Sand, Sun...Seduction! Read online

  Of all people, of all jobs, of all places. Liz still couldn’t believe she had let herself get talked into it, even now, the day after she had agreed to his crazy proposal.

  Especially after that kiss. That quick, unexpected, wildly pleasurable kiss.

  Get real. You took the job partly because of that kiss.

  Taking a mental gag, Liz shoved the observation into the saucy subconscious mouth that had come up with it. Best to pretend the crazy thought had never even occurred. Jack had kissed her for one reason only—to prove a point. To make her admit she had some kind of feelings for him, good or bad. That was all. It meant nothing.

  The kiss aside, part of her still wondered if she had done the right thing in saying yes. Jack was too used to getting his own way—by way of either money or charm. She had tried to refuse, despite the alluring financial offer he’d dangled in front of her. She might not need a lot of money to live here, but she had to admit the idea of building her bank balance up a bit was tempting.

  But in the end, it hadn’t been the salary that did the trick. Or the kiss. He’d hit her in the one place she was vulnerable.

  Her heart.

  Like many other islands, St. Lucia had a strong tourist trade, but the wealth didn’t always distribute itself evenly.

  The tourist-resort areas were stunning and bedecked with every modern convenience. And yet, in smaller villages, many residents still lived in corrugated huts with dirt floors, and few children attended school beyond the elementary level. So for Jack to offer to fund a local group building a new secondary school specifically for low-income kids said two things.

  One, he had researched the island and knew where there was need.

  Two, he knew exactly how to get Liz to do what he wanted.

  Which was why she was sitting beside him in his rented convertible, enjoying the unfamiliar gentleness of the early-morning sun on her face and the whoosh of the fresh air through her hair.

  She was also forcing herself not to enjoy Jack’s masculine scent or the exciting sizzle of energy that always seemed to surround the man. Which was easier said than done, considering every time she inhaled, she was overwhelmed by the headiness of both. And every time he parted his lips to say a single word, she was reminded of how that incredible mouth had felt pressed to her own.

  “You’re sure he’ll be up this early?” Jack asked.

  “The manager of the marina is a regular at the bar. He told me the Duke would be heading out by 8 a.m.,” she said, glad he’d distracted her. Feeling any kind of attraction to Jack—to his spicy, masculine scent, or his charm or his incredible looks—was completely out of the question.

  This was a job, nothing else. Not only for the kids and the money, but also, in a way, for her own peace of mind. She had been telling herself she was fine, that she’d moved on, healed after everything that had happened. That she was immune to any man’s charm, could see through false promises and would never be taken in again.

  Working with Jack, spending time with him, well, it was the ultimate test, wasn’t it? This particular man could charm the panties off a celibate grandma.

  “And you think he’ll invite us along?”

  “He invites me every time I see him,” she said with a shrug. “I have no reason to think he won’t today.”

  “Maybe he invites you because you’re beautiful. He might not like it if you show up with me in tow.”

  Liz couldn’t help laughing. “His wife is the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. You won’t even know I exist once you see her.”

  “I doubt any woman could make me forget you exist, Liz,” he murmured.

  Hearing a strange, intense note in his voice, Liz shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She shouldn’t have said that, should never have put the conversation on a personal, you-and-me level.

  There is no you-and-me. Never had been. Never would be.

  “He invites me because he’s a gregarious, fun-loving man,” she explained, hoping Jack didn’t hear the breathiness in her voice. “You’ll see. We’re almost at the marina.”

  Jack had picked her up at her place in Castries just after sunrise. Considering she worked until closing several nights a week, this wasn’t her favorite time of day. Or her most conscious. But at least yesterday had been a day shift. Twice a week, a couple of the bigger cruise ships docked for day-long excursions, and she always worked on those afternoons. So she’d managed to roll out of bed pretty early.

  That didn’t mean she wouldn’t pay for it later, however. She had to be back on the job at six, and would be slinging drinks until 2 or 3 a.m. Even worse, she wouldn’t have a lazy, sleep-in morning to recover. Because tomorrow was the second Thursday, one of the two most profitable days of the island’s month. St. Lucia was the final port of call for a Norwegian cruise lines fourteen-day itinerary. The massive ship would drop off thousands of thirsty tourists who wanted to make one more fabulous Caribbean memory before sailing back to Miami.

  She was facing a long night. Followed by a longer day.

  It’s worth it.

  For the kids’ sake. And for her own peace of mind. She could do this—be with him, near him, yet remain entirely immune.

  Working with him would give Liz the chance to prove something to herself before putting that part of her life out of her mind for good.

  “Wow,” he murmured as they came around a curve in the road and caught a glimpse of the pristine beach and the crystalline water below them. Just beyond it were the gently flapping sails of dozens of boats at Rodney Bay Marina, which presented a stunning picture. “Did you know St. Lucia was so beautiful when you decided to come here?”

  “Not really.”

  “How’d you decide, then?”

  She settled deeper against the warm, soft leather seat. “Stuck a pin in a map.”

  He laughed softly. The laughter faded when he realized she wasn’t kidding. “You’re serious?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What if you’d stuck a pin in some desert? Or a frigid wasteland?”

  She shrugged. “I cheated. Opened the atlas to this hemisphere and kinda peeked at the Caribbean region before covering my eyes.”

  “And your pin landed on tiny little St. Lucia.”

  “Actually, it landed in the sea, but this was the closest speck of land on the page.”

  He shook his head and murmured, “Follow the pin. How…”

  Crazy? Reckless?

  “…brave. Freeing.” He glanced over, nodding at her in visible approval. “That took guts.”

  “Well, like I said, I did cheat a bit. No way was I going to use a globe and end up in Antarctica.”

  He visibly shuddered. “Or St. Petersburg.”

  “Russia? I’ve always thought that would be interesting.”

  “I meant Florida. That red shade of yours would definitely stand out among the blue-haired set.”

  She snorted a laugh, seeing the teasing grin tugging at his mouth. “Your folks have a place there, don’t they?”

  “Why do you think I mentioned it? Life is so sedate there my doctor can’t find my blood pressure when I come back from a visit.”

  “But you love them,” she murmured, remembering how close Jack had been with his family. She’d liked that about him, maybe even envied it a little, not having a family of her own. Mostly she’d just thought it was pretty cool that a clan as wealthy and privileged as the Beaumonts could still get together and play killer games of Monopoly and Scrabble on weekends.

  “Oh, absolutely. But I still need about ten straight cups of coffee to start my heart whenever I return from Florida,” he added.

  “Life is pretty quiet here, too.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “The islands are known for being laid-back.”

  “Laid-back, yes. Catatonic, no.” He hesitated, as if trying to decide how to explain, then added, “It might be slower-paced here, but there’s a dramatic pulse. A low, underlying rhythm to every
day life.”

  She tilted her head in confusion.

  “A soundtrack, I guess, that underscores life here. Where my parents live, it’s a waltz. In Boston it’s frenetic, high energy, lots of bass guitar and drum riffs, a cacophony of sound in a minor key.”

  Remembering his background, she knew why he’d chosen the analogy. “I forgot you played in a band in college. You were going to be a rock star.” Hence the impromptu “Old Time Rock and Roll” dance in his office.

  She had to admit it—the man could move.

  His long, elegant fingers tapped out a beat on the steering wheel as he chuckled. “The closest I got was having Keith Richards on the cover of one of our men’s quarterlies last year.”

  Understanding where he was going, she realized he was right. The islands did have a soundtrack all their own, and it wasn’t just the steel-drum music so often associated with the geography. There was more. It was low and almost tribal, excitement at odds with the lazy pace.

  She suddenly found herself wondering what Jack Beaumont would make of the Jump Up. The underlying beat he was describing came out in full force at the weekly street festival, where things got not only a little crazy but raucous. Hot and wild, with spicy food and spicy music, the event brought out locals and tourists alike. Inhibitions dropped as everyone gave themselves over to the seething rhythm of island life buried just below the surface. Just like he’d been talking about.

  The annual carnival was even wilder. While most of South America celebrated it in February, the same time as New Orleans’s infamous Mardi Gras, here in St. Lucia, Carnival was held in mid-July. It was going on right now, and next Tuesday would be the penultimate celebration.

  She almost opened her mouth to ask him about it, to see if he planned to go, but that might sound too much like an offer to take him. And while she couldn’t deny a surge of excitement at the thought of it, Liz was no masochist. Sitting beside him in a car, or on a boat, was going to be challenge enough.

  No way did she trust herself to let down her guard completely, dance with abandon against his hard body, share potent drinks and exotic foods.

  Just the idea of it had her shifting in her seat. They hadn’t touched today, hadn’t exchanged a suggestive word. But the images that flooded her head had brought her to the edge of physical arousal.

  One touch could push her over.

  Liz wrapped her arms around herself and hunched close to the door, determined to thrust the images out of her head. And she knew exactly how to do it.

  “So you’re feeling all right? Sure you’re up for the boat?” she asked. Before he answered, she held up a hand, palm out. “And I’m not trying to goad you, okay?”

  “Meaning no more kisses?”

  Heat rose in her face. “Definitely no more kisses, Mr. Beaumont, or you can find yourself another go-between to set things up with the Duke.”

  He didn’t say anything, not agreeing to her terms, not arguing with them, either. Which, knowing Jack, could mean either he didn’t care if he ever kissed her again—or he intended to do whatever the hell he wanted, whenever he wanted to do it.

  She pretended not to notice the little shiver of excitement that danced up her spine at the very thought.

  “You had to remind me of my problem, huh? I’d almost managed to forget where we’re going. I still don’t know if this is a good idea.”

  “It’s a fine idea.” She shook her head. “I love being on the water so much I have a hard time believing you don’t.” Sighing, she added, “I just sail and sail, letting my troubles float away.”

  “My troubles wouldn’t be what was floating away,” he snapped. “My sanity would.”

  “Jack, would you just trust me? The bracelet will work.”

  He stared at the anti-motion bracelet on his right wrist, obviously not believing her. “I’ve tried motion-sickness medicine before—on one of those dinner cruises in Boston Harbor.”

  “And?”

  “It was a real struggle to get back to shore before my dinner did.”

  She couldn’t resist laughing, though it earned her a deep frown in return.

  “Nice. Laugh at a guy’s weakness.”

  “Oh, come off it, do you have any other weaknesses? What else is there to laugh at you about?” She lifted her hand, ticking off her points. “You’re rich, you’re successful, you’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

  Liz swallowed hard, wishing she hadn’t pointed that one out. Hurrying on, she added, “You speak a couple of languages, give generously to charity and have a loving family that isn’t the least bit dysfunctional. So forgive me for taking amusement in the fact that you have one Achilles’ heel.” Unable to suppress a wicked grin, she added, “Make that Achilles’ stomach.”

  All that, and he focused exactly on what she most didn’t want him to. “Drop-dead gorgeous, huh?”

  “Don’t make anything out of it,” she shot back.

  “As if I could,” he muttered.

  Not understanding, she shifted in her seat to stare at him. Jack’s entire focus was on the road. The warm breeze blowing over the top of the windshield lifted his thick, dark hair, and her fingers suddenly tingled with an unexpected need to smooth it back. To touch it.

  To touch him.

  Liz forcefully thrust off the quick flash of heat. This was business, just business. Touching any part of Jack—from a single strand of hair to that strong build so perfectly set off in his designer shirt and tailored trousers—was out of the question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I already know you don’t much care about looks.”

  “Repeat—what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Studying his handsome profile, she noted the corner of his mouth curling up, though he never glanced over. “Well, your douche-bag ex wasn’t going to win any Mr. Universe contests.”

  Liz’s jaw dropped open. He had succeeded in rendering her speechless. Not because of the commentary on Tim’s looks, but because of what Jack had called him.

  Not that Tim didn’t deserve being called such things. He did. And she had to admit, Tim-the-toad, as she’d been thinking of him for the past year and a half, just wasn’t as satisfying.

  Suddenly she started to laugh. A chuckle at first, then deeper as genuine amusement flooded her.

  Jack glanced over at that. “Damn, Liz, if I’d known all it took to get one of those laughs of yours was calling your ex the scumbag he is, I would have done it months ago.”

  Her laughter faded. Though her smile remained, it was smaller, probably a little sad. “Months ago I wasn’t laughing about much of anything.” She shook her head slowly. “I honestly wasn’t sure I’d ever laugh again.”

  Jack’s hand, which had been on the gearshift, rose. For a moment she thought he was going to touch her. Squeeze her hand, or her knee, offer a reassuring gesture. But he seemed to think better of it and instead, gripped the steering wheel.

  His voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it above the wind whistling overhead, he said, “So you really did love him.”

  He didn’t seem to be asking a question, just making an observation. One he didn’t like, apparently, though she couldn’t say why.

  “Of course I did,” she said, the response automatic.

  Then she thought about it. She’d done a lot of that in the past eighteen months. Thinking. She’d mulled over many of the choices she had made in her life. Marrying at a pretty young age being one of them.

  And she’d come to some conclusions.

  Though she had no reason to confide anything in Jack Beaumont, she found herself wanting to share what she had discovered about herself. Maybe because, unlike anyone here, he’d known her in that other life.

  “At least, I think I loved him when we were first together,” she admitted.

  “Think?”

  “I was so young. I’d lost my parents a year before.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. This time, he didn’t stop himself from reaching out to her. She su
cked in a quick, surprised breath when his hand dropped over hers and remained there.

  Her first instinct was to pull away. To keep up that wall she’d erected between herself and any man. It seemed especially important to maintain it with this man.

  But she didn’t. Maybe because she was talking about something that took a little courage to share. Or because she hadn’t had much human contact in recent years, and had not realized how much she’d missed it. Perhaps it was even that the breeze had chilled her.

  Or maybe you just like his hands.

  She shoved that thought away. “I was young and I was alone. My parents had been madly in love. I wanted that, what they had.”

  “You thought you’d found it with him?”

  She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “I sense there’s a but coming.”

  Liz just looked at him and gave a weak smile.

  “As in, but I quickly realized he was a weak-chinned, scum-sucking jackass?”

  “Pretty much.” She grinned again, liking Jack’s frankness. “We were already having problems even before we moved to Boston,” she admitted. “Before he…”

  …decided he wanted everything you had.

  God, what on earth was she doing, talking to this man, of all people, about what had happened? Beaumont had been back in her life for just a couple of days and already she was forgetting everything she’d been telling herself about him.

  That he couldn’t be trusted. That he was partially responsible. That he’d encouraged her husband to cheat all for the sake of a story.

  She tugged her hand out from beneath his and turned her head, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. Embarrassed heat.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to like him again. Period. That kiss yesterday should have been reminder enough about how good he was at getting what he wanted.

  Well, he wasn’t getting any more. Not from her. She couldn’t afford to travel down that old road again, not now when she had finally built something new and good for herself.

  Jack cleared his throat, as if he was about to say something and wasn’t quite sure how it would be received. Which meant she probably didn’t want to hear it.