The Deeper the Passion...

by Jennifer Lewis

  “Really?”

  “No.” A banging noise made her jump. “I’d better go. Someone’s at the door.” That was odd. The doorman usually buzzed and announced anyone who turned up. She said goodbye and put down her phone.

  Her gut flared with warning. Could Leo Parker have come around to up the ante? He was obviously crazy and vindictive and out to get her where it hurt. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Jack.”

  Eleven

  She opened the door and stood there like a mute for about thirty seconds. Jack Drummond in her doorway was not a possibility that had ever crossed her mind. “How did you find me?”

  “I’m a treasure hunter.” A wicked grin was already creeping across his mouth. His dark eyes sparkled with pleasure and he looked as if he was enjoying himself. “If it’s worth finding, I’ll find it.”

  She cursed the way her body already responded to his presence, prickling with awareness. “Why?”

  “First, to tell you I don’t want any part of the reward.” He came in and shut the door behind him without asking.

  “But you—” She wasn’t sure what to protest about first: his refusing the reward or barging into her apartment. Being in close proximity to Jack was dangerous.

  “Don’t say it.” He held up his hand. “I know you’re short of cash, and you know I’m not.”

  Ouch. He pitied her. That was even harder to take than his pushing her out of his bed. Her skin crawled with humiliation. “I’m fine.” Her protest seemed foolish now that everyone in the world knew her financial predicament. It was automatic, like a twitch. “And you need to leave.”

  Not a single muscle moved beneath his white T-shirt or the faded jeans that hugged his powerful legs. The worst part was how badly she wanted to rush into his arms and throw herself against that hard chest.

  It took great effort to stand her ground. “Jack, I don’t know what you’re up to, but there’s no good reason for you to be here and—”

  “No good reason? You sneaked off with my family heirloom. I never even got a chance to see it.” The mischievous gleam in his eyes belied his supposed anger.

  “You never cared about that cup. Besides, I don’t have it. I gave it to Katherine.”

  He sighed. “I know. I’ve just come from a touching reunion with that branch of the family. Sinclair and Annie do make a cute couple and I hear that you played millionaire matchmaker for them.”

  “At least I’ve done something right this year.” Could she forcibly push him out the door? She was afraid of what might happen if she pressed her palms against his contoured pecs. Already the temperature in the room had shot up ten degrees.

  “I miss you, Vicki.” He spoke directly, no teasing humor. “I was happy until you came to visit.”

  “And I ruined everything. Story of my life.” She threw up her hands, babbling, anything to break the tension in the air. “I have a knack for making people uncomfortable.” She thrust her hands on her hips. Emotion built inside her, all the pent-up hurt and frustrated affection she’d never gotten to express. She’d been nervous about seeing Jack when she went down to Florida, and with good reason. She’d thought she could handle herself around him, and she’d been wrong. This time he’d left a wound too large and raw to heal. “You really have to leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He stood there in the tiny foyer of her tiny apartment, looming like a colossus. “Why did you run off?”

  “This is my apartment. I think I should have some say in who enters it.” She crossed her arms over her chest, where her heart was slamming against her rib cage. “And I didn’t run off. I simply left.”

  “Without telling me.”

  “I didn’t want a scene.” She lifted her chin.

  “And you thought I’d make one?” Humor glinted in his eyes, sparking both fury and defeat in her chest.

  “Maybe I was afraid you wouldn’t make one.” She shrugged. “I never should have slept with you again. It was a big mistake.”

  “It wasn’t.” He spoke softly, but his words grew to fill the whole apartment. “I thought it was at first. That I’d gotten in over my head. That’s why I pulled back and went to sleep in the other room.” He looked sheepish. “That’s the only mistake that was made. I was an idiot and I apologize. I never wanted to sleep anywhere but right next to you.”

  Vicki trembled. Jack Drummond apologizing? Something very strange was going on. “Then why did you do it? Sleep in the other room, I mean.” Curiosity overwhelmed her sense of self-preservation.

  Jack hesitated. “You said something in your sleep that scared me.”

  “Was I muttering about sharp knives and revenge?” She lifted her chin. Embarrassing possibilities swirled in her mind.

  He tilted his head slightly and looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You said you loved me.”

  Heat flooded her face. “You must have heard wrong.” She’d said that six years ago, sure, but she’d rather cut out her tongue than make the same idiotic mistake twice.

  He shook his head. “Clear as a bell. You weren’t awake and I’m sure you didn’t mean for me to hear it.” He frowned. “You said you’d always loved me. It spooked the heck out of me.”

  “I’ll bet. What a nightmare.” She fought the urge to throw open the living room window and dive out. Had Jack come here to toy with her? A red-hot tide of pain and humiliation was rising to flood levels inside her. “And you came back here in hopes that you could have a good laugh over it with me?”

  “No.” He stepped forward, unfamiliar frustration written on his bold features. “I came here because I realized that I...I...” His brow creased. “I love you, too.”

  Vicki’s jaw dropped. The words had emerged from his mouth slowly, deliberately, as though he really meant them. They echoed in her heart, but she still didn’t believe them. “Are you messing with me because I didn’t say goodbye nicely?” She cocked her head, sure he was going to start laughing any moment.

  “I’m not good at this. I’ve had no practice. I’m the descendant of scurvy pirates and my genetic heritage is telling me to throw you over my shoulder and head for the high seas. I’m miserable without you and I don’t want to be miserable.”

  The intense expression in his brown eyes surprised her so much that she almost wanted to laugh, maybe just to relieve the tension crackling in the air like an electric storm.

  She had no idea what to say. Thoughts whirled in her mind. Jack loved her. He’d come to New York to find her. He wanted to take her away with him. Could this be real?

  “I want you to come back to my island. The whole place seems empty without you. Even my boat feels like something’s missing.”

  “I don’t belong there.” She was trying to convince herself. She’d missed that cursed island every minute since she left it. And his big rambling house with its funky piratical layout. And the comfortable bed where his ancestors had slept under their treasure map. “I’m a New York girl at heart, and you know it.” Would he believe it? She didn’t. Still, he didn’t mean this. Maybe he was just so pissed that she’d finally got the better of him that he thought he loved and needed her. If she said yes and came back with him, he’d tire of her once the thrill of victory wore off.

  Jack took another step forward. “I don’t think you are a New York girl at heart. I think you love adventure and discovery. You took to the water like a fish, and I know you enjoyed exploring the wreck and unwrapping all its treasures.”

  She shrugged. “Sure.” It was hard to sound casual with her heart smashing against her ribs and emotion clawing at her throat. “But that doesn’t mean I’m meant to throw up my whole life and run after you. I just started my own business.” Never mind that it’s dried right up already. “I need to get back on my feet and figure out what I really want.”

  It didn’t matter if what she really wanted was Jack. She’d already learned—twice—how well that worked out for her.

  Jack’s muscles tightened. Probably unaccustomed frustra
tion at not getting his way. He took a step forward and grabbed her hands. Emotion flashed through her, along with the physical sensation of his touching her skin. She struggled to hold herself steady and keep her expression neutral.

  “I love you, dammit. I can’t live without you. I want you to be my wife.”

  She couldn’t move. He wanted to marry her? She couldn’t imagine Jack married to anyone. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Apparently, yes. And there’s only one way to get it back.” Still clutching her hands, he dropped onto one denim-clad knee. “Vicki St. Cyr, will you marry me?”

  She stared at him. “I must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Maybe I have a high fever and have temporarily gone insane.”

  “That makes two of us, then.” His chest rose and fell as he looked up at her. “I won’t take no for an answer. You know we’re perfect for each other.”

  “No one else could stand us.” The sheer madness of the idea made it seem strangely logical. A smile struggled to cross her mouth.

  “I love you, Vicki. I think I’ve loved you since I first met you. I was just too cowardly to admit it. I’m stronger now, and braver, and I’ve come to claim you.” He squeezed her hands and stood up.

  Eye to eye with him she suddenly felt weak, as though she could fall into his strong arms and rest there. Tears rose in her eyes and she fought to keep them from spilling. “I do love you, Jack. I have always loved you, although most of the time I’ve hated myself for it. I certainly didn’t intend for you to find out.”

  His face brightened. “I’m glad I did. It knocked some sense into me. You know we need each other, don’t you?”

  She nodded. Then swallowed. “But we’re both free spirits, Jack. That’s why it’s never worked out for us before.” Mostly she was worried about his free spirit wanting to tack off into a headwind, leaving her behind, but it sounded less pathetic if she blamed herself, too.

  “We can be free spirits together.” His chest rose. “Why not? If you want to be in New York, then I can spend time here, too. It’s easy enough to fly—or sail—back and forth. Then on weekends we can cruise to Madagascar or Brazil.”

  She laughed, finally, which released a huge bubble of tension. “That sounds so crazy and stupid that it actually makes sense.” Her hands felt hot inside his. She longed to free them and grab hold of him. As if he’d heard her thoughts, he let go of her hands and wrapped his arms around her. The breath flew from her lungs as she grabbed him around his huge chest. “Oh, Jack, we’re doomed, aren’t we?”

  “Yup. We’ll just have to strap ourselves together like shipwreck survivors and hope for the best.”

  He pressed her cheek to his shoulder, mostly so she could get away from his fierce gaze. “I do love your island. It makes a good base for adventures.” Already her mind was wrapping itself around this strange and wonderful new set of possibilities. “And it would be a fun place for children to grow up.”

  The silence was deafening. Had she really just said that?

  “I’m not going to pressure you into having children. Any big decisions, we’ll make together.”

  “We’d probably have to homeschool them.” She lifted her head and found herself frowning at him. “Or we’d be stuck with someone else’s schedule.”

  He nodded, eyes shining with emotion. “Whatever we do, I know it will be an adventure.”

  Their lips finally met and a tidal wave of relief crashed over her, mingled with the sharp excitement of kissing Jack.

  His throaty groan suggested that he felt the same way. When they finally pulled apart enough to speak, he kept his strong arms locked around her waist. “I came to your bed that last night because I finally realized I was an idiot to waste one more night away from the woman I love.”

  Her heart squeezed. “You must have been pretty pissed when you saw my note the next morning.”

  “Poleaxed is a better p word for the way I felt. My first instinct was to run after you and drag you back, but my pride prevented me. Eventually it wore off.” His rakish grin made her smile. “So here I am. I thoroughly deserved to be dumped and abandoned by you, and I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  “I’m amazed at how much insurance premiums drop when you tell them you’re keeping the insured item on a private island.” Vicki took a few steps back to get a better look at the pretty little Vermeer she’d picked up in Brugge. At least she was convinced it was a Vermeer. The gallery owner had attributed it to a minor Dutch painter, but it had a certain je ne sais quoi, and she was pretty sure she could convince the art world she’d found a lost painting by the revered master.

  Jack lay on the big leather sofa, holding up a heavy and time-darkened musket. “Insurance. Now there’s a concept.”

  “You don’t keep any?”

  “Don’t have to when the stuff’s all mine.” He flashed his pearly pirate grin. “And my reputation is my insurance. Everyone knows I collect muskets.”

  “And cannons.”

  “And cannon balls. And powder.” He laughed. “But the stuff you bring home is prettier.”

  “Isn’t she?” The picture showed a young woman, wearing not a pearl earring, but a tiny gold locket. She wondered what secret her locket held. A lock of her beloved’s hair? A love note? Or maybe she was just getting soft in her old age. “I can’t wait to find her a loving home. Preferably a very rich one.”

  He laughed. “I love your mercenary streak. Especially because it brought you back into my life.”

  “I donated Katherine’s twenty-thousand-dollar reward to charity. I felt it was the right thing to do now that I’m back on my feet.” She pointed to her red Ferragamo sandals.

  “And such lovely feet they are. What charity did you pick?”

  “A fund for starving artists, of course. Got to keep the pool of talent humming.” She smiled. It felt so good to have money to give away again. Or just to have fun with. The shipwreck treasure was still being removed and cleaned and would bring in millions over the next few years. “Where are we going next?”

  “That depends on what we’re looking for—an old wreck or a valuable painting.”

  She lifted a brow. “Or a valuable painting disguised as an old wreck by the passage of time.”

  “We’ve had such good luck finding both already that it’s hard to decide. Did they ever hear from the Scottish Drummond who supposedly has the base of the cup?”

  “Not a word last I heard. He’s some financial bigwig who spends all his time in Singapore.”

  “I’d have thought Cousin Sinclair might be able to launch an appeal to a fellow money man.”

  “I don’t think Sinclair is all that interested. Those financial types don’t appreciate quirky treasures and their mysteries the way you and I do.”

  “True. And as far as I know, James Drummond is still single. Finding his third of the cup could spell the end of that.”

  She laughed. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want any part of it.”

  Jack put down his musket and strode across the room. He slid his arms around her in that deliciously proprietary way that still made her gasp with excitement. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

  “I don’t suppose anyone does until love blindsides them when they least expect it.” She ran her thumb over his rough cheek. “I certainly didn’t think I’d fall madly in love again. Especially with the same man who broke my tender young heart.”

  “Lucky for me you’re rash and impetuous enough to make the same mistake twice.” He kissed her lips, sending a shiver of pleasure through her. “I love a woman who isn’t afraid to wade into trouble.”

  “How do you do that to me?” She writhed as he nibbled her earlobe, sending shock waves of arousal dancing through her.

  “I’m a keen student of your erogenous zones.” He touched a thumb to her nipple through her thin blouse. It immediately thickene
d under the pressure. “I’m drawing a mental treasure map of them.”

  “That will lead you right to where X marks the spot?”

  “Oh, I already know where that is.” He growled softly in her ear, sending a rush of heat to her groin. “Let’s go explore it right now.”

  Together they ran down the corridor, bare feet noiseless on the stone flags, and climbed onto the ancient carved bed where they’d spend countless nights making love under the secret map they’d found together.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Up Close and Personal by Maureen Child

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  One

  “Laura, I know you’re in there!”

  Ronan Connolly pounded on the brightly painted blue front door a few more times, then paused to listen. Not a sound from inside the house, though he knew too well that Laura was in there. Hell, he could practically feel her, standing just on the other side of the damned door.

  Bloody hardheaded woman. How had he ever thought that quality attractive? Now that attractive hardheadedness had come back to bite him in the ass.

  Seconds ticked past and there was no sound from within, which only irritated him further. He glanced at the sunshine-yellow Volkswagen parked alongside the house—her car—then glared again at the still-closed front door.