The Dare Collection March 2019. Rachael Stewart
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was no more than another Pacific breeze that trickled down the entire length of her back then, making her want to stiffen against it, then run for her life.
She did neither one of those things. Because she was on a deserted tropical island far, far away from anything and there was nowhere to run, for one thing. And because her feet were burning and walking around without any shoes on was surprisingly uncomfortable, for another.
She ignored the sensation flooding her, from the soles of her feet to her traitorously soft pussy and, higher still, to the heart that was going wild in her chest. At least none of these things showed, or she hoped they didn’t, as she pulled open the passenger door—which took her a moment to locate, as it was on the wrong side of the vehicle—and climbed up beside him.
Very much as if she had her own sign, and it read something like ABSOLUTE IDIOT.
She was then deeply grateful that Jason drove a Jeep, because it was wide open to the island around them. And that meant that when he put it into gear and started driving, it was noisy. Too noisy for any more pointed, barbed conversation with all that fire between each syllable.
Lucinda didn’t have to pretend to be cool, unbothered and aggressively at her ease. There was no conversation at all, so she wasn’t required to watch her tone and mind her words. There was only the wind in her ears, tugging at her hair so that wet strands pulled free and blew all around her. She had seen this coveted spit of land from the air, a stunning little jewel in the middle of all that deep blue water, and she’d seen the pristine beaches all around.
But settled back in the passenger seat of Jason’s Jeep that he navigated with one lazy arm looped over the steering wheel, she finally looked around and saw the island itself. There had once been an active volcano here, leaving the hills steep and covered in green all these years later. The jungle was everywhere, in the thick scent of growing things, the exultant plants and glorious flowers that Lucinda had never seen back home. They were too big here. Too bright, in too many colors.
The road, such as it was, hugged the beaches. Jason drove away from the old hotel, bumping his way over dirt and grass on the rutted track before rounding a point that stretched out into the water, made of the same dark, volcanic rock that burst out from beneath the green everywhere Lucinda looked.
When the road ended a while later, he turned up toward the hills. He wound his way around the side of another steep, green incline, climbing until they were far above the same rocky point they’d passed below.
The jungle opened up over a grassy bluff and the house that sat there, surrounded by gleaming green lawns that edged up against the thick jungle on all sides and nothing else in any direction but the brooding blue sea.
Lucinda caught her breath. It was the most beautiful house she’d ever seen in her life. It was all polished dark wood and windows, somehow looking as if it was meant to be here on the top of this mountain with a view of eternity. As if it had been crafted here, the same as the steep hills around it or the shore below.
The main house sprawled out in an easy sort of U shape, claiming the flattest part of the bluff. But Jason didn’t drive up to the front door. He skirted the side of one wing, then drove a bit farther up the hill to one of several tidy, smaller houses that nestled half in and half out of the jungle.
“Shower, change, whatever,” Jason told her after he’d leaped from the Jeep, carried her bag to the front door of the nearest cottage and swung it open for her. Lucinda trailed after him, feeling more than a little loopy, and telling herself it was the jet lag.
But as he towered there over her, blocking the door to the cutest little cottage she’d ever seen with those wide, sculpted shoulders of his, she acknowledged that maybe the loopiness had nothing to do with air travel or time zones at all.
That maybe, just maybe, it was him.
“Whatever,” she said. Echoing him.
Or possibly, making a choice.
“There’s a fully stocked bar.” His dark eyes gleamed. “Feel free to choose your poison. When you get hungry, come find me.”
She turned because that was easier than holding his gaze. She blinked at the great house that was now below her, and the unbroken expanse of the Pacific in the distance.
“Is it a game of hide-and-seek, then? Will you be tucked away in a closet somewhere?”
“I’m not one for staying in the closet.” He let out a belt of that laughter of his that did things to her defenses that she was afraid to look at too closely. For fear that there would be nothing left but rubble where they’d once stood. “I’m pretty much upright and out loud about everything I do, Lucinda. That I can promise you.”
“If you don’t hear from me for a week, you can assume that I got lost in the west wing of your mansion and likely require medical assistance,” Lucinda replied crisply, because it was that or start wondering what sorts of things he was so up-front about. So out loud. “Or am moldering away in the attic like the family ghost.”
“You won’t have any trouble finding me. If you could make it to the island, I figure you can make it through the house, too.” His mouth curved. “And I don’t believe in ghosts, either. If you want to haunt me, you can do it to my face.”
“That’s not really a haunting, then, is it?”
“Depends on how you do it,” he said, all drawl and heat.
And Lucinda expected some kind of grand exit. Something suitably dramatic while she was still wearing so little, as a fitting end to this wild rush of a day. A fierce kiss, perhaps, to underscore his power—
Or your own longing, something inside her chimed in, much too knowingly.
But all he did was wheel around, then jump back into his Jeep with another display of that mouthwatering, athletic grace that she suspected she’d be replaying in her head for some time to come.
And he drove off, leaving Lucinda to stand there on the threshold of the lovely little cottage, vibrating with need and hunger and all kinds of things she had no intention of doing anything about. Ever. And certainly not with him.
No matter how much she wanted to.
Inside, the cottage had high ceilings with fans to move the air around and was done up in light colors to make it all seem that much breezier. She gave herself a stern talking-to as she wheeled her bag in, then set up in the master bedroom with its high bed and floating canopy, and a view from the windows that made her sigh.
She lectured herself into the bath, where she took a shower to get the salt out and combed her fingers through her hair at last, despairing of the state it would be in when she got out. Then she sat down for a soak in the tub, filling it with lovely potions that turned to bubbles, smelling of coconuts and fruity drinks.
And kept right on making speeches to herself.
Yes, she’d put on that bikini and pranced around, and she’d definitely encouraged his attention. Not to mention his hands on her.
It had been important to stay in control earlier. To keep herself from coming to prove that she could—and to further prove that he was only as in charge as she wanted him to be. She wasn’t sure she believed that, entirely, but she’d wanted to prove it and she had. But now it was time for the next step. She had no qualm whatsoever with sleeping her way into the resort she wanted. She’d been accused of doing it a thousand times already, because she was a woman who’d risen through the ranks, and so many people imagined that could happen only one way.
It hadn’t.
“Certainly not,” she said out loud as she climbed out of the bath and wrapped herself in a big, fluffy towel, so soft it nearly made her eyes prick with those lurking tears. The very thought of sleeping with her selection of bosses was deeply, deeply unappealing—just as it had always been. “The suggestion was more than enough, thank you.”
Lucinda had always held herself as perfectly willing to use her body to get what she wanted.