Secret Fantasy. Carly Phillips
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out in stark contrast to the inky night sky. She stepped down the rickety wooden stairs and paused. A bonfire burned on one section of the beach and a band playing Beach Boys type music rocked on a makeshift stage. People mingled, some in pairs, others in groups, a few individuals wandered alone. She wasn’t in the mood to socialize with complete strangers, except maybe one in particular. She narrowed her gaze and searched through the crowd.
“Looking for someone?” His voice sounded from behind her.
Her heartbeat immediately doubled. “Just taking in the sights.”
“If you say so.” He laughed.
The deep, masculine sound caused ripples of warmth to ooze through her veins.
“But I know I was looking for you.” His voice held a gentle heat, but it was his word choice that warmed her.
“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 Yet his intensity and obvious interest made her brave when she might have withdrawn.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