Gratitude shone in her eyes and an answering warmth curled inside him. “I’d be delighted.” She scooped up the garments and headed to her side of the suite to change. She reappeared five minutes later, wearing her chef’s outfit and a smile.
For the first time in a long while, joy filled him simply because of her smile. “Ready?” he asked.
“For cooking? Always.”
They went to the kitchen, and Haku immediately set Blake to the task of peeling, then slicing several mangos that would be used for garnish, while Felicity helped the Hawaiian chef prepare two different sauces to be used in the feast to come.
After he’d finished preparing the mangos, Blake watched Felicity as she moved around the kitchen, her features soft and at peace. Cooking seemed to center her as nothing else did. For the first time, he wondered about the hardships she’d talked about in her anger the day before yesterday. What horrors had she experienced that had created the woman before him? Suddenly it was imperative he know.
With a frown, he watched her work. He could push Marcus harder, hire detectives to do all the usual things he did to his business associates as well as his enemies. Yet with Felicity, such tactics were starting to seem . . . wrong. He’d never really cared much about his business rivals’ feelings before he’d negotiated with Donald Jamison over the Heritage Hotel. Was it Felicity’s influence that had made him suddenly hold himself to a higher standard?
He watched her transfixed. He’d never seen a more beguiling woman in his life. Despite her chef’s coat, he could still see a hint of her shapely curves that were hidden from his view. The white of the garments she wore were the perfect complement to her developing tan and blonde hair. She looked healthy and relaxed—and as sexy as a woman could look fully dressed.
His body hardened at the sight. The more he watched her, the more he wanted her.
She stirred a large pot at the stove, then reached for a ramekin and placed a dollop of sauce inside. She dipped her finger into the contents, bringing it up to her lips to taste. His breath caught at the motion.
Moving to her side, he caught her hand and brought that same finger to his lips, taking it into his mouth, tasting the sauce mixed with the sweetness of Felicity herself. A strange shiver moved through his body at the whisper-soft feel of her finger against the roughness of his tongue.
“Delicious,” he breathed.
A blush rose to her cheeks as she shot a glance at Haku. He continued moving about the kitchen, ignoring the two of them. “When will our guests arrive?” she asked as she drew her hand from Blake’s grasp.
“In two hours.” He stared down at her, at those parted lips that beckoned him. It had been so long since he’d had someone to share things with. Someone who filled an emptiness inside him he hadn’t known existed before she entered his life.
Despite being around people every hour of every day, he hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been until he looked into her wide, intelligent eyes. He’d been completely unprepared for her.
Her face was so close he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. She stared at him without blinking, and he felt as if he could see straight into her soul—and it was a frightened, vulnerable place like his own. For the first time in his life, he considered giving her insight into his own life. He’d never trusted anyone enough to do that. His heart sped up. He stood there motionless, waiting while he considered what to do.
“Thank you for sharing the secrets of your success with me today. I know you didn’t have to do that. I have a few ideas I’d like to implement at the Bancroft when I return to Seattle.”
“You’re welcome. Now, don’t we have a luau to cook for?” The answering warmth in her eyes brought a grin to his face. A feeling of camaraderie clung to them. Something new and fragile had blossomed between them over the past few days, and he was loath to let the feeling end. He twisted toward the table beside him and picked up an abandoned apron from the stainless steel surface.
“How may I be of assistance?”
She arched a brow. “You want to help me cook?”
“My services don’t come cheap.”
She crossed her arms before her and gave him a level look. “Of course they don’t. All right, what’s this ‘help’ going to cost me?”
“A kiss.”
She hesitated, looking across the kitchen at Haku.
“Don’t mind me,” the Hawaiian said with a smile. “I’ll have my own payment later when I force you to fix me up with one of your good-looking friends from the mainland.”
Felicity’s smile broadened. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Humming a tune, Haku left the kitchen to go check on the pig roasting in the pit.
Blake curled his hand around the nape of her neck and anchored her to him. He lowered his head and his lips molded to hers, moving slowly and sensually. The kiss lasted forever and beyond. With each second, each flick of her tongue against his, Blake felt his need for her swell, until he thought he would burst from wanting her. Finally, with a groan, he pulled back, releasing her.
“Best bargaining terms ever,” she said breathlessly against his cheek.
Invisible hands clutched his heart and squeezed at her words. He set her away from him even though he desperately wanted to pull her back into his arms. “And you’re making me consider a career change as your prep chef.”
She grinned and handed him a spoon. “Stir this while I get the other ingredients for the Huli Huli chicken.”
“Okay, boss.” He would do anything she asked of him, if it meant they’d get to the luau sooner and he could get her alone to indulge himself in her sweetness more fully.
A soft breeze cooled the warmth from the day as Felicity sat among the crowd while Polynesian dancers entertained them with movement and fire, legend and mystery. The food they’d prepared had been well received by their guests who sat at their tables, watching the show. The rhythm of the Hawaiian drums matched the tempo of her heartbeat. Her body tensed as she fought the desire to tap her foot to the beat.
The heady sweetness of hibiscus lingered in the night air, seducing her every bit as much as the fire in Blake’s eyes. All afternoon as she worked alongside Blake, she could feel herself changing. It was as if his very presence in her life brought the sunshine that had been missing for years, lighting all the cold dark places she hid from everyone else.
The music, the drum, the fire, the sweet scent of the night, all conspired against her, filling her with need. When the festivities were complete and Blake stood and reached for her hand, she didn’t hesitate.
He brought her hand to his lips. His eyes locked with hers as he kissed each one of her fingers. He turned her hand over and allowed his lips to press against the inside of her palm. He let his lips linger just long enough for her to tremble at the intimacy of his touch. Her breath caught when he pulled back and, without a word, led her inside the hotel, up the stairs, and to their suite.
And willingly she followed.
In the privacy of their room, the beat of the drums remained in the echo of her heart, filling her with that same need, that same desire, that had to be quenched.
Blake stood facing her as desire leaped to life in his blue eyes. “I know you feel it, too. The rhythm. The magic.”
She swallowed roughly and didn’t deny the truth.
“I want to spend the night with you, in your bed, not mine. I want morning to come and for the two of us to wake there together. No seduction, no coercion. A choice we both made,” he said, his voice deep and low.
“Yes,” she whispered her response.
Then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her. His lean, hard body was pressing against her own. His kisses were warm and intimate and more fervent than usual as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to her side of the suite and on into her bedroom, before shutting the door and everything else out.
She took out her phone and turned it off. “No interruptions.”
He smiled, took out his phone, and did
the same. Then, leaving the world behind, they undressed each other slowly. She feasted on his body—his muscular chest, the strength of his arms, the flat belly leading downward . . .
She reached down to touch him, eliciting a groan of response. Emboldened by her success, she caressed his tender flesh until he laid her against the crisp sheets. She touched him in places she’d never explored before, caressed him until desire swept away both restraint and thought. Left only with sensation and feeling to cling to, her kisses grew hungrier, more demanding. His tantalizing assault left her senses reeling and her nerves skittering as she tried to urge him on.
But he was in no hurry tonight, even though the heat between them was palpable. His kisses went on as he explored every nuance of her body, as he left her senses whirling at the edges of that vortex of pleasured delight. He overwhelmed her senses and reduced her to mindless need, filled her with a craving that went past logic and straight to her core.
She arched into him, inviting his touch when he finally relented and settled between her legs. He tilted her hips beneath him and pressed slowly into her body until she felt his possession inch by inch, felt every nuance of his penetration stretching her, filling her, completing her.
He filled her completely, his gaze never leaving hers. His chest rose and fell with the force of his breathing as he slowly pulled out, then filled her again. The slowness of his movements sent her senses spiraling. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the flames—burning, melting, as pleasure spilled through every glorious part of her being.
Blake cried out. The sound struck her to her very soul as pleasure racked them both and flung them into the waiting abyss. It might have been minutes or hours later when they floated back to Earth in each other’s arms. As satiation dragged them down, Blake pulled her against his body and smoothed her hair from her face, staring at her as though for the first time.
“Neither of us can turn back the clocks on our past, but I need to know . . . after your anger the day before yesterday, I wondered, was it all bad? Do you not have any happy memories at all?”
She drew back, searching his face. Was he searching for information, or did he seriously want to know more about her? Her heart told her the latter, and she smiled and squeezed his hand, signaling to him without words that she, too, felt the connection between them. “There were happy times. Lots of them, despite being poor.” Before the accident, there were memories of birthdays, picnics by the Sound, movies in the park . . . after the accident, not as many, but she was certain even then there were a few happy moments when she hadn’t been hungry or worried.
He brushed his fingers over hers. “You flourished in spite of it, but you don’t have to be so strong with me. I’ll take care of you,” he said, then started as though the words were a surprise even to him.
“I don’t want to be taken care of,” she said softly. “I want a partner. I want what my parents had—companionship and love. Even though they were poor, they always had everything they needed in each other.” She remembered their quiet mingled laughter as they helped each other with chores around the house. Curled up in her sagging bed at night, under her tattered blanket, she remembered their laughter. The sound was a balm to her fears, giving her hope that one day she’d find a man who would love her as much as her father had loved her mother.
Blake pulled her closer, wrapping her in his warmth even as a shiver racked his body. “The saying that money can’t buy everything is true, because my parents never got along. I always wondered why they stayed together. Uncle Vernon wasn’t pleased the day my father came home from a weekend away, married to a woman he’d met only the day before. My mother was a wonderful person, but she was no one of importance. Uncle Vernon was furious that she would be the one to continue the Bancroft family line. He made no secret of that displeasure. I always assumed that was why he hated me.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
“What else can explain why he didn’t want me with him after my parents died? He took me in for two weeks before sending me away. I never lived with him again after that.”
“Maybe he sent you away because he was mourning the loss of his brother, or maybe he was regretful of the way he’d always treated your mother, or maybe you reminded Vern of himself at that age.” She stopped talking as a smile warmed his face. “What?”
“That’s one of the many things I love about you. You never see a fault in anyone.” He leaned forward and kissed her. He didn’t add any additional words to their conversation. In fact, he didn’t say another word for a very long time. Instead, he spoke with actions in the way his hands drifted over her body.
And while he did, one word he’d said drifted through her thoughts: love. He’d said it so casually, the way so many other people did, as a more intense version of liking something. Yet those four letters didn’t resonate with her that way. Was that what he’d meant, or did he mean something more?
And as she gave herself over to the pleasure he evoked, she couldn’t forget the one thing that still stood between them—the ownership of the Bancroft Hotel. Their physical relationship changed nothing. In fact, it complicated matters even more, because the day was soon approaching where one of them would have to concede. Someone would win, someone would lose, and the casualty of that decision would be one or the other of them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next day, Felicity woke and slipped from the bed, leaving Blake still asleep. Last night she’d seen the pain in his eyes when he’d told her about his parents. And she’d seen that same look when he’d told her about Vern sending him away. Why had Vern kept his only living relative at a distance? He must always have been as disagreeable as he was to most of the staff at the hotel. The bigger question was why befriend her?
Felicity showered and dressed while Blake continued to sleep. She had to pack and get ready to return to the mainland. A part of her was sad to leave the splendor of the island behind. Yet if they stayed any longer, she feared what she might do when filled with emotion. Twice yesterday she’d almost given him the Bancroft despite her fears about what would happen to the staff.
She paced the sitting area of the suite, looking out the big picture windows at the breathtaking view of Poipu Beach below. The sun was just coming up and casting golden rays across the palms and tropical foliage, making the soft rain from last night look like sparkling jewels on the deep green leaves.
Rain she understood. Rain she was used to. It was best for her to return to Seattle and keep her wits about her until she could make a logical decision about how they would move forward with the Bancroft and . . .
She couldn’t finish the thought. She wasn’t certain if there was anything else for them past this trip. Blake had given her no indication of such a thing. Besides, he lived in San Francisco. She lived in Seattle. And while long-distance relationships weren’t impossible, it wasn’t ultimately what she wanted. She’d liked going to sleep in Blake’s arms last night and waking up the same way.
For the first time in her life, something had been easy and spontaneous. But if Blake remained in her life, would anything ever be normal? They came from such different worlds. That was one thing she hadn’t revealed to him last night, just how impoverished she had been. Not because she was embarrassed by her early poverty, but because she’d pushed those memories so deep, it was hard to pull them back without experiencing the same terror she’d gone to sleep with each night as a child.
Those memories were better off tucked deep inside.
“Morning, gorgeous.” Blake came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and handed her her cell phone. “You left this in the bedroom.”
“Thanks,” she said, turning it on and nestling back against his chest.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
She turned in his arms to smile up at him. “Too good, probably.”
His eyes filled with pleasure. “The island does that to yo
u.”
“It was more than the island,” she said, impulsively lifting up on her toes to kiss him. Her phone buzzed, indicating someone had left a message while it had been turned off. It buzzed again. Another message. Then again. And again. She pulled back out of his embrace and stared down at the screen. “I have thirteen missed calls.” Eleven calls had been from Mary Beth and two from the assisted living facility where her father lived. A chill slid through her as she accessed her voice mail. Trying to be positive and not read anything into the calls, she quickly accessed her messages.
Felicity stood stock still as she listened. A desperate cry lodged in her throat.
Her father . . .
The words crashed through her brain and a great weight pressed down on her lungs. Through a distant, detached part of her brain, she heard Blake talking to her, but the words sounded far away, jumbled, until he reached out and took her by the shoulders. “Felicity?”
“I have to go home.”
“What’s wrong?”
“My father. They released him from the hospital this morning. Mary Beth took him back to the assisted living facility where he lives, but now he’s gone.”
His face paled. “Gone, as in missing or dead?”
“Missing,” she said. “For the first time in sixteen years he walked out the door, and no one knows where he is.”
Concern flashed in Blake’s eyes a moment before he palmed his own phone.
Their time in Hawai‘i was over. She had to go home, and as quickly as possible.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
While the luxury of Blake’s plane was not completely lost on Felicity as they took off, the six-hour flight seemed endless. She sat in the padded leather seat in the main cabin, wishing with every mile that they would touch down in Seattle already.
She stared out the airplane’s small oval window, seeing her own reflection in the Plexiglas. Her eyes looked like two smudges of black on an ashen canvas as she fought back tears.
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