Legendary Lover

by Roszel, Renee

  “Thanks.” He squeezed her hand.

  She avoided his eyes, wishing her pulse would quit racing.

  4

  Cord wheeled the powerful cabin cruiser around a point of land. The maneuver nearly sent Tess sliding across the bench seat into his arms. She grabbed the metal awning support and prevented an embarrassing tumble.

  “The sheriff’s office in Vergennes notified me early this morning of a Champ sighting in the area,” Cord shouted over the wind and the hum of the cruiser’s motor. “Since we don’t have enough people for visual surveillance this far down the coast, so we use highly specialized remote-camera systems to view the surface of the lake. We’ll get a few boats, but also any surface disturbances.”

  Tess held on to the metal bar with one hand and swept her hair from her face with the other. They were high up on the flying bridge where wind swirled and whipped around them. “What about in the dark?” she shouted.

  “Very sophisticated cameras.” He pushed a lever forward and the boat began to slow, though Diamond Island was still only a dot on the horizon. Tess turned to look at him. “Why are you stopping way out here?”

  “Sonar shows rocky shallows. Can’t get much closer with the boat.”

  She turned to face him directly. “You can’t get to the island?”

  “I’ll get there.” He turned off the motor and smiled at her. “First, we drop anchor. Let’s go down on deck.” He preceded her down the ladder to the cockpit, and once she stood beside him on the teak deck, he said, “The inflatable rubber dingy will have to take over from here. Mind getting it out? It’s in a compartment across from the helmsman’s seat.”

  She cast him a doubtful look. “What does it look like?”

  “It’s that leather swivel chair over there with the wheel in front of—”

  “I don’t mean the helmsman’s seat. I figured that part out.” She frowned. Did he think she was a total idiot?

  “Oh.” He grinned, his eyes glinting with fun. He nodded toward a stowage compartment beneath the shelter top. “The inflatable dinghy’s the only thing in that cabinet.” Heading toward the bow, he added, “Except for a few CO2 canisters.”

  She knelt and opened the compartment. “Inflatable rubber dinghy,” she mumbled. The words didn’t have the solid sound she preferred in a boat’s name—such as battleship or supercarrier. Inflatable rubber dinghy sounded more like something a two-year-old would play with in his bath.

  Well, there was one consolation, she decided. A boat that could be kept in a two-foot-by-two-foot space couldn’t possibly carry more than one person. That was a break for her.

  When Cord returned, she was lugging the heavy black bundle from its compartment. Before she had figured out how she was going to lift the ungainly thing, he took it from her, moved to the open stern and pulled a yellow tab. There was a loud hissing as it swelled and puffed and became a bulging black mass that looked more like an army surplus kiddie pool than a dependable means of transportation over water.

  When the monster had given out its last angry hiss, she quipped, “Well, what’ll they think of next—a floating ashtray?”

  He smiled mildly and hoisted the thing over the brass railing of the boat. She watched, asking, “So this is an inflatable rubber dinghy?”

  “Uh-huh.” He eased it into the water, securing it with a nylon line.

  “And you’re going to take the cameras over to the island in this?”

  He turned back to face her. “We are.” He opened a hatch and hopped down out of sight before she registered what he’d said.

  “What?” she belatedly shouted, dropping to her knees beside the hatch. Before she could insist that he was out of his mind, he was there before her, hoisting up two oars.

  When he had jumped back out on deck and was towering over her, she demanded, “What do you mean, we? I hope you have a frog in your pocket, because I’m not going anywhere in that … that…” She faltered, pointing back toward the small craft being buffeted by the waves. “That oversize bathtub stopper!”

  He didn’t say anything but went forward, disappearing into the cabin. A moment later he returned, carrying two tripods and a large leather bag.

  She clambered to her feet. “Did you hear me?” she asked, her chin stubbornly jutting.

  “Yep.” He was still smiling. “But you’re going. The equipment’s delicate and the water’s rough. I need your help.” Handing her one of the tripods, he reminded her, “Remember. It’s for Champ.”

  “I—I said I’d help Champ. I didn’t say I’d die for him.”

  Cord chuckled, walking past her toward the stern and the bobbing dinghy. “What if I told you I’d never lost a passenger.”

  Clutching the tripod nervously to her breasts, she caught up with him. “Oh, yes? Well, I bet the captain of the Titanic said something very similar about the time the iceberg was slicing his little floating city open like a can of tuna! And this … this—” she indicated the dinghy with a toss of her head, “—is no Titanic.”

  Cord quirked a brow. “Let’s hope not.” He leaned over the stern and deposited the oars in the bottom of the small craft. When he turned around, he took the tripod from her tense arms. At least he tried to. She was holding on to it for dear life. He looked into her stricken face, his easy grin fading. “Are you really that frightened?”

  Yes, I’m frightened! she wanted to scream. If you’d almost drowned when you were five years old, you’d be afraid, too! But something in his eyes made her hesitate. Was it disappointment in her that she saw in those blue depths? Did he think her a coward? Did he pity her for her timidity? Pity! Well, he’d better not pity her! Nobody pitied Tessa Jane Mankiller!

  “Frightened?” she echoed gravely, her chin taking on an imperious angle. “What is this, some kind of a schoolboy dare?”

  “No, I—”

  “Well, I’m not frightened. I’m just … cautious around deep water.” She thrust the tripod into his arms. “Just tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”

  The tripod landing in his midsection elicited a barely audible “Whoof” from Cord. “Thanks,” he returned a little hoarsely. His expression doubtful, he scanned her taut features. In response to his silent concern she averted her face.

  After depositing the tripod in the dinghy, he turned back to her. She was standing rigidly, staring off into the distance. “Here…” he said and she felt his fingers close around her hand. She stiffened at the unexpected contact. “Let me help you into the boat, then I’ll pass you the camera bag.”

  With high irritation and a heavy reluctance, she allowed him to assist her into the unsteady raft. Against her will, her body made careful note of every warm, lingering touch of his hands, first holding hers, then moving to her waist as she stepped into the sagging middle of the dinghy. Once she was seated, he handed her the camera bag with instructions to cradle it carefully in her lap.

  The trip across the hundred yards of open water began in oppressive silence. But soon enough, Tess realized that there was something quite tranquil about watching the water trail by the boat, the frilly little swirls made by Cord’s oars as he moved them quickly over the choppy lake, the lapping sound against the wet rubber.

  It took her less time than she could have imagined to feel relaxed in this foreign element. Just as she was about to tell him so, Cord drew in his oars. She felt a thrill of anxiety. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice taking on a forlorn note. She didn’t like the idea of floating aimlessly with this man, or being in such close proximity with only a camera bag between them.

  He passed her that crooked smile of his, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “I apologize for this little deception. I didn’t really need help, but I couldn’t think of any other way to get you alone.”

  A shiver of trepidation rushed up her spine. “Alone?” she croaked. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Why?”

  “Because of what happened between us thirteen years ago,” he said quietly. “I want
you to know how sorry I am. I was a thoughtless bastard, and I deserve everything you’ve said to me, every damning look….” He paused, his gaze skimming her wide-eyed face.

  She tried but failed to discern any false inflection in his tone. His voice was deep, his expression serious. She felt so flustered, so shocked by his sudden confession that she didn’t know how to react to it. Chewing the inside of her lip, she feigned interest in the distant Adirondacks. But for once, their spectacular beauty didn’t stir her. She was too confused, too upset.

  “I was hoping you could forgive me. I swear, if you’d been my sister and some guy had done to you what I did, I’d have killed the bum with my own hands.” His voice had grown so harsh that she couldn’t keep her eyes averted any longer. When she looked at him, he was watching her with a compelling intensity. There was real pain in his eyes.

  The look unsettled her. Unsure of herself, she adopted a mask of indifference, which she was far from feeling. “I didn’t have a brother,” she reminded him flatly.

  “I guess I should be grateful you didn’t.”

  At her continued silence, he turned away, a look of self-disgust etched on his face. She examined his profile, alert and watchful for any sign of deception or manipulation. He looked nothing if not miserable, and she was touched by this glimpse of his vulnerability. He, too, had suffered. Learning that came as a shock, but it was also a healing revelation.

  She’d hated this man for thirteen years. Hating him had done her no good—bequeathed her nothing but more sadness, more anger. Maybe it was time to make amends. To lay to rest something that, to be brutally honest, had been more her doing than his.

  Cord’s profile was rawboned and strong, his lashes long, light brown and tipped in silver. But lines of strain showed at the corners of his eyes. His aquiline nose flared, and his jaw bunched and flexed in his agitation. The handsome, crooked smile was gone, his mouth now narrowed into a tight dash. His distress grew hard for her to bear.

  When at last she made her decision to offer a truce, she felt not the slightest bit begrudging. “I—I forgive you, Cord.” The words were almost a sigh. “And, in all honesty, it wasn’t entirely your fault. If I hadn’t gone out there…” She couldn’t go on. Instead she finished in a whisper. “I’m sorry, too.”

  She wasn’t sure her words had reached him at first. But after a brief pause, he turned to look at her, his broad shoulders relaxing slightly. His eyes glistened with tears of gratitude.

  She grew very still, hardly breathing. The early morning sun shone golden on his broad shoulders and made a halo of his blond hair, giving him an ethereal beauty. Though his gaze rested gently on her face, there was something erotic about his look that stirred her against her will.

  He didn’t reply immediately. When he did, he managed the barest trace of a smile. “Thank you, Tessa Jane.”

  The warmth created by those four words rushed through her, and she smiled back at him. It was a small, shy smile, but it was a beginning.

  In the companionable silence that followed, he took up the oars and they resumed their journey. All too soon the ride ended with Cord jumping out in knee-deep water and hauling the boat up onto the rocky, barren shore.

  Tess handed out the equipment, and then watched in silence as he set up the tripods and cameras and adjusted the timers. She studied him while he concentrated on determining the best angle for the cameras, checking delicate connections and securing the tripods against the gusty wind. She pursed her lips, thinking, once again, how knowledgeable and intelligent Cord was. At this moment it was hard to picture him as the egomaniac she had built him up to be. He was undeniably good-looking and wealthy, but he was also a highly respected scientist. It was no surprise that he was spoiled where women were concerned.

  He walked a distance away from her and picked up a good-sized rock. His biceps bulged beneath his shirt, and she felt a tingle of feminine appreciation in the pit of her stomach. He deposited the rock against one leg of the tripod and stood, turning to face her at last. “That should keep it steady.” He braced his hands on trim hips. “Ready to go back?”

  His question pulled her from her unbidden thoughts. Just because she’d forgiven him didn’t mean it was time to fall into the same old trap again! Abashed at her foolishness, she nodded, moving toward the small boat. She had only gone a few steps when Cord asked, “Are you going to marry him?”

  The quiet question had the same effect on Tess as slamming headlong into an invisible wall. She stumbled to a halt. “What?” she asked incredulously.

  “I said—”

  “I know what you said.” She pivoted to face him, feeling defensive. “My personal life is none of your business.”

  He wasn’t smiling now. He met her troubled stare and held it. “You introduced Nolan as a good friend, but I got the feeling he’d like you to be more than that.”

  She threw him her most pointed you-must-be-crazy look. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t want a discussion. A yes or no will do.”

  “Oh, it will? Well, let me tell you…” She opened her mouth to say, in no uncertain terms, just exactly how much she didn’t care what he thought would do, but the cutting words didn’t come. Hadn’t she just decided to try to be on more friendly terms with him? He stood there watching her, his expression solemn, questioning. What good would arguing the point do? Why not just tell him and get on with her life?

  She let out a defeated sigh. “Why I’m telling you my private business is beyond me, but yes, I’ll probably marry him as soon as the inn is solid enough to hire a manager.” Actually, the inn was starting to run in the black, but Tess was still using that excuse to put Nolan off. She hadn’t been able to explain the why of it to herself. “So now that that’s cleared up…” She cocked her head in question. “Are you planning to commit matrimony with any of those halibut you know so intimately?”

  “Isn’t that question a little personal?” he asked without skipping a beat.

  She groaned theatrically and turned away, stalking toward the boat.

  He caught up. “Lost Cove Inn looks like it’s in pretty good shape to me.”

  Tess pointedly ignored his remark, but she fretted that he might be able to read thoughts, since that same thing had just run through her mind. When she made no comment, he went on, “Surely Nolan, a CPA, would confirm that the inn is in solid enough shape so that you could marry him.”

  She felt a surge of anger at Cord’s casual implication that she could marry Nolan immediately as far as he was concerned. She spun back to face him, snapping, “Any marriage proposals I’ve received are none of your business. Just because you made lo—” She swallowed, too embarrassed to say the word. Amending, she hurried on, “Just because something happened between us thirteen years ago, doesn’t mean you have a right to butt into my private affairs!”

  Her anger had inexplicably drawn her toward him, and they were now standing much too close. His breath was warm against her forehead, as he said, “Then he’s asked you, and you’ve put him off. Why?”

  “I just told you,” she shot back, her voice shrill.

  A small smile crooked the corners of his lips. “I don’t understand why the question makes you angry. Most women would flaunt marriage proposals in other men’s faces.”

  “I don’t happen to be most women.”

  “That’s true….” he murmured, slipping his arms around her and drawing her against him. Even as he did so, his eyes telegraphed the intimate message that she was about to be kissed. Her mind refused to compute it. The idea of being kissed by Cord Redigo was counter to anything she wanted to happen in her life….

  His lips brushed hers once, twice, taunting her mouth to open of its own accord to meet the firm warmth of his. Tess’s gaze was wide in horror as she watched his lids close, and his long lashes come to rest against the tanned skin of his roguish face. The vision fluttered before her for an instant and then disappeared as her eyes, too, succumbed
to the seduction his mouth and hands were weaving about her.

  His scent, subtle yet wildly male, invaded her senses, stirring her out of her initial shock and fear, and reviving within her a long-buried need. She inhaled the rugged maleness of him and grew dizzy, the world tilting on its axis. Time and space eroded and crumbled about her. Her fingers, pressing defensively against his chest, curled around the cotton knit fabric, clutching, grabbing for balance, and she moaned against him, whimpering some mindless endearment that she knew she’d hate herself later for uttering.

  He lifted his mouth a shade, nipping, teasing her lower lip as he murmured, “Why aren’t you sleeping with Nolan?”

  He claimed her mouth fully again. This time it was his groan that met her ears as he pressed her more intimately against him. His tongue darted into her mouth, thrilling her and making her body grow weak and pliant to his will. But her mind began to burn with the implication of his question.

  Why wasn’t she sleeping with Nolan? Why indeed? Just because Cord had made love to her once, did he think that she spent her nights having casual sex with any number of men?

  His tongue was trailing along the inside of her upper lip. His hands were lost in the tangle of her hair, stroking lovingly. Pressed tightly against him, she could feel his growing desire, and even as her rage at his crude remark grew, something deep inside her cried out to leave it be—to let the kiss deepen, the passion grow. Even as she shoved him away and felt the sting of her own slap on her palm, her insides throbbed for more of him.

  Her rage came out in a low, feline growl as she stumbled backward, her anger taking full control once she had gained enough space to regroup her flagging senses.

  Bringing herself up with a quick, sharp oath she blurted, “My sex life is none of your business, Dr. Redigo!”

  “You made it my business once,” he reminded her, his voice vaguely husky.

  She let out a shuddering breath, her whole body quivering in her effort to reign in her bitter resentment. “I assure you, I won’t make that mistake again. I’m not nearly so naive as I once was.” She stalked back to the rubber dinghy before spinning around and shouting, “Nolan is a solid, wonderful man, and I’ll marry him when the time is right! Is that perfectly clear?”