Body Contact (12 page)

When he slipped in beside her, she rolled toward him. With a small sound, she wrapped her arms around him, and he gathered her to him, holding her in the darkness, vowing to get her out of this mess if it was within his power to do it.

M
ADDY COULDN'T HOLD BACK
a small stab of disappointment when she woke alone in the big bed.

As she lay there curled on her side, she remembered falling asleep in Jack's arms. And before that—the incredible session in the shower.

Heat rushed through her body when she remembered their wild, uninhibited lovemaking. Not just wild and sexy. Caring. Because if there was one thing she'd discovered about Jack Connors, it was that he cared as much about his partner's pleasure as his own.

His absence now told her that he'd pulled back from her again. Or maybe he'd just awakened early and hadn't wanted to disturb her.

Yeah, right.

She could hear him out in the living room, talking on the phone. She hadn't heard it ring, so he must have been the one to make the call—or he'd turned off the bell in the bedroom. Checking, she found that wasn't the case.

So who could he have called? Nobody on the mainland, certainly, because she was sure that wasn't permitted. The only person she could think of was Reynard. And that had her nerves jangling again.

Sighing, she pressed her hand to her forehead. Last night, after their talk with Reynard, she'd started worrying about whether she could trust Jack. Then, in the shower, he'd wiped away her doubts.

One phone call, and she was on edge again.

Damn! It had been a colossal mistake not to talk to him about Ted's accusation before they left New York. Now she needed to get his side of the story. But she wasn't going to drag him back into the shower to do it. Which meant they had to find another place that was safe for personal and business discussions.

But where the heck was that?

With a grimace, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and headed for the bathroom. Inside the door, she stopped short, her gaze focusing on the shower as vivid images played through her mind.

Going very still, she tried to get a grip on herself. After the first time they'd made love, Jack had acted like it had never happened. And probably she'd let him know she was hurt. Well, this morning, she wasn't going to make that mistake.

Of course, things hadn't ended quite so abruptly last night. But she could come up with a reason for his behavior. A reason that certainly hadn't entered her head last night when she'd rolled toward him in the bed and snuggled into his arms. If he thought somebody was watching the bedroom proceedings on a video camera, than he would have turned in a performance for the cameraman.

A white terry robe was hanging on the back of the door. She took it down, pulled it over her gown and tied the belt before heading toward the living room.

Jack was just replacing the receiver in the cradle.

“That was Reynard,” he said, without waiting for her to ask, his voice matter-of-fact. “He wants to talk business with me again this morning.”

“He called you?” she asked carefully, mindful that the walls had ears.

“He sent over a note with breakfast.” Jack swept his arm toward the cart that stood beside the door. “We have
coffee. It's excellent by the way. Kona, I believe. Tropical fruit, a quiche lorraine and a selection of Danish pastry—also quite good. I recommend the cherry. If we want anything else, there's a buffet on the patio outside where we had the cocktail party last night. You know, I love this place,” he added enthusiastically.

“It's certainly luxurious.”

Jack was watching her, and she kept her face carefully neutral as she crossed the room and poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe, then added cream and sugar.

After selecting a blueberry Danish, she sat down at the table by the sliding glass door.

“Do you mind finding something else to do this morning?” he asked. “I know business bores you. And you had to sit around listening to us last night.”

“You're right.” She patted her head. “Actually, I need to go to the beauty salon. You did a fine job of messing up my hair last night—and I simply can't face the world looking like this.”

 

J
ACK STUDIED
M
ADDY
as she took a swallow of her coffee, then bit into the Danish and chewed appreciatively.

“This is really good,” she murmured. “I should indulge myself more often.”

He considered her words, found himself looking for hidden meanings. She was showing more enthusiasm for the breakfast bun than she was for him. In fact she was acting like what had happened between them last night was no big deal.

The way he'd acted after that first frantic session back at Winston Industries.

He supposed he should be grateful that she wasn't making any claims on him. But the reaction was unsettling. He found himself wanting to stride across the few feet of space that separated them, pull her to her feet and fold
her into his arms. For the pleasure of feeling her body pressed to his. And the reassurance that he could get a reaction out of her.

He had to stop his tongue from stroking across his lower lip as he thought about the delicious taste of her. The wet, hot joining of her mouth with his.

Hell, the wet, hot joining of more than mouth-to-mouth.

Against his will, memories of last night flooded through him like a riptide. For several seconds, he couldn't move as he was caught again in the lovemaking—in the incredible look of arousal on her face, in the incredible feel of his cock sliding in and out of her. Then he blinked, turned away before he could do or say something he would regret. Before she could see that he was turned on.

Pretending he needed more coffee, he sloshed some into his cup and took a gulp, burning his mouth.

Without turning, he said, “Then I'll meet you back here around lunchtime. Perhaps you could join some of the other ladies at the Greek pool complex?”

“Perhaps. Or I might get a facial and a massage,” she answered languidly.

“Yes. This is your vacation, too. You do whatever you like.”

“Um.”

Again he fought the urge to yank her to her feet—to crush his mouth down onto hers and force a reaction from her.

But he stayed where he was.

Since when had he needed reassurance with a woman?

Since Maddy, apparently. He made a small, choking sound.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Turning, he strode toward the door. The hot tropical air slapped him in the face as he stepped outside.

Grimly, he began striding up the path they'd taken the night before. Then he caught his breath, slowed his pace as he remembered where he was and what he was here for.

 

M
ADDY WATCHED
the tense set of Jack's shoulders as he disappeared from view.

It flitted through her mind that playing hard to get was a little difficult to manage, when the man you were teasing had made wild, passionate love to you the night before.

But she was pretty sure she'd pulled it off. And the knowledge brought a smile flickering over her lips.

He'd been thinking about last night. So had she. They'd both been aroused. But that was the advantage of being a woman, it was easier to hide your physical reaction. If your nipples got hard, you could always blame it on the air-conditioning.

She leaned comfortably back, enjoyed another bite of her Danish. It was good. Hardly her usual breakfast in New York. But just the thing this morning.

As she chewed, however, the smile died on her lips, and the pastry turned to clay in her mouth. It was all she could do to swallow as a wave of guilt assaulted her.

She was pleased with handling Jack this morning!

But she'd forgotten about a couple of important things. She still didn't know how far she could trust the man. And she'd come here to rescue Dawn Winston, who was here on the island—at the mercy of a cruel, vicious man—because Maddy Guthrie hadn't done her job.

She balled her hand into a fist, pressed it against her mouth. Lord, she'd never been more off-balance. Never less able to do her job. Jack Connors had turned her brain to mush, the bastard.

Standing, she strode toward the bedroom and began pulling clothing from drawers, silently admitting that she
couldn't blame Jack. The only person she could blame was herself.

It wasn't until she was standing beside the dresser naked that she remembered that someone could be spying on her.

With a grimace she started to grab her clothing and dash into the bathroom. But it was already too late for that. Resolutely, she stepped into a clean pair of panties, then a bra.

Two minutes later, after pulling on a sequined T-shirt and black shorts, she shoved her feet into sandals and started out the door toward the spa.

 

J
ACK ROUNDED A BEND
in the path and saw the white mansion sprawled in the sunlight like an enormous wedding cake.

He walked rapidly past some of the inevitable gardeners and up to the French doors where he and Maddy had entered the night before.

As he approached, a uniformed guard snapped to attention.

“Mr. Reynard has asked you to come around to the front door,” the guard informed him.

“Where we left last night?”

“Exactly.”

Jack thanked the man, then took the path around the building. Sunlight flooded through the high windows of the entrance hall as he stepped inside, to be greeted by yet another employee—this time a formally dressed butler.

“I hope you won't mind waiting for just a moment, sir,” the man said, directing him into a small sitting room.

He had just turned to take a seat when he saw Don Fowler step out of one of the larger rooms.

He and Reynard shook hands. He could tell that Fowler
hadn't seen him as he strode out the front door, his step springy.

Son of a bitch! So Reynard had booked more than one appointment this morning.

The butler approached him and spoke. Reynard looked up, spotted Jack and smiled.

“Come in. Come in. I'm so glad you could make it.”

Jack kept his expression untroubled as he followed the other man into the television room where they'd had their interview the evening before.

“Sit down. Can I get you something? Coffee? A Bloody Mary?”

“Well, I don't drink anything alcoholic so early in the morning.” As he accepted a cup of coffee, he didn't add that he'd already consumed enough of the stuff to keep him on a caffeine high for hours.

Leaning back, he said, “I see you've already had a morning appointment.”

“Well, I do have to keep my options open.”

Jack took a sip of the coffee he didn't want.

“I'm sure I can offer you a better deal than Fowler.”

“Perhaps. But that might depend on your definition. I have plenty of money, so I don't always make my business decisions strictly on a profit motive basis.”

“You can never have too much money,” Jack answered, keeping his voice neutral.

“To be blunt, you have something I want. And getting it could be a major factor in our working relationship.”

Jack didn't speak, didn't move a muscle.

“Maddy, your lady, is very charming. Very desirable. You know I have a sexual interest in her.”

Jack set down his coffee cup with a thunk on the glass-topped table. “She belongs to me.”

“I'm not asking you to leave her here. I'm asking to enjoy her favors while she's on the island.”

“I don't lend her out.”

“Not when a simple favor to a friend can mean millions of dollars in your pocket?”

Jack pretended to consider that. Then he said in a deliberately mild voice. “I have a little trouble with the thought of another man touching her.”

“I was prepared for you to say that. And I admit that touching her has quite a bit of appeal. But what about another alternative? One we might share—so to speak.”

Jack raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Have you ever thought about how…stimulating…it would be watching another woman make love to her?”

Jack swallowed, considered several answers and discarded them. He knew damn well that watching two women make love was a top-five male fantasy. He'd entertained the fantasy himself when he'd been a teenager.

Reynard smiled, continued. “We could have a nice private session. Wouldn't it be exciting to see her with a really beautiful woman—a woman who enjoys her own sex as much as she enjoys men. There's nothing more captivating than watching two beautiful females together, giving each other pleasure.” His voice turned husky. “I mean seeing one of them take the other's nipple in her mouth, swirl her tongue around that aching tip while she rolls its mate between her thumb and finger. Then she slides her lips down her partner's body, finds her hot core and brings her off with her lips and tongue.” The man's eyes were bright, his face slightly flushed, and it was obvious he was enjoying the vivid description. “And there's always the educational factor, of course. You can learn so much from watching them stimulate each other. Who but a woman knows better what gives another of her sex pleasure?” He made an expansive gesture with his hand. “If Maddy's a novice with female partners, she doesn't have
to do any of the work. She can just lie back and enjoy having an expert bring her to a deep, rocking climax.”

Jack pressed his hand flat against the sofa cushion. It was a struggle not to leap across the space that separated him from Reynard and smash his fist into the man's smug face. The idea of Maddy with another woman made his stomach knot. But he managed to stay where he was—barely.

“What happens afterwards?” he asked, hearing the dangerous edge in his own voice. He hoped Reynard would mistake it for excitement.

“Well, I assure you, you'll be hard as a lead pipe by the end of it. You can work off your head of steam with Maddy. And I can enjoy the other lady. I have someone perfect in mind. Her name is Calista. Her mother was from Jamaica and her father was from the mainland. He had some Native American blood. The combination was very fortuitous. Calista is stunning; she's got a wonderful body, and she enjoys having fun.”