It Happened One Week (11 page)

“Just one.” He rocked back on his heels and observed the assembled teams with mild amusement. “Watch out for logging trucks.”

Marvin frowned. “I didn’t realize they were logging this part of the coast.”

“Well, they are. And those drivers aren’t accustomed to sharing the back roads. Stay out of their way. Or die.”

With that ominous warning ringing in everyone’s ears, the teams pedaled out of the parking lot.

She was going to die. As she braked to a wobbly stop outside the inn, Amanda wondered if she’d ever recover the feeling in her bottom again.

“You made good time,” Dane greeted her. He was up on a ladder, painting the rain gutter. He was wearing cutoff jeans and a white T-shirt. “Considering all the extra miles Kelli said you put in riding back and forth between teams.”

“You’d think adults could conduct a simple bike race without trying to sabotage one another, wouldn’t you?” Amanda frowned as she remembered the fishing line members of the blue team had strung across a particularly rocky stretch of path.

“You wanted them working together,” he reminded her. “Sounds as if that’s exactly what they were doing.”

“I wanted them to cooperate,” she muttered. “Not reenact the Desert Storm war.” The red team had, naturally, sought to retaliate. “Thanks for the suggestion to take along the extra tire tubes. I still haven’t figured out where they got those carpet tacks.”

“I’ve got a pretty good guess.” Dane had found evidence of someone having been in the workshop.

“Well, other than a few bumps and bruises, at least no one got hurt,” Amanda said with a long-suffering sigh. “You were also right about those logging trucks, by the way. They’re scary.”

“Like bull elk on amphetamines.” As he watched her gingerly climb off the bike, Dane wiped his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. “You look a little stiff.”

How was it that she had no feeling at all in her rear, yet her legs were aching all the way to the bone? “That’s an understatement.” She glared at the now muddy mountain bike that had seemed such a nifty idea when the original challenge coach, who’d conveniently managed to avoid taking part in the week’s activities, had first suggested it. “I swear that seat was invented by the Marquis de Sade.”

“If you’re sore, I can give you a massage. To get the kinks out,” he said innocently when she shot him a stern look. “I’ve got pretty good hands. If I do say so myself.” He flexed his fingers as he grinned down at her from his perch on the ladder.

Amanda had firsthand knowledge of exactly how good those hands were. Which was why there was absolutely no way she was going to take Dane up on his offer.

“Thanks, anyway. But I think I’ll just take a long soak in a hot bath.” Suddenly uncomfortably aware of how dirty and sweaty she must look, she was anxious to escape.

“Suit yourself.” He flashed her another of those devastating smiles, then returned to his painting.

She was halfway up the steps when he called out to her.

“Yes?” She half turned and looked up at him. He was so damn sexy, with that tight, sweat-stained T-shirt and those snug jeans that cupped his sex so enticingly. He reminded her of the young Brando, in
A Streetcar Named Desire.
Rough and dangerous and ready as hell.

It crossed Amanda’s mind that if Eve Deveraux had ever seen her vice president of international operations looking like this, she probably would have offered to triple his salary, just to keep him around to improve the scenery.

“If you change your mind, just let me know.”

“Thank you.” Her answering smile was falsely sweet. “But I believe that just might be pushing your hospitality to the limit.”

“We aim to please.” The devilish grin brightened his dark eyes. “Service With a Smile. That’s our motto here at Smugglers’ Inn.”

She might be confused. But she wasn’t foolish enough to even attempt to touch that line. Without another word, she escaped into the inn.

Enjoying the mental image of Amanda up to her neck in frothy white bubbles, Dane was whistling as he returned to work.

A
fter a long soak and a brief nap, Amanda felt like a new woman. During her time in the claw-footed bathtub, she’d made an important decision. The next time Dane tried to seduce her, she was going to let him.

Having already spent too much time thinking of him, she’d come to the logical conclusion that part of her problem regarding Dane was the fact that they’d never made love.

Tonight, Amanda vowed as she rose from the perfumed water, toweled off and began dusting fragrant talcum powder over every inch of her body, she was going to remedy that nagging problem.

She dressed carefully for dinner, in an outfit she’d providentially thrown into her suitcase at the last minute—a broomstick gauze skirt that flowed fully to her calves in swirls the color of a summer sunrise, and a matching scoopnecked top with crisscross lacing up the front. The bright hues brought out the heightened color in her cheeks.

She paused in front of the mirror, studying her reflection judiciously. Her freshly washed hair curved beneath her chin, framing her face in gleaming dark gold. Anticipation brightened her eyes, while the fullness of the skirt and blouse suggested more curves than she currently possessed.

“You’ll do,” she decided with a slow smile ripe with feminine intent. Spritzing herself one last time with scent,
she left the tower room, heading downstairs to dinner. And to Dane.

He wasn’t there! Amanda forced a smile and attempted to make small talk with the other people at her table as the evening droned on and on. On some level she noted that her meal of shrimp Provencal and tomato, mushroom and basil salad was excellent, but the food Mary Cutter had obviously labored over tasted like ashes in Amanda’s mouth.

She wasn’t the only person inwardly seething. Greg, who was seated at the neighboring table, did not even bother to conceal his irritation at the fact that Kelli was also absent from the dining room. He snapped at his table companions, glared at the room in general, ordered one Scotch after another and puffed away on his infamous cigars until a thick layer of smoke hovered over the dining room.

Finally, obviously fed up, Miss Minnie marched up to the table and insisted that he display more consideration.

“This is, after all,” she declared with all the haughty bearing of a forceful woman accustomed to controlling those around her, “supposed to be a nonsmoking dining room.”

Greg looked up at her through increasingly bleary eyes. Noxious puffs of smoke rose between them. “In case it’s escaped your notice,” he said, the alcohol causing him to slur his words, “the firm of Janzen, Lawton and Young happens to have booked every room in this inn, with the exception of the suite occupied by you and your sister.”

His jaw was jutted out; his red-veined eyes were narrowed and unpleasant. “That being the case, if you have a problem with my smoking, I would suggest that you just hustle your skinny rear end upstairs and order room service.”

A hush fell over the dining room. Shocked to silence for what Amanda suspected was the first time in her life, Miss
Minnie clasped a blue-veined hand to the front of her dovebrown silk dress.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda saw Mary emerging from the kitchen at the same time Mindy was entering from the lobby. Feeling somehow to blame—she was responsible for the horrid man having come to Smugglers’ Inn, after all—Amanda jumped to her feet and went over to Greg’s table.

“You owe Miss Minnie an apology, Greg,” she said sternly. She bestowed her most conciliatory smile upon the elderly woman. “It’s been a long day. Everyone’s tired. And out of sorts.”

“Don’t apologize for me, Amanda,” Greg growled, continuing to eye the elderly woman with overt contempt.

“But-”

“He’s right,” Miss Minnie agreed in a voice that could have slashed through steel. “There’s no point in trying to defend such uncouth behavior. It would be like putting a top hat and tails on an orangutan and attempting to teach him how to waltz.” She lifted her white head and marched from the room.

A moment later, Miss Pearl, who’d been observing the altercation from across the room, hurried after her sister, pausing briefly to place a plump hand on Amanda’s arm.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “My sister actually enjoys these little tiffs.” Dimples deepened in her pink cheeks. “She insists it keeps her blood flowing.” With that encouragement ringing in Amanda’s ears, she left the room.

Perhaps Miss Minnie found such altercations beneficial, but this one had sent Amanda’s blood pressure soaring. “That was,” she said, biting her words off one at a time, “unconscionable behavior.”

“Don’t take that holier-than-thou tone with me, Amanda,” Greg warned. “Because, in case it’s escaped that empty blond head of yours, I can fire you. Like that.” He
attempted to snap his fingers, but managed only a dull rubbing sound that still managed to get his point across. Loud and clear.

“You’re representing the agency, Greg. It seems you could try not to be such a bastard. At least in public.”

“It’s not
me
you need to worry about, sweetheart,” he drawled as he ground the cigar out into his dinner plate. “We both know that what’s got you so uptight tonight is that our host is off providing personal service to the missing member of our challenge team.”

No.
As furious as she’d been at Dane, Amanda couldn’t believe that the reason he hadn’t come to dinner was because he preferred being with Kelli Kyle. Her eyes unwillingly whipped over to Laura—who was Kelli’s roommate. When Laura blushed and pretended a sudden interest in the tablecloth, Amanda realized that about this, at least, Greg wasn’t lying.

“You’re wrong,” she managed to say with a composure she was a very long way from feeling. “But there’s nothing so unusual about that, is there? Since I can’t think of a single thing you’ve been right about since you arrived in Portland.

“You’re stupid, Greg. And mean-spirited. Not to mention lazy. And one of these days, Ernst Janzen is going to realize that nepotism isn’t worth letting some incompetent bully destroy his empire.”

Amazingly, the knot in her stomach loosened. She might have lost her job, but she’d finally gotten out feelings she’d been keeping bottled up inside her for too long.

When the other diners in the room broke out in a thundering ovation, she realized she’d been speaking for everyone. Everyone except, perhaps, the missing Kelli.

“And now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, lifting her head, “I’ve another matter to take care of.”

As fate would have it, Amanda passed Kelli coming into the inn as she was coming out.

“Hi, Amanda,” Kelli said with her trademark perky smile. “Isn’t it a lovely evening?”

Amanda was not inclined to bother with pleasantries. “Where’s Dane?”

The smile faded and for a suspended moment, Kelli appeared tempted to lie. Then, with a shrug of her shoulders, she said, “On the beach.”

Amanda nodded. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Intent on getting some answers from Dane, as she marched away, Amanda didn’t notice Kelli’s intense, thoughtful look.

She found Dane at the cave. The place where those long-ago pirates had allegedly stashed their treasure. The place she’d always thought of as
their secret sanctuary.
He’d lit a fire and was sitting on a piece of driftwood beside it, drinking a beer. The lipstick on the mouth of the empty bottle beside the log told its own story.

“Hello, contessa.” His smile was as warm as any he’d ever shared with her. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

As confused as Amanda had been about everything else, the one thing she’d thought she could believe for certain was that Dane was an honorable man. To discover otherwise was proving terribly painful.

“Why don’t you tell that to someone stupid enough to believe you.” She’d tried for frost and ended up with heat. Instead of ice coating her words, a hot temper made them tremble.

Amanda’s bright gauze skirt was almost transparent in the firelight. Dane found it difficult to concentrate on her anger when his attention was drawn to her long, firm legs.

He slowly stood. “I think I’m missing something here.”

“I can’t imagine what.” Amanda sent him a searing look. “Unless it’s your scorecard.” When he gave her another blank look, she twined her fingers together to keep from hitting him as she’d done the other night. “To keep track of all your women.”

“What women? I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me!” When he reached out for her, she gave him a shove. “I passed Kelli on the way down here.” Her voice rose, shaky but determined. “She told me where to find you.”

“I see.” He nodded.

She’d hoped he would explain. On her way down the steps to the beach, she’d prayed that he would have some logical reason for being alone on a moonlit beach, or worse yet, in this cozy cave, with a woman like Kelli Kyle.

Her imagination had tossed up scenario after scenario— perhaps the faucet was dripping in Kelli’s bathroom, or perhaps her shutters had banged during last night’s brief storm. Perhaps…

Perhaps she’d decided that Dane would make a better lover than Greg Parsons.

Ignoring the anger that was surrounding Amanda like a force field, Dane put his hands on her shoulders. “I can explain.”

“That’s not necessary.” She shrugged off his touch and turned away. “Since it’s all perfectly clear. ‘Service With a Smile.’ Isn’t that what you said?”

He spun her around. “Don’t push it, Amanda.”

Threats glittered in his dark gaze, frightening her. Thrilling her. “And don’t
you
touch
me.
“

She was still gorgeous. Still stubborn. And so damn wrong. “I’ll touch you whenever I want.”

“Not after you’ve been with her. But don’t worry, Dane, I understand thoroughly. Kelli was just a fling for you. Like you would have been for me.”

Temper, need, desire, surged through him. “You still know what buttons to push, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Before she could answer, his head swooped down. Unlike the other times he’d kissed her over the past few days, this time Dane wasn’t patient.

His mouth crushed hers with none of his usual tenderness. The hard, savage pressure of his lips and teeth grinding against hers was not a kiss at all, but a branding.

Fear battered, pleasure surged. She tried to shake her head, to deny both emotions, but his hand cupped the back of her head, holding her to the irresistible assault.

All the passions Amanda had suppressed, all the longings she’d locked away, burst free in a blazing explosion that turned her avid lips as hungry as his, had her tongue tangling with his, and had her grabbing handfuls of his silky hair as she gave herself up to the dark. To the heat. To Dane.

He pulled back, viewed himself in her passion-clouded eyes, then took her mouth again.

This time Amanda dived into the kiss, matching his speed, his power. She’d never known it was possible to feel so much from only a kiss. She’d never known it was possible to need so much from a man.

Having surrendered to the primitive urges coursing through her blood, she clung to Dane as she went under for the third time, dragging him down with her.

Somehow—later she would realize that she had no memory of it happening—they were on their knees on the blanket he’d laid on the sand when he’d first arrived at the cave, and his hand was beneath her skirt while she was fumbling desperately with the zipper at the front of his jeans.

Despite the danger of discovery—or perhaps, she would consider later, because of it—as those clever, wicked fingers slipped beneath the high-cut elastic leg of her panties,
seeking out the moist warmth pooling between her legs, Amanda wanted Dane. Desperately.

There were no soft words. No tender touches. His hands were rough and greedy. And wonderful. As they moved over her body, creating enervating heat, Amanda gasped in painful pleasure, reveling in their strength, even as she demanded more.

A fever rose, rushing through her blood with a heat that had nothing to do with flames from the nearby fire. Her need was rich and ripe and deep, causing her to tear at his clothing as he was tearing at hers. She wanted—needed—the feel of flesh against flesh. Her skin was already hot and damp. And aching.

There was a wildness in Dane that thrilled her. A violence that staggered Amanda even as she strained for more. This was what she’d wanted. This mindless passion that she’d known, instinctively, only he could create.

She hadn’t wanted gentle. Or tender. What she’d sought, what she’d been waiting for all of her life, was this heat. This madness. This glory.

Dane Cutter knew secrets—dark and dangerous secrets. Tonight, Amanda swore, he would teach them to her.

She was naked beneath him, her body bombarded by sensations her dazed mind could not fully comprehend. When his harshly curved lips closed over her breast, she locked her fists in his jet hair and pressed him even closer.

She said his name, over and over. Demands ripped from her throat. “Take me,” she gasped, arching her hips upward as something dark and damning curled painfully inside her. “Now. Before I go mad.”

She was wet and hot. Her flesh glowed in the flickering orange light from the flames. She looked utterly arousing.

She was not the only one about to go mad. His long fingers urgently stroked that aching, swollen bud between her quivering thighs with wicked expertise. Within seconds she
was racked by a series of violent shudders that left her breathless.

Trembling, she stared up at Dane, momentarily stunned into silence, but before she could recover, his hands had grasped her hips, lifting her against his mouth. He feasted greedily on the still-tingling flesh. She was pulsing all over, inside and out. Amanda clung to Dane, unable to do anything else as he brought her to another hammering climax.

Her body was slick and pliant. His was furnace hot. Dane wanted Amanda with a desperation like nothing he’d ever known. There was no thought of control now. For either of them.

Hunger had them rolling off the blanket and onto the sand, hands grasping, legs entwined, control abandoned. As the blood fired in his veins and hammered in his head, Dane covered her mouth with his and plunged into her, swallowing her ragged cry.