Ocean of Love

by Susan D. Taylor

  * * *

  By the time she entered the restaurant, she could barely walk straight from the constant rippling sensations between her legs. She stopped at the maître d’s desk and inquired about her client’s arrival. The maître d asked her to wait a moment.

  She glanced around. The front room of the Chateau was decorated in dark wood panels, chandeliers, and rich, textured fabrics. Two long corridors divided the restaurant with doorways flanking either side.

  A famous and infamous restaurant. She inhaled the sumptuous air. Delicious dishes composed an ever-changing menu. She was escorted to a private alcove off the terrace. The individual dining rooms catered to the needs of couples for complete privacy. Notoriously decadent.

  The waiter knocked. Then there was a lag time before entering. She had heard Wyatt clearly say to enter, but here they stood in the corridor with the waiter glancing at the floor.

  Marissa peered at the waiter, “Excuse me. I thought I heard Mr. Herndon say to enter.”

  She could have sworn the man was counting down as his head bobbed. The waiter opened the door and hung back.

  Wyatt’s gaze connected with hers, sending an intense flash of giddy excitement through her body. He stood, making her knees dissolve into sand. The shock of her desire, a cutting awareness, pulled at her. The lancing expression in his eyes—unbraided lust—was practically tangible within the confined space.

  The waiter asked if they were ready for dinner. A second time. “Yes, I believe we are,” Wyatt responded.

  She smiled at the tone of his voice. Then the door closed, leaving them alone in a room that contained a sofa and fully laid table.

  “You look lovely. I’m so happy you found me. I didn’t know there were compartments. I wondered if you’d think I had planned something scandalous.”

  “No, the restaurant serves an excellent cuisine. Cozy is part of the charm. I see you’re enjoying the evening view of the sea. Soon you’ll own part of the view.”

  “That depends upon you. Doesn’t it?” He nodded and came forward. “It’s beautiful at this time. If you come here, you can see the constellation Orion.”

  She crossed to the terrace to stand next to him. Wyatt came up close to her, the nearness of him made her hypersensitive to her surroundings. “Where?” God, she wanted to relax against him. Instead, she followed his pointing finger, gazing upward into the night sky.

  “That star shining brighter than the rest is Betelgeuse. The armpit of the hunter.”

  His words and expression had her skin tightening. She had to stop this longing or it would be too late. She answered leaning away, but still she trembled. “Yes. The red one.”

  “Precisely. Easy to find on a night like this. Come inside. It’s chilly out here.” The pressure from his hand steered her back inside the room that appeared smaller than before.

  Marissa sniffed the ocean breeze as well as a floral aroma, and the scent of a cigar he must have lit at some point. An open bottle of wine stood ready to pour. A dozen blood-red roses adorned the table. Not ordinary roses but voluptuous blossoms in full bloom.

  “The roses are remarkable. Perfect,” she murmured.

  “I was informed they’re ours to take. Consider them as belonging to you,” he said.

  She refocused on Wyatt, a powerful man in front of her. And a mistake. His eyes were bluer than she remembered, or it was the effect of crimson-colored walls of the room. He gazed at her and drew her to him, his hand covering hers.

  She fought his wordless command but whatever he silently asserted overpowered her. “Thank you for meeting me tonight.”

  Marissa flinched uncontrollably, slamming on the brakes of her self-control. “Please Wyatt. This is the last stepping stone and I’m eager to share the property reports.”

  “I understand. Then let’s proceed.” He released her but not before her willpower floundered. Caught in the middle of a battle to heed caution or ride on the waves of passion, she remembered to take a seat. She passed by him, so close their arms brushed, and a blaze of heat broke free from a point between her shoulder blades.

  He wore a white dress shirt that clung to buff torso, open four buttons from the collar, and displaying a patch of near-black hair on his chest. His muscular shoulders spread before her face. She glanced down his dark slacks, hugging his lean hips. When he moved, even in the evening light, the, outlines of his muscular thighs tempted her. This time she didn’t look away from the space below his belt. She licked her lips hungrily and flexed her toes. Then she stumbled.

  “Are you alright?” His fingers encircled her upper arm. Off-balanced, she caught hold of his arm, clutching a rock-hard bicep.

  He came at her from the side, closed the distance. All she had to do was stop and turn. She might as well have been clutching a frayed electrical cord. Amped energy released and passed between their bodies. If she didn’t let go—move away—she’d be a product of spontaneous combustion.

  “Whew, yes … yes. My foot hit the table leg. I don’t know why I’m so clumsy today. What must you think?”

  He held her aloft, up against him, secure. “That this room is getting smaller by the second. Here, please sit down.”

  She released her hold of him. The corners of his lips curled while he studied her face, and dipped lower. Her jacket was open, displaying the body she’d tried to hide. From his stalled expression, it was obvious he was looking. She enjoyed his contemplation as long as she was fully clothed. Her scalding skin still burned, hotter being next to him.

  “May I?” He placed his hands on her shoulders, making her flinch.

  She nodded, her mouth drier than summer pavement, and she prayed for self-control. His fingers skimmed over his shoulders, teasing her nerve endings. Marissa slipped her arms from her jacket, coming out of it in a hurry.

  She knocked over an empty wine glass and groaned. “See what I mean. I can’t imagine what’s come over me? I feel like a bull in a china cabinet.” She wiped her fingers across her forehead. Not exactly. More like a burning bush.

  She was on fire. With flames ready to consume her from the inside out. With each ebb and flow, her restraint drained and left her hollow of excuses to keep fighting her primal need to be with this man. What was the point, she asked herself, unable to remember for a moment why she’d believed letting him take possession of her body was wrong.

  Marissa gripped the table with her fingers. She needed a drink. A glass of wine. She was ready to drink the entire bottle, plus the ice and water in the bucket.

  “My God, your skin is flushed. Are you sunburned?” He pulled up a chair next to her seat, and sat close enough so that their arms brushed up against one another.

  “No. The room is a bit warm.” She closed her eyes to keep from yelling, “Uncle.”

  “I don’t think it’s the room. Here, try a glass of wine.”

  She heard him get up. She felt him brush his fingertips across the top of her hand.

  Her eyes snapped open. She instinctively turned her face and for a millisecond she held his gaze rooted to the chair. “Ice,” she said. “Please, something to tone down this heat.”

  “Sweet Jesus.” He stared back into her face.

  She croaked, “May I have a glass of ice water? I didn’t drink much water today.” She imagined sitting below a stream of cool water and exhaled.

  “Good idea.” He leaned over, pouring mineral water from a dark green bottle into a glass filled with ice. The bubbles danced at the edge. He held the glass to her lips. “Drink.”

  She took the glass in her hand and leaned back, as far away from him as she could without falling off the chair.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” He moved toward her, swiftly, gathering her as the chair tipped.

  He must think she was a freak. This was turning out to be the exact polar opposite of what she had envisioned. Forget a love life. Her career would be threatened if she continued on this collision course. The harder she tried to avoid him, the more she chanced doing a face-plant
into the floor. Three times was no charm. One more time, and he’d salute her goodbye.

  “I’m better.” She bit her lip, glancing back at him, wondering what he’d taste like. Or how the skin at his jaw would feel under her lips. Never had she come this close to taking a chance.

  “I brought the information concerning the properties. Everything.” She breathed heavily and handed him a folder. “Apex Broker’s Report as you requested. We should get some work done.”

  “You never quit do you? Well, then let’s get to it. Business first,” he said.

  “It’s what you wanted. We’ve got a great plan. I think if you let me, we can move quickly through the information. But can we sit across from one another?”

  She’d taken the damned high road, not the seductive, dark, sensuous road she longed to drag this man down. Marissa lifted her chin, staring into his eyes.

  One of his arms rested on the back of her chair. With the other he rubbed his forehead, nodding before he stood, and crossed to his side of the table.

  Chapter Eight

  He’d not last through the first glass of wine if this was any indication of how and where the evening was headed. My God, his lust thundered, fiery from the feel of her skin. Her proximity had him reeling.

  How would he even manage controlling the urge to kiss her at this rate? She was so damn alluring and he was at a loss. Other women tempted him with seductive clothing, flirtatious smiles, a display of flesh. Not this woman. She came to him tonight in clothing better suited to a Quaker’s grandmother. She hid each inch of skin as though she were a miser of flesh.

  He studied the folder. The silver-stamped letters spelling out Apex. He caught sight of her slender fingers tapping against the table. “Wine?” he asked.

  “Yes, please.” He combed fingers through his hair, and picked up the wine bottle. He poured a sample into her glass.

  “Tell me what you think.” He waited for her reaction. The curve of her breasts pushed against her blouse. She gazed back at him over the crystal goblet. Try as she might, pile on the blankets, she’d not hidden the heat in her eyes. Or the high-pitched lilt she’d released each time she’d stumbled, about to fall. She was more than nervous. He’d never seen a woman so undone. But why was she so out-of-sorts in suppressing what her body wanted—what his body wanted? The tension only made his hunger sharper.

  She bit her lip, swirling the wine inside her glass. Hell, he wanted to devour her lips. He imagined the feel of her mouth opening to him, letting him take possession of her. He watched her lips as she licked a droplet of wine from the corner of her mouth. He swallowed a curse, holding out the wine bottle to pour a proper glassful. He filled one for himself and took a long pull from the rim.

  His cock stiffened against his leg. The door was shut. He’d be more than willing to pull her from her chair and kiss her until she admitted she was aroused and wanted the same thing he desired.

  Christ, if she gave him the slightest sign, he’d push aside the dinner settings to get her on top of the table. He wanted to plunge into her until he was balls deep, her pussy fisting him. To make her writhe and moan, call out his name in an eight-course meal of sex where he’d start with her mouth, tongue her honeyed slit, making her climax right before he seriously came inside her.

  “Honestly, you’re driving me crazy. I don’t think you’re faring any better. I just want to bring up that point. In case, if you have any wishes to retract your desire to keep this relationship strictly business. I would whole-heartedly support rescinding our agreement. Hell, if it means giving you permission to issue a bid, I’ll give you my phone right now. Tell me a fair price. Done. Then can we stop fighting a battle I’ve never understood. All I know is what I feel.”

  “And later, tomorrow, you could say you were under duress. Please don’t put me in that position. I’m still holding the same lines. No matter what you’d like to believe.”

  He wanted to call her out. Did she ever let her guard down? His cock swelled thicker and harder.

  “Fine. Then let’s get busy.” His gut knotted, making breathing a chore. Never had he wanted a woman as much as this one. He imagined the feel of her hot, wet mouth, and his promise to be a gentleman suffocated him.

  A breeze ruffled through the room, drawing his attention to her fragrance, different from before. Sweet and dark. His nostrils flared, and the door of desire was blown wide open.

  He refilled their glasses. She fit. The one idea was as solid as the floor under his feet. Somehow, she was his missing puzzle piece. Nothing logical, as a matter of fact, the thought was far away from rational thought, but his primitive, reptilian brain knew she was the one.

  There was a knock at the door. He called out, “Yes, please enter.” He forgot his frustration for a second. “I get the impression they hover outside.”

  She laughed. Her voiced sounded teasing. Sultry. She clasped her hand over her mouth then whispered. “Me too. Standing outside, I wondered.”

  The waiter wheeled a cart with their dinner. “I ordered the chef’s creation. A special meal for two. I forgot that tonight was Valentine’s Day when I invited you out tonight.”

  Her lips did that same little move and formed a magical “O” again. She hadn’t remembered. No boyfriend, and neither was she set back that tonight was the official couple’s night out. He leaned back in his chair, pleasantly surprised by her reaction.

  “From soup to nuts, so it seems.” Her eyes widened as the dishes were placed upon the table. He didn’t reveal how he’d requested that the chef prepare a meal rich in seafood; actually, he’d given the kitchen a precise menu, based on what he believed would interest her.

  “Pass me your plate,” he said into her shocked gaze. “You said you wanted to work. Well I can’t have you lightheaded because you’re hungry. Plate. Please.”

  “I should help. You can’t be expected to do all the work.”

  “Tell me my options on each piece of property. You can do your job and I’ll do mine.”

  “Well, okay.” She hesitated, then launched into the purchase prices and comparison properties from recent sales. She proposed what she believed were fair offers including financing options for the required construction loans. She’d been successful in getting each property price lowered with the contingency of an executed contract by midnight. Marissa cocked her head in the most delightful way each time she wanted to draw his attention to a detail in the report.

  He served her a sampling of fresh oysters, steamed mussels, ceviche, grilled lobster in plantain leaves, and broiled mahi mahi prepared with lemon and butter. He came around the table and set the plate in front of her.

  She settled back in her chair. “Thank you. Everything looks delicious.” The breeze moved curling wisps of her golden hair along the skin by her face and neck, and he longed to place his mouth on her neck again.

  “Shall we try the white wine?” he asked, picking up different bottle that sat chilling in an ice bucket in the corner.

  “More wine? I’ll be under the table if we keep this up.” Marissa’s delicate features were cast in the metallic glow of the chandelier and candles.

  “Mineral water then?” he asked, mentally contradicting her. He wasn’t about to let her fall asleep early this evening.

  “All right, fine. Just one glass since it’s white.” She glanced up at him with a mischievous tinge in her eyes.

  He poured the wine, relishing how much she amused him. Then he sighed and returned to his seat. Opening his napkin, he observed the delicate ministrations of how she sliced her food and lifted her fork.

  “Is your family from Europe?” he asked. “I mean from the way you eat.”

  “Yes. Scandinavian heritage.” She licked the butter from her lips. Wiping her face, she murmured, “Mmm, the fish is so flaky. It melts in my mouth.” She drew up the corners of her lips into a coy smile, stoking his arousal.

  He stabbed a fork into a portabella mushroom, preferring to take in the sight of Marissa enjoying her me
al. If only he could move closer to her, close enough to inhale her fragrance and touch her hair. Not a single solution came to mind.

  “No questions so far? I’m prepared for even the most outside-the-box concerns,” she murmured.

  Rapidly, the neurons in his brain sparked. That’s it. He’d play the idiot savant. “What do I have regarding the City’s zoning issues to battle? The lot next door is designated as parking. Owned by the beach?”

  She flipped through the folder on the side of her plate and held out the section. “Go to page nine.”

  He pretended to miss her point by refilling their water glasses. His thirst was unquenchable. She was the delectable dish he feasted his eyes upon. Marissa, he silently rolled her name around his tongue.

  “Where is that point?” He feigned confusion, peering at his report, and got up. “I don’t think my report is the same as yours.” He came to her side of the table, report in hand, and bent over her. “Where are you seeing that?”

  She pointed to her report. “Third paragraph from the top. In the text box entitled Seller’s Requirements. The bullet points for Camile Avenue Lot.”

  “Show me. I still can’t find that section.”

  She repeated her answer for a second time, and he wondered how much more her patience would endure.

  “No wonder. I’m on the wrong page. Do you mind? I think it would be more productive if we were facing the same direction. Then you wouldn’t have to stop and point, showing me each detail.” He contained his laughter when she glanced over the top of her glasses, flustered, and shook her head, picking up her wine glass.

  “Fine. Yes, that might help with getting through the information.”

  He pulled up a chair next to her, report tucked under his arm. Unusual seating, but he took advantage of the opportunity to sit as close as possible. The table was four feet across, set with candles, serving dishes, and flowers—a bounty that separated them.