So Sensitive

by Anne Rainey

  Ric pushed the door open so he could see into the hotel room. Marc Waters instinctively took a step backward. It sounded as if he yelped under his breath. His eyes grew large as he sucked in a breath. If the man thought Ric would get rough with him, that wasn’t Ric’s fault.

  “I’ve exchanged quite a few letters with Ms. Winston this past year.” He kept his voice low, almost whispering. “She didn’t know I existed before that, and I wasn’t aware I had family. She told me the dates she would be on the island, and I agreed to come meet her.” He had no intention of getting rough with anyone. It wasn’t his fault he stood six foot two and the man before him was possibly a bit over five and a half feet and one hundred fifty pounds dripping wet.

  “Sir, I’ve already told you,” Marc said, stepping back farther, then turning and almost running to a phone on a round table in the middle of the room. “Don’t make me cal security.”

  Ric stared at the imbecile facing him, waving the phone at him like a weapon. “Would you like the number?” Ric wasn’t sure if the man was going to start crying or piss his pants.

  Marc Waters humphed, straightened, and looked to his side, through open glass doors that led to the bedroom half of the suite. “Al I need for you to do is leave, Mr. Karaka.” The man pul ed his attention from whoever was in the bedroom and boldly stepped toward Ric. “Ms. Winston isn’t here. I can’t change that for you.”

  “When wil she return?”

  “She isn’t going to return because she never came here in the first place.”

  “Marc? What’s wrong?” a woman asked, peering around the opened doors. Her question was unnecessary, since if she’d been in that room the entire time, there was no way she’d missed Ric and Marc’s conversation.

  The woman had incredibly captivating hair. Golden highlights wrapped around darker auburn strands. It flowed past her shoulders in thick, heavy curls. She had it pul ed back at her nape, but the hair tie constricting those locks wasn’t strong enough to confine al of it. Loose strands contoured her face. Ric had never seen such beautiful hair on a woman.

  She looked at him and her blue eyes brightened. Her lips were natural y red and moist. She pursed them, looking as if she would blow a kiss.

  His insides tightened. She was beyond ravishing. Her high cheekbones and cute, slender nose helped show off her intoxicating beauty. There was something about her, beyond the obvious sexual appeal, that made Ric’s dick stir to life. If he stared a moment longer, desires way too dark for someone who was probably related to him would surface and fog his focused thinking. He needed to remember why he was here.

  “Is something wrong, Marc?” she asked, rephrasing the question as she gave Ric an appraising once-over.

  “Nothing!” Marc waved an impatient hand at her. “Go into the room and close the doors.”

  The woman tilted her head, looking amused when she shifted her attention to Marc.

  Ric immediately wanted her attention back on him.

  “I said now.” Marc apparently needed reassurance he was the man to listen to in someone’s eyes. His chest puffed out when the young lady disappeared behind the connecting doors and closed them behind her.

  “We were supposed to get together today.” It wasn’t completely a lie. He’d told Samantha in his last letter to her, which he’d mailed just a couple weeks ago, that he would contact her once she arrived on the island. “There wasn’t an exact time set for our meeting, though,” he added. “Now what do you mean she never came in the first place?”

  “Samantha Winston isn’t on the island.” Marc had retrieved his bal s and stalked around Ric to the door, then opened it, making a gesture with his hand. “Leave a card with me and when we discuss matters with her next, I’l let her know you were here.”

  Ric turned slowly, the smal man’s words not sinking in. “She isn’t coming to the island?”

  “Samantha Winston decided not to travel at this time. Apparently meeting you didn’t seem that important to her.”

  Marc’s words cut deeper than if he’d stabbed Ric with a knife. It took more than a moment to master the rage that took over the rush of desire from a moment ago. Samantha Winston wasn’t coming. She’d changed her mind and decided not to visit the island. The truth hit him in the face but was damn hard to accept. Samantha had said they would meet and hadn’t struck him as a woman to go back on her word.

  “It’s time for you to leave, Mr. Karaka,” Marc said sternly. “We’l make sure to tel Ms. Winston you stopped by.”

  It had been the letters. They were such an odd way of communicating. It had tricked Ric and he’d fal en into the trap. No one wrote letters.

  They e-mailed, texted, talked on the phone. The only letters that existed were junk mail. No one read them, just threw them away without a second look.

  Samantha Winston’s letters had given him the power to dream. She’d been inquisitive about his past, present, and future. Her perfect penmanship and the quality writing paper she’d used had added to the personality of her he’d created in his mind. Although he hadn’t penmanship and the quality writing paper she’d used had added to the personality of her he’d created in his mind. Although he hadn’t mentioned converting the old banana plantation into a bed-and-breakfast—he’d wanted to discuss that with her in person—the many other ventures he’d told her he’d undertaken over the years had impressed her. Samantha Winston had expressed her opinion of Ric. She’d thought him intel igent, levelheaded, and driven.

  Without Samantha Winston’s backing, the hotel would take a lot longer to do. If the place didn’t start making money within the next year—if not sooner—Ric would be forced to find a ful -time job to make the mortgage. He wouldn’t have time, or energy, to restore the house. He’d be stuck in a dead-end job.

  He’d been one hel of a goddamn idiot.

  His movements were stiff when he turned from Marc, left the hotel suite, and took the stairs instead of the elevator to the lobby. It wasn’t enough to ease the rage growing inside him.

  Ric wanted to hit something, pound it until it didn’t exist anymore. He was a fool. The humiliation rose like bile in the back of his throat.

  Nothing had ever pissed him off more. Ric had banked on sealing the deal based on letters with Samantha. His grandfather was right: Ric didn’t get family.

  He ignored Melinda’s singsong voice when she cal ed out his name. The bright midmorning sunshine annoyed the hel out of him for the first time since he’d moved here. The only thing worse than dealing with an idiot was behaving like one.

  “Ricardo! Wait!”

  Ric spun around before reaching his truck, the anger on his face apparent enough that the young lady he’d damn near drooled over in the hotel suite slid to a stop. She looked at him, her face flushed, while her unique hair color captured the rays of the sun and added to her radiance.

  The smal est amount of sanity crawled back into his brain. “It’s Ric, and what?” he demanded.

  “Samantha told me you would be one of the appointments.”

  “I’m flattered I’m not the only appointment she blew off.”

  She wasn’t very tal . He could see her crooked part and how strands that were different shades were pul ed back, crossing over each other and confined in her hair clasp. Her skin was creamy white, not tanned like most women he knew. Her sleeveless blouse was silk, her skirt probably also pricey. It was a bit odd that she was chasing him down instead of sending the skinny, obnoxious man to do it for her. He wondered how she was related to Samantha Winston.

  Or maybe they weren’t related. Possibly this pretty young thing was Samantha’s employee. She just indicated she knew the old lady’s schedule. Her bright, beautiful eyes looked up at him with interest and curiosity. But how much curiosity? She had the edge on him. She would know if they were related since she’d overheard him tel Marc Waters he was Samantha Winston’s grandson. Ric stared into her blue eyes, accentuated with a golden brown shade of eye makeup. Eyeliner drew attention to her eyes,
making them look larger. She wore a lot of makeup for an employee, but didn’t behave like a rich girl raised with servants at her beck and cal .

  “My name is Jenny, Jenny Rogers.” She stuck her hand out, her arm straight, and waited for him to take it. “You’re Ricardo Karaka, or Ric. I overheard you when you first came into the room and spoke with Marc.”

  “And how are you related to Samantha?” he asked, wrapping his long fingers around her smal , warm hand.

  “I’m not.” Her mouth was open to say more, but she didn’t.

  Ric held her hand in his and brushed his thumb over her wrist. Her heartbeat trembled under his touch, beating rapidly when he held her hand a moment longer than he normal y would when shaking a stranger’s hand. She wasn’t nervous, at least not to the point where her palm would be damp. He made her cautious, though.

  “Why did you come after me?” he asked, keeping his voice low. He didn’t see Joe at the moment, but if Ric was spotted carrying on a conversation with a hot lady no one knew, it would take moments to hit the island grapevine.

  When he released her hand, Jenny clasped her fingers together. Maybe she was nervous. He was usual y dead-on when deciphering the mood of another person. Something about this sexy lady, with her many different shades of auburn hair, was harder to reach. It was as if she were one person on the surface and an entirely different person deep down inside.

  “Can we speak inside? Possibly in the lobby?” Jenny gestured with her hand.

  He cocked his head, imagining what she might want to discuss with him. “What’s wrong with right here?”

  Jenny glanced at the ground, then shot furtive looks at the surrounding parked cars. His truck was just a couple cars away. Colby must have been content with her bone because she hadn’t spotted him and started howling. Ric kept his gaze focused on Jenny’s when she finished her scan of their surroundings and returned her attention to him.

  “I’m supposed to attend al of the meetings and functions Samantha was going to attend while she was here,” she said, then paused, staring at him.

  “Okay . . .” he said slowly. How the hel was she supposed to stand in for a man meeting his grandmother for the first time?

  She wrinkled her nose when she tilted her head, as if she didn’t understand his response. Since he simply accepted what she’d just told him, he didn’t see any reason to elaborate. And he didn’t mind just staring at her. Jenny Rogers was easily one of the sexiest women he’d ever laid eyes on. He wondered if her rather vanil a outfit was her natural attire or if she dressed differently when not under the charge of the Winston entourage.

  “What I mean is I’m seeing appointments, then reporting back to her.”

  “What do you report to her?”

  “My impressions mainly. That seems to be al she wants.”

  “I’m to be interviewed before I am al owed to meet my grandmother?”

  “You’re on her appointment list. If she was supposed to meet you, I guess you get me instead.” Jenny glanced up at him and gave him a smal smile. She looked down at her hands before he could hold on to her gaze. Was she blushing over the double meaning that could be read into her words? Was she real y that innocent? She was stil hot as hel with an interesting accent. He’d guess Minnesota, but it wasn’t strong the way some in that region spoke. He liked the way it sounded, though.

  Hel , he was even attracted to her modest attire. The straight-cut gray skirt she wore ended just above her knees, and her sleeveless blouse was tucked into her skirt and showed off her slender waist. Her hips weren’t too round, but she didn’t appear too skinny either. Her creamy white skin wasn’t pale, just natural looking.

  Ric knew women. For years he’d made them his most focused project. And at a young age, possibly younger than many men, he’d figured out the type of woman who most satisfied him. Upper-class, hesitant, brainwashed, demure ladies weren’t it. Unless he saw something inside them, like something he saw in Jenny, hinting that a darker side existed.

  There was a particular quality a woman possessed indicating she wasn’t as vanil a as others. Ric had managed more than once to pul desires out of a lady she never knew existed within her. He didn’t think that was the case with Jenny.

  Jenny Rogers was an il usion, right down to her simple Midwestern name. She was doing her best to appear modest, wel bred, polite, and sophisticated. She shot him quick, furtive glances, suggesting she was shy, uncomfortable in his presence. Yet he would swear on his mother’s grave Jenny was putting on an act.

  If that were the case, what else might she be playing?

  “No thanks,” he said, and turned from her. Ric reached his truck, reminding himself no matter what might lie under the polite, modest layers of this auburn beauty, the point stil remained Samantha Winston wasn’t here. He needed to think, redirect his course, and talking to a sultry goddess with mysteries lying beneath her surface wouldn’t help his case.

  When Ric reached for the door handle, Colby sat up, her ears high on her wrinkled forehead, and assessed the situation. The moment Jenny approached his side, touching the side of his truck, Colby let out a baying howl. It was her protective bark, although Ric couldn’t tel if she was protecting his truck or her bone.

  Jenny didn’t jump back or appear startled by the dog. “Oh, wow, a bloodhound,” she breathed as if they were her favorite breed.

  “Yup.” He had half a mind to open the door and “accidental y” let Colby slip past him, just to see if he could break Jenny’s soft-spoken, sophisticated act.

  “Ric, Mr. Karaka,” she said, dismissing Colby and focusing on him, this time not pul ing her gaze from the side of his head. “I know you’re disappointed. Samantha Winston had quite a few appointments set up for her time here.” She hesitated, chewing her lower lip and obviously choosing her words careful y. “I understand your meeting was quite a bit more personal than her other appointments.” Again she paused. “But if you’re wil ing to talk to me, possibly share with me how you discovered Samantha Winston or maybe something about your past . . .”

  He looked at her, knowing his expression was hard and his temper seethed beneath his barely contained composure. He wanted to pound his truck. He wanted to take off and tear around the island, releasing the steam and fury building inside him. And he didn’t care if Jenny saw how quick tempered he could be. It didn’t bother him if she witnessed some of his aggression, and it definitely wouldn’t be al he could release.

  What he didn’t expect was for her eyes to widen, her round, moist mouth to pucker when she sucked in a breath. There was no way she couldn’t see how mad he was right now, but instead of cowering or politely dismissing him and returning to her perfect world of order and old money, she stood there and faced his fury.

  Ric lowered his gaze slowly, curious if showing her more than his anger might make her back off. He let his attention travel hungrily down her body, taking in her ful , round breasts pressing against her sleeveless blouse. He couldn’t see her bra, although it was obvious she wore one.

  Her nipples were hard, even though it was warm outside. A loose strand of hair fel free from her clip and drooped around her face, curling against her long, slender neck. He was being a prick and he knew it, but damn her anyway for trying to appease him when she didn’t have a clue how Samantha Winston not showing up destroyed plans he’d been foolish enough to believe he could pul off in the first place.

  “You want to spend time with me and know me better?” he growled.

  “You had an appointment with Samantha, and I’m supposed to see to al her meetings,” she said, basical y repeating herself as if the words were a mantra she was holding on to in order to maintain her civility.

  “Meeting with you wouldn’t be the same as meeting with an old lady who is a grandmother I’ve never met,” he informed her, purposely lowering his voice and taking a step toward her.

  Jenny stood her ground, tilting her head to hold his gaze. He saw the slender vein at the top of her col arbone poundi
ng with her heartbeat. It was barely visible at the edge of her shirt but was tantalizing nonetheless. Ric imagined yanking the sleeveless shirt out of the way, possibly popping a few buttons off, and tasting her smooth, creamy flesh.

  “I understand.”

  He seriously doubted she did. “I’l return at eight tonight. Be outside the hotel when I pul in by the front door,” he ordered, forcing his attention from her and opening his car door. Ric pushed Colby back and climbed into his truck. “Oh, and wear something nice,” he added, then closed his door before she could final y tel him to go to hel .

  APHRODISIA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2011 by Anne Rainey

  Al rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Aphrodisia and the A logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-0-7582-7229-4

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Prologue