He glanced sideways at her. With relief she saw his mouth curl. "This professor role. Yes. They're colleagues from university. Colleagues with influence."
She grimaced. That explained his reaction. She said, "Why were they here on the island? I'd never have thought your professorial colleagues earnt enough to afford this?"
"They don't. Not in this part of the world, anyway." The barman set her drink in front of her, and Joel finally pulled his glass closer and took a long sip of his whiskey.
She stirred her ice cubes with the straw.
Joel explained, "Vanderlay is loaded. His ancestors back in the day founded some company in the Sates that made millions in the early days of rail. His father fell out with his father - that's Vanderlay's grandfather. Fell out in such a big way he decided to blow the lot to give the finger to his father. A 'screw you' gesture."
"Sheesh. How did he do that?"
Joel took another sip of Scotch. "Invested it all in the emerging technologies of the time. Such as Microsoft stock when it first went public. Put everything into what he considered a sure-bet losing thing. He hated his father that much."
"Microsoft stock?" Daisy put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. She saw the corner of Joel's mouth turn up, too.
He went on, "And given the fact Vanderlay is an only child, has never married or had kids, the odds are good he'll bequeath obscene amount to certain institutions. For a crusty academic he has influence. Major influence."
He took another sip of his whiskey and she asked, "But does this have anything directly to do with this role you're applying for?"
"Not directly, no. But indirectly? Oh, yeah. He will have influence."
Her heart thudded. "So his seeing you here, with me, has just reminded him all about your dual foray into the world of popular entertainment which has been met by disapproval all round?"
"Pretty much." He swirled his Scotch then sighed. "It still amazes me how word got out since it wasn't on a major network."
"Clearly they're all on Twitter," she joked.
Then she was serious. "Joel, seriously. Will it interfere with your chances?"
"It might. It certainly won't help." He ran his finger around the icy rim of the glass. "But you know what?" He glanced at her a long moment. "I knew the risks when I agreed to go on Mystery Date. I have no one to blame."
He took one more sip of his Scotch and she watched as he titled his head back a fraction, the smooth motion of his throat. No double chin. And those lips. They could kiss. Would he taste of Scotch if he kissed her right now?
She looked away hastily. Good grief, she was becoming obsessed.
He said, "What say we finish our drinks and head up to Lover's Leap. We’ll forget all about everyone else and what they think. We’ll have fun. Hang out. And we'll make a deal."
He turned to her, caught her eye. "I’ll forget about university. You forget about the shop.”
She finished her drink, he put out his hands to pull her to her feet, and for a moment he stood there, holding her hands in his. His thumb moved across her fingers and she almost forgot to breathe as she said, “What shop?"
An hour later they had trekked to the northern most part of the island. To Lover's Leap.
“Lover's Leap,” Daisy read from the brochure as they strolled up the path. “In the 1920s a young couple stole a boat from one of the surrounding islands and planned to sail to Hawaii but they were shipwrecked on Golden Grove. Fearing rescue from parents who disapproved of their relationship, they leapt from the highest peak when they saw a ship approach. Their bodies were never recovered.”
Joel stopped and looked out across the smooth water. “Sounds like a script for tourists.”
“How skeptical you are, Joel Benjamin. You being the expert on the past.”
He arched his eyebrows. “An expert on a particular past."
She glanced back at the brochure. “I’m sure there’s some element of truth to the Lover's Leap story.”
“I only have questions. For example. Who watched them leap to their deaths to verify it even occurred? And if it did happen, how do those witnesses know the reason they jumped was because they didn’t want to be rescued? Where's the primary source for this story, the evidence?" He folded his arms across his chest. "Although there's another scenario of course. Maybe they had a fight and she pushed him off, then she slipped, unintentionally overbalanced and off she goes in after him and boom. End of love nest.”
Daisy groaned. “You're terrible. Where’s your sense of adventure, of romance?”
“There’s nothing romantic," he said wryly, "about jumping off a cliff unless you’ve got a bungy cord attached to your ankle."
They watched the neighboring islands in the near distance, and the myriad boats out between them. Further out was a larger ship. Possibly a cruise liner, Daisy wasn’t sure. Maybe that was something the two lovers had done. Stood here and seen the boat. She glanced down at the water beneath to see a rocky crop the tide hadn't reached. Had humans really jumped down there? Could their bodies have been washed out to sea or just remained there to be ripped apart by carnivores, or the elements? She shivered at the thought and decided Joel was probably right, even though she rather liked the original version.
Daisy bought a new outfit, they attended the afternoon tea, and she resisted the urge to try a bit of everything offered. Again, she felt like a fifth wheel. Joel was the attraction, which she didn't mind. It was nice to watch him, to observe women who seemed to not be aware he'd come here on a date, that he'd even been a contestant on a TV dating show.
Afterwards, Maurice took Joel away for some promotional work, and Daisy enjoyed a massage, pedicure and manicure, and when they met up in the lobby, they headed back up to their rooms.
As they left the elevator, Joel said suddenly, "I have some interesting news."
"Really?" she said. "Do tell."
"Maurice has offered us an extra night here at the hotel."
Her eyes widened. "Seriously?"
Joel nodded. "He's enjoyed having us and the room is free for another day and he said we are welcome to it. Completely gratis. I'm pretty sure it's because people on the island think Russell Crowe is in the movie. I've had people ask if it's a sequel to Gladiator."
"His character died in Gladiator."
Joel shrugged his shoulders with a grin.
Daisy said, "Maybe it's because people are actually interested in you."
His eyes went in to that disbelieving look and it was all she could do not to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense in to him.
"Sometimes," she observed, "I get the feeling that deep down you don't just think you're Big Ben, you really believe you are, complete with all that teenage angst that plagued those years, the angst you claim you got over."
His eyebrows arched. "Of course we're the same person but believe me, I was over all that a long time ago."
She scrutinized him. Yeah, he was a decade and some more older but there was still something there... Still a part of him that she didn't think was all that different.
"It seems to me," she began, "that you just don't get how–" She stumbled over her words.
"Just don't get how..." he said.
How on earth did she finish this now she'd started it? "You just don't get how attractive you are to the opposite sex, and I don't mean just physically. Sometimes I think you really do still see yourself as this chubby cheeked kid who got stood up on a date."
They had reached their suites now and as someone walked by, Joel swiped his key card, pushed open the door and murmured, "Let's go inside."
She stepped in to his suite, then turned as he dropped his jacket on a chair and closed the door. He didn't beat around the bush. "What are you saying, Daisy? That I'm no more mature than I was when I was a kid?"
Trust a man to take it the wrong way. "I'm just pointing out what I think is obvious and I really don't see how you can not see that. Joel, you are so attractive, it hurts, and I'm not the on
ly woman who thinks that, who feels that." She pointed her finger at his chest and said, "You told me not to underestimate myself but you know what? You underestimate your self. You're stuck in the last decade."
She realized she was stabbing him and she dropped her hand.
"Don't stop. Carry on, Daisy," he murmured. "Tell me what you mean. Are you saying, for example, that the women at the lecture had more than Etruscan bake ware on their minds?"
She blinked. "Of course they did and you darn well know it."
"Hmmm." He gripped her hand, held it close to him as he looked down at her. "And did you have something else on your mind, too?"
She drew a sharp intake of breath.
The air fizzed, and there was something new sitting between them, something new and bold and exciting, and now they were here on their own with no one around, in the privacy of his room, it was suddenly so much stronger.
She shivered. She had the feeling she'd just gotten out of her depth. Way out of her depth.
Joel's voice was low. "What are you thinking, Daisy?" He took a step closer to her.
Her mind blanked. What was she thinking? She wasn't thinking. She couldn't think.
He slipped his hands up her bare arms to her shoulders, and over her neck and down to
the low collar of her shirt.
It was such exquisite pleasure, this simple touching of her skin, yet she could barely breathe.
And her skin was so sensitive, so intensely attuned to him. She wanted to throw herself in his arms or pull off his clothes or pull off her clothes.
He slid his hands back to her shoulders, and she shuddered at his touch, at the feel of his hands on her.
"This," he said then. His gaze was unnervingly steady.
She swallowed.
There was the barest hesitation. He bent to her, kissed her short and sweet on the mouth, murmured, "Is this right?"
Yes. Yes yes, yes, yes, yes.
"I think," she ground out, "it is very right."
Slowly, he reached for the button on her shirt and undid the first. His fingers dipped, brushing her décolletage. She shivered again.
He unbuttoned the next, then the next, and finally her shirt was undone.
His gaze slipped over her, then back up to her face, her eyes.
She was dying. Burning. Felt so alive it hurt.
Wanted this, wanted him, more than she'd wanted anything in her life.
He bent to her again, his mouth hovered over her, touched hers, he kissed her, and her arms were around him and her hands all over him. Zips were pulled down, belts unbuckled, clothes pulled off until they all lay discarded in an untidy pile on the floor and Joel and Daisy were on the bed.
He paused a moment before he bent to her neck, kissed her, tasted her, and she felt every pore of her skin shudder in response.
He murmured, "Do you know what I want to do to you? Do you know how much I've been dreaming of doing this, of having you here with me like this?"
She pulled his face to hers and murmured, "No, I don't Joel Benjamin." Her voice was so throaty she didn't recognize it.
"So you better stop telling me and damn well show me."
Two hours later, Joel ordered spaghetti and red wine from room service. Daisy, wearing only a fluffy white Golden Grove robe, watched Joel pour the wine at the table. He tasted it, gave a nod of approval and poured more.
He wore a towel around his waist and nothing else since he'd stepped out of the shower.
The last drops of water trickled down over his broad shoulders as he settled the bottle back on the counter and she watched the trails make their way down his smooth, brown skin towards the towel.
She walked over to him and paused.
He glanced sideways at her.
She moved until she was standing right over him.
She ran her index finger slowly down his spine.
He arched, shuddered. Ground out, "What are you doing?"
"Nothing really." She waited a moment and then she did it again.
He arched again. " Daisy Miller, don't you even think about torturing me right now. Have some wine."
"I'd love some. Are you changing the subject?"
"Not at all. I'm suggesting fortification."
She adopted a fake-shocked expression. "You're suggesting fornication? Already? Again? So soon?"
He got to his feet, turned her round and pulled the tie on the robe. It fell open.
His gaze slipped and held and inside she began to melt all over again.
He said, “Let's see, shall we.”
Hours later, they were still awake and Daisy had no desire to sleep. She had the strangest feeling that if she did fall asleep, she'd wake up to find it had all been a dream.
They'd watched several movies and finally Joel had ordered up a game of Monopoly.
"Who'd have thought places like this had board games?" she marveled. She hadn't played since she was sixteen. Given Joel's state of near undress, the sated feeling in her body and too much wine, it had taken on a whole new perspective.
She shook the dice.
“It's amazing, isn't it?" Joel grinned.
"Just amazing. Bugger. I owe you $26.” She counted it out.
Joel took the money, added it to his substantial pile and shook the dice. “So here are the facts. We're playing Monopoly - in which, I might add, I am annihilating you.”
She stuck her tongue out.
He said, “It's a game that could go on for hours."
“Actually, I've heard days."
Her robe was falling open again, and she saw him look, saw him swallow hard. He moved his spaces.
She double checked. “You moved eleven. It’s meant to be seven.”
He smiled wickedly and went back four, then glanced again at her breasts.
She said, "So what does your card say?”
“Take a trip to Go.”
He moved to Go. “Your turn.”
She glanced at the wall clock. It had gone one am. “We probably won’t finish the game now,” she said. “It’s getting late.”
She rolled the dice around the black plastic hat and glanced up at Joel.
He was looking straight at her. Her mouth went dry.
He said. "So what do you think?"
"What do I think?" She set down the black hat, pursed her lips thoughtfully, deliberately.
She said, "What I think is that I might have to spend this last night with you."
She leant back, and the white fabric of the robe lifted, fell apart and showed more. Joel swallowed harder. Then she leant forward more provocatively to shake the dice.
“I see no reason, why not,” he said thickly. "You've been here for hours anyway."
“It's become like a second home to me," she agreed. She gestured to the elegant lounge suite. "I reckon I could just bunk down over there on-"
Joel lunged across the Monopoly board with a growl. “Oh, no you won’t." Pieces went flying as he pulled Daisy down onto the rug with him.
He gave a loaded sigh. “Well, that was a darned shame."
"What was?"
"The game. I think we might have to start all over again.”
“I think,” Daisy said as she realized his towel had slipped off and was in her hand, “you may be right.”
"You've got an extra day given to you? Seriously?" On the other end of the phone, Michelle's voice was incredulous.
"I know. It's hard to believe." Daisy glanced across at Joel. He was leaning back on a chair, his hands clasped behind his head, just watching her. Staring.
His hair had fallen over his forehead and as he reached up to brush it back, his eyes never left her. He wore only jeans.
Her gaze skipped to his chest. Tanned, muscled, broad.
She shivered. Concentrate. You are talking to your best friend.
She looked away. “So is that okay?” she asked Michelle. “Would you be able to open up the shop for me?” She was dying to ask how business was, but she'd made Michelle pr
omise not to tell, and as long as she was away, she was still, she figured, bound by that.
“Yeah. That’s fine. Don't worry about a thing." There was silence. "So tell me? How was it with him? Was there anything good to report?" Humor laced her voice. "As in, is he a good lover? Is there spark?"
Good didn’t describe it. “Spark? Jeez, Michelle, I hardly know the man. What are you expecting me to do? Jump into bed with him?”
Joel’s lips curled. Lazily he rose up from the chair and stretched, pushing both arms high towards the ceiling. The movement flattened his waist and caused his muscles to pump up, to broaden his chest and she watched as he walked towards her. There was a look in his eyes she didn’t trust. She wasn’t sure what it was but she’d copped a glimpse of it the second before he'd hurled himself across the Monopoly board.
“I’m not expecting you to say you've slept with him,” Michelle was saying. “But I kind of got the impression you liked him.”
Daisy’s throat suddenly dried up. “I guess I do.” Joel stood in front of her now, his arms folded across his chest. Lord, how she loved that chest, and those arms, and the sheer masculinity in everything about him. She looked into his eyes, at the knowing, almost wicked, look in them, and she knew he was going to do something but she didn’t know what. Michelle was babbling on and Daisy tried to listen but she was acutely tuned to Joel as he slowly unfolded his arms. It took him forever. Then he reached out and ran one finger slowly down her cheek to her chin, then down her neck to the juncture of her breasts.
She inhaled sharply.
He paused for just a second before he plunged a finger down the crevice between them.
“As long as you’re enjoying yourself,” Michelle said. “So is it hot there?”
Daisy swallowed hard as Joel untied the belt so the robe swung wide open. He tugged on one sleeve and she lifted her arm so it slid to her side.
“Yes,” she said as Joel dropped to his knees in front of her. Her voice was hoarse. “It is hot here.”
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