Lead Me On (22 page)

Lounging back on one elbow, he stared a moment before he dragged his gaze up to her face. "Now lie down," he said. She stretched out beside him, not quite sure what to expect. He took her hands and raised them to the headboard. "Hold on here. Don't let go." His smile was slow, sexy, and just a bit dangerous. "Trust me."

Her heart pumping, she did as he said and gripped the headboard as he stripped off her shorts and panties, then did away with his boxers. He came back to her, all dark, aroused, and potently male. His gaze dropped to her breasts, laid before him like a feast. Then, slowly, he bent and suckled each nipple until she whimpered with need. His hands moved downward, opening her thighs, teasing between them.

As his fingers slipped inside her, he spoke in husky tones about what he was doing, how her response excited him. He enthralled her body, enslaved her senses as she arched and writhed beneath him. By the time he positioned himself between her thighs, every fiber in her body sang like a tightly drawn bow string.

Then he drove inside her with a force that made her gasp. With his lips against her ears, he told her how good she felt, as he moved steadily, driving her higher. She closed her eyes, returning his thrusts and gloried in the pleasure of the giving and taking.

Trust me
, he'd said, and she did, absolutely. In that moment, she trusted him to take her anywhere. It was fate she didn't trust.

There was no going back, Scott realized as he lay staring at the ceiling with Allison's head resting on his shoulder. Someone was going to wind up hurt; it was only a matter of when.

Stroking his hands through her hair, he enjoyed the fit of her warm body against his. "For the record, I want to state that I did try to be noble."

"I didn't want you to be noble."

"Then I guess you got your wish." He tipped his head to see her face. "Remember that, okay? No matter what happens, remember that you wanted this and I never meant to hurt you."

"I won't get hurt." The trust in her smile wrenched his heart. "I know you're not interested in anything serious or long term, and neither am I. But like you said, we can still enjoy ourselves and enjoy each other, can't we?"

"I'm not sure it's that simple."

"Stop worrying. I'll be fine." She kissed him lightly and snuggled closer. "Besides, I couldn't leave you alone. I'm your muse."

"I thought we agreed stress was my muse."

"No, I'm your muse. I just use stress to inspire you."

"And you do it so well." A chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"So, how is the book going?"

"Very well, actually." His hand trailed lazily over her soft skin. "Except that Marguerite and Jack keep trying to take over the story."

Her eyes widened and she lowered her voice. "Do you think they really are ghosts? That they're trying to tell their story through you?"

He started to say no, that his minor characters frequently tried to steal attention away from the main characters, but he hesitated—remembered that moment underwater, when he'd felt ... something. "I don't know. Ever since I went down to the ship, I've been thinking about things from Jack's point of view. I mean, I always try to put myself in each character's skin to understand them better, but I really do wonder about Jack. If he loved Marguerite as much as everyone claims, why did he leave her here so long? Why wasn't he more forceful in talking her into leaving Henri? And if her marriage was as bad as you claim, why didn't she go?"

"For her, it was lack of trust and too much fear of being hurt again. As for Jack, I agree, he should have fought harder. Although, in his defense, he didn't know how bad her marriage was. Like a lot of battered women, she couldn't bring herself to tell anyone."

"You'd think he'd notice the bruises if they were getting naked together."

"They didn't really 'get naked' that often." She propped her head on her hand. "Their affair started slowly, and wasn't physical at all for a long time. She was Catholic enough to want to keep her vows. Plus she was deathly afraid of Henri. And Jack, I think, from the way she describes him, put her on a pedestal. He worshipped her. They didn't actually make love until they'd been in love for a long time. That was the night she gave him the necklace."

"No wonder he went back for it."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. He would have cherished it as part of her, part of their love. So, if he thought it was a matter of running to his cabin and grabbing it before abandoning ship, he'd have gone."

"I'd still like to read the diaries. Understand what happened in Marguerite's own words."

"I don't know. We've never let anyone outside the family read the diaries."

"What if I swear to guard them with my life?"

"No, really ..."

"I'll read them while I'm here. They won't leave the inn, so you wouldn't really be letting them out of your control."

"Scott, they're too personal. They're her diaries. I really couldn't."

He studied her. "I'm not going to let up on this."

"You have two weeks to try and persuade me." Her lips turned up in a slow grin.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe." She trailed a fingertip down his chest.

"Because, as of yesterday and your Great Underwear Caper, all bets are off." He rolled her onto her back, coering her body with his. "No more Mr. Noble on my part."

"The part didn't suit you anyway." She ran her hands down his back to cup his bottom.

He closed his eyes as his body hardened. "Just be warned"—he bent down to nuzzle her neck—"I plan to take full advantage of the next two weeks." Cupping her breast, he rubbed the nipple with his thumb as he spoke. "You come into this room in the middle of the day bending over to make the bed in your see-through dresses, don't expect to leave untouched." He retrieved a foil-wrapped packet from the nightstand drawer. "I don't care if there are people in the hall, or if your brother comes knocking at the door. I will have you."

"Promise." She opened her legs to cradle him between her thighs.

"You can bet on it." He slipped inside her, enjoying the purr of contentment that rumbled in her throat.

~ ~ ~

"Okay, I can't stand the suspense anymore," Chloe said to her uncle as the three of them stepped out of the old-fashioned candy store licking ice-cream cones. Scott had decided to take the day off and go shopping with Alli and Chloe in the historic district. "I know you know about the boxer shorts, so when are you going to retaliate?"

Allison's gaze shot to Scott as her cheeks heated. Nearly a week had passed since they had made love on the underwear-strewn bed, but the memory was still fresh in her mind. Along with several other tantalizing memories of encounters that had followed.

"Who says I'm going to retaliate?" Scott countered calmly.

"Oh, come on," Chloe whined. "It's not like you to do nothing."

He affected a sinister look. "Perhaps that's my revenge. To leave you wondering for the rest of your life, glancing over your shoulder, waiting for me to strike."

"Now that is like you." Chloe's eyes widened as she turned to Alli. "I told you he was clever. Only, he'll have to catch me first." The girl took off like a power walker down The Strand.

Smiling at each other, Scott and Alli followed at a slower pace past the gift shops and art galleries. Brightly painted buildings stood beside stately red-brick and colorful blossoms filled planters and flower boxes. A few of the merchants had even set a sampling of their wares out on the sidewalk to take advantage of the springtime weather. The day would be perfect, Allison decided, if not for the cloud of the lawsuit hovering in the back of her mind.

John LeRoche had rejected their offer to drop the slander suit if he'd drop his suit. Their attorney's confidence about their chances of winning seemed to dwindle

daily, but they'd voted to stick to their guns. The thought of a court battle made Alli's stomach churn. But then Scott casually took her hand in his, and her anxiety vanished.

Just walking down the street with him, hand in hand, filled her with contentment. Over the past week, not a day went by that he didn't find a way to get her alone. Sometimes in his room as he had warned, but he'd also coaxed her down the walking trail late one night where he took her against a tree. The following night, they'd left the house separately and rendezvoused at the far end of the beach, where they'd made love on a blanket with the stars overhead and moonlight shining on the cove.

A smile tugged at her lips as she licked her cone, savoring the icy vanilla and chunks of chocolate.

"What's that smile about?" he asked.

"I was just thinking I might need to ... um ... clean your room when we get back to the inn."

He raised a brow, then chuckled. "You know, Alli ... I sure hope you aren't expecting Santa Claus to bring you any presents this year." When she looked at him askance, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Because you are a very naughty girl."

She licked her cone, smiling up at him. "I do believe I'll take that as a compliment"

"As it was intended." They stood for a moment staring into each other's eyes as tourists moved around them on the sidewalk. A horse-drawn carriage clopped down the street, harnesses jangling, as the driver regaled his passengers with the history of Galveston. "Yeah"—Scott ran his thumb over her knuckles—"I think my room could use a little extra dusting when we get back."

"Hey, guys, come look!" Chloe called, waving toward the windows of the Strand Emporium. "Check this out."

With twin sighs, they continued down the sidewalk.

"What'd you find, kid?" Scott asked.

Chloe thumped the glass with her finger. "Look at that old baseball mitt."

Allison smiled at the girl. "One of the vendors specializes in sports memorabilia." When Scott looked at her, she explained. "I used to work here."

"Can we go in?" Chloe asked.

"Finish your ice cream first." Scott took another lick of his own cone, as his niece gobbled hers down.

"All done." Chloe held a hand in front of her full mouth.

"Hang on." Allison dug through her purse for a hand wipe. "The dealers get very annoyed when people come in with sticky hands and start touching everything."

Chloe wiped her hands, then held them up for inspection. "Can I go in now?"

"Yes," Scott said, "but don't touch anything until we get in there, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." The girl disappeared through the door, making the bell over it jingle.

"She is such a tomboy." He shook his head, smiling.

"She'll outgrow it. Trust me."

"Oh?" He looked at her. "Do you speak from experience?"

"No, I was never a tomboy, but I see the way she looks at pretty things. She just doesn't know what to think about all the changes going on inside her. Growing up is scary business."

"Yeah, it is," he said quietly.

"What were you like growing up?"

"You done with that cone?"

She cocked her head, wondering why he always changed the subject if she asked him anything the least bit personal. At first she'd thought it was part of the rules, to not get too close, but a disquieting current had started flowing just beneath her contentment.

Peter had been equally evasive, never wanting to open his whole life to her. Except ... that's what she wanted with Scott, wasn't it? So why did it bother her?

Rather than push, she polished off the cone, then dug out two more hand wipes. She didn't need to know Scott's entire past history to enjoy his company for the next week. And that's all they had left. Just a little over one week.

With a sigh at how quickly time could speed by, she went through the door Scott opened for her. The scents of old books and aged wood greeted them.

They spent nearly an hour rummaging through stalls of antique clothing and jewelry, furniture, books, and collectibles. Allison was at the counter in the center of the shop, visiting with some of the people she used to work with, when Paige came through the front door.

"Thank goodness I found you!" Paige said, hurrying toward her.

"What?" Allison felt the blood drain from her face. "What's happened?"

"Adrian called to say Rory's in labor. Chance just took her to the birthing center an hour ago, but apparently it's progressing really fast."

"Is something wrong?" she asked. "Is Rory okay?"

"I assume she's fine. Adrian didn't say," Paige explained as Scott joined them, carrying a stack of rare books. "He just told me you were down here on The Strand and for me to find you. He'll meet you at the center. He's already called your friends the McMillans to have Betsy watch the inn. Do you want me to give you a ride?"