Heart Raider (Heartthrob Series, Book 1)
Page 9
Nick chuckled. “With your nose buried in the book.”
“Exactly. I’d already devoured three peaches, when I felt a large hand on the nape of my neck. My book went flying as Nanny Jenna hauled me up in front of her. She gave me a stern lecture on not ruining my dress with sticky peach juice and grass stains, and then she switched me with a peach tree switch. I still get a prickly feeling when I see a peach tree,” she said, twisting her mouth in a wry grimace.
“Ah, so that explains it,” Nick said, lips twitching.
“She didn’t get away with it either. I bit her leg so hard, she released me and I ran home yelling bloody murder. When I got home, Maman’s guests had already left, thank God. She was so horrified when I showed her the stripes on my poor bottom and thighs, she fired Nanny Jenna on the spot.”
“Good. That woman had no business switching you that way. It didn’t work anyway, did it?” he said with a lift of his brow.
“Nope,” she said, chuckling unrepentantly. “I went through a few more nannies after her.”
“I’ll bet. I can’t blame you for gorging on the peaches though. One time my mom brought home a bushel of fresh-picked peaches a farmer had given her. I’ve never eaten so many in one sitting.” Nick’s eyes took on a bemused look, and he shook his head as if to clear the memory. His open expression closed up and he said, “I’ll gather the avocados in the back yard while you work out front. Okay?”
“Sure,” she agreed, guessing he was done talking. He had spent the last six months alone. She didn’t want to crowd him with too much conversation.
They worked for another hour, he in the backyard and she in the front. Veronique was busy picking up key limes from the ground when two big hands grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up from behind. The fruit went flying as she was upended and suspended from the ground with her feet dangling.
Nick hefted her over his shoulder and wrapped a thick arm around her thighs, holding her in place as he strode toward the back of the house.
“Hey. What are you doing?” she squealed, wriggling on his shoulder.
“You’ve been working too hard in the hot sun. Time to cool off.”
“Yay, where are we going?” she asked, lifting her head to see through the curtain of her disheveled hair.
“I seem to recall you love to swim,” he said, heading toward the pool.
She grinned. “Why yes, I do. Are you going to join me?” she asked, bobbing on his shoulder.
“Nope.” He dropped her in the pool and dusted his hands while she flailed around in the water. “Not this time, Picasso,” he said, laughing as he sauntered away.
“Ahh, I take it you saw the resemblance,” she called out, giggling madly.
That evening they ate reheated arroz con pollo, one of the many meals left by Daisy. Save for some small talk, Nick didn’t say much. After dinner he told her she could have the bed to herself. He slept outside in a lounge chair beside the pool, claiming it was cooler there, and he was probably right. The air between them last night had been electrically charged and too hot to handle. Sleeping in bed with him again, without touching, seemed impossible now.
The following morning, after spending the night alone tossing and turning, she was antsy to get out and explore. Felipe had been by earlier to tell them that most of the roads leading to the bridge were cleared. Luckily, he’d come alone, without Daisy.
While Nick worked to restore the damage in the guest quarters, she made two cheddar cheese and mustard sandwiches—one for herself and one for him. She put her sandwich in a backpack along with her wallet and cell phone, a rolled up beach towel, a bottle of water, and a tube of sunscreen. She would go into town and find neighbors who’d stayed on and faced Hurricane Abby. On the way back, she promised herself a nice long swim in the ocean.
Wearing a straw hat, a pair of cut-off denim shorts, a halter top over her bikini, and toting the backpack, she headed to the guest quarters to tell Nick she was going into town. But she changed her mind in mid-stride. He might suggest it was time for her to leave for good. The thought of it made her heart hurt. She didn’t want to think of leaving yet.
She turned in the opposite direction and ran to the garage where she found a road bike she could use. Feeling carefree and happy to be outdoors, she pedaled on the long dirt road leading to Begonia Way. Once there she turned left and headed into town, paying close attention to maneuvering around fallen branches and debris.
When she’d first arrived on Starfish Island, she’d noticed a small bar called Shipwreck Fuel on Begonia Way in the downtown area. It was a standalone building, brightly painted in hot pink and lime green with drawings of ships, loot and comical looking pirates on the sides. The windows had been boarded up in preparation of the storm. If she was lucky, it would still be there and the locals would be gathered around swapping hurricane stories.
No such luck. When she got there, the front door was off the hinges, the Shipwreck Fuel sign on the floor, and the inside walls and floor looked like they’d sustained major flooding. But true to human nature, a group of five people sat on barstools under two huge beach umbrellas where a makeshift bar was set up. The bar consisted of a plank of wood hoisted on two columns of concrete blocks and covered with an assortment of liquor bottles and plastic cups. Beside the bar was a large cooler on wheels that looked promising.
She rummaged in her backpack for her camera and wanted to smack herself when she realized she left it at home. She was thankful Nick hadn’t confiscated it again after that night in the closet. He’d been too preoccupied with the hurricane since. She could only hope he wouldn’t remember.
Manning the bar was a deeply tanned, middle-aged woman in a bright floral muumuu. Her white blonde hair was pulled up in a tight topknot on the crown of her head with the fried ends sticking out.
“Welcome. You look like you could use a drink,” she boomed in a deep-throated voice suited to coaching sports. She eyed Veronique up and down with a friendly smile.
“Any chance I can get a cold drink?” Veronique said.
“Sure thing. I’ve got a generator at home. This cooler is full of ice and cold beer,” the woman said, flashing a white, gap-toothed grin. “What’ll you have?”
“I’d die for a cold beer.”
“You got it. That’ll be five dollars,” the woman said briskly as she handed her a chilled longneck.
Veronique pulled six dollars out of her pocket and set it on the counter. With a happy sigh, she took a long, satisfying swig of cold beer straight from the bottle. The icy bubbles refreshed her parched throat and before she knew it, she’d chugged it all down. The alcohol hit her empty stomach with a bang and she suddenly felt lightheaded. She should have eaten something more substantial than a cranberry nut granola bar before leaving. Now she craved a burger or even a hot dog to go along with the beer instead of the cheese sandwich in her bag. Given the noontime heat, it was probably a grilled cheese sandwich by now.
“What’s your name?” the woman asked Veronique as she handed her a paper napkin.
Veronique blotted her lips with the napkin. The woman was so friendly and direct, she couldn’t help liking her. “Veronique Whitcomb. What’s yours?”
“Sadie Green, owner of the heap behind you,” she said, jerking her thumb toward the now defunct bar.
“Glad to meet you, Sadie.”
Sadie nodded. “Likewise. This is Ron and that’s Linda,” she said, motioning toward a young couple across from Veronique. The couple nodded a greeting, but kept to themselves. She gestured to the remaining three at the bar. “That’s Rafael and Juanita. They work for Ron and Linda,” she said, pointing her chin toward a couple drinking what looked like Cuba libres, rum and cola.
“Hi,” Veronique said. They acknowledged her greeting with a smile and a raised hand.
“And that’s my husband, Jerry,” Sadie said, waving a freckled hand at the pot-bellied man who looked like a sea captain with his shock of white hair, leathery skin and white beard.
“Where are you staying?” Jerry asked, leaning back to study her as he puffed on a stinky cigar.
“I came from Fort Myers. I was dropped off by a colleague who has a boat there.”
“And you brought a bike with you?” Sadie asked with a puzzled look.
“Yes, I figured it would be a good way to get around.”
Sadie nodded. “I could use a bike right about now. Fuel is precious and I don’t want to use it up. We need it for our boats and to run the generator.”
Veronique smiled. “I’m a reporter for Ace News. I’d love to talk to you about why you stayed behind even under mandatory evacuation orders.”
“Jer and I have lived here for the past fifty years. The last hurricane that came by was Hurricane Charley. It was a cat four and we weathered it just fine,” Sadie said emphatically.
“What about this time?” Veronique asked, pulling a notebook and pen out of her backpack. “How did you make out after the hurricane?”
“We survived just like we did the last one.” Sadie shook her head and clicked her teeth. “Lotsa hoopla for nothing. Why just this morning I was telling Jer that…”
Veronique let the woman talk as she scribbled notes for a story.
All morning, Nick worked on pulling up the wooden planks that had buckled from the flooding. When hunger pangs reminded him it was lunchtime, he went to the kitchen in search of Veronique. One large, wrapped sandwich on a paper plate sat on the table beside a thermos of coffee and a mug. She’d left a scribbled note on the sandwich anchored down with a toothpick. The note said, “Going to explore. I’ll be back in time for dinner,” nothing else.
He went straight to the guest room where she kept her things. The moment he entered it, her almond scent filled his nostrils. She had a maddening habit of slathering her skin with a scented body cream that knocked his socks off…and perfumed his sheets at night. Having her in his bed, all soft curves, creamy skin and smelling like honeyed almonds was like having a succulent dessert handed to you with a warning to look, but not taste. Ronnie was too soft and appealing to ignore and her body was slim, curvy and toned all over—just how he liked a woman’s body to be.
He could still feel her silky skin when he’d laid his hand on the slight curve of her belly. When she’d turned on her stomach, hugging her pillow with one slender leg bent at the knee, her sheer bikini panties had hiked up to reveal the sweet curve of her pert bottom. He’d broken out in a cold sweat as his body reacted swiftly and powerfully. It had taken every ounce of grit and willpower to get out of bed and ignore the throbbing ache that made him want to take her right here. Setting his jaw, he forced her delectable image from his mind.
She must have left right after breakfast. She hadn’t taken the rental car; it was where he’d left it before the hurricane. Her suitcase was still in the bedroom so she obviously meant to return. She wasn’t the neatest person, but he didn’t care. Her flip flops were haphazardly strewn on the floor—one beside the bed and the other next to the desk. Her tank top and panties were flung on the chair in front of the desk that faced the window. She must have changed in a hurry and left.
He headed outside and checked the double car garage. He found his Land Rover and Vespa there, but noticed his road bike was missing. He usually parked it beside the Vespa and the space was empty now.
A sharp twinge of disappointment made him realize he missed her. It annoyed him that she’d left like that without letting him know first. He was getting used to having her around. Well, not exactly used to it, more like looking forward to it. She had gotten to him all right. Her saucy smile and twinkling emerald eyes lightened his mood. Not once in the past year had he laughed like he had when he’d seen the caricature she left on his pillow. His laughter had awakened a part of him that had lain dormant for too long—the fun of kicking back and enjoying the lighter side of life.
Spontaneous, spirited and unpredictable, Veronique was like a colorful rainbow after a storm. He hated having to send her back. His desire to make love to her was primal and urgent, yet when she gazed at him with those fiercely trusting eyes, he couldn’t risk breaking her heart. She was becoming too attached. If they had sex, she’d never leave. He wouldn’t want her to go either. But she had to. She would vehemently object and find a million reasons to stay.
It was time to send her away, off the island and back to the mainland, he decided resolutely—even if he had to take her there himself.
But first he had to find her.
Chapter Twelve
Veronique didn’t realize how far she’d drifted into the ocean until the sound of cawing seagulls drew her attention to the sky. She’d intended to take a short swim and then a long walk along the coast to see what treasures the hurricane had washed ashore. But she ended up swimming much longer. She couldn’t seem to get enough of the turquoise sea. She’d been alternating between floating and swimming, reveling in the freedom of all that expanse of water.
She had left Nick’s bike under a tree next to a secluded, winding path that led to the beach. She needed to gather up her towel and backpack quickly and head back. If she got caught in a downpour, she wouldn’t really mind. It might be fun to race in the rain, riding Nick’s road bike the way it was meant to be ridden. It was sturdy and equipped to handle rough terrain. For the most part the roads had been cleared, save for some pieces of driftwood, stray shrubs and twigs, and rocks that she’d have to avoid.
Her frame was a tad small for his bike and reaching the pedals was a stretch, but she’d found a way to lean forward enough to handle the challenge. She’d pay for it tomorrow with sore legs and glutes, but the workout was worth it for the rush she got cruising on his bike.
Purple clouds suddenly appeared, darkening the sky. Where had they come from? When she’d started swimming, she’d felt the hot sun on her back. Now that the sun was partially covered, everything felt cooler. As the clouds gathered closer and completely covered the sun, her arms and legs paddled vigorously to reach the shore.
She swam closer to the shoreline and when it was shallow enough, she tried to get up, but her limbs gave way as the surf pulled her down. She had underestimated the stamina needed to swim in turbulent waters caused by an abrupt weather change. Between the ride into town and her long swim, she’d spent the whole day exercising and it felt good, but her muscles were fatigued. She’d pushed her body to the limit.
Nick drove the Land Rover down Begonia Way in search of Ronnie. When he’d left the house, the sun had been shining, but now rain clouds covered it, lowering the temperature and ushering in gusts of wind. With mounting frustration, his eyes scanned both sides of the two-lane road, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He was about to turn in another direction, when he saw a flash of silver in a parking lot at a distance on the gulf side, near the beach.
Approaching the parking lot, he saw the silver object was his road bike resting under a bedraggled banyan tree stripped bare of leaves by the hurricane. A disturbing feeling of imminent danger snaked up his spine when he didn’t see Ronnie nearby. He swerved into the lot, parked the Land Rover and bolted out.
Calling Ronnie’s name, he ran down the twisting path to the beach. His mind raced with all kinds of horror when she didn’t answer his calls. Was she injured? Unconscious? There were sharp rocks and snakes and the mighty ocean to contend with. She was healthy and athletic, but it had been stupid of her to venture to the beach alone during an oncoming storm.
“Ronnie!” he roared, growing more agitated by the second. Across the expanse of white sand, he saw a figure emerge from the water. His legs propelled him forward with energy wrought from despair. The impact of his feet pounding the seashells and crushing them was nothing compared to the powerful hammering of his heart. It felt like an elephant’s foot was trampling on his chest as he raced forward.
As he got closer, he saw the distinct curves of a woman’s figure before she s
tumbled back into the water. His blood ran cold when he realized it was Ronnie. When she tried to get up again, a wave knocked her down and pulled her further back in the ocean. Her arms flailed and he heard her shout something, but her words were garbled as she sputtered with water. What the hell was she doing swimming alone when a storm was coming? There could be a riptide! Frantic to save her, he leaped across the sand like an Olympian athlete.
Nick dove in the water, swam to her and looped an arm around her neck. Propelled by a rush of adrenaline like none he’d ever felt, he swam hard and fast, pushing against the rising tide as he brought them ashore. His heart hurtling, he rose and hauled her up beside him. She slumped against him and gulped in air as she coughed. Harnessing his temper, he thumped her back between her shoulder blades to help clear her lungs.
“Whew, that was a close one,” she said in a shaky voice as she straightened. “Good thing you showed up, I might not have made it.”
Ronnie’s bikini top had come loose, he noticed, when his gaze lowered to make sure she was all right. The neck straps of her bikini top were dangling and the small scrap of coral fabric hung around her waist. Pale and round with tight pink nipples, her pretty breasts made him go instantly hard.
She followed his fevered gaze and blushed bright red. “Whoops. My top got loose with all that thrashing around.” She turned her back to him as her shaking hands struggled to fix the straps. “Can you give me a hand here?”
“Forget it, it’s broken.” He spun her around by the shoulders and stared at her, furious that she could have drowned and desperate over the impact of that kind of loss. “Damn you! Don’t you know better than to swim in this kind of weather?” He shook her when she didn’t answer.
Her chin shot up belligerently. “Hey, don’t yell! I’m not stupid. It was sunny when I got in.”