скачать книгу бесплатно
“Wow,” she breathed, her tone awed. “You’re very good.”
“So I’ve been told,” he drawled, winking at her.
She sent her admirers a quick grin. “It looks like this is the guy for me. If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to get to know Mr. Lassiter better.”
The other men conceded defeat and broke apart to find other potential partners. The band leader announced that they’d be taking a break and that Merrilee would be arriving in a few moments to greet everyone and go over a few last-minute rules for the upcoming competition. The man encouraged guests to take advantage of the dessert buffet and open bar, and when Nicole did just that, drifting toward the table laden with various sweets and confections, Mitch followed, noticing her rare bout of quietness.
Nicole cast him a surreptitious glance as she picked up a small plate then selected a puff pastry with cream filling, drizzled with chocolate icing. “How did you know?” she asked, her tone so soft he almost didn’t hear her question.
He tipped his head, not sure what she was asking. “How did I know what?”
“That I tried out for the women’s Olympic swim team.” She concentrated on choosing another dessert, this time opting for a small brownie square layered with caramel. “Trying out for the U.S. team was something that happened before our mothers met and became friends. Unless my mother mentioned it to Joyce, and she mentioned it to you.”
There was something in her voice he couldn’t quite decipher, something between hesitancy and insecurity, and he found it interesting that she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “No, my mother never said a word, which means I doubt she knows anything about you trying out for the team. It was an educated guess, based on what I know about you. You’re into sports and very athletic, so it seemed like a logical assumption.”
“Like I said, you’re very good, and intuitive.” She licked a smudge of caramel from her thumb, her tongue slowly removing the sticky sweetness in a way that ignited a smoldering heat in Mitch’s belly.
He wanted to know more, wanted to discover as much as he could about this complex woman and what made her tick. Including her drive and ambitions. “But this slip of paper doesn’t say whether or not you made the team.”
She visibly tensed at his comment and took her time savoring a bite of the pastry. “I never expected anyone to guess that information about me.” Her reply was flippant, and very ambiguous.
“It’s your own fault for putting that interesting tidbit out there for speculation,” he argued lightly as he snagged a small lemon cheesecake square from the dessert table. “I guessed correctly, fair and square, so I think you owe me an answer.” He bit into the sweet-tart confection and waited patiently for her reply.
Her chin lifted stubbornly, defiantly, in a way that was, no doubt, meant to waylay him. “Why are you being so persistent about this?”
He popped the last of his dessert into his mouth and chewed, not at all daunted by her terse tone. “Now that you and I are pairing up as a couple, I want to get to know you better.”
The look she shot him brimmed with skepticism. “Why?”
His gaze swept the area, taking in the other couples laughing and conversing with each other. “Isn’t that the purpose of this singles’ mixer?”
“Maybe for those who honestly want to get to know one another.”
“And if I honestly do?” he asked, his voice low and sincere, snaring her attention. He stared into her wide, searching eyes, letting his intentions toward her, his honest interest, dangle between them for a few consuming seconds. “It’s a simple question, Nicole. Yes or no would cover it just fine.”
Her straight teeth tugged on her lower lip, scraping off a crumb of chocolate. “How about yes and no?”
He chuckled and shook his head, not at all surprised by her answer that wasn’t an answer at all. “How about you’re being deliberately evasive?”
With a sigh she glanced away, making a production of setting her empty plate at the end of the buffet table. The flickering flames of a nearby torch illuminated the delicate lines of her profile, accentuating her natural beauty and making her suddenly appear vulnerable, which was a novel concept with Nicole.
Contradicting that too-brief glimpse of vulnerability he’d witnessed, she boldly found his gaze again. “I did make the team,” she revealed, sounding proud of that fact. “But a week after qualifying, I shattered my wrist in a car accident. The healing process was excruciating and physical therapy took months. By the time I was ready to return to the team I’d been replaced.”
Ahh, a fleeting victory that had been double-edged and bittersweet, he realized. Her regret was palpable, and he ached to reach out and offer a bit of comfort for what she’d lost. He gave in to the urge. With infinite gentleness he brushed back a few strands of hair that wisped along her silken cheek. His knuckles caressed her warm, smooth skin, and her breath hitched on a startled gasp, as if she wasn’t used to such tenderness, as if letting someone get that close emotionally went against that tough facade of hers.
He was beginning to see traces of a much softer side. Despite her reserve with him, despite her sassy mouth, she was in need of a whole lot of tenderness, and touching, and the kind of understanding and acceptance that came without expectations.
And he wanted to give it to her.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, letting his fingers drift along her jaw before falling away. “That must have been rough.”
She visibly shook off the melancholy that had overcome her. “Definitely disappointing. For me, and especially my father who had high hopes of me winning a medal.” The smile that found its way to her lips did nothing to chase away the lingering sadness glimmering in the depths of her smoky green eyes.
She’d had high hopes, too, he realized. And he couldn’t help but wonder how much of that longing of hers had to do with capturing a medal for herself, or pleasing her father. Before he could pose the question to find out, their host and the owner of Fantasies, Inc. arrived at the singles’ mixer. Stepping up to the microphone, Merrilee smiled engagingly and greeted her guests.
“Good evening, everyone.” A gradual hush fell over the crowd as she spoke, and all eyes trained on her. While Merrilee appeared to be in her mid-fifties, she was still a very attractive woman, with rich brown hair softened by gray highlights and kind green eyes that seemed very worldly and wise.
“Welcome to Wild Fantasy, where anything goes and anything is possible,” she said once she had everyone’s attention. “We have a whole lot of adventurous games and events planned on the island, as well as fantasies to fulfill, so let that phrase be your guide for the week.”
Mitch silently accepted and agreed with Ms. Weston’s philosophy—especially where Nicole was concerned.
“Tomorrow, the competitions begin.” Excitement laced Merrilee’s refined voice. “Just to remind all of you of the rules and guidelines of this charity event, once you’ve chosen a partner by the end of tonight’s festivities, you’ll be paired up with that person for the duration of the week. If you or your team member at any time decides to part ways because of personal differences, or if either of you chooses to decline any of the competitions or events, you both forfeit your place in the contest.”
The strict rule made perfect sense to Mitch and no doubt kept discord to a minimum. It also forced couples to work through problems and differences. In other words, they had to compromise, an ability that was essential to any good, solid relationship.
He glanced at Nicole as Merrilee reiterated a few other basic guidelines, saw his partner’s intense expression, and knew on a gut level she wouldn’t break or bend any of those rules. She’d compromise with him and find some kind of common ground rather than relinquish the contest and prize money. Her perseverance was a strong trait that would work to their advantage.
“In a few days, by process of elimination based on scores, the teams will be narrowed down to the top seven finalists,” Merrilee continued. “From there, the final round of competition will begin. This event will be much more difficult in execution and will require contestants to use mental and physical strategies to ultimately win one of the top three monetary prizes.”
She paused for a moment, her gaze scanning the faces in the crowd in front of her. “But regardless of where you place in this contest, I want everyone to have a good time this week. And now that the band is returning from their break, you can enjoy the rest of the evening, find a partner for the contest and dance the night away.”
Nicole watched the other woman step down from the platform and mingle with her guests and took a few extra seconds to shore up her defenses against the man standing beside her—especially after the way she’d opened up and spilled one of her biggest personal disappointments to him. She’d never shared that story with anyone.
What in the world had come over her? She’d learned at a very early age to keep her feelings under wraps in order to keep her father’s criticism from stinging and her own strength and determination intact. She’d managed the feat successfully through her teenage and adult years, and even through her disastrous breakup with Jonathan. Yet Mitch, with his caring, dark brown eyes and startling tenderness, had managed to stir a deep yearning that threatened all the barricades she’d erected around her emotions. She could feel them crumbling, making room for more of that rare understanding and acceptance he’d offered. And that wouldn’t do at all. Because, ultimately, her surrender would cost her what she she’d worked so hard for and treasured the most: her independence.
“Are you ready to head over to the sign-up table?”
The rich, deep timbre of Mitch’s voice penetrated her thoughts, reaching past the loud buzz of rejuvenated conversation swirling around them. She chanced looking at him and her stomach did a little somersault at how tall, gorgeous and overwhelmingly male he was. Desire unfurled within her, a languorous kind of heat that slowly seeped through her veins and made her weak in the knees.
She wasn’t ready to make a weeklong commitment to Mitch right then, even if it was all for fun and games. She desperately needed a bit more time to regain control between them before she relinquished even a small piece of her freedom for the sake of the charity contest.
“Not quite yet,” she replied, and tossed a frivolous smile his way. “If I’m going to be shackled to you for an entire week as my partner I want to make sure you’re qualified and competent.”
His dark brows winged upward in surprise. “And what, exactly, do you have in mind to find out if I meet your standards?”
She thought for a moment and came up with the ideal way to test his skills, a match she was certain to win, which would put her back in charge mentally, emotionally and physically. “A game of darts in the lounge ought to give me a good indication of just how capable you are.”
She turned to leave the mixer and head down the pathway leading to the lounge near the hotel, but before she could take her second step Mitch caught her arm and stopped her. His hold slipped lower, and the fingers encircling her wrist branded her, spreading a fiery, alluring warmth across her skin. His bold gaze beckoned to feminine instincts and she shivered, wondering how one man could have such a potent affect on her senses.
Instead of letting her hand go as she expected, he clasped their palms together. Skin to skin, he threaded their fingers in an intimate fashion, keeping her close. “What about me testing your abilities?” he countered.
The arousing rumble of his voice made his question sound like a sexual taunt that included all kinds of forbidden, delicious possibilities. Or maybe her mind and body were just so deprived that she was imagining the underlying innuendo in his words. She tried to draw a steady breath and failed to calm the riot of nerves clamoring within her. The brazen, tantalizing stroke of his thumb against her rapid pulse and the tenacity blazing in his eyes didn’t bode well for the outcome of her latest challenge.
“You’re just going to have to trust me and my abilities.” She shrugged nonchalantly, though she was feeling anything but indifferent to him. “Or we could let our dart game speak for itself.”
Grinning, he dipped his head, and a lock of sable hair fell across his forehead. “That hardly seems fair, since I’m a lousy dart player.” No machismo on his part, just endearing honesty, and damn if that didn’t appeal to her. “How about we test our skills together out on the dance floor, instead?”
3
THE VERY LAST THING Nicole wanted to do was end up in Mitch’s arms, surrounded by his virile heat, his intoxicating scent, and his blatant masculinity. He gave her little choice in the matter and no time to issue a protest that wouldn’t draw the unwanted attention of other people. Still holding her hand securely in his, he tugged her toward the parquet dance floor. Just her unfortunate luck, at that moment the band ended the fast tune they’d been playing and eased into a slow, romantic song one of the guests had specifically requested.
A heartbeat later she found herself wrapped in Mitch’s solid embrace with her own hands gripping his arms in startled surprise. Any desperate ideas she might have had about stepping back to keep a few inches between them were quickly banished when he slipped his arm tight around her waist and pulled her firmly against his hard, muscular body. Automatically, she tensed, but her rigid posture did nothing to dissuade him or ward off her own awareness of him.
Every inch of Mitch seemed to be touching some part of her. His shoulders were incredibly broad, and her breasts crushed enticingly against his wide chest, making her nipples peak and harden and ache at the heated contact. Her belly aligned with his, and somehow, someway, he’d effortlessly managed to slide his jean-clad thigh between hers in a way that was completely natural to the kind of slow dance they were engaged in.
The gradual pressure he exerted there was deliciously exquisite. To her dismay, an insistent throb pulsed low and deep. The uninhibited beat of the music dictated the sensual rhythm of their bodies, heightening her own longing for something more carnal and forbidden with Mitch. The assault on her senses was almost more than she could bear, and she struggled to keep a tight rein on her physical response.
His free hand slipped beneath the heavy warmth of her hair, and the tips of his fingers brushed the nape of her neck. “Relax, Nicole,” he murmured next to her ear.
Suppressing a telltale shiver of pleasure, she squeezed her eyes shut. Inhaling a fortifying breath, she summoned a convincing reply before she opened her eyes again. She pulled back, meeting his teasing, sexy gaze with a capricious grin of her own. “I’m perfectly relaxed, Mitchell.”
Clearly, he didn’t believe her. Doubts shimmered in his eyes, right along with something more devious. Sweeping a hand down her back in a long, meandering caress, he splayed his large hand at the base of her spine, right at the curve of her bottom. Lightning spears of sensation spiked through her and she stiffened at his penetrating touch, contradicting her attempt to pretend indifference to him.
One corner of his mouth tipped up in a knowing, beguiling smile. “That’s hardly the response of someone who’s relaxed.” He pressed closer to her, if that was even possible when she already felt like a part of him. His gaze grew more intimate, his voice softer, but she had no problem hearing him above the band’s entertainment. “Do I make you nervous?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed, the automatic fib a defense mechanism to protect her emotions from this man.
“Then prove it.” Indulgence and insistence warmed his eyes. “There’s no one here that we know to watch us, so quit fighting what’s between us and let your body soften against mine. Move with me to the beat of the music, Nicole.”
His request beckoned to her, the kind of dare she’d come to expect from him. The current song ended, giving her the perfect opportunity to bow out gracefully with some kind of clever quip. But when the band cued up the next tune with a seductive, bluesy tempo, she changed her mind. As hot and restless as he made her feel, she refused to give him the power of knowing just how much he affected her. In fact, she was fully prepared to turn the tables on him and be the one to walk away from this challenge unscathed. Just to prove she could.
Blocking out everything around them, she captured his gaze in the dim lighting. Relaxing, she let the driving, pulsing beat of the music dictate the movements of her body, the sway of her hips, the shimmy of her shoulders and breasts, and the deliberate glide of her thigh between his.
Lost in the moment and unnoticed by the other couples around them, inhibitions and reservations peeled away. Nicole softened and flowed into Mitch, just as he’d requested. Through lashes that had fallen half-mast, she watched the flame of desire and need burn bright in his gold-brown eyes, just as she’d intended.
A surge of triumph welled in her, making her bold and too assertive. “So, what do you think, Mitchell?” she asked huskily as she smoothed her hands down his chest, experiencing equal measures of satisfaction and pleasure as his muscles rippled at her touch. Tossing her head back, she arched into him in a very suggestive manner. “Is this relaxed enough for you?”
“Most definitely.” His free hand slid from her side, down past her waist and settled on her hip, leaving a trail of heat in the wake of his petting. “We’re very good together, don’t you think? Both of us qualified and definitely competent.”
Nicole swallowed hard, unable to find the words to issue a sassy retort. She was too mesmerized by the irresistible, sexual allure in his raspy voice, too stunned by the depth of her body’s craving for him to think, let alone speak.
Gently, he rocked her hips against him, igniting another frenzy of restless yearning within her. “The way we move together in such unison, the perfect fit of our bodies, is exactly the way it should be. Can you feel it, too?”
She felt too much. Every touch and illicit caress expanded the heat between them. Every slow, purposeful brush of his body against hers scalded her senses until she was burning with the kind of need only making love could assuage. It had been a very long time since she’d wanted a man that much.
She closed her eyes at that lusty thought but couldn’t shut out his murmured words, which painted such erotic and vivid pictures in her mind. She saw them flesh to flesh, clinging to each other in a dance between lovers. Witnessed the perfect fit of their inflamed bodies. Felt him filling the achy emptiness in her. Felt her own thighs clench his much too shamelessly. Tension coiled in her belly and right where the pressure he exerted was the greatest.
A tremor shook her, a warning that immediately jolted her out of her daze. “Stop.” The uttered command slipped from her lips before she could intercept it, and Mitch went still and quiet, though loud voices and music still swirled around them.
She blinked her eyes open wide, scattering the provocative images behind her lids. She stared up at Mitch in balanced increments of shock and mortification—and annoyance for his part in arousing her with his sexual monologue. Her breathing escaped her in soft pants, and she was feverishly hot, her skin flushed and tight.
Unable to believe she’d nearly allowed him to seduce her in such a public place, she attempted to untangle herself from his embrace. He held her secure, pinned against his athletic, all-male form, seemingly not ready to let everyone see just how affected he’d been by their exchange. She could feel his burgeoning erection between them, and another unwanted thrill raced through her.
She glared at him for turning what should have been a simple dance, an uncomplicated dare, into something far more tempting. “You don’t play fair,” she said, conveniently dismissing the fact that she was just as much at fault for provoking him.
He had no qualms about reminding her. “Oh, and you do?” he asked wryly.
Her chin lifted mutinously as her heart rate finally calmed. “You started all this, not me. I would have been satisfied kicking your butt in a game of darts.”
Fleeting humor etched his expression, and he gradually eased them back into dancing to the song the band was currently playing, this time, in a more platonic manner. “At least we finally proved one important thing.”
Curious, she took his bait. “And what’s that?”
“How compatible we are.” His tone was husky and soft, his gaze serious. “And that you want me as much as I want you.”
She rolled her eyes at that, grasping for levity and a believable fib. “We’re hardly compatible.” She found it more difficult to deny his second claim, so she didn’t even try for fear of him disputing her in sexy, tantalizing ways she wouldn’t be able to fight. “We’re complete opposites, Mitchell, and if it wasn’t for the sake of this charity contest, we wouldn’t be together right now.”
“Mitch,” he said unexpectedly, his voice vibrating with a tinge of frustration. His gaze turned equally intense. “For once, call me Mitch.”
The sudden change in him startled her, but also made her more determined not to give into his demand. “Mitchell suits you much better.” She fingered the collar of his red knit shirt. “Responsible, respectable and much too strait-laced for me.”
Her blithe comment was meant to point out their vast differences and establish much-needed distance between them, but only served to spark a fierce, steely determination in the depth of his eyes.
Without preamble, he grabbed her hand firmly in his and pulled her through the crowd still enjoying the reception. He nearly dragged her down the dark, secluded path toward the beach, his long-legged strides easily eating up the distance while she had to use quick double-steps to keep up with him in her heeled shoes. Her head was spinning when he finally stopped where the walkway ended at one of the small shacks used during the day for guests to borrow beach towels.
Abruptly, he turned around to face her. Silver moonlight cast shadows over his lean, handsome features and made his eyes glitter with purpose. He was unadulterated male magnetism, raw and untamed, and a trifle dangerous. But it wasn’t him she feared; rather it was her own electrifying response to all that strong-willed aggression.
Excitement and apprehension mingled. She’d met her match. She shivered at the thought, aware that they were very much alone. She could hear the faint, faraway voices of the people at the mixer and the crash of the waves on the shore behind her—or was that the frantic pounding of her heart against her chest that was echoing in her ears?
He stepped toward her, and she took a hasty step back—and found herself pressed up against the locked door of the shack. He moved closer and, before she could side-step him, he flattened his hands on either side of her shoulders, trapping her between hard, rough wood and his unyielding length. He didn’t touch her physically, not yet anyway. But she could feel the simmering heat of his body and see the predatory light in his stare. While everything within her urged her to duck beneath his arm and bolt, she stood her ground.
She’d never been afraid of confrontation or conflict—she’d experienced plenty of both through her childhood and her one-sided relationship with Jonathan. She refused to retreat now, no matter how much this man continually evoked varying degrees of emotions from her. At the moment, wicked desire was most prominent.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, and wished her voice sounded more convincing, instead of so breathless.
He bent his head and skimmed his mouth along her cheek to the delicate shell of her ear, a riveting touch all the more erotic for what it promised. “I’m about to prove I can be just as reckless and daring as you,” he said, his voice a ragged kind of velvet as dark as the night around them.
Her pulse quickened as she watched his full, sensual lips descend toward hers to make good on his word. She prepared herself for a wild, outrageous kiss—the kind of frenzied joining that would reflect their tempestuous relationship so far. Her posture stiffened, ready to divert his domination with some kind of defiant response.
She couldn’t have been more wrong in her assumption.
With lazy deliberation, he brushed his mouth along hers, throwing her off-kilter with his featherlight, velvety strokes designed to soften her demeanor. Warm, delicate kisses to coax an ultimate surrender. And despite knowing she ought to do something to stop his slow seduction, her lashes fluttered closed and she rewarded his sensuous efforts with a sultry moan that was pure pleasure, without a trace of any protest.
Mitch knew the moment that Nicole was his for the taking, and experienced a surge of supreme satisfaction. This woman, for all her impudence and stubbornness and sass, couldn’t refute the undeniable craving between them. Her warm, fragrant breath fanned his lips, intoxicating him with the ambrosial scent of sweet apricots and chocolate, a rare delicacy he had every intention of sampling deeper. Very, very soon.
Threading his fingers through the thick, silky strands of her hair, he smoothed his thumbs beneath her jaw to keep her face tipped up and her mouth poised right below his. Holding her slumberous gaze, he closed the distance between their bodies, gradually easing his hard length against her ultrasoft curves until he’d imprinted her from breast to thighs with scorching heat and pulsing awareness.
This time, it was him that groaned, at the rightness of this woman in his embrace, and the primitive need that gripped and consumed him. Done tormenting them both, he settled his mouth over hers. His tongue flicked out to taste and tease and gather the exotic flavor that was uniquely hers, and her lips parted on a breathy sigh, giving him the invitation he sought.
Tipping her head just slightly, he slanted his mouth across hers. His tongue delved deep inside in a slow, thorough invasion that was as sensual as it was possessive. He kissed her languidly, and with consummate, insatiable patience, until she grew pliant and just as needy as he.
He swallowed the raw whimper that rumbled in her throat, but there was nothing he could do to stop the restless way she moved against him. Not that he wanted her to stop, but she was making him harder and more aroused than he could ever remember being. She raised her hands, sliding them between their bodies—not to push him away, but to press her palms to the flat planes of his belly, explore along his waist, and caress the slope of his back. Her open and honest touch kindled a fever in his blood, caused his heart to beat a heavy cadence, and spurred him to higher levels of desire.
Their kiss turned hungry, rapacious—deep and wet and every bit as sexual as the currents arcing between them. Loosening the fingers of one hand tangled in her hair, he glided his palm down the smooth column of her throat and swept his thumb over the rapid pulse at the base. She shuddered and parried her tongue with his, leaving him aching with anticipation and overwhelmed with need.
Wanting to experience more of her, as much as she’d allow, he continued his downward journey and cupped the lush softness of her breast in his hand. She groaned and arched and offered more. He felt her nipple tighten and bead against his palm, and guessed that she was wearing a very flimsy bra—one of those sheer, lacy numbers that was more for show than substance. The erotic images leaping to life in his mind, combined with the reality of the moment, nearly sent him over the edge.
He rubbed his finger over the straining tip, wishing she was naked to his gaze, so he could take her in his mouth, finesse the budding hardness with his teeth and tongue, and taste her as he’d thought about earlier. A low growl erupted from him and he almost lost it completely when she skimmed her hands over the curve of his buttocks, clenched her fingers in the tight muscles encased in denim, and rocked her hips against his. Sensations bordering on pleasure and pain ricocheted through him, demanding he make a choice between release or restraint, and quickly, or else his body would make the decision for him.
