by Stacy Hoff
“I know. Sorry. I couldn’t resist. The boat is fifty feet. Big enough to entertain. Not so big I can’t be the captain. Having to hire someone every time I wanted to sail would be a problem. I like my space and my privacy.”
He walked over to her, a glass in each hand. “Salud,” he said, handing her one of them. “Pineapple-flavored rum. Enjoy.”
“Cheers,” she said, clinking her glass against his before raising the crystal to her mouth. I wish my lips could be touching him instead. She took a sip. The liquor burned. A coughing fit came on like gangbusters. She held the glass away from her outfit to avoid spilling on herself.
“Are you okay? Did you swallow wrong?” he asked.
“Sorry, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
“Take another sip. You’ll feel better.”
“Suuuuure, that’s what all the boys say,” she joked. “Then you wake up in a strange room wondering how you got there.”
“I hate to stop your story, but I like my women conscious.” He clinked his glass against hers, spurring her to take a second sip.
“Yeah, well, I prefer my captives to be men,” she said. “Totally unable to resist my charms.”
His lips twisted in amusement. “Captive? Really? I’m trying to figure out whether pirates turn you on.”
She barked out a laugh. “Bring it, Johnny Depp.”
“I can blacken my teeth and buy a bandana.”
“Lovely offer. Regrettably, I must decline. You look fine as you are.” Lord above, more than fine.
Luis’s poker face would have made him a huge success in Las Vegas. “If you’re not searching for your own personal pirate,” he said, “perhaps you’re simply looking for someone to be captivated by you.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded.
“Fair enough. If you ever change your mind about wanting a Johnny Depp impersonator, let me know. We are on a ship. The pirate theme can play out nicely.”
The sudden dryness in her mouth was overwhelming. A third sip of liquor gave little relief. “I thought our relationship was going to be platonic. We’re here to get to know each other. Not . . .” Her words trailed off and a pregnant pause hung in the air.
“Finish the sentence,” he prompted.
Judging from his amused expression, feeling awkward was solely her problem. “Not, you know, getting to really know each other.” You’re mumbling, Mel. Shut up! A sharp stab of pain let her know she bit down on her lower lip.
“You don’t need to worry.” He took a sip, his gaze never leaving her face.
His seductive stare held her. Perhaps she really was his captive. Real-life ropes couldn’t possibly bind her more. “I do need to worry. Pirates are a lot less dangerous than you.”
“I love to be regarded as a badass, although I have to confess I’m not dangerous. I’m merely trying to get to know you. You didn’t talk too much about yourself at dinner. You promised you would in exchange for a drink.”
“I don’t think one glass of liquor is going to be enough.”
“No problem. I have a whole bar here.” He gestured toward his impressive top shelf collection. “I delivered on my promise. It’s time for you to deliver on yours.”
Her tight throat managed to gulp down another sip of rum. “Don’t do this. If we get too involved it’ll be a mistake.”
“I’m brave enough to tempt trouble. What about you?”
“Am I brave?” She let out a laugh. “No one’s ever accused me of that.” Another sip of rum stalled their conversation for almost a minute. Awkward silence hung in the air. Mel put her glass down on the marble end table and sat up straight. “Maybe I’m a little brave. Sometimes.”
“I’m hoping your actions are braver than your words,” he said, smiling slyly.
“Are you making a pass at me, mister?”
“Me? No, I would never do such a thing. By the way, I thought we established you’re allowed to use my first name.”
“I’m honored, Sir Luis.” She rolled her eyes. “When I first met you, I thought you were a tyrant.”
“You were right.”
She bit back a laugh. “Has anyone stood up to you before?”
“Anyone who has worked for me? No. You’re the first. See, I told you that you are brave.”
“Bravery has its limits. Challenging you is fun. Standing up to my family is definitely not fun.” She paused, her smile fading. “They’re different than me. I’m the black sheep. They’re creative people with a strong business sense. They run the firm and keep it financially on-track. Their design work is done with a business perspective in mind. They specialize in contemporary style, satisfying people with conservative taste. My family doesn’t like to push the artistic envelope. I do.”
His brow furrowed. “I would imagine that a hospitality design firm would welcome someone with a strong creative flair.”
“They might, if my artistic vision wasn’t miles apart from theirs. They think my creative side will scare off clients. I’ve given up on trying to persuade them. Now I do my best to simply shut up and execute what they want.”
“Why don’t you join a firm more your style?”
“Because my style would be to leave the design world altogether and be an artist. I want to sell my paintings. Hopefully through art galleries.”
“Okay. Why aren’t you a professional artist?”
“I’ve been holding myself back because my family wouldn’t forgive me. They’d think I’d be throwing away a decent salary to be a starving artist. They claim my work is too out there for anyone to buy. My father told me that if I do decide to leave the firm, they will not support me. I’m assuming he meant financially, although he might as well have meant emotionally, too.”
Luis grimaced. “It’s unfortunately true that a lot of artists don’t make much money. But it’s not as if they’re lazy sponges.”
“My parents would disagree with you. To them lazy means not getting a job with a steady paycheck.” Another sip of rum did nothing to soothe her. “They said they are teaching me how to be an adult. To take care of myself fiscally while helping the family out at the same time. They call my subservience a win-win.”
“And you call it . . .?” Luis prompted.
“A mediocre solution. I do the work they need, in the way they want me to perform. They know I’m not happy. I guess they keep hope alive.”
“What about your sister?”
“She’s their perfect daughter. Her creative ideas and business philosophy blend in beautifully with my parents.” Mel’s forehead wrinkled. “When I found out that I had to come down here instead of her, I almost freaked out. I don’t mind finishing a project they start because they already laid out all the design work. All that’s left for me to do is finish the project. Sometimes though, when I see plans, I can’t help myself. I know I can improve on what they did, if they’d let me.” She sighed. “This will be my first time starting a project. Any changes I make they will have to follow through on. I admit I’m scared.”
“I saw you earlier today with the design plans spread out. Did you propose any changes to Alonso?”
Heat rose to her face. She scanned his expression to see if he was mad. If he was, she didn’t see any evidence. His neutral expression waited patiently for her response. “Yes. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I always think I’m helping clients when I give my opinions. Maybe my parents are right. My ideas will scare you off. I’ll talk to Alonso in the morning, tell him to keep everything the way it was . . .”
“Why are you rushing to that conclusion? What did Alonso say about your suggestions?”
“He said he liked them but . . .”
“But what?”
Mel clasped her hands together tightly, intertwining the fingers. “Don’t you see? Things between us
will be worse if you hate my concept. Your rejection would prove my parents right. I don’t want to feel awkward around you again.” Her heart stuck in her throat. “I really like you, Luis. I’ve been more open with you than I have with anybody else for a long time. Probably forever. I’m not sure how I’ll cope if you hate my ideas.”
“Why don’t you try me and find out?”
“I’m working up the courage. The revised plans I gave Alonso were gentle takeoffs of what my family did. I didn’t want to submit a whole re-design. Just some tweaks to show off your lobby for what the space really can be.” She bit down on her lip. “In my opinion, anyway. I’m hoping you’ll agree. My goal is to make you happy.” Mel turned her gaze to the floor in an effort to hide the bright-red cheeks she knew she had.
Luis put his glass down on the coffee table, picked up her hand, and held it to his lips. “You already make me happy,” he said, kissing her palm.
His simple kiss stoked a fire in her. The rising flames licked places that had gone cold quite some time ago.
Chapter 15
Mel knew the kiss Luis had given the back of her hand had morphed into something hot, sexual, and completely unrestrained. Slow, hot swirls of his tongue gave promise of more. Ideas of all the places his mouth could go. And the things it could do.
“You were right about one thing, because I do find you captivating,” he murmured, moving in to nuzzle the nape of her neck. “You were wrong about not wanting to get involved.”
If he kept saying words like that, sleeping with him would be a sure bet. If she were smart she’d force herself to back away. She should use her common sense and good judgment. One glance at him unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, and her common sense wanted to go straight out the yacht’s door. Lord, help me.
The little angel who’d landed on her shoulder yesterday arrived again. The seraph floated in front of her and shook its finger. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you using your brains?”
Mel inwardly groaned. Maybe this time I should listen.
The angel flew away with a satisfied smile on its face.
Mel placed the palm of her hand against Luis’s chest, her fingers splayed out. “I’m attracted to you, Luis. But we both know sleeping with you isn’t wise.”
“On the contrary. Sleeping with me is more than wise. It’s genius.”
“How can you say that? What about our having to work together?”
“Trust me, this is working together.”
“Stop playing around, because I’m serious. What about your father’s project?”
“Damn his project,” Luis ground out.
~ ~ ~
Luis blinked in surprise. Had he really said his father’s business deal could go to hell? Along with the chance to win his father’s love? Had he thrown away his common sense, along with his most important goal? Surely, he had lost his mind. And yet, the woman wrapped in his arms was more enticing than any of his business deals—including the project they were working on.
If he were smart, he would have Pedro take her back to the hotel. Simple, really. As easy as lighting himself on fire. Luis groaned. The truth was, he was already on fire. He’d been burning for her ever since she’d first walked through his office door.
“I want to make love to you, Mel.” The timbre of his voice sounded rough and throaty. “Let me take you to my bedroom.”
Caribbean-blue orbs gazed back at him, large, round, and full of hope. Any signs of wariness had gone. Silently, she nodded.
He rose to stand, lifting her with him until she was cradled in his arms. He carried her to his bedroom, cursing the long length of his boat. Carrying her fifty feet, while sporting a raging erection, was not easy. He wasn’t sure how he finally made it to the bedroom. In fact, it was hard to know anything, since a sexual haze had engulfed him. Mundane details of the world slipped away. Gone, the moment he’d picked her up. The ship could sink like the Titanic and he wouldn’t notice, as long as she was in his bed.
He nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, and placed her down on his king-size bed as gently as an impatient man could.
Mel giggled against his chest. “I’ve never been carried before. This is a first.”
“I’ve never wanted a woman this badly before. This is a first.”
“Luis . . .” Her soft voice was full of surprise.
“Yeah. I said it. I’m not sorry I did.”
“I’m not sorry you did, either. I feel the same way.”
“Good, because we’re in my bedroom.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked in a tiny voice.
“Yup. Best idea I ever had.” He kneeled on the bed to kiss her. Her lips yielded to his. Her mouth opening for his tongue. The sweet scent of her skin intoxicating him like the finest rum. Heat boiled in his belly, becoming molten lava. The fiery river spread lower, seeping into his groin.
“I trust you,” Mel said softly. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. Again. Right?” She spoke the last two words an octave too high. As if she still had doubts, despite her earlier confidence.
Everyone I care about doubts me. I won’t let Mel be a doubter, too. Hurting her would be unconscionable. He would never hurt a woman. Especially Mel. He could never be that callous. Would she believe him?
Mel, flat on her back on his bed, lifted herself up on her elbows. “Luis?”
“No. I’m not going to hurt you.” He kissed her lips. The tiny action was enormously heartfelt. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
~ ~ ~
Mel wiggled her back and butt against the softest bed covering she ever felt. Luis was on top of her, his nose poised a few inches above the tip of her own. Through his shirt, she saw his biceps ripple, his body tense and taut. Time suspended as their eyes met. Her mind raced to internalize his sexy words, the ones her body had already accepted.
He spoke again, his words more powerful than before. “I’ve been waiting for you my whole life, Melanie Merritt. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you.” His hot mouth tantalized her neck, making her skin tingle from the light pressure of his lips. “Imagine my surprise,” he murmured. “Instead of the man I was expecting, I get a smart, sincere, and very sexy woman.”
She dragged her tongue across his ear lobe. “Yup.”
“I should feel hurt,” he teased. “You didn’t seem interested in me. Not one bit.”
“Poor Luis. I should have been more obvious.” She placed her hand on his erection. “Perhaps I should have done this?” she purred.
“Go right ahead. Torture me. You’ve been doing that since I met you.” The fingers of his right hand glided over her breast. “Or are you going to tell me you’re completely innocent?”
“Innocent? Hardly.”
“My kind of woman.” He unbuttoned his shirt, stripping the garment away with a slow deliberation that belied her need for haste. Thankfully, watching him shed his clothes was a wonderful distraction from having to remove hers. Her blouse and bra were already gone. The awkward part, however, was yet to come.
“Tú eres la mujer más bella que he visto.”
“What?”
“I said, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
A timid smile flickered across her face. “Thank you. Maybe you should hold off on saying that. You haven’t seen all of me.”
He looked at her quizzically, his head cocked to one side. “You may not know you are beautiful. But I do.” He raised a hand to lightly stroke her cheek. “Mel, I’m afraid to touch you too much. You’re too perfect to be real. I don’t want to wake up from my fantasy, only to prove you were nothing more than a dream.”
“I hope you don’t mean nightmare,” she muttered. Then she saw his body tense. Crap.
&n
bsp; “Nightmare? Why would you say such a thing?”
“You haven’t seen the rest of me. When you do, it’ll explain a whole lot about who I am.”
“Don’t be silly. How could anything about you be less than beautiful?” He feigned a horrified expression. “You’ve got scales? Claws? A tail, perhaps?”
She swallowed hard. “Nope. Just a crazy tattoo.” She unzipped her capris and slid the pants down, wiggling out of them. With a twist of her hip she showed off the artwork on her left thigh, trying to gauge his expression.
“It’s you,” he marveled. “A miniature of you. You look very sexy sitting on an art pallet.”
She let out a surprised laugh. “You don’t mind it?”
“I don’t mind tattoos. Why should I? Yours suits you very well. I even like the little bit of hot pink the tattoo artist put in your hair.”
“My parents were horrified. They said I’d cheapened myself. Made myself low class.”
His wide eyes stared back at her. “They said that to you?”
“Sorry. I don’t want to kill the mood.” She reached up to put her hands around his neck.
“Trust me, with you laying down on my bed, wearing nothing but your panties, I can guarantee you haven’t killed the mood. In fact, nothing could ruin the mood. I meant what I said, Mel. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. There is no one I’d rather be with.”
The hard length of his erection against her belly was more than sexual, it was a sign of his acceptance of her body. Without realizing she was tearing up, she wiped her eye with the back of her hand. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I meant it. Hey, are you crying?”
“No.”
He gently held her face with both of his hands. “You’re a terrible liar.” His arms wrapped around her again. “I guess my family is like yours. Impossible to please. Your tattoo is great. Now I get to look at two of you.” His voice turned husky. “I’d love to know what your look-alike is going to do with that paintbrush.”