Jett immediately noticed the change in her posture. He slowed the pace of his steps and she could feel the weight of his gaze upon her face. But she couldn’t meet his eyes. The intimacy of the moment suddenly felt too much.
A hot, telling blush scalded her cheeks. She should go. But her reckless body wouldn’t obey.
“Ginny?” He stopped at the edge of the Pavilion and cupped her flushed cheek, tilting her face towards his so she couldn’t avoid him. His gaze searched hers then dropped to her mouth.
Oh my. Her hand flexed tightly around his shoulder. He was going to kiss her. She knew it. And she couldn’t say no. Didn’t want to say no. But then why fight the inevitable anyway? Hadn’t they been headed straight towards this moment all day? Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her own ears, above the roar of the wind and waves.
His gaze, hot and hungry, captured hers again. “Is a goodnight kiss a sanctioned—”
“Jett honey. Fancy meeting you here!”
Ginny stiffened and Jett swore under his breath. Jett honey? Who the hell was calling Jett, honey?
She pulled away from Jett’s arms and turned around. Suspicion as sharp as the wind whipping around them sliced through her. Mincing towards them in stockinged feet with a pair of sling-backs dangling from her hand was a young, raven-haired woman. A stunning, expensively dressed young woman. Even though this section of the boardwalk was poorly lit, and the wind was tearing at the woman’s skirts, it was plain to see that her dark, blood-red dress was perfectly cut to suit her perky young figure. A designer gown.
Trailing behind the woman by a good ten yards was a clean-cut young man, in suit and tie. They’d obviously emerged from the dance hall. “Hey, Dana,” he called. “Wait up.”
Dana?
Ginny glanced at Jett’s face. He was practically glowering at the woman as she drew closer then stopped in front of them. Whoever Dana was, he was not happy to see her.
Dana’s gaze briefly flickered over Ginny before returning to Jett. “Ah, so you did get her to go on a date with you, Jett. Good for you. Glad to see your trip to the shore wasn’t a complete wash-out.” She giggled then gestured clumsily at the young man who’d just reached her side. “I found someone else too.” She squinted up at her decidedly uncomfortable looking companion. “Whatsh ya name again?”
The young man—he didn’t look any older than twenty-one—blushed. “Larry…Come on, Dana. Let’s go get a coffee somewhere.”
Ginny’s gaze narrowed, her suspicion sharpening further. Dana clearly knew Jett. But how on earth did this girl know about her own involvement with him? And what did she mean by her comment that she’d found someone else also?
Jett’s expression was wooden, his eyes as cold as the Atlantic as they settled on Dana. “Have you been drinking?” His gaze transferred to the awkward looking Larry. “You realize she’s only twenty.”
Dana hiccoughed then scowled. “So what if I’ve been drinking?” She took a step closer to Jett and poked him in the chest. “You’re not the boss of me, Mr. Lead-a-girl-on-then-dump-her-when-someone-better-shows-up.” She turned her head and focused on Ginny. At these close quarters, Ginny could see that the young woman’s heavy red lipstick was smeared and she could smell the alcohol on her breath.
“Be careful with that one.” Dana waved her shoes at Jett. “He changes women as easily as he changes his shirts.”
“What do you mean?” Ginny’s voice was tight and she suddenly felt sick. Somehow she knew what Dana’s answer would be, but she had to ask.
Dana pushed her wind-blown curls out of her eyes and gave Ginny an exaggerated wink. “I was his date this morning, honey, but I guess he thought you were the easier—whoops better—option. Good luck!” She hiccoughed again then patted Larry on the arm. “Come on, Leo. Let’s go.” She turned away and took a few swaying steps back towards the dance hall. “I want more champagne.”
Jett shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “You look like a decent enough fellow, Larry. Make sure you get her that coffee.”
Larry swallowed nervously and nodded. “Yes, sir.” Then he turned to hurry after Dana. Jett’s other date.
God, I’m a fool. Bitter disappointment and anger—at herself and Jett—roiled together with the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. When would she learn that Jett would always be a lying, two-timing, heart-breaking asshole? She hoisted her purse higher onto her shoulder and took a step away from him. Well, no more. She was done with him.
“Ginny.” Jett closed the gap between them and for a moment he looked like he would reach for her but when she took another step away, he appeared to think better of it. He dropped his hands. “All those things Dana said…that’s not how it happened this morning.”
Ginny hardened her gaze. “Why should I believe you? You didn’t even have the decency to tell me you came here on a date with someone else,” she accused, her voice shaking with barely controlled hurt and anger. “So I guess when things fell through with Dana, you thought I’d be a great substitute for your dirty weekend at The Beacon, is that right? I’m the back-up plan?”
Jett’s brow creased into a deep frown. “No, Ginny. Of course you’re not. That’s not—”
Ginny raised her hand. “Don’t.” She shook her head and swallowed past the tight ache gathering in her throat. “Just forget it. I don’t want to hear it. Good night, Jett. No, I mean good-bye.” She turned abruptly and strode away, just as the first of her tears and another heavy shower of rain began to fall.
***
Shit. Jett raked a hand down his face, the sudden deluge blurring his vision to the extent he could barely make out Ginny’s slender form storming away from him.
He couldn’t believe it. Shot down by Miss Socialite.
What the fuck was he going to do now? Hell, he didn’t even know where Ginny was staying. Cold despair gripped his chest. There was no way he could let it end like this.
“Ginny…” Heart thundering, he chased after her through the icy sheets of driving rain. “Ginny wait…” He caught up to her, grabbed her arm, swung her round to face him. “Don’t go.”
Ginny shook him off. In the misty halo of light cast by a nearby lamppost, he could see she was shivering—whether from cold or bristling rage he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps both.
“Leave me be, Jett Kelly,” she cried, her voice catching. “The game’s up. You lost.”
“Christ, Ginny.” He had to shout to be heard over the sound of the rain pummeling down upon them and the roar of the surf and wind. It was like being in the middle of a hurricane. “This business with Dana is not what you think. She told me to get lost when I went to pick her up from her parent’s home in The Palisades this morning. And I have no idea why, but she followed me here. She means nothing to me. But you...” You mean everything. He couldn’t say the words. Not yet. She wouldn’t believe him.
Ginny bit her trembling lower lip, clearly uncertain. Pushing a snarl of streaming hair out of her eyes, she blinked away raindrops and perhaps tears, but she didn’t look away.
Thank God. Hope surged. His heart practically jamming his throat, Jett reached out and trapped one of her hands in his. Pulled her close, then captured her beautiful face between both hands. “I lost the chance to be with you nine years ago, Ginny. I’ll be damned if I lose it again.”
Then before she could do or say another thing, he kissed her. Claimed her mouth. Plunged his tongue inside her, stroking deeply, possessing her, giving her no respite from his overwhelming desire to make her his own, even if it was only this one time. Ginny clutched at his shoulders, her hands fisting into his sodden T-shirt as she sagged against him. A deep moan spilled from her throat and she tangled her tongue with his, tasting him back with equal fervor. Sucked and nipped at his lower lip. A wanton, wet, writhing creature in the rain.
A Ginny unlike any he’d ever known before.
He loved it.
Sliding a hand down her back he then cupped her peach-shaped arse before hauling h
er hips hard up against him, so she could feel the strength of his arousal for her. Only her.
And somehow, some way, he had to make her see that he was the only man she’d ever need or want, or love again.
***
Ginny wrapped her arms about Jett’s neck, clinging to him like he was her only life-line in this wild storm assailing her from both within and without. Sweet Lord above. What was this frenzied, fevered madness that had overcome her? That made her push her breasts into Jett’s chest and grind her hips against his thick erection. Drink in his drugging kisses like she was dying of thirst?
But why question or worse, bury these feelings any longer, because when all was said and done, wasn’t this what she truly wanted? To be held by Jett? Kissed by him? Swept away? Yes, yes and yes again. Her wanting for this man pulsed insistently deep inside her, a force as strong as the raging sea or the tempest of wind and rain whipping about them. She was powerless to resist. She had to be with him, this man that some fundamental part of her had always wanted. Even if it was for one night only.
Jett dragged his mouth away. “We can’t stay out here.” His voice was a deep, warm rasp in her ear. “We’ll drown.”
He was right. Ginny gripped one of his hands. “Come with me.”
The Driftwood Boarding House was only five houses down. She tugged Jett along the boardwalk then down the flooded front path until they were safely beneath the wooden porch.
Pushing a tangle of sopping wet hair out of her eyes—her ponytail had completely collapsed—she stood on tip-toe and peered through the paneled window at the top of the door. The hall light was on but otherwise the passageway leading to the stairs and her room was deserted.
“What are you doing?” Jett murmured in her ear, his hands sliding around her waist. His erection hadn’t diminished despite the run through the freezing rain.
Ginny shivered, but not because she was cold. “Checking to see if the coast is clear. Mrs. Fingle, the proprietress, doesn’t let men stay here.”
Jett’s deep chuckle, warmed her ear. “We could always go back to The Beacon.”
“In this?” Ginny gestured at the rainstorm still raging behind them. “You have got to be kidding.” She could fetch her car but she sure as hell wasn’t going to traipse through the lobby of the upmarket Beacon Hotel looking like something the cat had dragged in from a flooded gutter.
Jett shrugged, then ran his wicked tongue around the curve of her ear before gently pulling on her ear-lobe with his teeth. A bolt of sizzling heat shot all the way to her lower belly—her pussy. Dear Lord, he was making her think dirty thoughts already.
“It’s pretty dark here,” he murmured. “We could always make-out—”
“Shhh, duck out of the way. Mrs. Fingle’s seen me. She’s coming.”
Jett slid to the side, and stood flush against the weatherboard wall, biting his cheek as if to stop himself laughing. Ginny shot him a warning look just as the front door opened.
“Mrs. Williams,” exclaimed the decidedly stout and matronly Mrs. Fingle. “Look at you, you poor dear. Fancy getting caught out in this weather. Come in, come in at once.”
“Ah, if you don’t mind, and if it’s not too much trouble, would you mind fetching me another towel or two?” Ginny gestured at herself. “As you can see I’m absolutely soaked through and I wouldn’t want to ruin your hall runner and the carpet upstairs.”
Mrs. Fingle raised her plump hands to her ample, pinafore covered chest. “Oh bless you,” she exclaimed. “Of course. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She waddled off down the hall towards the back of the house and disappeared from view.
Ginny beckoned to Jett. “Quick, upstairs. Third room on the right. I’ll be up in a second.”
“With towels.” Jett grinned. “Clever ruse. I’m glad I won’t have to shimmy up the porch post and climb through your window. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do something like that.” He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek then squeezed past her before bolting up the stairs.
Ginny grimaced at the trail of water he left behind, but it couldn’t be helped. She stepped into the hall and closed the door against the storm. At least the lighting in here was dim. Hopefully the kindly Mrs. Fingle wouldn’t notice the wet, man-sized boot prints along the worn Turkish runner.
“Here we go, dear.” Mrs. Fingle reappeared with several fluffy white towels.
Ginny took them from her with a bright smile. “Thanks so much. I’ll turn in now—”
“Can I bring you up some tea or coffee? Some home-made chocolate chip cookies and warm milk perhaps? You look half-frozen.”
Ginny shook her head, eager to let Jett into her room. The door was locked and she wasn’t sure who else was staying here. The last thing she needed—and Jett for that matter—was for some other female boarder to come across him in the upstairs hall. “No, I’ll be fine. Truly. Thank you, Mrs. Fingle. Good night.” She slogged over to the stairs and started to climb.
Mrs. Fingle called after her. “Are you sure I can’t turn the radiator on for you? Or run you a nice, hot bath? It’s no trouble. You’re the only one here tonight.”
Ginny released a sigh of relief then smiled down over the bannister at her well-meaning landlady. Well that was good news. She and Jett wouldn’t be disturbed. “You are too kind. But I’m sure I’ll manage. A good book and a lie down and I’ll be right as rain.”
Mrs. Fingle laughed. “Oh you are a hoot, Mrs. Williams. But please, do call if you need anything. Anything at all. My room is right down the other end of the hall. But I won’t be turning in for an hour or so.”
“Sure thing,” called Ginny from the top of the stairs. When she glanced down the hall to Jett, she could see he was lounging against the doorjamb by her room, arms folded across his chest, smirking. Ginny’s breath caught as her gaze wandered over him. His wet, white T-shirt clung to every wonderful ridge and curve of muscle across his upper arms and chest. The soaked denim of his jeans was molded to his long, muscular thighs. And there was still a decided bulge around his groin. Good Lord, the man was as randy as a teenager. Except his confident gaze seemed to grow hotter and heavier with each step she took towards him. Clearly, Jett was no boy. The throb in her loins started anew.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind a nice, hot bath with warm milk and cookies,” he murmured when she reached her door.
Ginny thrust the towels at him then retrieved her room key from her purse. “Shall I send Mrs. Fingle up then?” she whispered back with saccharine sweetness. “Perhaps she could scrub your back too.”
Jet cocked an eyebrow. “I would have thought you were the expert on scrubbing, Nurse Williams.”
Ginny pushed the door open and deposited her purse on a chair by the door. “You’ll get nothing from me at all except a good tongue-lashing shortly, Captain Kelly.” Stepping into the room, she immediately noticed Mrs. Fingle’s handiwork. The bedside lamp was on and the patchwork quilt was turned down on the single bed revealing pristine white sheets and several fat pillows. She bit her lip as vivid, altogether erotic images of what she and Jett were about to do between those sheets filled her mind.
Jett followed her in and shut the door. His eyes danced with mischief and a wicked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “A tongue-lashing sounds like fun.” He dropped the towels on the bed and caught her against his chest. “How about one right now?”
Although her body thrilled for Jett’s kisses and touch, she found her throat was suddenly tight with nerves, her lips dry, as long-held insecurities surfaced within her. The spell cast by the storm had dissipated and Jett suddenly seemed too big for this tiny room, too masculine…too much for her. Charlie had been an attractive man in his own way, but not like Jett. What the hell am I doing?
She flattened her palms against his chest in a weak attempt to keep him at bay for a few moments longer whilst she regrouped. Made herself feel less like a drowned rat. Someone worthy of such focused sexual attention. She swallowed and dredged up her voice. “Perhaps
we should get warm and dry first.” Although she suspected that there was one part of her that was wet and would stay that way as long as Jett was here. Her cheeks burned at the thought. “Let me turn on the radiator.”
Jett released her and after kicking off her soaked loafers, she turned away to fiddle with the knobs on the old cast-iron heater beneath the chintz-curtained window.
Pull yourself together, Ginny. She wasn’t ashamed to admit to herself that she liked sex. After a year and a half of abstinence, she now recognized that she needed sex. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to be a nun for the next few years until she again found that special someone she might consider marrying one day. So in the meantime, why shouldn’t she have sex with a man, whom she knew…and wanted, badly? Even though Jett had hinted he cared about her, she was still convinced that he was a no-strings-attached kind of guy. What could be more perfect than a night of passion with someone like him?
Her sodden hair had fallen over her shoulder and water dripped onto her hand as she adjusted the thermostat. She needed a towel. Straightening, she turned and reached for one off the end of the bed, and then froze. Jett was standing but a few feet away from her by the bedside table, barefoot and shirtless, his hands at the waist of his jeans. He started loosening his belt buckle.
Dear God, she decided she’d never seen anything finer than this man, right at this moment. His overwhelming male presence filled the room. Sleek, wet muscles gleamed in the muted lamp light. Beads of moisture clung to his black hair and stubble darkened jaw. She wanted to run her tongue along all his hard lines and ridges and planes, tasting the raindrops on his skin.
She was suddenly breathless, hot all over. Grasping the brass bed frame for support, she ran her other shaking hand through the tangled mess of her hair. The only sound in the room besides the lashing rain against the casement window and the weak spluttering of the radiator was her own rapid, shallow breathing.
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