by Holley Trent
“I don’t have time for this,” he said.
Like she did? “Late for your date with the redhead?”
He shot her a wry look. “Not tonight.”
“Triplets?”
“I’ve got them lined up for Saturday.”
His dry sense of humor had appealed to her from their first conversation. She couldn’t deny she’d behaved like his Monday night date until the redhead showed up. He’d been too easy to be with, like an old friend — they’d fit like parts clicking in perfect sequence. She could blame his good looks, the wine, the atmosphere, the conversation, but the truth was she’d gone to his room Monday night because she was too weak to keep to her relationship recovery program. But that was Monday. Today was a new day. “It’s some kind of magic trick. Mirrors?”
His gaze fell on the pillow arrangement. “I don’t think so. I see the game.”
She took a quick step back as he crossed in front of her, the thud of his footsteps a muted sound over the sand. “This is it — Rhapsody.” He read the words stamped across the box top before flipping the lid off.
“A board game? You are kidding me.” Her panic subsided to a slow canter in her chest. This was nothing more than a silly hoax.
As Jonathan studied the board, she studied him. Her cast-away partner exuded some sort of undefined magnetic force that drew her closer, close enough to notice the mahogany highlights in his hair. The distinguished angles in his face knocked him up a level from handsome to devastatingly gorgeous.
Oh, sweet heaven.
His black, button-down shirt and knee-length shorts were exactly the right color for him. He had a way of standing with his arms behind his back that made him appear open, receptive, with boyish, innocent appeal. His jaw was shadowed with a dark dusting under full lips with luscious curves turned in a pervasive grin. Luscious? She shouldn’t think luscious. He could have lips like sun-ripened peaches, it didn’t matter. She’d made herself a promise. No, stronger than a promise — a vow. No sexual relationships for one year. What was one year out of an entire lifetime?
She dropped her gaze when she realized he was watching her. Oh my, that smile of his was infused with enough pure male heat to melt an iceberg. “What could there possibly be to smile about?”
“Guess what the objective of the game is?”
The objective didn’t interest her. “I think Leonardo is behind this. He’s been trying to get women to play games with him all week. Why should we play along with that Latin schemer?”
“Because it appears to be the quickest way back to the resort. Would you rather resist and spend the rest of the night here on the beach?”
Alone with temptation wrapped up like Adonis? “Definitely not.” That was the right answer — she hoped.
She exhaled a slow breath. Dubious as to whether the game could be their savior, she didn’t see an alternative. In the blinding dark, they could go nowhere, and the forest was about as inviting as a coffin. Stuck for the time being, she could think of worse ways to pass their time. She hadn’t played a board game in years. “Okay,” she said, “you’ve piqued my curiosity. What’s the objective?”
He turned the page and held it up close to the fire light. “Roll the die and move your game piece the appropriate number along the path. Be the first to arouse your opponent by successfully completing the task on each square until you reach the finale — rhapsody.”
When he’d said arouse, her nipples perked up in instant sexual awareness. His clean, male scent seemed to diffuse through the air between them, heady, woodsy, intoxicating. The other day, when she’d read a steamy scene in her novel, she’d drifted off into a fantasy where she laid her cheek on Jonathan’s magnificent chest and kissed her way down to his …
Until she’d remembered fantasies like that often led to an empty heart. Focus on the dilemma at hand.
Games were part of the resort culture. Didn’t it just figure that one of the event coordinators would arrange a seduction game? The tropical resort was a breeding ground for love affairs if one was so inclined. I’m not inclined.
On the other hand, she couldn’t deny that playing a game to stir up this opponent had crazy appeal. It would be nothing more than a game. A little arousal didn’t mean serving up her heart on a platter for goodness sake. “Read a few more details. How does this game work?”
His eyes widened and fixed on her like a probe. “You’ve been complaining to someone at the resort because whoever orchestrated this game has insight into your personal life.” His gaze returned to the instructions in his hand as he read from the page. “Isabelle, you have chosen not to embrace passion. You deny yourself pleasures because of self-imposed boundaries. You shall learn to love your body, so your insecurities don’t limit your fulfillment.”
Humiliation rose to her cheeks in a heat wave. Deny herself pleasures? One year of abstinence was information she’d certainly not shared with strangers at the resort. Men loved her sex-kitten body, but as far back as high school she had learned big boobs were not an asset. Just once, she wished to meet a man more intrigued by her values or her interests or her aspirations instead of her body. “You’re making that up.”
“Read for yourself.”
She snatched the paper from his hand and read the paragraph. “Well it’s not true. I am passionate for the things that matter to me. I value a healthy body, so I eat properly and exercise. I don’t see how that translates to my not loving my body, and to suggest I have a deep-seated insecurity is just not fair.”
He shifted slightly toward her and looked her in the eye. “You have a beautiful body, Isabelle, and I’d love to learn more about the things that make you passionate.”
A comeback almost left her lips, but then she read the next paragraph and a soft snort escaped instead. “You need to practice the art of pleasure — not self- pleasure, Jonathan, but to give pleasure. You will learn to pace yourself. Romance shouldn’t be a sprint to the finish line. Tonight will reveal how a slow arousal wins the race.” She broke a smile at the look of indignation on his face. “Hot shot. A bit fast off the mark, are we?”
“I rarely have complaints.”
“Define rarely.”
“Let’s play. You can judge for yourself.”
She dropped the rules into the box. “Don’t you think it sets a bad example to give into this manipulative attempt to push two strangers into sex play?”
The space between Jonathan’s eyebrows furrowed — he apparently didn’t like his sex games ruined. “We’re not strangers. We shared a bottle of wine, a few dances, a pretty nice kiss. I was having a great time until you bolted. You signed up for the winery tour and then didn’t show up, and you’ve avoided me ever since. Remember?”
She certainly hadn’t forgotten. She’d had a very good reason, yet after he’d just read about her self-imposed boundaries, she didn’t feel like telling him the truth. “I’m sorry. I had an upset stomach. New foods are hard on my system. Besides, you had the redhead waiting for you, so I imagine you had a great time regardless.”
He snorted. “I didn’t ask her to stop by my room. I wanted to have a great time with you.” The sincerity in his tone fired up every one of her neurons to new awareness.
Had she misread him that night?
It didn’t matter. She should have stuck to her program and walked away after dinner without that vow-disturbing kiss.
“I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from your stomach upset. I’m going to ask you a favor since I’m dealing with an emergency. Just play the game — please. My Realtor is waiting to hear from me, so let’s have a look and see what this entails.”
He lifted a game board out of the box. Pink and black squares joined in a rope-like path were sketched on the surface of the board. The path ran around the rectangle in a serpentine route to the end where the word Rhapsody glittere
d in gold. On each square was a body part, but nothing too intimate, a wrist, ear lobe, shoulder. Some squares just sported a red letter R.
“You can relax,” he said with a grin. “This looks tame, a little playful at best, a few ‘get to know you’ exercises. We could be back in our rooms in twenty minutes. Come on, let’s not waste time arguing over the morality of the game. Besides, we may not have much of a choice.” Jonathan pointed out the next paragraph on the paper. “There is no way to cross the barrier to the resort. Your safety is not guaranteed if you leave the fire and enter the forest. Stay safe by the fireside, play a game designed to bring you nothing but satisfaction, and win your freedom. Rhapsody or ruin. It’s your choice.”
“I bounced off that security fence I told you about,” Jonathan added. “We can’t cross it.”
She looked off in the direction where the resort should be and felt the fine hairs on her arms rise. Whenever she peered into a black space, it seemed to fold in around her like a cloak. Serenity Resorts was surrounded by undeveloped land, so leaving the fire in the dark was not an option as far as she was concerned. She turned her attention to the board to find the Start Here square at the beginning of the path.
“I’ll make the pillows comfortable for you.” Jonathon tossed her the die. “Ladies first.”
She turned it over in her hand. The die was numbered one to six. Could it be this easy? One game and the way back to the resort was revealed? She glanced at Jonathan, who was arranging the red and black pillows. He had long fingers perfect for a keyboard or to play rhythm and blues over a woman’s body.
She swallowed.
Was this the time to take a stand against the unknown? Would she be less likely to break her oath if they were stuck alone together all night with nothing to pass the time or, God forbid, for days?
She drew a deep breath to quell the nervous excitement growing in her belly. She couldn’t deny the fastest way to end this debacle was to play the game. Neither could she deny she wasn’t intrigued by the idea of a little sensual game play with Jonathan Raynor.
Keeping in mind the insight she’d gained in week four of her relationship course — she’d qualified the characteristics she wanted in a man — Jonathan wasn’t right for her long term, but one night? She could have a little fun with this game.
She smoothed her skirt flat against her bum and sat with her legs under her. “Okay, I’ll play. Just warning you though, don’t think you have this game in the bag.”
“I love a woman with a competitive streak. May the best seducer win and find the yellow brick road to take us home.”
“Cheers to that and may the wicked witch be on holiday in the Arctic.” With a prayer for a six, she tossed the die.
Jonathan gave a low sound of approval. “Six. Good roll. See, we’ll be out of here before the first star shows up.”
She glanced at the blazing horizon and moved her game piece six squares to land on a picture of lips kissing an ear lobe.
Jonathan turned his sexy head to display one then the other of two perfectly proportioned ears. “Which one do you prefer?”
If there was such a need, he could model those ears. She rolled her upper lip against her teeth as her wish to taste him mingled with her nerves. Okay, earlobe, here I come. Letting her eyelids drop seductively, she shot him a smile that fell somewhere between sex kitten and cornered cat. She began to wish she’d taken advantage of the bottomless margaritas offered all day.
“Come get me, baby.”
The goofy grin on his face melted her nerves. Too often men’s gazes dropped to her chest no matter how demure she dressed. So far, Jonathan was an exception, but she still avoided leaning over and exposing cleavage. Instead she shifted her bum closer and braced herself with a flat palm on his shoulder. With that one touch, the definition of his muscles under her hand sent an erotic flutter directly between her thighs. Remember the objective: arouse him, not yourself.
He turned his head to face her. So close. It would be helpful if she didn’t find him so attractive … or would it? His voice came out low and seductive. “It would be my pleasure to warm up your lips first.”
It would be her pleasure, too. She remembered the pretty nice kiss they’d had; the chemistry in that kiss had exploded through her thoroughly. Could that kiss have been an anomaly? Some alignment in the cosmos that happened every 10,000 years? Best not to take a chance. Chemistry like that would obliterate her objective at the moment. “Thanks, but no. I’m keeping to our plan to play quickly and get back to the resort.”
“I do not mind taking the time to appreciate your lips.” When he tilted his head, she darted close and felt the soft skin of his lobe against her lower lip, the brush of his hair against the tip of her nose — surprisingly soft. Oh, she should have held her breath. His scent — was it cologne? — bombarded her senses, spicy almost citrusy, evocative of Italian grapes warming in the summer sun.
Another deep inhale. She just couldn’t help herself.
Was there anything better than a virile man who smelled fantastic?
Better think of a few things and fast — chocolate éclairs, hot fudge sundaes, blueberry cheesecake.
She let out her breath against his neck, meaning to pull his lobe slowly into her mouth, to flick her tongue over the sensitive skin, to whisper saucy suggestions in his ear, to —
She left a quick kiss and hustled back to her pillow.
Why did this man overwhelm her?
His laugh was a rich, rolling rip though the black night.
“Relax, sweetheart, you better free your inner seductress or you’re going to lose the game.”
He had a point. Was she going to hand him victory in a gift box? “My inner seductress is on her way, just buckling up her stilettos.” Putting it that way helped. Don a playful persona in a setting far from home with a beautiful man she would never see again. Yes, she could do that.
“Well, the warm-up-your-lips offer stands.” He snapped up the die and dropped it.
“One.” She sighed. “You’re not going to win with those numbers. First one to reach rhapsody wins and ends the game. It’s a race to the end of the board, not a crawl.”
“Maybe my tactic is to give you a couple rhapsodies before you reach the end of the board.” With a flick of his finger, his game piece slid forward a square to land on a picture of lips kissing a wrist. She was still stuck on his last comment. Give her a couple rhapsodies? Somehow she didn’t think he was talking sonnets. A sensual wave washed low through her belly, so she took a breath and told herself she could handle a peck on the wrist because Jonathan wasn’t insanely sexy, he was just roguish in a way that appealed to her romantic notion of old.
Oh mmmm. He took her wrist and brushed his thumb in a circle over her skin, triggering sensations that penetrated layers she didn’t even know existed. She’d never been touched this way before. He traced another circle, a delicious tingle over her open palm, then a swirl up her thumb and then back to her palm.
She was taken aback by the look on his face, as if he meant to remember the shape of her fingers, the lines in her palm. His touch was so tender, she almost reached for him, almost cupped his jaw in her hand, almost took his offer to warm her lips. Almost.
If this weren’t a game she wanted to win.
“We should probably hurry this up. I’m sure I heard storm warnings for tonight.”
He glanced behind her to the waves that played too much like a rolling caress over the ocean floor. The night was still, hardly a breeze. “I’m as anxious to get back as you, but I play to win, Isabelle. We don’t know exactly what losing entails.” The drag of his lips from the middle of her palm over her hypersensitive wrist fired up every nerve ending to an instant purr. A sit in his lap purr. An arch her back and relish every stroke of his fingers purr.
A little moan escaped her. Moaning over
one touch of his lips. He’d think she was sex-starved.
She tugged her wrist from his grasp.
His smile was a little too smug. “Aroused, Isabelle? And I was only getting started.”
“I know, but I think we should set a time limit, so we keep focused on reaching the end.” Have a little fun, win the game, go home. She picked up the die and rolled a five. “I am so winning this game.”
“I’m not sure you’ve interpreted the rules correctly.”
“I hope you’re not going to be a sore loser.” She moved her piece five squares onto the picture of … “What is that?”
When he leaned forward to see what body part was printed on the square, his shirt rose to reveal his lower back. He’d taken some sun that day when he’d played volleyball on the beach. His skin had a perfect healthy glow. “That, sweetheart, is the small of my back just above my ass.”
The body part she’d been admiring. Odd coincidence. “Okay then, hold still, so I can lay a kiss on you there.”
With one hand on his shoulder, she slipped her other hand inside the back of his shirt just above his hipbone and realized right away she had a problem.
Desire whirled sweet and low in her tummy.
For reasons yet to be determined, her body reacted acutely to his body. The same craving she’d gotten caught up in on Monday night awakened inside her.
How could desire that feels so good be bad for a girl? According to Relationship Rescue’s maven, desire that led to expectations was not beneficial. But she had no expectations of Jonathan, so why not indulge her little craving?
He did insane things to her chemistry. Could she do insane things to him? She began to swirl her fingernails in circles, crisscrossing over his lower back from hip to hip, inching his shirt upward until she’d bared him from shoulders to shorts.
He rumbled with pleasure. “I forgot how good a back scratch feels.” His rumbles reverberated through her as if the two of them were strung together.
“Doesn’t it though.” She roamed over his shoulders and down lower, feeling the rise and fall of each muscle imprint her mind. Touching him felt so good.