by Anita Meyer
“Now I know why women like to come here,” the voice said. “It’s very calming, and I rather like being pampered.”
Slowly, Caroline turned and looked at the body lying in the next chair. Like her, its hair was wrapped in a turban. A red mask and cucumbers covered its face, while the rest of its body was hidden by a white terry robe—all except the legs that stuck out from about the knees down. Large, hairy legs.
Caroline suppressed a laugh. It was too ridiculous to even consider.
“I especially like the cucumbers. If you get hungry, you can always stop wearing them and start eating them.” The figure carefully lifted one cucumber and winked. “But if they were really smart, they’d make this facial goop out of ranch dressing.” He dipped the cucumber in the air. “Just think of the possibilities.”
It was too much. Caroline doubled over in a fit of muffled laughter. “You’re certifiable, Mac. Totally, completely, unequivocally certifiable.”
“Hey, what are you talking about? I’m being paid to keep an eye on you, remember?”
Caroline chuckled. “Somehow I don’t think this—” she waved her hand to encompass his strange attire “—was what Arthur had in mind. So, tell me. Did Jeff put you up to it?”
Mac shook his head. “Nope. He told me you were going to spend the afternoon here, and the rest was my idea. I actually wanted to try my hand as a masseur—no pun intended. But something told me you wouldn’t approve.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed. “You got that right.”
“So here I am.”
Caroline propped herself up on one elbow. “Look, Mac. I appreciate your dedication. I really do. But I give you my word I will not go anywhere or do anything outside these four walls.”
“I know that.”
“And you’ve undoubtedly already checked out every employee and patron in the salon. There’s nothing here that can harm me.”
“I know that, too.”
“So why don’t you leave?”
Mac shrugged. “Frankly, I kind of like it here.” He held up one hand and peered intently at his nails. “I think I need a manicure. My cuticles are a mess.”
“You’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon following me around this salon like a puppy, aren’t you?” She giggled at the unintentional joke.
Mac scowled. “I’ll ignore the reference to four-legged furballs, but yes, that’s the basic idea.” He lay back, readjusted the cucumber slices, then folded his arms across his chest.
Caroline smiled knowingly. “Okay, pal,” she warned. “But I sure hope you know what you’re in for.”
* * *
“So what’s the occasion?” Mac asked Jeff, watching his brother shrug into a lightweight dinner jacket.
“Nothing special,” Jeff answered. “We’re celebrating our freedom and the fact that we are on the downhill side of this little adventure. The trial is exactly three weeks from today.”
Mac nodded. “Are you sure that’s all there is to it?”
Jeff ran his fingers through his hair, then checked the result in the mirror. “Of course, I’m sure. Why?”
Mac shrugged. “Seems to me the two of you are going to an awful lot of trouble just to have dinner.” He picked up a knotted sock and dangled it in front of the puppy.
Jeff watched as Mac and the puppy tugged on the sock. “I thought you didn’t like dogs.”
“I love dogs. I just don’t like to walk them, feed them, brush them, and clean up after them. They’re just like kids. As long as they belong to someone else, they’re fine.” The puppy growled and Mac growled right back. “So, what are you going to do with this mutt?”
Jeff shrugged. “We posted a sign on the community bulletin board. Hopefully someone will give us a call.” He crossed the room and rapped on the bathroom door. “Caroline, our reservations are for eight o’clock.” He pushed back the cuff of his left sleeve and glanced at his watch. “You’ve got fifteen minutes.”
“Be right there,” came the muffled reply.
“I’d better get going,” Mac said. “Sea Breeze, right?”
Jeff nodded.
“I’ll go over now and check on your table—make sure you get a good one.”
Jeff walked him to the door. “Semisecluded would be nice. With a wall on one side, so I don’t have to spend the night watching our backs.”
Mac paused, his brow furrowed. “You sure there’s nothing else—” He wiggled his hand back and forth aimlessly. “Nothing else you want to tell me?”
Jeff clapped his brother on the back. “There’s nothing going on, if that’s what you’re asking. We’re supposed to be honeymooners and it’s perfectly normal for a husband to take his new bride dining and dancing. Role-playing. That’s all it is.”
Mac nodded, unconvinced. “Whatever you say, bro. See you over there.” And without another word he was gone.
Jeff closed the door and returned to the mirror. He unbuttoned two of the buttons on his shirt, and spread the collar out over the lapels of his jacket. They really were just acting the part, regardless of what Mac thought.
So why are you undoing your clothes halfway to your navel?
Hastily he rebuttoned the shirt. “Get a grip,” he muttered aloud. “It’s just dinner.” A little dinner, a little dancing. No more, no less.
Uh-huh, and that explains why you’re combing your hair—again.
Jeff stopped running his hands through his hair. Hell of a time for his conscience to prick. Especially when he hadn’t even done anything to deserve it.
Yet.
He pulled open the nightstand drawer, taking mental stock as he stuffed the items into his pockets—room key, wallet, handkerchief…gun. Cursing Arthur and Davis and the world in general, Jeff ripped off his jacket and buckled on the shoulder holster. The gun fit snugly under his left arm and with a little luck she wouldn’t even know it was there. He slipped back into the jacket.
“Jeff?”
He spun around at the sound of his name—the sound of his name on her lips. The sight that greeted him took his breath away.
She was wearing a halter dress of shimmering coral that looked as soft as satin. It hugged her breasts and molded her hips, then flared slightly to just above the knees. A fine gold chain lay against the hollow of her throat, and her dark brown hair tumbled in loose curls over her bare shoulders.
“Are you all right?” she asked when a full minute had passed without him saying a single word.
The breath he exhaled could be heard all the way to the sea.
“Just stunned,” he finally managed. “You look beautiful.”
Pink highlighted her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said simply. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Like” was an understatement bordering on absurdity. Lust, passion, need, or any one of a thousand other words immediately sprang to mind.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked quietly.
“Absolutely,” he said, jumping to open the door. He intended only to be gallant, and to usher her out. But when his hand touched her bare back, desire rocked his sanity. Giving in to the temptation, he savored the touch of her cool, smooth skin. The firm muscles shifted as she walked, subtly caressing his palm, igniting a fire that raced up his arm, then shot due south, It would be so easy, so natural to slide his hand lower, to stroke the small of her back, to follow the curve of her—
He snatched his hand away and curled his burning fingers into a tight fist. At this rate it was going to be-one hell of a long night.
Caroline’s heart soared as she walked with Jeff from the bungalow to the Sea Breeze. It was a perfect evening. A plump moon sat like a king on a throne of black velvet, while rays of moonlight danced across the water. Silvercapped waves whispered along the beach, answering the murmur of the ancient palms.
As they- moved away from the sea, the scent of frangipani and hibiscus grew stronger. Bougainvillea dripped from the terraces like crimson lace, while katydids and cicadas strummed love songs for any who cared to
listen.
Jeff looked resplendent in his tan suit with the crisp white shirt. The jacket was tailored to fit his broad shoulders and lean body, and the trousers emphasized more than hid his long legs and narrow hips. Resplendent, indeed.
She followed the line of his shirt to where it opened at the neck, the white a stark contrast to the deep bronze of his skin. Another flash of white caught her eye, the flash of white teeth against a tanned face. His smile was wicked and wonderful. A roguish twinkle danced in his eyes and she knew at once she had been caught staring.
He stroked his thumb against the palm of her hand and her stomach tightened in response.
“Happy?” he asked.
“Happy” didn’t come close to describing the way she felt—the way she felt about him. “How could you tell?”
“Your eyes,” he said. “They give you away every time.”
“I’ll have to work on that.”
“Don’t,” he admonished. “I like knowing what you’re thinking…and feeling.”
Caroline lowered her gaze. It was more than a little disconcerting to know he could read her mind. Especially when she herself was just beginning to realize what was there.
They stood in the shadows below the terrace. Above them, soft music mingled with tinkling laughter and the murmur of voices. It would be so easy to toss out some feeble excuse, then bolt up the stairs to the safety of the patio restaurant. But in truth, she was already within arm’s reach of all the safety she could ever need. She trusted Jeff with her life. She trusted him with her secrets. Maybe it was time to trust him with her heart.
She turned to face him in the moonlight, hiding nothing. The passion and hunger that had smoldered for weeks was now a roaring conflagration, burning on her face for all the world to see.
For a moment he seemed paralyzed, stunned. Then, with slow-motion clarity she watched him reach out and gently run one finger along the line of her cheek. Their chemistry ignited, and his touch sent a shudder through her body. Leaning forward, he cupped her face between his hands, his gaze traveling slowly over her before meeting her unblinking stare. He didn’t speak. He just held her and watched her searchingly, with smoky desire blazing in his deep blue eyes.
She held her breath for fear of breaking the enchanted spell. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to recapture the explosive magic of his lips on hers. She wanted to be pulled into his arms and pressed tightly against him. She wanted to lie with him, body to body, skin to skin, as they had on the beach.
He paused another instant to look at her, and anticipation became the sweetest form of torture. Then he lowered his head until his mouth almost brushed her lips and she felt the rush of his breath. His kiss, when it finally came, was slow and deliberate. He lingered over her lips with a velvet touch that sent her swirling into the night.
Her knees weakened, and with a smothered moan, she wrapped her arms around his waist and melted against him. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest and the rapid pounding of his heart. Or was that the sound of her own pulse hammering in her ears while the distant moon shattered into a million sparkling starbursts?
His hands slid to her shoulders, and gently but firmly he pushed her away, putting an arm’s length between them. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I think we should go up to the restaurant. I don’t know how long they’ll hold the table for us.”
His voice sounded huskier than usual, or maybe it was just her fevered imagination and wishful thinking. Wordlessly, she nodded.
Jeff led her to the stairs dotted with lanterns swaying gently in the warm summer breeze. He felt her tremble when he took her arm and a jagged flash of desire shot through him. Coup defoudre. The lightning bolt. He had seen it in her eyes. Now he felt it.
At the top of the steps, a smiling maitre d’ showed them to their seats and offered them menus. It took Jeff less than a split second to assess their location. It was perfect. The round linen-covered table was located in a corner between two sections of an L shaped stone wall that rose about eight feet high. With their backs to the wall, the rest of the terrace spread out before them. Some twenty tables were scattered across the patio, and beyond those, far beyond the confines of the balcony, lay the Caribbean Sea, dazzling in the moonlight. Jeff picked up a snow-white napkin and draped it across his lap. The restaurant embraced Old World charm, elegance…romance.
Romance? Or seduction?
Had that been his intent in bringing her here? Jeff shook his head. This afternoon, he would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that his motives were completely honorable.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
The single candle on the table flickered, alternately revealing then shadowing Caroline’s features. But he didn’t need candlelight to tell him what she looked like. Every detail was permanently etched in his mind.
The candle flared again, softly illuminating her skin. His gaze roamed over her, drinking in the sight of her as a thirsty man gulps water. Her lips were full and moist and slightly swollen from his kiss. Her checks were flushed the color of a dusty rose, and he knew instinctively that he was the cause of it. Her eyes drew him in—fringed pools of dark liquid that beckoned him closer.
As he stared, the warm night breeze fanned the curls framing her graceful throat. The memory of their silkiness brushing the backs of his hands made him want to thread his fingers through those strands and hold her head captive while he kissed her again.
Her scent, her warmth, her softness made him want to do a lot of other things, as well—things he wasn’t supposed to think about.
But, damn, he wanted her. Wanted her with an urgency that was becoming physical pain. No woman had ever impacted him the way she did. Her strength and courage touched his heart. Her reckless, impulsive nature made him crazy. And the look in her eyes drove him wild.
That was what had happened earlier.
Almost happened, he corrected himself.
He gripped the menu with enough force to crease it as he studied the entrées. The time was coming. A time when they wouldn’t be shackled by fear or responsibility. Then nothing would stop them. He would take her into his arms, look deep into her eyes, and whisper in her ear—
”Would madame care for an aperitif?”
Chapter 12
“Huh?” The fantasy cracked and Jeff snapped his head up to face the intruder. “What?”
“I said, would you care for an aperitif…a cocktail…something to drink.” Mac spoke slowly, carefully and deliberately enunciating each word.
“What are you doing here?” Jeff asked.
“I’m the sommelier,” Mac explained, fingering the small gold key dangling from a chain around his neck. He raised his chin and looked down the end of his nose. “The wine steward.”
“I know what it is,” Jeff countered. “I just can’t figure out why you’re doing it. It’s like having the cat guard the canary.”
Mac smiled graciously at Caroline, then threw Jeff a pointed look. “Curious. That’s the same thought I just had about you.” His unwavering gaze lingered over her, and Jeff was sorely tempted to hit him in the gut with the menu.
“I’ll have a Kir Royale,” Caroline said, returning Mac’s smile.
“Excellent choice. And you, sir?”
“A sparkling water with a twist of lime. Sorry,” Jeff said in response to her questioning look. “But just because we’re, out of house arrest, doesn’t mean I’m off duty.”
“Oh.” The single word spoke volumes. “Maybe you’d be more comfortable if I didn’t drink, either.”
“Absolutely not,” Jeff insisted. “This is your special night and I want you to enjoy it. I promise I’ll join you in a glass of wine with dinner. Bring the lady her drink,” he said to Mac, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.
Mac did as he was told, returning a few moments later with their drinks.
“May I ask you a question?” Caroline asked Jeff after the waiter had taken their order.
“I think you just did.” He wa
tched as the moon and the candle jockeyed for the right to dance golden highlights across her hair. “But if there’s something on your mind, ask away.”
She raised the fluted glass to her lips and tipped her head back ever so slightly. The coral-colored silk drew tight over her full breasts, confirming his suspicion that she wore nothing underneath. He downed half the glass of Perrier in one gulp.
“What’s the connection between you and Arthur Peterson?”
“My dad and Arthur were best friends. They met at the police academy.”
“Your dad was a cop?”
Jeff nodded. “For nineteen years. Arthur continued his upward climb into the Federal Marshal’s office. But they always remained friends. In fact, Arthur was best man at my parents’ wedding.”
“I know your parents are deceased. Was your dad ki—I mean, was he working on a case…?”
Jeff shook his head. “Nothing so dramatic. My dad died of a massive heart attack when he was forty-four. I was twelve.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
As she reached forward to take his hands, the dress gaped slightly, revealing the swell of her breasts. His blood began to race. And when she drew her fingertips across his knuckles and the back of his hand, he felt it again—a lightning bolt that rocked his senses.
He was in way over his head—and he had absolutely no desire to do anything about it.
The waiter cleared his throat, and Jeff jumped like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, instead of between her soft palms.
A heavenly aroma wafted up from her plate, and Caroline cut off a small slice of fish with her fork. It tasted even better than it smelled. “Mmm.” She sighed. “This is incredible.” She lifted her wineglass but Jeff stopped her.
“A toast,” he said. He lifted his water glass and held it toward hers.
“To what?”
Jeff thought for a long moment. “To the future,” he said softly.
She studied him over the rim of her glass. “So you think there will be one?”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
She smiled—a real smile that shone from the inside out, a smile like he hadn’t ever seen before. “To the future,” she said, and clinked her glass against his.