Caribbean Crush (Under the Caribbean Sun) (3 page)

She’d been so alive with him. So young and hopeful and free. She’d soared and then crash landed back to reality. If she didn’t fly as high, if she guarded herself, could she make it out alive on the other end? Was the thrill of him worth the risk of repeating the one lesson she really should have learned from?

He remembered the exact combination of sensations to unlock her resolve. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the hard strength of his muscled body. With his fingers toying with that sensitive spot on the back of her neck, and the warm male scent of him, lust overwhelmed her.

She threaded her hand into his hair and gave herself permission to test her resolve. A rush of desire, a jumble of trepidation, expectation and stale regret pushed her on. The crisp taste of him intoxicated her as he traced his fingers up and down her arms, sensations building as he pulled her arms behind his head, gripped her waist and lifted her off her feet.

She fisted her hand in his short hair, tugging his head back and opening her mouth to his. She took control of the kiss, teasing him with her tongue and plundering his mouth. She kissed him harder, demanding more until their hunger for one another threatened to turn into primal animal need.

They’d had sex on the beach before. Quite a few times in fact. Her blood heated as she recalled the amazing sensation of his hardness sliding into her, his hands on her hips as he pushed deeper. Warm sand squeezing between her fingers as he took her from behind. She’d come in an explosion of sensation, and he’d carry her into the ocean, the water lapping at their bare bodies until they were ready to go again.

It had been so long since she’d bothered with sex, she imagined she’d have to adjust to the size of him again. Memory of that full, complete feeling pulsed in her womb. What would it hurt, really, if she took him up on his licentious offer? She missed sex so much she’d been toying with the idea of a one-night stand for ages. This would certainly be more acceptable, and it was guaranteed to be good.

Loud, electronic music spewed from his pocket and he stiffened. She pulled away, finding her feet again and remembering that what had wound up broken the last time she’d tangled with him was her heart.

Antonnis rested his forearms on the driftwood table and peeled the label from his beer bottle. The reggae beat of the band drowned out all chatter in the seaside bar, even the spirited conversation his father and Dutch were having across the table. Twinkle lights were strung along the roof of the giant tiki hut, illuminating plumes of smoke from the barbeques in the back.

“You know what this stag party needs?” Falco shouted into his ear. “Women.”

Antonnis laughed at the way his brothers both glowered at their childhood best friend. A year ago, they would have been the ones to suggest the pleasurable distraction. Now, they seemed determined not to get caught with their gazes anywhere that might piss off a future wife.

Falco must not have noticed the evil glares. “What kind of stag party doesn’t have any kind of decoration? Or entertainment? If I were the best man—”

“I’m the best man for just that reason,” Harm rumbled from his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and casting a menacing glare at them both, as if Antonnis had been the one to bring up strippers. “We’re here to relax and stay out of the way while the girls have a glass of champagne.”

“You two might as well do the same, since they seem to have made a purse out of your balls.” Falco squared his shoulders and nudged his elbow at Antonnis for encouragement.

“It’s his funeral. If he wants to spend the night the way he’ll spend the rest of his life, we can only mourn with him.” Usually, Antonnis would be all for taunting his brothers or finding more attractive company. But right now his mind centered on a certain blonde who probably sat between the women his brothers were fixated on.

Maybe there was some kind of voodoo on Anguilla. Like a love spell that had turned the limestone lump into an island of fantasies.

“We could find our ladies,” Johannes offered, a wide smile splitting his face.

“Not happening, brother.” Harm turned his glare on full force. “Sassy is staying at Dutch’s place with her parents, and I’m tasked with keeping you off that hill.”

“Hardly seems fair since your woman will be in your bed when we return home.”

Harm shrugged, the long-sleeve T-shirt he wore stretching across his chest. Antonnis wondered how in the world Harm managed to keep a shirt on when the temperature never dropped below eighty, but he decided not to poke the bear about his fashion choices in this blasted heat.

“Where do you think they are?” Antonnis asked, leaning forward. “A posh club on one of the resorts? There’s no harm in watching a little dancing as long as it’s your girl shaking it, right?”

Both his brothers pinned him with the same annoyed glare. Johannes spoke first. “Why would you want to watch Saskia dance?”

Antonnis held up his hands. “I don’t care what the brat does. I’m just thinking a stag party is supposed to be more than drinking with Papa and Dutch. There should be something untoward. Poker maybe?”

“We’d have to go back to the house for that,” Dutch cut in. “Anguilla is more interested in dominos.”

“This is a happening place,” Falco deadpanned.

The older men erupted in laughter, slapping one another on the back in camaraderie. “Sebastian and I should head home, let the youth have their fun while we retire.”

His father kept laughing, wiping at his eyes. Antonnis couldn’t recall seeing the man this joyful or relaxed. Theirs was a story of sadness and loss, of working hard to fill the gaping hole left from his mother’s death. While at home, his father usually seemed happy enough, but this was a side of the man he didn’t recognize.

Sebastian pushed a hand through his silver hair. “Or maybe we’ll sail, chase the sunrise and congratulate ourselves on a match well made.”

“Careful, Papa,” Harm said with a wink. “Hannes hasn’t realized you and Dutch planned this entire marriage.”

Dutch dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll see to having the grandbabies we both want. Our children are far too old.”

“Old enough to try and out drink us.” Sebastian held up his empty glass.

“Sorry lot. They’ll never learn.” Dutch rose from the table and his best friend did the same. He pointed at Harm. “See that he’s at the church and sober.”

Harm laughed. “I could say the same about both of you.”

The older men made their way to the bar and Antonnis leaned toward his brothers. “Seriously. Where are the girls right now?”

Chapter Four

Kristin took her place beside Antonnis, grinning at how uncomfortable he looked. She’d set out to ignore him all day, and it was having the desired effect. She wasn’t trying to be rude, just to level the playing field since he’d undone her resolve with a kiss last night. She didn’t want any flirting getting in the way of Saskia’s wedding.

“I don’t know where you live,” he whispered without moving his lips.

“With Janny,” she whispered back, and then tilted her head toward her best friend and the man who stood ahead of them. “Is Falco a common name in the Netherlands?”

“Common enough,” he answered, linking their arms for the trip down the aisle.

“It’s his real name?” She kept her voice low, wanting to keep him talking about anything but their relationship.

“Of course it is.” He tilted his head closer. “I need your cell number.”

“So you can lose it? You’re not the best at returning phone calls.” The music began, the romantic hum of a string quartet floating from the front of the old church all the way back to the foyer they waited in.

“Just give me the digits. I’ll remember them.”

She arched a brow, wishing she didn’t get such a thrill from the desperate look in his light-blue eyes. “I’m not a call-me-maybe girl. I don’t give out my number to just anyone.”

He all but growled her name, and Janny twisted around, pinning them with a look that reminded them they were about to walk down the aisle. Witness a wedding. And that she had no business winding him up when she wasn’t going to play with him.

“We need to leave the past where it belongs,” she whispered as the double doors opened and flooded the foyer with gazes eager to glimpse the bride.

“I don’t want to.” He squared his shoulders and rose to his full height, taking her with him as they strode toward the altar.

She pasted on a smile, letting the faces of her friends and neighbors serve as a reminder that she had something to protect. Her heart. Her reputation. And the desire to teach Antonnis Prinsen that he could not have things his way this time.

“I’ll bet that’s what they were doing last night.” Falco leaned against the bar set up on the beach, watching the women dance in bare feet on the wood floor that had been laid on the sand. A warm breeze drifted up from the surf to the beachside reception, easing the sweltering heat. The band did a commendable job of playing every song people expected at weddings, and in the last hour they’d only taken one break. Weddings were usually a formality, but Johannes and his bride seemed to have planned a party.

“Beats the hell out of playing poker on a boat.” He took a full breath of the fresh air scented with tropical flowers and ocean breezes.

“
Proost
.” Falco tossed back his drink, his dark gaze scanning the crowd. “Tonight, we hit the clubs. Your dad has me terrified of being snared by an island woman. I need an accommodating tourist.”

“He does seem to be driving that point home, doesn’t he? It’s odd since he never pays any mind to who we take out at home.” He caught a glimpse of Kristin’s dress, a slinky plum number that touched her everywhere he wanted to. Bridesmaids usually had the worst outfits, but he figured if you were standing up for a fashion designer the quality must improve.

“Sebastian is worried you’ll move here like your brothers, I’ll bet.”

Kristin and Janny danced together, the synchronicity like they’d choreographed it. Maybe they moonlighted as go-go dancers. His shoulders tensed, not liking the idea at all.

“Tonnis? You can’t move here. Have you seen the roads? There’s no place to drive a decent sports car, let alone race. Besides, your brothers have turned into old men. They’re probably watching reality television in bed every night while their wives are in curlers.”

Antonnis laughed until he started to cough, the image much preferable to how he figured his brothers actually spent their nights. Falco pounded him on the back and the bartender brought them both another clear drink. He sipped it and the heat flooded through him. He had no idea what went into the reception’s signature cocktail, but to his palate the coconut-flavored Caribbean Crush had to be pure alcohol. Women had theirs served as martinis, while men had it poured into a rocks glass.

“I bet we could bail and no one would know.” Falco took off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it on top of the pile on a nearby table. “I’d give anything to get out of this get-up.”

Antonnis nodded as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. “You can flee, but I have to stay.”

“Where would I go? I’ve never been to this rock before, and all you Prinsens have shown me is shacks and houses. No restaurants, clubs, hotels. I’m feeling quite neglected.”

“Poor you.” He pulled his shirt from his tuxedo pants and unbuttoned it.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going to dance with the beauties provided to us.”

Falco went to work on his shirt. “I see. We’re going to get kicked out of the wedding reception. Good plan.”

He winked at his best friend. “Let’s give Anguilla something to talk about.”

He ate up the powdered sand with long strides and wrapped Kristin in his arms before she had a chance to protest. He caught her terrified glance at Janny, but the sharp-tongued tart had been twirled away by Falco. He owed him one.

“What are you doing?” Kristin faced him, her body writhing with pure sexual energy. Especially in that dress. He slid his hands along her sides, unable to detect the slightest hint of underwear. He instantly went hard in his slacks.

“Isn’t it polite to dance at weddings?” With his hand on her hip, he pulled her closer, aligning their lower bodies.

“There is nothing polite about what you’re doing.” She gave him a challenging grin, her warm-brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I meant what I said last night.”

“As did I. I’m not interested in reliving the past.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and tilted her head toward Falco, who’d just twirled Janny into the arms of a dark man without a shirt and selected a blonder mark. “Your friend, what’s his angle?”

“Why? Are you thinking of setting him up with Janny?” Kristin froze, just for a moment. He wouldn’t have noticed it but for his hand on her hip.

“She’d never, you can pass that along to him if you’d like. Neither of us have any patience for Dutch men.” She tried for a haughty glare but didn’t really have it in her. Kristin was the type who was nice to everyone, which was one of the things he’d always admired about her.

He leaned closer and hummed in her ear. “I can remember a time when you were very patient. Painfully slow.”