She turned in a slow circle, checking the place out while he checked her out. When she was done, she dragged her gaze to meet his. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, looking suddenly uncertain. “What are you thinking? Is this stupid? Too much? Bad idea? Too forward?”
Hot lust flooded Jeb’s entire being. He wanted to rip her clothes off, spread her open on one of those window seats and fuck her until his head exploded. In two strides, he was beside her. “Not a bad idea,” he managed through his lust-tightened throat. “Great idea. Do you mind?”
Somehow, his hands were at the zipper on the back of her sundress, and she was pressed against him, leaning forward so he could unzip her. Underneath he found nothing but smooth skin.
“No bra,” he said in a raspy voice, as if he’d smoked a pack of cigarettes in the last second.
“I’m not the bustiest of women,” she said, a little shaky.
He worked her dress off her body, watching each inch of skin appear. Sleek thighs, white cotton boy-shorts underwear, a belly with the cutest hint of extra flesh. He paused, soaking her in.
“Could you get me out of here?” Her voice was smothered in sundress.
“Working on it,” he murmured, touching the tender skin of her stomach. A shiver rippled across her muscles. She squirmed. “Okay, okay.” He lifted the dress the rest of the way, exposing her breasts, perfect little pears just begging to be nibbled. His mouth watered, but he held off until he’d freed her from her clothes.
When she stood mostly naked before him, breathless and tousled, all lovely amber nudity, he wanted to drop to his knees and worship her. With his tongue, with his lips—
She must have read his intention, because she jerked her head at him. “Oh no, big guy. Your turn.”
The determination in her voice made him harden even further. He gave a strangled laugh. “Is that your ‘managing your staff’ voice?”
“I told you I was good at my job. Off with that shirt. We’ll get to your staff in a minute.”
“At your service.”
He ripped off his T-shirt and tossed it on one of the window seats.
NITA GULPED, TORN between wondering what she’d gotten herself into and thanking the universe for sending this man to Santa Lucia. Good grief, he was built. Everywhere she looked, she saw hard ridges of sculpted muscle. She saw a lean waist with not a speck of flab, mighty shoulders rippling with restrained power. The men she had known in L.A. worked out, but this was a different kind of strength, the kind that tested itself against heavy equipment and fallen debris every day. And won.
She released a soft sigh, and along with it her last remaining qualms. Not that she had any doubts. She’d left those somewhere along the road to the lighthouse, or maybe she’d left them in the Knit, Purl, and Tea, when the sight of him scowling in that crazy apron had made her heart burst open.
Okay, so this was probably going nowhere. Who cared? Jeb was sexy, caring, totally hot, and he made her laugh. After the last two years, didn’t she deserve some fun? Fun of the mind-blowingly-orgasmic variety? Didn’t she deserve a little sexual healing?
“Pants,” she told him.
Raising an eyebrow at her, he obeyed, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down, the muscles of his arms flexing as he bent, then straightened again. He kicked away his jeans and boxers, then stood naked before her in nothing but wind-mussed hair and a spectacular erection.
Good God. She put a hand to her head, feeling slightly faint. It wasn’t a matter of size, though he did just fine in that sense. It was about arousal. He was so male, so hard, so potent, it was nearly too much for her system. For two years, everything had been sadness and doctors and anxiety and abandonment.
Now this. Him.
Wanting her.
Very badly, if that stiff penis was any indication.
Everything female within her responded. Suddenly she felt like a goddess, or a siren. She dropped her hand to her side, reveling in the way he feasted his eyes on her body. Her nipples hardened under his stare. She resisted the urge to hide that telltale sign, especially when she saw what it did to his erection.
She was a woman wanting a man. What was wrong with that? Nothing, her body told her. Nothing at all.
When his eyes met hers, she gave him a smile that would have been a purr, if she were a cat.
“Come here,” he said roughly. “Before I lose my mind.”
She stepped forward, into his arms, and into a world of heat and need and clenched muscles and bare skin. Her nipples hardened to an ache against the hard surface of his chest. She rubbed against him, delighting in the slight friction of the furry patch of hair.
He ran his hands down her back until he reached her ass, then yanked her against him. She groaned, going weak in the knees at the feel of his hot shaft pressing into her pelvis and belly. His arms vibrated like twin steel cables.
“Remember how I mentioned those five years?” His voice came in a painfully strangled shadow of its normal deep self.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m feeling every one of them right now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go slow, Nita. I want you more than you’ll ever know.”
“No slow.” She put her mouth to his ear. “Take me. Right now. We’ll go slow later.”
“In a minute.” He reached down between them, between her legs, and tenderly touched her wet cleft. She gave a little cry as sensation soared through her. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back to give herself fully to the glory of it. Oh, how he touched her, exploring her body with his full attention, his entire being tuned to her reactions. And she didn’t hide them. She let him see every jolt of pleasure, every new shiver of happiness, every uptick in the need that tightened her body. He pushed her legs apart with his knee, and that movement alone gave her a shock of desire.
The feel of his strong thigh separating her legs, the sense of power in the hand that touched her so deliberately, the way he supported her with his other arm—everything built until she couldn’t hold back her need. She let out little whimpers of urgency—there, oh God, please, yes, more, oh my God don’t stop—pushing her mound against his hand. But he was so strong, he wouldn’t let her control the contact. Instead he kept working his magic, stoking the fire until it burst into full, glorious life, sparks filling every corner of her mind with brilliant joy.
And then, only then, when she’d ridden the last current of that wild orgasm, he donned a condom, lifted her up, wrapped her legs around his hips, carried her to the wall and speared her.
She felt the impact all the way down to her toes—tingling waves of obliterating pleasure. Unbelievably, she came again, nearly instantly, though maybe she’d never really stopped. With his big hands supporting her ass, he corkscrewed into her with a couple of slow, intense strokes, then let all restraint go. With a deep-chested groan, he threw his head back and surrendered to his own orgasm. The sight of him, this powerful man shaking from his release, holding her as if he never wanted to stop, made a tear leak down her cheek.
Or maybe that was just the aftereffect of the most sorely needed orgasm of all time.
Seriously, she felt like a new woman. As if she could sing an opera, or dance on the Empire State Building. She still had her arms around him, and could feel his shuddering breaths.
“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “Thank you. You have no idea.” He let her slide down his body until she was back on her feet.
“You’re wrong,” she told him. “I know just how you feel.” Sexual healing, that’s what this was. Definitely for her, maybe for him too. Maybe his confidence had taken a hit the same way hers had. “That was incredible.” She kissed his chest tenderly, feeling it rise and fall. “Those five years don’t show at all.”
He laughed, his tiger-gold eyes bright as pennies. “Oh, they show, all right. I could make love to you again right now. Can you make up for five years in a few days?”
A shadow dimmed her joy. Of course. He’d be leaving soon. In he
r ecstatic afterglow, she’d forgotten that detail. That’s all right, she told herself. Take the sexual healing and enjoy. Nothing lasts forever.
The faint blare of the ferry’s horn interrupted her thoughts. “We’d better run. People get testy if you leave your groceries just sitting on the wharf. Here.”
She tossed him his boxers and jeans, and stepped into her sundress. He pulled on his T-shirt, his muscles bunching. She took a moment to appreciate his solid, powerful build, and thought of how straightforward he’d been in every conversation they’d had. Maybe this was just sexual healing, but no matter what, she could trust this man. He wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t pretend something he didn’t feel, then run for cover when things got real.
With his honesty, his integrity, his dry sense of humor, and his incredible love making, he was definitely someone she could fall in love with. She’d have to make completely, absolutely sure she didn’t. Another heartbreak would shatter her.
When they reached the wharf, all thoughts of love fled at the sight that greeted them. A confused throng of reporters, camera people, and other members of the media milled around the dock. Camera equipment filled the cargo shed.
The senator’s secret location wasn’t a secret anymore.
Chapter Seven
* * *
THE ENCHANTED GARDEN was under siege. The sidewalk out front bristled with tripods and cameras. Reporters paced back and forth, cell phones in one hand, coffee cups in the other. When the ladies arrived for their tea, Jeb had to push his way through the crowd and personally escort them inside.
Spotting a business opportunity, Angie gave in and began brewing coffee for the hordes and charging an outrageous five dollars a cup. In Jeb’s opinion, it should have been ten considering the amount of aggravation the press provoked. But he was happy about the coffee.
Inside the inn, things were just as crazy as outside. The senator ranted and roared, until Nita managed to convince him that it was inevitable word would get out. Then he slammed the door to his room and told everyone he needed some time alone.
No one minded giving him that.
As soon as the reporters had seen Nita, they’d begun pestering her for a statement. Jeb had to admire how she handled the situation, keeping her cool and her manners, and maintaining a steady sense of humor. It was clear that the reporters respected her, and even though she kept telling them she’d have something for them shortly, they still peppered her with questions.
Seeing the lines of stress reappear on her face, he longed to whisk her away somewhere private. Somewhere they could be alone, and he could work on that slow lovemaking he’d promised her.
It stunned him how much he wanted her. How much he wanted to be close to her. He didn’t even know her, not really. And yet she’d given him something precious. When she’d let him into her confidence, she’d given him a piece of herself. It created a bond between them that felt very significant. He wanted more—he wanted to talk more, touch more, laugh more.
But his first responsibility was to Brody, and that meant getting Melissa the hell away from this madness. Which meant he’d have to leave the island, and Nita, as soon as possible.
He tapped on Melissa’s door, then entered at her distracted “come in.” She was standing in front of her dresser, her body angled sideways so she could reach her laptop, which was balanced on top of some books. One hand was typing, the other rubbing her lower back.
“Melissa, that doesn’t look comfortable,” he said in alarm.
“It’s fine. I’m almost done.”
“I think we should try to catch the afternoon ferry out.”
“Uh-huh.” With both hands on her keyboard, she clicked furiously.
“How about if I pack your things while you wrap up your story.”
“Uh-huh.”
He was pretty sure she hadn’t heard him, but decided to proceed anyway. Spotting her suitcase in the corner, he dragged it out and set it on the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.” He gave her a brief glance, unsurprised to see her green eyes throwing sparks at him.
“I can’t leave yet. The senator wants to do another interview. If I leave, he’ll wind up talking to one of those other billion reporters out there. I’ll lose my entire exclusive.”
“But if you leave now, you can get back to San Gabriel and get your story on the air first.”
“It won’t work that way. The senator wants to talk. Those reporters out there are just as good as I am. Probably better. And they work for national news organizations. Unless I’m right here under his nose, he’ll decide it makes more sense to talk to one of them. I can’t leave.”
He straightened up and studied her for a long moment. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. The same as before they showed up. Really, Jeb, I appreciate it. I admit I’ve had my hormonal moments, but this isn’t one of them.”
He deliberated. His main concern was her health. If she felt fine, there was no reason to whisk her away. Not that he could, if she didn’t want to go. “Will you promise to tell me if you feel anything unusual? The slightest little twinge or pain or any warning sign whatsoever?”
Her expression softened into a warm smile. “You’re really a good guy, aren’t you?’
He shrugged. “I don’t know about that, but when I tell someone I’m going to do something, I do it. And even if I hadn’t told Brody I’d keep an eye on you, you’re eight months pregnant and I’m an EMT, so I’d be paying attention anyway. I checked around, and the only doctor on this island is seventy-two years old. Your go-to guys are the volunteer firefighters, but from what I’m hearing, there might be some holes in their training. In serious cases, your options are a Medevac or a fire boat that takes an hour to get out here. I’m your guy, Melissa. I hope you’re okay with that.”
“I am,” she said promptly. “Believe me, I don’t want anything to harm the baby. If I was worried, I’d tell you.”
“And if I feel strongly that for the sake of your health, and that of the baby, we should leave? What then?”
“I’ll consider it.”
He pinned her with a narrow stare until she bowed her head.
“I’ll do what you say. Since you’re an EMT. And Brody trusts you. And the most important thing is the baby.”
“Thank you.”
NITA WATCHED FROM the doorway, clutching her cell phone, feeling as if her heart was cracking open. Even though she had Brody on the line waiting to talk to Melissa, she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt their conversation. Jeb wasn’t even with Melissa, and he was more concerned about her baby than Bradford had been about his own. Would things have been different if someone like Jeb had been by her side? She would have still lost the baby, of course, but would she have completely broken down if she’d had someone as steady and caring as Jeb going through it with her?
She shook off that useless train of thought. The past was the past, and Jeb was leaving as soon as he could convince Melissa to go. After a quick knock on the door, she walked in and handed her phone to Melissa.
“It’s Brody. He’s been trying to reach both of you, and he’s going crazy.”
Melissa took the phone and walked a few steps away to speak quietly into it.
Jeb dug his cell from his pocket and frowned at it. “No service.”
“Apparently one of the towers is temporarily down. Angie says it happens sometimes, especially when the storms hit.”
He glanced out the window, where clouds were beginning to skim across the sky. “Doesn’t look too bad out there.”
“Brody said he’s been watching the Weather Channel and a big storm system has changed direction. It’s heading toward us instead of out to sea.”
His forehead creased with worry. “I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.”
“Well, it’s a couple of days out. And it might peter out before then, or change direction again. I told Brody not to worry too much, but I should have saved my
breath.”
He gave a ghost of a smile. “He’s going to worry for the next eighteen years. At least. So, how’s the hungry mob out there?”
“They’re not happy with me. They think I’m stonewalling. One of them tried to disguise himself as a pizza delivery guy. As if I don’t recognize every single one of them.”
“Are they bothering you? You tell me, and I’ll kick their asses. One or all of them.” The intensity in his voice sparked a thrill deep in her belly.
“I can handle them.” It was her job. The one thing so far she hadn’t failed at.
“I know you can. But if you need a little extra muscle, you call on me. Hear?” He looked dangerous, with that scowl emphasizing the severe planes of his face. His hands were stuck in his back pockets, which made his T-shirt strain against the muscles of his chest. Not so long ago, she’d been tracing those very muscles with her tongue.
“I hear.”
She wanted to throw herself at him. Get caught up in his strong arms and let the rest of the world fade to static.
He must have picked up on her mood, because his eyes changed, darkened with knee-melting desire. He lowered his voice until it was nearly inaudible. “What are you doing later?”
She managed a shrug.
“I’ll find you. I’m going to take Charlie up on his invitation, no matter what the fire chief says. I want to scope out the fire department and see just how ill-prepared they are. With Melissa determined to stay, and a storm coming, I want to know what I’m dealing with. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll see you later.”
“Yes, you will.” With a scorching look, he strode out the door.
Melissa hung up with Brody and turned to Nita. As soon as she caught sight of Nita’s expression, she broke into a huge smile. “Oh my. You’re smitten.”
“I’m not—oh, crap.”
JEB SPENT ABOUT an hour chatting with the Santa Lucia volunteer firefighters. The fire chief, the only actual paid staff member, wasn’t around. Apparently that wasn’t unusual. The guys were young, eager, lively, and sadly disorganized. One problem was that people kept quitting out of frustration, which meant that the crew was always getting used to new members. Half-trained volunteers were training the new recruits, and misinformation was getting amplified. The captain in him longed to take them in hand and apply some proper discipline to the station. But it wasn’t his business, and considering he’d been warned off by the chief himself, unwise.
Desperately Seeking Fireman Page 6