Secret Fantasy

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“You found me. I was just about to take a look around.”

“Sounds good to me.” He gestured with a sweep of his hand, indicating she should go first.

Two strides and she reached the sand where waiters, dressed in baggy shorts and colored T-shirts, stood ready to serve. Juliette continued forward, but Doug grabbed her hand, pulling her aside. “One thing before we check things out.”

She inclined her head. “What’s that?”

He braced his hands on her shoulders, pulling her gently toward him. Razor stubble covered his cheeks, thick and alluring, while his eyes, as blue as the ocean, stared into hers. “Thank you for inviting me to spend the night with you.”

“Now who’s being presumptuous?” she asked.

His eyes opened wide, as he apparently realized what he’d just said and Juliette laughed.

Laugh lines wrinkled around his eyes. “Something tells me not to touch that statement.”

“Not yet, but there’s time.” She laughed nervously, wanting to give him a green light but uncertain of how to proceed. Yet his intensity and obvious interest made her brave when she might have withdrawn.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And neither was she. The irony wasn’t lost on her though. She was a woman who’d learned from early childhood not to reveal too much about herself and to maintain proper decorum at all times lest the press print vile, ugly stories. Yet here she was at the most difficult crossroads of her life opening up enough to trade sexual innuendo with a gorgeous stranger—and not caring a bit.

Juliette drew a calming breath but she inhaled his masculine scent and realized little could still the emotions rampaging inside her, the increased beat of her heart and the building crescendo of excitement.

“Cocktail?” A waiter paused, a variety of multicolored drinks on his tray.

“Piña Colada? Tequila Sunrise?” Doug narrowed his gaze and assessed the assortment. “Or would you like me to go over to the bar and get something else?”

“You choose.”

He took two tall glasses off the tray, handing her a cream-colored drink, and taking one for himself. The waiter moved on, leaving them alone. “Piña Colada.”

She accepted the cool glass and tasted the frothy drink. “Mmm. It’s sweet,” she said, surprised, then licked at her flavored lips with her tongue.

He laughed. “I figured I’d start you off slow.”

“What gave me away?”

“Your huge, curious eyes for one thing. You eyed that tray like you’d never seen anything like it before.”

She ducked her head, embarrassed at her less than worldly ways. “I’m more familiar with wines and champagne.” Fun drinks were a novelty she’d never experienced.

“Something tells me you’ve lived a very sheltered life.”

She shrugged. “More like an ultraconservative one. But my twin—she’s experienced it all.” Juliette changed the subject to Gillian, finding it easier to talk about her sister than let her own lack of experience intrude on the fantasy.

“Well, after this week, you’ll be able to claim the same.”

A grin edged the corners of her mouth. “I’m happy to say we’re on the same wavelength. I’m here to experience it all.” Everything he had to offer. “So what else are you going to introduce me to?”

A tremor wracked Doug’s body. No way did she really want to know what new and enlightening experiences he’d like to share with her. Experiences that would never, could never, pass the bounds of fantasy. No sex, he reminded himself.

But damn, he needed something to distract him from the come-hither looks she covertly sent his way. Despite her provocative comeback, the tremor in her voice and her huge eyes gave her true nature away. As a senator’s daughter, she’d grown up in front of the camera and had learned how to maintain polish and poise. But here on the island, faced with real desire, she radiated a naïveté he hadn’t expected. He didn’t think she could possibly be aware of her hungry gaze or the effect it was having on him.

But he knew. And every time he took in the outfit she’d chosen, his mouth grew dry. The sarong-style skirt tied at one hip revealed an expanse of long, bare leg while the bikini-like top exposed her flat, untanned stomach and accentuated her full, rounded breasts. No different than the clothing worn by most women on the beach tonight, but most women weren’t Juliette. And none of them affected him in the same beguiling way.

The woman was more of a feast than the one prepared by Merrilee’s staff. “Let’s check out the bamboo huts.” He pointed to where makeshift food stations had been set up beneath the thatched roofs, smorgasbord style. “Nothing like choices. What do you want? Hamburgers, hot dogs or do you want to try the Floridian specialty, conch fish?”

Juliette inhaled the assorted smells, wrinkling her nose when the distinct odor of fish came through loud and clear. “I think I’ll stick with your basic burger.”

He laughed. “I guess conservative girls don’t appreciate the art of catching, scaling and gutting a fish.”

She sniffed as if offended, but the smile on her gloss-covered lips gave her away. “I didn’t say I was conservative, I said I lived a conservative life. Big difference. As for you, you’re so relaxed, I don’t see an ounce of conventionality in you or your upbringing. Am I right?”

“Quite right.” And perhaps if he revealed some of his own past, she’d be more comfortable revealing hers. “I was adopted and neither set of parents were what you’d call conservative.”

“I’d say not, especially if you inherited either of their style of dress.” She reached out and fingered the bottom of his long, Hawaiian-print shorts before raising her gaze to his clashing but equally tropical button-down, short-sleeve shirt.

“Offensive?” he asked.

“Different,” she said with a grin. She twirled one of her long curls around her finger.

He wondered if the strands were silky smooth to the touch and when he’d be able to find out. “Different how?”

“Where I come from, men wear power suits and ties or polo shirts and slacks.”

Bingo, he thought. Some insight. Small as it may be, he appreciated any inroad. “Well, if anyone in my family does the suit-and-tie thing I’ve never seen it.”

Ted Houston never wore a suit, not even when he’d won an Associated Press award. Good thing his father’s byline hadn’t been in politics. Doug, on the other hand, knew how to dress up with the best of them, but on the island he’d chosen to let his rebel side dominate. To throw Juliette off his proverbial scent. Disgusted with the reminder and unsure why, when his pursuit of a story had never bothered him before, Doug pushed the thought away—easy to do when surrounded by her beauty.

He smiled, then lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “My adoptive father is color-blind. I guess I inherited the gift.”

She laughed at his joke.

He shut his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to enjoy the light, carefree sound. Just being around her helped him relax for the first time, not just since the paper fiasco, but since his father’s heart attack. He hadn’t realized how much he needed the release until she’d provided it.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, your style is a welcome change.”

At the sound of her soft voice, he opened his eyes.

“You’re a welcome change,” she said.

And damned if he didn’t believe her.

She paused for another sip of her drink. The waiter had forgotten the straws or Doug hadn’t seen them on the tray. Either way, he didn’t care. It gave him a chance to touch her. He reached out and brushed the foam off her upper lip with the pad of his thumb.

She stilled, those wide, green eyes meeting his, shock evident in her gaze. He recognized the emotion since he felt it, too. His mind told him to use the surprising electric connection that sizzled between them to his advantage since, except for her one vague reference, she’d adeptly avoided any personal replies to his light queries. She had even managed to turn the tables and question him instead. But his heart pounded loud in his chest, urging him merely to enjoy.

He drew back and as she watched, he licked the sweet-tasting froth off his finger. She exhaled, a slow, breathy sound that resembled a sigh of pleasure and his body tensed in response.

Just then, dinner was announced over the sound system, directing people to the buffet and jarring him back to his senses. He’d missed a perfect opportunity to push for information under the guise of getting to know her better. Not only didn’t he understand why, but he was completely off balance. “Saved by the bell,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. How about we get something to eat?”

She nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

A good one because he needed distance. And how much trouble could he get into over the course of one meal?

Half an hour later he had his answer. Too much damn trouble. With food loaded on their plates, they walked by the long picnic tables set up for guests and, at Juliette’s suggestion, headed farther down the beach. She picked a secluded area and requested he pull two lounge chairs together for their private picnic.

Doug was coming to realize he couldn’t deny her anything when she got that excited gleam in her eye. In one short outing, he’d learned to recognize the sparkle that told him she was experiencing something for the first time—from a simple drink to a picnic dinner. He’d grown up quickly, first on the street experiencing deprivation, then at Ted Houston’s side, learning the journalistic ropes from a pro. He’d discovered how to charm the devil himself for information or to gain access to private files or events. From the streets to formal banquets and affairs, Doug had seen it all.

But he’d never lived Juliette’s existence, never realized living a sheltered life could cause a person to miss out on so much. To his surprise, he was grateful he was giving her good memories to replace the more recent painful ones. Ones he’d inadvertently caused. He just wished watching her wasn’t so difficult.

Arousingly difficult. She licked her fingers delicately before turning to the napkin in her lap and wiping her hands. She set the napkin aside and yawned, then said, “It’s not the company, I swear.”

“It’s the travel. I’m surprised you’ve made it this late. Did you want to watch the pathetic rendition of the Beach Boys or call it a night?” He didn’t know which he hoped she’d choose but a night to rethink his strategy wouldn’t be a bad thing.

She sighed. “Much as I hate to say this, I think turning in would be best.”

Disappointment warred with relief. “I understand.”

After they collected and deposited their paper goods and garbage, she turned toward him. “I really enjoyed tonight.”

“Me too. But until I walk you to your door, it’s not over.” He wasn’t ready to let her go yet and hoping for a glimmer of information wasn’t the only reason.

“You don’t need to do that. But I’d like it if you would.”

And he’d like to take a jump into the cool ocean water. Walking her to her secluded cottage door, he felt more like a kid on his first date than an experienced reporter out to get a story. But Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither would he get what he needed tonight.

“Well, we’re here.” She turned around, her back against the door, palms braced behind her.

From the gleam in her eye he wouldn’t get a fast escape and a quick good-night. From his body’s response to this woman, he didn’t want one.