by Cat Johnson
His gaze was focused on the dancers on the deck, probably watching Helene charm her partner. “You are lucky.”
“Blessed. My parents are both good people and they raised Helene and me to value the bonds of family.”
He turned to face her again. “Would you care to dance?”
The question hit her like a brick upside the head. No. Not that. The pumping was bad enough, but to have to dance with him, being held in close proximity to a body that made hers go haywire while he did it? That would be cruel and unusual punishment. Besides, he didn’t want to dance with her. Not really. She’d had this ploy played many times before.
A man asked her to dance and then made some excuse for her to switch partners with Helene. Calder was just the type of man to handle that sort of thing with aplomb, but she didn’t want to be handled. Not that way, anyway.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” she lied, and hated herself for doing so. She put a lot of stock in honesty and even white lies bugged her.
“Your father said differently.”
Darn it, Dad had ratted her out. “Did he?”
“Yes.”
She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. He’d probably told Calder all about the lessons she’d taken as a kid. She’d danced in competitions until she was thirteen and sprouted breasts and hips overnight. “Um . . .”
“Don’t you want to dance with me?” he asked, sounding amused.
And well he should be. He had to know that half the women present tonight were panting for a chance to be held by the gorgeous Englishman. She should be thrilled he’d picked her to partner, even if it was with ulterior motives. What woman wouldn’t be, knowing they got to dance with their idea of male perfection?
One smart enough to realize it would be pure torture, she thought. However, he was looking at her expectantly and she let out a huff of frustration.
Better to get this over with and then go back to lusting after him from afar.
“Sure, I’ll dance with you.” She grimaced inside at her lack of savoir faire.
Charm, thy name is not Tabitha Payton.
He put his hand out and she took it, pretending for this short space in time that it was her he was interested in, and knowing as she did so how dangerous such inner pretence could be.
Chapter Two
He led her to an outdoor dance floor lit by nothing more than several strands of twinkling lights and the full moon. He drew her to him as a bluesy ballad filled the night air. The atmosphere surrounding the dancers was one of romantic intimacy, something she could do without if she wanted to keep her mental faculties together.
He pulled her into shocking full body contact before she realized his intention. Okay, maybe there was an inch or so between them, but she’d seen him dance earlier with Helene and he had held her at arm’s length. Tabby had expected the same.
She’d been wrong, so utterly, beautifully wrong.
A riot of sensations exploded through her and it was all she could do to stay vertical and breathing as her body reacted to his nearness. He started them swaying to the soft beat and her hands went of their own volition around his neck. His skin was warm and his black hair silky against her fingers.
And he smelled delectable. His expensive aftershave was subtle and did not mask his personal scent, which teased her senses.
“You’re a good dancer.”
“I’m not exactly doing anything,” she said, no hope of tact anywhere on the horizon. She was too busy trying to focus on not jumping his bones.
But, man, how she wanted to. She ached to rub certain body parts against his hard, masculine form, and her mouth watered at the thought of tasting the smooth jawline so temptingly close.
“You’re doing enough.” His voice sounded funny, but she couldn’t concentrate on what that meant, not with her brain on meltdown.
Suddenly, it occurred to her that while it might feel more incredible than anything she’d ever known, if she didn’t get out of his arms very soon, she was going to do something that would lead to her utter humiliation. Like grab his face and kiss him stupid, or close the inch of distance between them and press hardened nipples against his sculpted pecs.
Oh, yeah, that would feel good. Too good.
“She looks eighteen, but she’s twenty-four. She teaches kindergarten because she loves children, but she hasn’t gotten married because she’s never been in love.” The words came tumbling out in a torrent of jittery need to get this over with. “She’s not dating anyone special at the moment, but she does date. A lot,” she couldn’t help inserting. Tabby was a much better relationship bet, not that Calder would see it that way, of course.
No more than she wanted to date the guy who came in every Wednesday to ask if she had any new Earl Stanley Gardner books in the shop. Even if he didn’t have that little quirk, she wasn’t attracted to the mystery fan. Couldn’t help it. Neither could Calder wanting Helene.
“Her favorite color is yellow, her favorite candy is peanut butter fudge. There’s a place up the beach that makes some she cannot resist. She looks great in evening wear, but her preferred date is a trip to the San Diego Zoo, or even Sea World. She’s a sucker for cotton candy and despite the fact we were raised on the beach, she’s not all that enamored of the ocean and hates getting sand in her shoes.”
“What?” He stared down at her, but she ducked her head so he couldn’t see her eyes. “If I might be so bold as to ask, who the bloody hell are you talking about, Tabby?”
“As if you don’t know. Who else would I be yammering on about while dancing with the sexiest man in the room?” she mumbled at his chest. “My sister, Helene.”
She didn’t mind the information seeking, but she hated the protestations of innocence, which was why she rarely let on she knew what was happening. She hated being lied to more than she hated lying. Only, she couldn’t believe what her frustration had led her into saying this time. The sexiest man in the room?
Oh, man.
“And you’ve shared this wealth of information with me because why?” he asked, his precise English accent laced with inexplicable amusement.
Not appreciating being laughed at on top of everything else, she tipped her head back and glared up at him. “You want to know. I don’t want to spend all evening fencing with you verbally so I can feed the information in such a way as to preserve your illusions or my pride.”
“You believe I am dancing with you because I want information from you about your sister?” he asked in a voice that implied he doubted her sanity.
“Are you trying to tell me you aren’t?”
“Why do you believe this?” he asked instead of giving her a direct answer again.
“You really are a master at conversational misdirection.”
He smiled, the latent amusement still there in his dark eyes, but a surprising determination was evident, as well. “I am also quite adept at procuring the information I require. Why do you believe I am dancing with you in order to draw particulars about your sister from you?”
“That’s what men do. Since I was eighteen and she was a precocious, gorgeous fourteen-year-old with more friendliness and native grace than I will have when I’m ninety.”
“You believe men approach you only to get closer to your sister?”
“Yes.”
“You are wrong.”
“I made the mistake of believing that a few times, but after ten years I’m no longer that naive.” She took a deep breath, wishing things could be different. Knowing they weren’t. “It’s always about Helene. Always.”
“Yet you two are very close.”
“I adore her as much as everyone else does.” His fingers locked at the small of her back, while one thumb caressed a lazy pattern against her spine. “You aren’t jealous at all.”
“No. Why should I be? I don’t want to be her. I’m a lot more private. I’d hate a gaggle of boyfriends following my every move.”
“Your father said you were shy.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t like meeting new people. It makes me nervous.”
“You do not appear nervous right now.”
That’s because she was too busy trying not to drool or rub against him like a cat in heat. “No,” was all she said.
“She is twenty-eight and rather shy. She is not overly fond of candy, but she adores ice cream, especially coconut macadamia.”
All the air whooshed out of Tabby and she stopped dancing in shock.
Calder didn’t seem to mind. In fact, now that she realized it, he’d danced her off the deck and into a secluded spot away from the other party guests. She could hear the ocean, and the sound of wind on the waves stirred her already stimulated senses.
“I’m the one who likes coconut macadamia ice cream.”
“Yes. You also love the beach and will spend hours walking in your bare feet right at the tide line.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You are not dating anyone special and you haven’t in a long time. You own a small bookshop on the pier, which you bought with a trust fund left you by a great-aunt. You quit university after getting a two-year degree instead of a bachelor of arts like your parents wanted you to.”
“They’ve gotten over that.”
“No, they have not, but they respect your right to make your own choices.”
“Oh.”
“Shall I go on?”
“About what?”
The sound he made was one hundred percent masculine irritation, all of his humor seemingly having taken a vacation.
“Very well. You are quite blunt with people you know, kind to strangers even if they intimidate you, and your favorite color is sea green. Oh, yes, and you love the opera and theater. You adore yellow roses, but I personally think you should consider the beauty of the scarlet blooms.”
“Red is for passion, yellow is for everlasting love,” she said in a dazed voice.
“Ahh . . . that explains it. You are a romantic.”
“I’m . . .” She had no idea what to say. It sounded as if he’d been pumping someone else for information on her.
“Your father is very proud of you, if a bit exasperated at times, and is more than willing to wax poetic on the subject of his eldest daughter.”
“You asked him . . . about me?”
“Yes. I have also discussed you at length with Helene, who thinks as highly of you as you do of her.”
“Why?” she asked, stupidly maybe, but with a genuine need to know.
“I should think that was obvious. I want you, Tabitha Payton, and I intend to have you.” His Cary Grant eyes glittered down at her, the words coming out in his precise English accent, somehow making them even more sexy.
She shook her head, trying to clear it, convinced she couldn’t have heard him say what she’d thought he’d said.
“Oh, yes . . . and I think you want me, too, in spite of your rather blatant attempt to toss your sister in my path.”
Calder watched in fascination as multiple emotions chased across Tabby’s expressive features.
Shock. Disbelief. Hope. Pleasure. Desire.
It was the desire he reacted to.
He pulled her into his body, pressing her soft curves against flesh hungry for the feel of her. He had wanted the little darling since the first time he saw her walking along the beach close to sunset. He’d been sitting on the deck of his recently inherited house, trying to determine what he wanted his future to hold, when she came into his line of vision.
His first thought had been the foolishness of a woman walking alone on an almost deserted beach; his second thought had been both carnal and imaginative.
The red glow from the fading sun had outlined her luscious form while a gentle wind stirred her dark blond hair around her shoulders and face. She had looked both ethereal and incredibly sensual. Simply watching her had made him hard.
Although her body had called to him like a siren, it had been the sense of solitude surrounding her that did not smack of loneliness, which had cemented his ache to possess her. Her words tonight had only fueled that fiery need.
She’d spent her adult life fending off her sister’s boyfriends and yet did not resent the other woman.
Tabitha Payton was a very special woman.
However, she was oblivious to her uniqueness and appeal. While he found that refreshing, it was also frustrating. Seducing her body would be quite easy. It was something he was very good at. However, making her believe she was the woman he wanted above all others might turn out to be bloody difficult.
“I want you.” He brushed her lips with his, a mere whisper of touching, nothing too passionate. Not yet. “Tell me you want me, too.”
She quivered against him, her lips full and soft in preparation for the kiss her feminine instincts knew was coming even if her mind did not. “I . . .”
“I do not want Helene.”
She licked her lips and stared at him, big green eyes begging reassurance while her mouth remained stubbornly mute.
“Believe me.”
“But everyone wants her,” she said, sounding bemused and disbelieving.
“Not everyone. I want you. Now tell me you want me.”
She’d pulled her hair up in a sleek French twist and it framed a heart-shaped face creased in doubt. “If I tell you I want you, you could hurt me.”
“Never.”
“Not physically, I know that . . . but if I say it, you’ll know . . . and then you could turn away and say you never meant me to take you seriously.”
He didn’t think she knew what she was saying. She sounded dazed and her words came out in disjointed bursts.
“Has that happened before?”
“Yes.”
Bloody idiotic men she’d known. “I mean what I say. There is no mistake. I am quite serious when I say you are the one woman I want.”
“The one woman?” She laughed like it was a joke. With a suddenness that shocked him, his patience gave out and he kissed her, claiming her mouth with hot passion and a lot less finesse than a man of his talents should exercise. However, there was no room for refinement in this kiss. She belonged to him in a way he neither understood nor would deny, and he felt a remarkably savage need to imprint that truth on her body.
The only option available to him at the moment was a kiss, and so he took it.
Her mouth remained impassive in surprise for several seconds, and then she kissed him back so hard his teeth ground against his inner lip. He opened his mouth and licked the seam of her ardent mouth with his tongue. She jerked in his arms and went completely still, like a fawn drinking from a stream for the first time.
Only he was the one doing the sipping.
The kiss changed as he revered sweetly compliant lips that assured him of the desire she had been incapable of voicing. Deliciously female, her mouth was unconsciously sensuous in its startled immobility, and yet temptingly pliable.
Perfect.
But not nearly enough.
He needed more than her lips. He wanted all of her, and he would have her soon or he would go mad.
He undid her hair, pulling out pins and fingering through the silken strands because he needed to touch her this way. He massaged her head and she moaned against his lips, pressing her body intimately to his. That small sound, coupled with background noise that had suddenly grown louder, brought him back to his senses.
They could not do what he wanted to do with her out here, and regardless of how much his body craved hers, it was too soon. He did not want to spook her.
He pulled away, gently removing her hold on him. She stood there looking shell-shocked, her lips swollen from his kisses. He wanted nothing more than to pull her back into his arms, but he forced himself to refrain. Now was not the time.
The music had been turned up. Playing at a much faster tempo than it had been, it filled the silence between them.
She bit her lip and then looked at him as if he were a species alien to her experience. “Why did you do that?”
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Chapter Three
Of all the questions he might have anticipated at that moment, why he’d kissed her was not one of them.
“Because I wanted to, though I can appreciate now might not have been the best time.”
“You wanted to kiss me?” She needn’t sound so surprised.
“I did say I meant to have you. Kissing is the normal prelude to what is to come.”
“Is there something wrong with you? I mean, maybe your family sent you over here because you’re their big embarrassment. Do you howl at the moon during lunar eclipses, or get so drunk on your birthday you dance on tabletops?”
“I assure you, I am no one’s big embarrassment.” He would have been offended by her suppositions if she weren’t so charmingly confused by his attentions. “You really are used to men trying to get to Helene through you.”
“Well, um, duh . . . yes. I did say so, didn’t I?”
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman reacted to him with such refreshing honesty.
“I suppose it’s going to take some getting used to you having me around.”
“You’re going to be around?”
“Love, you’re not exactly tracking tonight, are you?”
“I hear what your mouth is saying, but the words don’t make any sense in my world.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m in your world now because they make perfect sense to me.”
“You want to date me?” she asked, as if she were trying to get it absolutely straight.
“Yes.” And more, but he’d already told her that.
“You don’t want to date Helene?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she asked, her tone just the tiniest bit aggrieved.
“Because I am not attracted to her.”
“And you are attracted to me?” She peered at him through her lashes, this time as if she were trying to see into his head.
“Yes. Very,” he added for good measure.
“You did notice I’m the one with a figure from a bygone era? The shy one . . . not a tinkling laugh in my repertoire?”
“I noticed everything about you and I find it quite a potent package, if you must know.”