Pirate's Gold (7 page)

“But you still think that someone at Festival Productions might be on the take. That's it, isn't it? That's why you want me to come to work for you—to tighten your security! And I was gullible to think that it was my talent, but it's only because the
artists
are insisting on working with me! This way you can kill two birds with one stone!” Her small fist clenched and pounded against the pliant leather seat. “Damn!”

“I haven't accused anyone at Festival of anything…”

“Yet!”

“And you think I might?” he asked warily.

“You don't have to!” She sank back against the cushioned upholstery. “I didn't mean to react so violently,” she apologized. No matter how angry she became, she couldn't forget who this man was and what he represented. She had to keep her pride in perspective. “Maybe I did jump to the wrong conclusion. I hope so.”

“You act as if you
expect
me to accuse Festival Productions of having a part in the pirating,” he said evenly. “Do you?” Dark gray eyes held her transfixed.

The lie slid easily over her lips. “Of course not.” It was impossible to explain her unfounded suspicions about her own company. If Kyle Sterling lost faith in Festival, he could take away his offer and start his own in-house production company, robbing Festival of the business it so desperately needed. If he found out about the internal problems at Festival, Kyle would never sign a contract with Festival again. It would be a crippling blow, considering Festival's poor cash flow position. The last risk Maren could take was to lose this man's trust, and for all she knew, everything at Festival
was
aboveboard, and the missing cassettes had been found. The entire incident had been cleared up in a matter of two hours, and yet it still made Maren uneasy.

“I guess I'm a little sensitive,” she amended, “because of the trouble we had a few months ago.”

Was it his imagination, or had she paled? “But you're sure it no longer exists.”

“Positive.” Maren placed her hand on his arm. She felt his muscles tense. “I think it's only fair,” she began nervously, “since you've offered me such a unique opportunity, that I be straight with you. I know that you still have some suspicions about Festival, and I don't know how to convince you otherwise. The only thing I can do is promise you that if we have any more trouble, to let you know immediately. That's the best I can do.”

“Am I to assume that you're declining my offer?”

“I'm just going to need a little time…”

She felt the warmth of his fingers over hers. “All right, Maren, but I'm not a patient man.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Should I take that as some kind of warning?”

A wicked smile twisted the thin line of his lips. “I would never threaten you, Maren…but you might be able to convince me to make promises…”

“That you wouldn't keep,” she supplied, reading his impassioned thoughts.

His face was so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his skin. His eyes roved restlessly over her face and his voice became a hoarse whisper. “All I know at this moment is that the only thing I can think about is you and what I would like to do to you.”

The night seemed to close in on her and she swallowed with difficulty. “Those kinds of promises can be dangerous.”

“Only if you let them.” He squinted into the darkness as he surveyed the seductive curve of her lips. He traced the pout with the top of a finger. “Besides, unless I miss my guess, you're the kind of woman who loves to flirt with danger.”

“You're wrong,” she denied, aware only of the raw masculinity of his strong features and the power of the hand that held her bound to him. Strong but gentle, coarse but kind…if only she could let him touch her…. She refused. “You're wrong about me,” she repeated.

“Prove it.” Before she could protest further, he lowered his head and his lips touched hers softly. She gasped and his mouth pressed against hers, hard and demanding, claiming her lips in a kiss that warmed her body and promised to find her spirit. Though she tried to fight it, she felt her body melting against his, becoming alive beneath his persuasive touch. The heat of desire in his body flowed into hers and she yearned for more of the sweetness his touch inspired.

“This is crazy,” she whispered, when finally their lips parted. Her dusky blue eyes were glazed with a hunger, deep and anxious.

“It's not crazy, it's right.” He kissed her again, letting her know of the throbbing passion buried within him.

His fingers found the tie of her blouse and tugged slowly on it until it loosened and fell open. Maren's heart hammered loudly within the confines of her rib cage, her blood pounding incessantly in her eardrums. The silky fabric parted, exposing the soft white skin of her throat and shoulders. Kyle's lips touched her neck, and his tongue left a dewy impression near her shoulder. Maren felt the warm moisture cool in the night air and she sighed with the consuming need beginning to awaken within her. His lips lowered to her neck and he kissed the delicate hollow of her throat, leaving his moist imprint on her delicate bone structure.

Maren tilted her head, exposing more of her throat to him. Her dark curls touched his neck in an intimate caress known only to lovers. His lips touched her skin and dipped lower, closer to her breasts. Maren swallowed against the bittersweet yearnings and her senses became confused in the once-forgotten passion rising within the deepest core of her. “Don't,” she managed to whisper when his finger slid a button through the hole. His hand flattened against her chest, feeling the warm skin rising and falling with each shallow breath she managed to take. The only sound in the darkness was the desperate beat of her racing heart.

“You want me,” he whispered as he felt the fluttering irregular cadence.

“Yes,” she admitted.

He groaned and moved closer to her, pressing her into the soft leather cushions. His shaking hand gingerly cupped her breast, rubbing the silky texture of her blouse against her skin, until she thought she would go insane with frustrated longing. She swallowed to moisten her throat and had to force her hand to restrain his wrist. “Please…don't.”

“You can't deny it…you want me as much as I want you.”

“I…I haven't denied anything. But it's not enough.”

“What is, Maren?” he asked, his lips brushing the silk over her breast. He felt the tautness of her nipple straining against the flimsy fabric and found that he was unable to cope with the frustration burning within him. “What is enough?”

His hot breath against her breast encouraged a thin layer of perspiration to collect between Maren's shoulder blades. “I don't know,” she conceded with a sigh.

He clenched his teeth together to stem the tide of desire rising in his body. Reluctantly he pulled his head away from her swollen breast. Without considering her actions, she placed a protective hand over her heart.

Regarding her through half-closed but penetrating eyes, he spoke. His words were punctuated with his uneven breathing. “Sure you do,” he accused, “You're just not willing to admit it. You said you weren't ready for a commitment, and I believed you. Hell, we had barely met!” He clenched his fists to fight against the emotional and contradictory feelings battling within his mind. “But you still want something from me, don't you? You want to hear words of love, whether they have meaning or not.”

Maren bristled. “You're wrong, Kyle. I'm thirty-three years old, and I've learned not to confuse sexual attraction and physical desire with love.”

“Then what is it you want?” he asked raggedly, hoping to understand just a little part of her.

“Time.” She pulled out of his embrace and reached for the handle of the door. “I don't think it's an unreasonable request considering the circumstances.” She opened the car door and slid outside. He followed.

A gentle breeze blew through the two stately palm trees that stood near a lone lamppost, forcing the leaves to dance in the air and cast moving shadows in the ethereal gray light. That same soft wind lifted the parted fabric of Maren's blouse and made it difficult to rebutton. Caught in the moving air, the silk tie and the copper strands of her hair fell away from her neck and throat. Her eyes shimmered in the lamplight, changing from deep indigo to an intriguing shade of silver-blue. She seemed strong and yet vulnerable, innocent and wise; a bewitching creature who turned his head around.

She was still fumbling with the tie when Kyle reached her. He lifted her face with his hands and gently kissed her trembling lips. “Promise me that you'll see me again,” he coaxed. His fingers slid against her throat and rested upon her shoulders. She wondered what it would be like to be controlled by those persuasive hands.

“I will,” she hesitantly agreed, aware only of his fingers softly tracing her jawline. “We have business—”

“Shh…” He placed his finger against her lips. “Not business. I want to see you again.”

“I don't know.” Once again her heart was racing. What was it that scared her so?

He wouldn't be put off. “I want you to come to my home in La Jolla for the weekend. I want to walk on the beach with you. I want to show you where I live. I want to get to know you…all of you.”

“You live alone?” she asked breathlessly. She was afraid of the answer and she prayed for any excuse to avoid the intimacy they had shared this evening. It was much too perilous. She couldn't afford to fall in love with Kyle Sterling and she realized that it would be easy…too easy.

“My housekeeper is gone on the weekends.”

“But…I thought…don't you have a daughter?”

His silvery eyes darkened in pain. “My ex-wife has custody.”

“Even on the weekends?”

His jaw tensed and his eyes hardened against the bitter memories. “I don't see my daughter very often. Holly prefers it that way.”

“I'm sorry…”

“Don't be. It's not your fault.”

For the first time that evening Maren had some insight into another, more private side of Kyle Sterling. It was a part of his life that was shielded from the press and definitely brought him torment. Maren was surprised to understand that he, too, had suffered at another's hand. She saw it in the set of his jaw and the shadows under his eyes. All of his money and fame hadn't bought him happiness. “I…I didn't mean to pry,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

He dismissed the subject with a frown. “It's all right.” His fingers pressed more warmly against her shoulders. “Will you see me again?”

She forced back the lump that had swollen in her constricted throat. “I don't know…if I want to get…involved with you,” she replied, attempting to control her ravaged emotions. “There's a part of you that seems so remote…so untouchable. Not only are you wealthy, but you're famous…really famous…and you own the company that is the single largest account of Festival Productions. It's all so overwhelming…” Her voice faded into the night. It wasn't like her to be indecisive. Kyle was disturbing her equilibrium. She wasn't thinking rationally.

“I'm a man who just wants to spend some time with a very interesting woman. Can't you understand that?”

She smiled wistfully. “I suppose so. I just don't know what to do about it.”

“Trust me.” The words echoed dully in her brain. She'd heard them in the past and they had betrayed her.

“I want to,” she allowed.

“But you can't?”

She smiled despite the unwanted tears burning in her throat. Had she really come to the point where she could trust no man? “I guess I'm just not a trusting soul.”

His hands slid down her arms and she felt the pressure of his fingers gently holding her wrists. “Because you were hurt by someone else?” His features contorted with anger. Despite the threatening tears, she looked upward at him defiantly. The silvery glow of the streetlamp reflected in the unshed teardrops. She brushed them away with the back of her hand, refusing to cry because of painful memories.

“I don't think I know you well enough to discuss what has happened to me—anyway, it's not all that interesting.”

He looked down at her hopelessly. “You're hiding something from me. What is it?”

“It has nothing to do with you…or your company.”

“To hell with the company. Something's bothering you.” If only she would open up to him, perhaps he could help. He had the urge to protect her.

“It's none of your affair,” she replied, her eyes once again dry. “And none of your concern.”

She shook her head against the insistence of his furrowed brow, but the fingers over her wrists tightened. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“I can't.”

“Why not?” His voice was rough.

“Because…because…”

“Because you're ashamed?”

Blue eyes blazed and she jerked her arms free of his possessive grip. “Because I don't want you to know everything about me. I don't want my personal life to become entangled with my business—”