Ocean of Love

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Ocean of Love Page 6

by Susan D. Taylor


  “Watch out!” Marissa grabbed his arm.

  He stomped on the brakes, in time to avoid sideswiping a pick-up truck. “Sorry, I’ll concentrate, beginning right now if you can adjust your shirt.” He glanced over at her before she had the chance to cover her breast. Christ, his cock thickened inside his pants.

  Her face colored as she pulled at her collar. “If that was part of your trust lesson, I think we just took a step backward.”

  “No, don’t say that. I think you play dirty pool. Remember the plans. Why don’t you review those and I’ll focus on the road.” Bullshit, his gaze traveled over her body, stopping to study her thighs.

  She hugged her baggy jacket closer. A woman like Marissa had no reason to wear bulky clothing over her rambunctious curves. Running along the beach with her, he’d glimpsed her tiny waist as the wind whipped her clothes against her body. She might try to camouflage herself in a dark, wool sack, but he’d already memorized her standing on the sand, shoeless, with her skirt hiked up a pair of stunning legs. Pressing against her assured him he wasn’t wrong. Naked, she’d be a vision and an incredible fit between his hands.

  His little realtor kept herself hidden in so many ways. She had him more than curious. If only he could get her to open up to him. Personally. Simple questions were a good start to discern what made her tick, and how to untie her knots of refusal.

  He kept his eyes on the road and asked, “So what made you go into the real estate business?”

  “I’ve lived in South Florida almost all my life, so the geography and layout of the city is second nature. I enjoy working with people. Well, some people.”

  “I hope I’m on the list of positive interactions.” He casually noted her movements as she eyed him peculiarly, smoothed her hair, and traced an imaginary line down her neck.

  “Fishing for compliments?” She smiled shyly.

  He pressed her to tell him more. “Do you have any plans beyond real estate?”

  “I’m going back to school in the fall. Doing the MBA route at the University of Miami. I’m all set.” She turned toward the window, her eyes blinking rapidly.

  He waited, but she didn’t say more. “Don’t you know? What are you passionate about?”

  His ability to discover invisible gems heightened. She aroused him on many planes. The predator in him wanted to mark her as his new, unclaimed territory. He retrained his sight from her face back to the road. She kept her hair tightly back, wore dark glasses, and dressed like his Aunt Melinda. She attempted to hide in plain sight.

  Well not anymore. She was well within his sights. An apt, sexy target and one he wasn’t about to let go. This was his hunt, his challenge, and this was the part that excited him. To tease out the details, unearthing the boundaries, and discover all aspects of his lush little treasure drove him onward.

  He admired the reflection of Marissa in the windshield. She dreamily rubbed her hand down her arm. He faltered in his thoughts. His little treasure. His reward had always been to savor the pièce de résistance in uncovering the unknown. The moment his investors and buyers were given the opportunity to share his vision. Only with her, he didn’t want to share his find. That fact began to unfold within his awareness similar to a revelation. A world of difference, and had him gripping the steering wheel.

  “Tell me more about you. Besides that one-sentence history you tried to run by me earlier. Where are you from exactly? South Florida encompasses many cities. Which one?”

  She gazed back at him as though he were pushing his luck. He took this ruffle in her composure for evidence he was getting closer to something secret. What would she have to keep hidden? She liked her privacy. He’d already experienced the fireball under her unflappable, stately veneer. That had to be what she kept locked away. He clenched his jaw, imagining Marissa hot and wild. What would it take to unleash her? Now, that was the big question perplexing him down to the core.

  “What does that have to do with business? I perceive you’re purposely taking a wrong turn here in teaching trust.”

  “I appreciate knowing with whom I’m working. Is there a problem?” he asked, sucking in his amusement and hunger for an answer.

  “No, I remember this is supposed to be trust-building.” She twisted her fingers in her lap. “I’m sorry if I’m a little slow. I’m from South Florida, I mean Key Biscayne to be exact. All my life barring a brief move. I became ill and returned. Came back and enrolled in the University of Miami. I intend to return this fall to passionately complete my degree. How’s that?”

  “Okay for a paragraph. Tell me about your family. Are you close?”

  She inhaled sharply. Even with sunglasses, he noticed her eyes watered. A sense of wanting to protect her side-swiped him. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. A glowing feeling emanated from touching her.

  “Marissa—” he abruptly stopped. Surprised, if not stunned, he continued pressing his fingers around her shoulder, allowing the sensation to flow from her body into him. He studied her. Was this a type of energetic flow? AC or DC? The feeling was encompassing, and at the same time altered from flickering to intense. This unusual connection melded his senses, forging a conduit of synthetic pleasure as well as heartbreak. He couldn’t explain this feeling that made him want to comfort her.

  “Hey, hey, we don’t have to talk about the family. I just want to get to know you. Anything that won’t make you sad. If you need to let go about something, I’m a good listener. No judgments. I’ve got a screwed-up existence. No home life, only business meetings, no one to share things with. Please, Marissa, again, I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll bore you with tales of my life. Regular snooze material.”

  She kept her focus on the street ahead of them even though her chin quivered. “My parents died when I was young. An accident. I was raised by a foster family. I don’t have any brothers or sisters alive. No extended family to speak of either.” She turned to look out from the side window.

  “If it matters, I don’t have strong ties to anyone. I can empathize being on a solo journey.” He put aside prying into her life; digesting this was altogether new territory.

  After a moment, she turned to him. “Do you want to use your GPS or do you want to use my smartphone?”

  “Your phone is fine,” he said softly. He let go of her, not because he wanted to, but because he could tell, laying a connection between them would take more than an invitation to join him.

  She fiddled with her mobile navigation app, holding out the phone for him. Wyatt glanced down at the directions displayed. Only blocks away. This piece of property was not part of the South Beach glam party central. This particular site was set in a residential part of the beach, amidst high rises and low rises. A mixed bag of condos, hotels, homes, restaurants, and shops. Then the road widened, and the GPS signaled they’d arrived. He pulled into a parking lot facing the beach.

  There was an expanse of beach gently sloping toward the shoreline. The shoreline was wider than any he’d seen or read about online. “Aha, you do have an exceptional eye. Honestly, you’re too humble, Marissa.”

  She smiled over at him with a curl forming on her lips. “Thank you.”

  He marveled at her ability, simultaneously craving to taste her mouth as well as explore the real woman. “This might actually be the site.”

  She pointed toward the beach. “Take a look. Just as I promised. Two older motels sitting side by side. On either side of their lots, easements. One side a parking lot. The other side sea oats and lots of them.”

  “Federally protected land. Oh baby, I do love them sea oats.” He contained his hunger, barely holding off from pulling her across the seat and claiming her mouth.

  She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head, off-balancing him. Her face in the direct sunlight was exquisite. His breath lodged inside his chest, expanding into a balloon about to burst apart. Her eyes were aqua pools with lashes still spiky from tears. She parted her lips seductively making his cock twitch.
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br />   “Let’s take a look around. Let’s leave the bag here and just go sans folders.”

  Only his agreement to keeping their exchange as strictly business forced him to get out of the car.

  “What about a camera? Photographs are extremely helpful in remembering details. Just a small camera; I’m not planning on a jungle safari.”

  He couldn’t help crooking a finger under her lovely chin. “Fine. One camera and you.”

  It was the biting of her lip that convinced him, get out of the car. Now.

  Walking alongside her, he half-listened to her feed him information about technical details of the land before them. The possibility of touching her lingered in his thoughts, making the property’s selling points fade. He reached for her arm whenever he found the excuse, nodding to her talk, and hungry for more contact. Skin on skin. At the rear of the building, they stopped, and he reached out to guide her into a position where they stood facing each other. “I’ve been rambling on, and you’ve been so quiet. Tell me some of your thoughts.”

  “The beach isn’t combed and beautified like the other beach site,” he remarked. “The rock formations just beyond the shore add a layer to the view. I think I prefer the beauty of this version.”

  “Yes. I agree. And there’s a city requirement for upkeep. Important considering what washes up onshore.” She shivered, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

  “Would you rather return to the car?” He moved her in closer to his body to shield her from the wind. “Stand here.”

  “No, it’s nothing. Where was I?”

  “City upkeep.” He stared at her mouth, chiseling out another section of his willpower.

  “Last year funding was allocated from the Federal Disaster Funds maintained by FEMA for beach restoration. This area was hard-hit and instead of spending the money, the city waited to see what would happen during the last hurricane season. Well, they have to use the money within twenty-four months or return the disaster funds to the federal government. They voted on the usage, and part of their plans include increasing the shoreline to protect against further erosion. This property before us is included. I have the report.”

  “How many additional feet will be considered structurally sound?”

  “One hundred fifty-eight feet. Not as much as other sites but enough for the building you want. Structurally, you’ll be well within zoning requirements. Especially considering the property size you’ll start with upon purchase. And there’s the additional fore-shore being dredged. The total frontage you’ll end up with will be outstanding. I already ran the preliminaries by a structural engineer friend.”

  Wyatt narrowed his eyes. Friend-engineer. That combination spelled trouble. “Which firm? Maybe I’ve heard of them.”

  “Hines and Bartlett. James Bartlett, but he goes by Jimmy. He’s a character, but has projects all over the nation specializing in ocean-front condominiums in hurricane-prone areas. I didn’t contract their services yet, if that’s concerning you?”

  He stared back her, disliking the lilting tone as she described this Bartlett dude. “Bartlett. Where’d he go to school?”

  “I think up north. But not recently. He’s kept up with the times, I assure you. Not some fuddy-duddy just because he’s twenty years your senior. You’re free to use the structural firms from your projects in Texas and Alabama. They were experienced with storm water. I’m certain the issues are relatively similar.”

  “I’m merely curious, darling. So you and James Barnett are just friends?”

  “Yes, just friends.” Her brows knitted together.

  “Don’t stare me down like I’ve done something wrong. I’ve no problem securing any and all services you deem necessary. I trust you implicitly. But I like to know whom I work with, that’s all.” He sliced the air with his hand. Why in the devil was he suddenly jealous of another man? He turned away, silently glaring at the shore.

  She ignored him, snapping pictures. A good thing. Standing in a down draft from her, he battled snatching her into his arms. Christ. He shoved his fists into his pockets, feeling caged. Marissa walked toward him, hips swaying provocatively, her lips open and inviting. Her hair had come loose, mirroring his rapidly dissolving resolve to keep their interactions strictly professional until the end of this project. For the first time, he wasn’t particularly pleased with his schedule or need to jump through hoops.

  Her luscious mouth had him in a trance. He glanced away from her in a vain attempt to capture his wayward self-control. He had come up against hard challenges before and he’d not caved. Isn’t that how he had gotten his reputation as a ballbuster? Except this time, failing was all too enticing.

  “Wyatt, take a look at these images.” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Just for future marketing alone, the view of the beach up close is jaw-dropping.”

  He wavered on several levels. “The beach isn’t the only thing that’s astounding.”

  He met her gaze. Christ, what was she doing to him? She made him feel things he’d tried to put aside. Wild and raw things.

  He’d forsaken capricious actions in the past to carve out a business, a future, and a construction empire. He should take her back to her car, let her finalize the contracts, and put Hannah in charge of working out the details. Instead, he found himself mentally organizing a series of steps to seduce Marissa.

  His pride wasn’t wounded because he’d rather be wrong than alone. At this moment, all his caveman tendencies rocketed to the surface. Either he could follow his predatory instincts or demonstrate to her that he was trustworthy. One choice or the other. Bouncing back and forth in a mental tennis game left him in a near-frenzied state. Her face, body, and brains deserved to be claimed, explored, and savored.

  At this moment, he hated the high road, when all he wanted to do was pull her down on top of him. Feel her body, taste her mouth. “Well, I’ve seen enough. Did you get those photographs?”

  She held out her camera in one hand. “Yes. More than enough. Take a look.”

  “Great. Can you put together a report? I’ll drop by your car or office. We can go over the report and plans. Tonight, I’ll be ready to commit. Dinner or your office. You decide.” There. He’d put the ball in her court. If she wanted to meet him, then game on.

  “Drop me at my car. Yes, I’ll get going on the report. Dinner? Didn’t we already settle that? We’ll meet tonight to go over the sites, considering your need to expedite the closing. I’ve received texts from the representative for each of the sellers. They’re holding off a public listing until midnight. Not much time. And if we wait until tomorrow, then who knows what will happen. So if, you’re ready to move forward, we’ll need to make an offer, and we can submit as soon as you decide.”

  “I’ll be ready. Traveling the high road, I promise. Should we meet somewhere? I can pick you up, or you can come to my place. There’s a four-star restaurant a stone’s throw away. Chateau Maurice.”

  She lifted her lips seductively, forming an incredible “O” with her mouth.

  “I take it the Chateau is an acceptable restaurant?” he asked, trying not to stare at her mouth.

  “One of the best. Fine. I’ll come to you. I take it, you’re staying at the hotel. You’ve run around enough. It’s only fair. We can meet at the restaurant, say seven o’clock?”

  He didn’t have the chance to say he wasn’t staying at the hotel but right next door. He wasn’t keen on hotels—the noise and disruptions. Sinclair had pulled in a favor and had him bedding down in a villa owned by a local interior designer.

  “I can’t wait,” he murmured.

  Chapter Seven

  She’d do the proverbial shooting of two birds. Tonight would be a full moon. Instead of her dinner being problematic, her meeting with Wyatt had become an opportunity. She’d not have to back-track in order to take her swim. It would be too easy to park at the hotel, and after her business dinner, she’d slip off down to the beach.

  He parked next to her car. “Do you need
anything from me to prepare the reports?” he asked. His tone sounded cordial, but his eyes spoke another language. “I can’t tell you how impressed I am with the properties and insider information. People must trust you to give you so much that could easily be used to leverage a sale.”

  “That’s why trust is so vital to me. On both sides. I believe I’ve everything needed. Only time to compile the information.” She studied his profile, yearning to run her fingers along his jaw the way she’d done earlier. All she could think about was his mouth on her face, his body pushed up against hers.

  Whether it was from hormones, or being near him, her mind and body buzzed with excitement. The pressure of the full moon pulled at the tides of desire rising within her body.

  Every month, she became a bit scattered, unfocused, and had ended up telling Sinclair she suffered from migraines just to keep her secret. More than half the people at Apex had some type of headache syndrome, and Sinclair was a veteran of the war on migraines. He had offered her each remedy he had tried, and then wanted to compare notes of what worked for her.

  Wyatt held her with a penetrating look in his blue eyes. His voice turned plate-glass smooth. “Let me give you a piece of advice. I suppose it would sit well with Sinclair to see you turn out a brilliant report. Not that what you’ve already produced isn’t extraordinary. I’ve been around the block with real estate brokers. If you can, ascertain what properties have been bought and sold by each buyer. Beginning with listing prices and all offers, including counter-offers. Include specifics as to why each seller has the property on the market and define each seller’s future goal. Pricing considerations are proposed based upon goals. So, it’s key for your report to detail a determination of the seller’s future intentions for using the funds obtained in the sale. Nothing like knowing the players. This is the type of report I use in my company. You’ll kick some posterior ends at Apex if you can turn this out.” His gaze took on a look of impatience, as though he was irritated by his own request.

 

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