A Convenient Scandal

by Kimberley Troutte

  Jeff directed her to pull into an alcove. He dropped anchor and turned off the engine.

  He stripped off his sweatshirt and for the first time she got to gaze at his lean, hard chest, arms and stomach in person. The pictures in magazines didn’t do justice to his amazing physique. Her fingers itched to touch the red curls on his chest and trace each muscle all the way down the dark V into his shorts.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Nope. Her defenses were crumbling. She was in serious trouble here.

  He rowed the dinghy to the shore and she helped him pull it up on the sand. It was a pretty little beach with white sand and clumps of rocks at the water’s edge.

  He tossed his bangs out of his eyes and grinned like a kid. “I haven’t been here in years. The old firepit is still there. And the inner tube Matt and I used to float around on. This is like a blast from the past. Let’s see if we can catch a crab in the tide pools.”

  “Okay. Let me just put this blanket down and I’ll catch up.”

  He gave her a thumbs-up and jogged to an outcropping of rocks. She smiled as she stretched the blanket on the warm sand. She liked seeing him like this. Boyish, not so intense.

  She needed to watch herself.

  She had no business playing with fire.

  But she really, really wanted to. Once again, she had the desire to show him what love looked like. If only he could see how easy it was to let himself go, to allow himself to feel, then maybe he could open his heart to her. She believed a loveless man could learn to love. She wanted to give that gift to him.

  And today—with the chef job lined up and her sister taken care of—she felt brave.

  So when he jogged back and sat beside her she said, “Is this a real date?”

  He ran a finger down her shoulder. “As real as it gets.”

  He hadn’t seen anything yet. “I seem to recall our last date was rudely interrupted. Can we pick up where we left off?”

  He grinned. “You want to sit on my lap?”

  “Yes. But, no. I have another idea.” The last time she climbed on his lap things flew out of her control too quickly. If she was going to show him how to feel loved she would need to slow things down a bit.

  “Lie back on the blanket.”

  His gaze was intense—curious and cautious—but he did as she asked.

  “Now put the towel under your head. I want you to watch me touching you.”

  She didn’t know what she was doing, and it was probably a really bad mistake, still every inch of her begged to get close to him.

  He tucked a towel under his head and watched her.

  Starting at his fingertips, she made slow, sensual circles around the nail beds and gently petted his knuckles. She traced each bone and vein she could see under the skin.

  He had a fine sprinkle of freckles across the back of his hand. She rubbed his skin softly, slowly, feeling the hairs on his hand lift with her touch.

  He had large, strong hands. Turning them palm up, she traced every line. She looked at him, silently asking permission to keep going.

  “It feels good.” His voice was rough.

  She was feeling things, too. Lots of heat. Tons of want. She’d never touched anyone like this before, never wanted to. She couldn’t seem to get enough.

  She massaged his fingers, pressing deep into the pads of his thumbs. He curled his fingers around hers, giving her hand a squeeze, like a hug.

  “Your arms now.” Why was she whispering? They were alone on a private beach.

  She circled his wrist bones, dragged her nails up his forearm and then softly rubbed her way back down toward his wrists. Goose bumps rose on his arms. She pressed harder and smoothed them back down. Squeezing his biceps, she marveled at the muscles beneath her hands. Turning his arm over, she used her nails and soft touch along the length of the underside of his arm. His skin was smooth, not freckled on this side, silky. The bend of his arm was a kissable spot and she put her mouth there, pausing.

  “Don’t stop. Keep going.” The growl in his voice made her look up. His gaze was intense.

  She felt an answering zing in her core.

  “Shoulders.” Her voice was huskier than normal. She squeezed, massaged and ran a feather touch over his shoulder muscles.

  God, he was so beautiful.

  She ran her palm over his collarbone and dipped her fingertip into the hollow of his neck. She could feel his pulse beating fast there. He was breathing faster now, too, as was she. This slow, burning touch was working her up quickly.

  Honestly, she’d been burning since that incomplete night on the coast. Maybe longer.

  She caressed his neck. She ran the back of her fingers over his strong square jaw and chin.

  She didn’t want to miss one inch of him.

  His eyes watched her every move. That sexy look was giving her goose bumps of her own. She wanted him. Inside her. She’d never felt such a desperate heat before her.

  His lips twitched as if he knew what this was doing to her. If he gave her his signature cocky grin it was game over.

  She cleared her throat and pressed her legs together against the ache building there and placed both her palms on his pecs. She made circles over the muscles and played with the nipple.

  “Michele.” Her name came out as a sexy growl that turned the heat to full melt-level. “Don’t stop.”

  She rubbed the nipple again and twisted his chest curls. “I love your red hair.”

  “There’s more to play with.”

  She lifted her eyebrow and looked down. Oh. He was fully aroused.

  She was losing control of herself.

  Very slowly, she caressed each stomach muscle of his gorgeous six-pack, working her way down. His breathing was fast now, almost as fast as hers. She circled his belly button with her middle finger and gently tugged on the hairs below it. Those were fun to play with, too, but she wanted more. Lifting her head, she saw heat and desire in his expression.

  Good, she wasn’t alone.

  She ran her hand over his shorts, pressing against his erection.

  He sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Jeff?” she said quietly. “I want to kiss you.”

  The groan he made was music to her ears. He reached for her. Running his hand through her hair, he made a loose ponytail and gave it a gentle tug so that her chin tipped up.

  She was looking into his eyes when he said, “Oh, babe. I want you.”

  It was as if she’d waited her whole life to hear those words. She pulled his shorts down and took him in her mouth.

  This she needed.

  * * *

  Michele was touching him in a way he’d never experienced before.

  With reverence.

  With smoking heat.

  Like she adored each millimeter of his skin and couldn’t get enough of him. It was driving him wild. He was hard and wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. All this from her touch? Hell, what would it be like if he was deep inside all that heat? He needed to make love to this woman right now.

  When she put her lips around his erection and sucked, a light show went off behind his eyeballs.

  “Michele, stop,” he somehow managed to say.

  She pulled back, quickly.

  “I’m too close. And I want to be inside you.”

  “Oh,” she said softly.

  He sat up and slid the bathing suit straps off her shoulders. He nuzzled the hollow of her neck and her moan almost made him lose it. “Sorry, sweetheart. This is going to be faster than I’d like but I want you too badly to wait. Take your suit off and I’ll get the condom.”

  Thank God he’d decided to bring one.

  She nodded. Her eyes were hooded with desire.

  They were both ready. She was on her knees on the towel and beautifully naked.


  “Hell, you are so damned gorgeous,” he said and pulled her on top of him.

  Skin-to-skin, her breasts to his chest, thighs pressed together, hearts beating hard, and he had one thought—she’s perfect.

  When she eased him inside and all that slick heat encased him, he closed his eyes to memorize her touch, everywhere.

  And then she started moving and all thoughts left his brain.

  She gripped his shoulders and her pace was fast. Apparently, she was close, too. He eagerly joined in the race to glory.

  Cupping one of her beautiful breasts, he had the fleeting thought that he wished he could have spent time sucking and kissing her warm body.

  Next time.

  He sucked her nipple. She arched her back and cried out, coming quickly. He smiled and flipped her over so that he was on top. She wrapped her legs around him. Holding on to her thighs he went deep.

  “Oh, yes, Jeff.”

  He kept going, loving the sexy smile on her face.

  A few more thrusts and she cried out again, sending him over the edge. The light show going off behind his eyelids was better than Independence Day.

  Michele and her gentle touch—her sparkle—was exactly what he’d needed. For the first time in a long time, he was free.

  Sixteen

  She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she was hungry. Apparently, Jeff was, too.

  “What do we have here?” she asked, rolling over to examine the picnic basket. “Did you make us lunch?”

  He nodded. “Ham and cheese. My specialty.”

  “Can’t wait to try it.”

  They sat side by side, legs touching, chewing in silence. Something had shifted between them, more than just giving in to sex. She could almost hear him thinking. But she didn’t pry. Didn’t ask the questions burning on her tongue.

  He took his last bite, rolled the plastic wrap into a ball in his hand, and that’s when the words poured out. “When I was six years old, I only ate mac and cheese.”

  “My sister was the same way! We had to trick her to try other foods.”

  “No tricks in my family, just demands. ‘Eat your food, Jeffrey.’” He raised his voice to sound like a woman’s. His mother’s? “‘Clean your plate or you won’t get any food tomorrow.’ That sort of thing.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “Sometimes I preferred to not eat. Like seafood night. Hell, I really hated squid.”

  She pressed her other hand to her heart. “I knew it. You didn’t like my first dish! I wish I had made chicken.”

  He swallowed hard. “You didn’t know. What happened to me when I was a kid wasn’t reported in the gossip rags. Families don’t talk about crap like this. They cover it in dirt and pretend it’s dead.”

  She didn’t dare interrupt.

  “So yeah, back to the story. I was a picky kid and one night when I refused to eat, my mother said she’d had enough of my whining. Seafood pasta was her favorite dish and by God, her son was going to eat it without a peep. Dad wasn’t there, but she made everyone else pretend that I wasn’t there, either. After several minutes of being ignored, I threw my plate. Shrimp and noodles slid down the wall. I’d never seen my mother that angry before. She grabbed my arm and dragged me outside. I whimpered, but she said, ‘Don’t be a baby!’ and pushed me inside the toolshed. ‘Cry and I’m never letting you out.’ And then she locked the door.

  “Matt had told me to stay away from the shed because snakes crawled under the crack in the door. It was dark. The cold seeped in. I screamed until my voice was hoarse and my throat was raw. I tried to find a tool to dig out, but they were too high for me to reach. I dug in the dirt with my hands, but the ground was hard. It was freezing cold and I believed I was going to die in that shed all alone.”

  “Oh, Jeff!” Michele covered her mouth. She’d been psychologically beaten down by Alfieri, but she had been an adult at the time, one who could walk away from her abusive boss. Jeff had been a small child. She couldn’t imagine what his mother had done to him deep down inside. She quivered with the need to touch him.

  “When did she finally let you out?” Her voice cracked and her eyes burned with tears.

  “Mother?” The chuckle he produced was sandpaper rough, humorless. “She didn’t. She wanted to teach me not to be a crybaby. Emotions were a sign of weakness in her world. I understand now that something was broken in her genetic makeup that made it impossible for her to love anyone. She passed that broken gene to me.”

  A person incapable of loving? Michele still didn’t believe it.

  “I’m sorry, Jeff. No one should ever treat a child like that.”

  “You’re crying.” He gently wiped her cheek with the back of his hand.

  Softly she said, “Emotions are human, normal. Especially for a little boy. Your mother should’ve known better. What did your father do when he found out?”

  “Mother told him she’d ordered the staff to bring me in and they refused. It was a lie. Donna, the cook, heard me crying the next morning and found me curled up on the dirt floor of the shed. I’d wet myself from fear. When she opened that door, I ran to Donna and held on like I’d never held anyone. The staff banded together and told my mother that if she came into the kitchen, they’d all quit. Since my mother had no idea how to cook for herself, she agreed. I was safe from her in the kitchen.” He tossed his hair off his forehead. “To this day, I don’t like to eat alone or be in small dark places. That’s why I don’t usually take elevators.”

  She frowned. “But the GIF. You were in an elevator with a maid.”

  “Right. I was getting to that. The GIF was orchestrated by the hotel owner to ruin me.” Absentmindedly, he stroked her hand. She hoped touching her calmed him as much as it did her. “Finn had threatened physical harm if we filmed his hotel. It was the first time a hotelier had been so aggressive. It made me wonder—what was the guy hiding? I took my own camera inside. Michele, I could bury Finn with the negative press on the kitchen alone. You would’ve been horrified.”

  “So, you got it all on film?” She watched his finger make lazy circles on the top of her hand and felt the touch all the way to her bones.

  “And then some. Employees told me about bad workplace conditions. Safety violations. Codes ignored. Cover-ups and payouts. It was going to be the best episode ever.” He let out a deep breath. “It’ll never see the light of day because Finn stationed guards near the stairs, forcing me to take the elevator. I didn’t have a choice. I had to get the tape to my producer. Stupid, rookie move. I should’ve expected Finn would pull some sort of devious stunt but this was...” He shook his head.

  She was starting to understand. “Because you are uncomfortable in small places.”

  He laced his fingers with hers. “Yeah. I was already shaking when I got into the thing but there was a maid inside, so I tried to act cool. But when the elevator got stuck...” He shook his head. “It was one of my nightmares coming true.”

  She could feel his palm sweating and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Then the maid removed her blouse.”

  “She what?”

  “Yeah, that seemed strange, but women do weird things for celebrities. I was still pressing buttons to get the elevator going when the woman grabbed me and kissed me.”

  Michele’s mouth dropped. “No! She was a total stranger!”

  “It happened so fast. Nothing seemed real. When she started grinding against me, I woke the hell up. I tried to extricate myself. Gently. And then the lights went out. Blackness inside a box with only a slight crack of light under the door... It was like the shed. I was disoriented, terrified. When something grabbed my ass and pinched... I fought. The elevator lights came back on. The maid was on her butt, cussing up a storm. Her bra was torn. Her hair a mess. She had a red mark on her cheek.”

  The torment tangled in his
starburst irises made her want to hug him, but she didn’t move for fear he’d stop talking. She sensed he needed to get this out.

  “Finn had tampered with the elevator, turned off the lights and paid the maid to come on to me while recording the whole thing. Releasing the first part, the sex scandal bit, ruined my career. He’s holding the second part—the section that looks like I attacked the maid—as blackmail,” he growled.

  “She kissed and grabbed you! How can he use that against you?”

  “Blackmail works best when the victim is caught on tape. People believe what they see, even a lie.”

  Shame heated her cheeks. Even she had believed Jeff was having sex in that elevator.

  “This isn’t fair! If a man had grabbed me in an elevator, I would’ve fought back, too, Jeff. Don’t be ashamed. You did nothing wrong.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m six foot three and over two hundred pounds. Lots of muscle. She was tiny. You are tiny.”

  Something in his tone worried her. She cocked her head, trying to read his expression. Why did he mention her?

  “I’d never hurt a woman, Michele, I swear.” He looked at his hands as if he had weapons attached to his fingertips. “I have bad genes. I’m not good at relationships or connecting with people the right way. What if I am exactly like my mother?””

  Now she understood. “Oh, Jeff.” She touched his face tenderly. “Have you talked to anyone about this? A doctor or therapist?”

  “This is the first time I’ve told anyone this stuff. You don’t understand. I’m trying to improve my reputation. If any of this gets out—my childhood, what really happened in that elevator—the Plunder Cove hotel will be done. I need to see this dream to the end. I need it to be the best it can be.”

  “It will be.”

  It had to be.

  For both of them.

  They didn’t talk any more about his past—or his fears of what his future held—instead they had a nice day on the beach, exploring the tide pools, bodysurfing in the waves, walking on the sand. They held hands, kissed and talked. It had to be the best day she’d had in years.