the water reached his chest, he immersed himself fully before he started swimming strongly along the shoreline.
Twenty minutes later, his chest heaving from his exertions, he walked back up the beach to where he’d left his bag. Lying in the lounger on the other side of the umbrella was Maggie, immersed in her e-reader and ostentatiously ignoring him.
Without looking up, she muttered. “I’ve booked the damned tours. Satisfied?”
“Not hardly,” he muttered.
“Huh, what?” She looked up at him.
“Of course I’m looking forward to exploring the island with you.” He beamed at her in what he hoped was a nonthreatening manner, but she just grunted and went back to her reading. Toweling himself off, he took his seat and lay back, wishing they were on Libertine Island because then they’d both probably be naked and he wouldn’t have to hide his sudden erection. He’d be able to order her to her knees to take care of it.
He tried deep breathing, but that didn’t help, so he dug out his own e-reader, bent his knees so his swim shorts fabric tented, hopefully masking his erection, and balanced the reader against his thighs.
“The water’s for you.”
“What?” He’d actually been engrossed in the latest John Sandford thriller, and the sudden words jolted him.
“The bottle of water. The unopened one is for you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Maggie read a bit longer and then checked her watch again.
“Chris. It’s almost eleven thirty.”
“Is it?”
“The tour leaves at one thirty.”
“Yes it does.”
“I’d like to have lunch before then.”
“Yes. That’s nice. I’ll probably eat before we leave, too.”
“We can eat together if you like.” Her tone wasn’t gracious at all, but he decided to ignore it. He’d work on that later.
“Are you asking me to have lunch with you?”
“I’m eating at the buffet at noon,” she stated, ignoring his question. “You are probably going to want to rinse off that salt.”
“I’d planned on doing that before I ate.” He was having trouble
keeping the amusement out of his voice. Clearly Maggie was conflicted about something. It would be interesting to see how the rest of the day went.
“Well, you had better go shower and change now. We don’t want to be late.”
The whole time, she’d avoided making eye contact with him. She’d kept her eyes firmly on her e-reader, and now she was packing her things up in her beach bag. He got a great view of her rounded ass as she turned away from him, before she wrapped her towel around her, hiding from his view. He would have to work on that. He hadn’t thought she was self-conscious about her body. She was so outgoing, but maybe that was just an act.
“I’ll see you at lunch.” He watched Maggie’s retreating form after she’d mumbled her farewell without giving him time to respond. Damn. These next three days would be fun, and the next two weeks even more so.
He realized he was humming as he walked back up the beach toward the hotel and his room. Maggie was a complex woman, and he was looking forward to learning what made her tick.
Chapter Five
Maggie sat at the table eating breakfast, her beach bag at her feet. The previous day had not gone at all as she’d expected at all. Chris had strolled down to lunch wearing a pair of loose fitting shorts and a T-shirt with St. Maarten emblazoned across the chest and wearing a matching baseball cap. He carried a messenger bag, which he set down beside the table, and a pair of sunglasses, which he set down on the table before excusing himself and joining the line at the buffet.
Then he rejoined her and made small talk while he ate. It was like they were holiday acquaintances or something. Maggie wasn’t sure what to think. During the tour yesterday, he’d let two older women, sisters in their sixties named Joan and Edie, monopolize his company during the tour. They’d fussed over him, insisting that he take a bottle of water from one and an apple from the other at one of the stops. When they’d stopped at Maho Beach to watch the airplanes land, they’d both grabbed him tightly as they tittered in mock distress at the low-flying aircraft.
And he’d enjoyed himself. He bought them each a drink at the bar where they watched the planes. He’d gone back to the bus when one of them forgot her hat before walking arm in arm with them when they stopped at the capital of the French side, Marigot. Maggie had tried to get his attention when they stopped to take photos of a particularly picturesque bay, but the two women had glared balefully at her before directing her attention to a pimply youth who was on the tour with his parents and kept trying to sneak peeks down her low-cut top.
Chris, the bastard, was no help at all. He knew that she’d worn the top to show off her cleavage for him, but when she’d looked to him for help, he’d just smiled benignly and turned to Edie—or was it Joan?—and pointed out a particularly interesting outcrop of rock or something. It didn’t matter. Apparently everything he said was fascinating.
The tour itself was a dud. The island was pretty but small at thirty-seven square miles. The only really interesting stop was at the nude beach at Orient Bay. Of course, the sisters had twittered and fanned themselves when a couple of naked men had walked by, causing Maggie to ask if they had time to take a short walk on the beach.
The answer, of course, had been no. The sisters had looked disapprovingly at her, and the teenage boy had only started following her more closely. She’d been pretty darned happy to get back to the hotel and even happier when she realized that the boy and his family were staying at a different hotel. She was ecstatic she realized that the sisters were on a cruise and the bus dropped them downtown so they could pick up a few things before returning to their ship. Excellent. They’d be gone soon and out of her hair.
She got the surprise of her life a moment later. She’d thought Chris had gotten up to help them off and was shocked when he waved at her in the window as the bus drove away. Joan and Edie smiled at her triumphantly as they lead him away.
He hadn’t appeared at dinner. He’s probably run away with the two old biddies, she thought bitterly, her delicious meal suddenly tasting like cardboard. She’d lingered, watching the cruise ship across the bay. Once it had left, she figured it wouldn’t take long before he was back at the hotel, so she graciously decided to linger over dessert, but an hour later, it was clear that he had no intention of joining her and she stomped back to her room, feeling somewhat humiliated even though no one, not even Chris, knew how much she’d been looking forward to dinner.
She’d show him, she decided. During the Pirate Tour, she’d stay aloof, and hopefully there’d be a bunch of hot young guys she could flirt with. Hell, who was she kidding? She’d settle for a chubby middle-aged insurance agent, as long as he was single and she could flirt with him and make Chris jealous.
* * * *
She took a quick look at Chris, but he was tucking into his breakfast with relish. She wasn’t quite quick enough to avert her gaze when he looked up after placing his fork and knife across his place.
“That was good.” Suddenly he frowned as he looked at her still-full plate. “Aren’t you hungry? Shouldn’t waste food like that.”
She shook her head and pushed the plate away, a neutral expression on her face. She hoped he wasn’t going to lecture her like a child about not eating, because if he did…but he wasn’t. He simply reached across the table to pick up her plate and place it on top of his, and then he started shoveling down her unfinished food. Where the hell did he put it? The man didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Genetics were so unfair.
When he finally finished and checked his watch, she realized that it was almost time to meet the taxi that would take them down to Dock Martin where they’d board their boat for their tour. It looked like two other couples from their hotel were going on the tour as well. Both women looked at Maggie’s cleavage and held tighter to their men. They looked pointedly at Chris, who smiled and shrugged, standing slightly apart from Maggie as if to deny a relationship.
They were met by their captain, the young and dreadlocked Gerry, who welcomed them aboard. There were already a dozen people there, including two women who appeared to be in their late twenties, and most definitely single and eyeing Chris like he was dessert.
A surge of jealousy shot through her. It was okay for her to try to make Chris jealous, but no way she was letting these two skanks near him. It was bad enough with Joan and Edie yesterday, but they were elderly and essentially harmless. These two with their bleached hair, fake tans, and too much makeup for a snorkeling trip were trouble.
Looking at the boat, she realized that there were two seating areas. In the front, there were two bench seats on either side that held four people each. At the back of the boat there was room for six more people. The two couples from their hotel took the front benches, one couple on each side. Grabbing Chris’s hand, she dragged him to the bench on the right, pushing him into the last seat while she took a position between herself and the other couple. The skanks took the seats across from them, chattering away nineteen to the dozen with Chris, who smiled charmingly and made small talk with them. Maggie tried to engage the husband of the couple sitting beside her, but his wife quickly put an end to that, pulling him close to her while giving Maggie the evil eye.
Sitting back, she held herself stiffly as Gerry gave the safety talk, and then they were off. After maneuvering carefully out of the harbor, he opened up the throttle. The boat jumped over the waves, and Maggie felt herself thrown back against Chris, who wrapped one brawny arm around her middle and held her tight when she tried to pull away. She turned to protest when she saw the expression of the two women on the other side. As they looked daggers at her, she found herself grinning cheekily and cuddling closer into Chris’s embrace. His lips grazed her ear as he laughed quietly. She could feel his warm breath as he chuckled.
All too soon, they were at their first stop. She looked around. They hadn’t pulled up to a beach. They were out in the middle of the damned ocean where the water would be over her head.
“What’s wrong?” asked Chris when Maggie sat paral
yzed instead of stripping down to her swimsuit and putting on the flippers and snorkel Chris had obtained from Gerry.
“The water. It’s too deep out here.” She realized that her tone sounded slightly hysterical, and she tried again. “I don’t like deep water.”
“Can you swim?”
“Yes.”
“Then just trust me. I’ll take care of you. Can you do that? Can you trust me to protect you?”
Maggie looked into his deep-blue eyes and saw nothing but sincerity. No lust, no amusement, no manipulation. Suddenly, she realized that she did trust him.
“What do you want me to do?”
Maggie had sat back with no small sense of satisfaction as the two skanks watched jealously as Chris first helped her remove her shorts and tank and then placed the flippers on her feet, tightening them carefully, and then helped her on with her snorkel and mask before attending to his own. Then he handed her a pink noodle, picked her up in his arms, and stepped up onto the side of the boat.
“Hold tight.” She was surprised to realize that she wasn’t afraid. She wound her arms around his neck and held on as he stepped off the side of the boat. They both went under for a few seconds, but she felt secure in his arms as they floated to the surface, Maggie clutching the noodle and his neck tightly.
It took a few minutes, but eventually she relaxed her arms from the death grip she had on him. Between the salt water, the flippers, and the noodle, she quickly realized that she could float comfortably. Pulling the mask in place, she tentatively placed her face in the water and looked at the sea life below. A few moments later, she looked up and clutched Chris’s arm.
“I saw a ray! I did!”
“That’s great, Maggie.”
“Damn. I should have brought my waterproof camera.”
“We’ll just have to do this again.” He grinned at her, and she found herself grinning back.
The rest of the day passed quickly. They’d snorkeled twice more and stopped for lunch. At each location, Chris had meticulously applied sunscreen to Maggie before attending to his own fair skin, his hands thorough, his touch professional and impersonal, which had the effect of ratcheting up her desire to be touched much more personally, but with the other people around, she could do nothing but count the hours until they could be alone.