Sweet Promise (15 page)

"Oh, don't be upset on my behalf," Joanna said. "Actually, I got over it all very quickly. That's when I realized that it wasn't so much heartbreak that I had felt, but disillusionment that once again my idol had turned out to have feet of clay. I knew then that I had just been looking for someone to take my father's place."

"That doesn't excuse him," Sean argued. "The bastard still took advantage of a young girl. He ought to be horsewhipped."

"I think we took advantage of each other, really. Anyway, it's over, and I learned from it, so I guess it wasn't a complete waste."

Looking into her sad hazel eyes, Sean fought a silent battle with the fury that burned in him. More than anything in the world he wanted to shield her, protect her, cherish her. If it were in his power he'd wipe out her past hurts, erase from her mind all memory of other men.

The thought brought back the clawing jealousy, and before Sean could stop himself he reached out a hand and cupped her face. "Joanna, it's none of my business, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but... since then... has there been anyone else?"

He hated himself for asking. He knew it did not deserve an answer, and no matter what it was it wouldn't change the way he felt. Yet he held his breath and waited for her reply.

Staring solemnly into his eyes, Joanna shook her head slowly, and a fierce gladness exploded in Sean's chest. "No, no one," she murmured. "No one else interested me... until now."

Sean's breath caught once again, and the joyous ache beneath his breastbone became so intense it was almost pain. He tried to subdue it. He told himself that it didn't change anything. Even if Joanna was truly attracted to him, he was still too old for her.

It didn't work. All the common sense and self-chastisement in the world couldn't banish the feeling of elation, nor stop the tender smile that slowly curved his mouth. Emotion shimmered warmly in Sean's dark eyes, and a fine tremor shook his other hand when, as if compelled, he lifted it to her face.

For several moments he just stood there with her lovely face cupped between his broad palms. She was a delight to his senses. With every breath he inhaled her sweet womanly fragrance, mingled with just a hint of floral perfume. The tips of his fingers were buried in the silken hair at her temples, and against his palms he could feel the downy softness of her cheeks, warm and satin smooth. Through the scant inches that separated them he could feel the heat of her body, sense its slight quivering.

He searched her features one by one, taking in the lush mouth, the elegantly sculpted nose and cheekbones, the gracefully winged brows and wide smooth forehead. With his thumb, he touched the enticing little mole at the corner of her mouth.
She's so lovely,
he thought wistfully.
So young. And so very vulnerable. You can hurt her badly, and you know it. If you have any decency in you, Fleming, you '11 let her go, end it now.

But as their gazes met and held he knew both joy and despair, for the hope and longing in her wide hazel eyes struck an answering chord in his heart and made dust of his good intentions.

"Oh, Joanna." He sighed her name in helpless surrender. The husky tone held uncertainty and a lingering touch of resistance, but the current of emotions that pulled them together was too strong. "Joanna," he whispered again, and as his head slowly lowered her eyelids fluttered shut in anticipation.

It began as the tenderest of kisses, soft, adoring, a warm melding of mouths that made hearts pound and knees tremble. But the feelings between them were too intense to be held in check for long. Passion flared, hot and intense, and with a groan Sean wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

Joanna responded eagerly, all the pent up longing of years surging to the surface. She melted against him and looped her arms around his neck, meeting the demanding kiss with an ardent hunger that matched his own.

The heated kiss went on and on until finally, the need for air tore them apart. Joanna cried his name weakly and clung to him. When she attempted to recapture his lips he cupped the back of her head and pressed her face against his chest. Eyes closed, his chin resting against the top of her head, he held her tightly and rocked her back and forth, and struggled to bring his raging desire under control.

"Easy. Easy, sweetheart," he crooned softly when she made an agitated move. He ran his hands soothingly up and down her back and rubbed his chin against her hair, feeling the silky strands catch on his faint beard stubble. Gradually their labored breathing quieted, the thunderous beating of their hearts slowed, but for several moments they remained as they were, each giving and drawing comfort from the embrace. The only sounds were the splash of the waves against the ship's hull and the soft sighing of the wind.

"All my chivalrous instincts and common sense tell me to call a halt to this now, before it's too late," Sean murmured after a while. Joanna stiffened and grew very still, not saying a word, and he knew she was waiting for him to continue. Sean hesitated. He stared out at the dark ocean, his face filled with pained indecision, but finally he exhaled a long sigh. "Oh, hell. We both may live to regret this, but will you spend the day ashore in St. Croix with me tomorrow?"

Joy exploded inside Joanna like a starburst, and she closed her eyes against the sweet pain. She wanted desperately to say yes, but like Sean, she was leery of allowing things to go further. Despite the longing that tugged at her heart, Joanna could not forget that scores of beautiful women had come and gone in Sean's life. The thought that she might end up like they had, just another name and phone number in his little black book, made her feel sick.

She pressed her lips tightly together as the emotional tug-of-war raged within her, but in the end need won over fear. With her cheek still pressed against his chest, she whispered unsteadily, "Yes. Yes, I'd like that."

He grasped her shoulders and held her away from him. Her face was flushed with passion, her lips slightly puffed, and all that she was feeling was there in her luminous eyes for him to see. Sean felt his heart turn over. At that moment he wanted, more than anything, to carry her to his cabin and make love to her until neither of them could move, but he stubbornly refused to listen to his body's urgings.

He brushed her mouth with a feathery kiss and tucked her against his side. "Come on, sweetheart. I'll take you to your suite."

Neither spoke until they reached her door. When Sean unlocked it and handed her the key Joanna licked her dry lips and looked at him with a hesitant smile. "Would... would you like to come in?"

He sighed, his wry grin tinged with regret. "Oh, I'd like to. But I'm not going to."

His smile turned tender when he saw the mingled relief and disappointment in her eyes. "I don't want to rush into anything, Joanna. Not with you."

This time when his lips met hers it was with the merest touch. Softly, almost reverently, he skimmed her mouth with a warm moist caress that made her tremble, and she clutched at the sides of his lean waist for support. Her lips parted in sweet invitation and their breaths mingled, but he made no effort to deepen the kiss. Gently, with exquisite sensuality, he rubbed his mouth against hers, until Joanna thought she would faint from the tender torment.

Finally he lifted his head and smiled into her bemused eyes. "Good night, Joanna," he whispered.

Feeling as though she were walking on air, Joanna entered the suite and drifted toward the bedroom. Halfway there she stopped and hugged herself, then twirled around, arms outstretched, and sent a beaming smile toward the ceiling. She was so happy she was tempted to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming.

Yet, strangely, when Joanna did get to sleep her dreams were disturbing and disjointed, a phantasmagoria of blondes, brunettes and redheads with blank faces, all laughing tauntingly; thousands of little black books swirling through the air, trapping her in an ever narrowing vortex; Sean's face, looming eerily, floating and wavering like fog, his sexy eyes and wicked smile alternately soft and beckoning, or filled with amused scorn.

When Joanna awoke her euphoric mood was shattered. "What have you let yourself in for?" she fretted as she dressed for the day ashore. "You're just asking for trouble. You know perfectly well that Sean doesn't expect or want permanence in a relationship."

Joanna paused in the act of adjusting the spaghetti straps on her pink sundress, her eyes going slightly out of focus as she thought about her mother and Matt, about the love and tenderness that flowed between them, their total commitment to each other. She sighed wistfully. It was what she wanted. What she needed. Joanna knew she couldn't settle for anything less.

But Matt had been a confirmed bachelor too, before he fell in love with Claire.

Her heart gave a little leap at the stunning thought, but Joanna quickly tamped down the flare of elation. She shoved her feet into a pair of flat white sandals and stomped to the mirror. "Sean isn't Matt," she told her reflection severely. "And you'd do well to remember that."

The whole time she dressed, and later, while toying with the croissant she had ordered for breakfast, Joanna vacillated between despair and an almost desperate hope. By the time Sean arrived she was so worked up she was certain that the day could only be a disaster.

Even so, when his knock sounded she rushed to the door, opened it and went perfectly still.

They stared at each other in breathless silence, feeling the strong pull of attraction, the nervous uncertainty its newness caused.

Everything about Sean assaulted her senses. He was freshly showered and shaved, and she could smell soap and woodsy cologne, the faint hint of starch in his crisp blue cotton shirt. Tiny droplets of moisture still clung to the errant black curls that fell over his forehead, and to the sparser thatch visible in the V opening of his shirt. Joanna stared at his bronze throat and remembered the warm resilience of his skin beneath her lips, the slightly salty taste of it.

Slowly, Sean's gaze skimmed over her, taking in her bare shoulders, the enticing curves beneath the soft material of the pink sundress, then traveled down over her long legs to the white sandals on her feet. When at last his eyes returned to hers they glittered warmly.

"Good morning," he murmured with husky intimacy, and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth that sent shivers down her spine. "Ready to go?"

Joanna nodded and stepped out the door. Her heart drummed with excitement while her stomach churned with doubt.
We'll probably end up in another fight before an hour passes,
she thought miserably as they started down the passageway.

She couldn't have been more wrong. It turned out to be a perfectly glorious day, the best Joanna had ever known.

Hand in hand, Joanna and Sean poked through the quaint shops facing the Christiansted harbor, looking at everything from jewelry to T-shirts. After an hour of wandering through the tiny town they traveled across the island to Fredriksted in one of the van taxis, which they shared with three other couples.

Like St. Thomas, there was a lushness about St. Croix, a soft-edged beauty that Joanna found entrancing, almost too perfect to be real. The verdant, sloping mountains at the north end of the island gave way to a wide sweeping vista of cultivated meadows and white sand beaches. A profusion of tropical flowers abounded, dotting the island with splashes of brilliant color, while overhead pristine white clouds floated in the cobalt sky. The pace was relaxed, easy, the mood serene. It was quietly lovely, paradise on earth.

Or maybe I just think so because I'm here with Sean,
Joanna admitted to herself wryly. Taking the path of least resistance, the road followed the dips and rises of the rolling plain past sorghum fields, banana plantations and sheep farms. Sean sat with his arm draped across the back of Joanna's seat, and when the taxi driver pointed out things and places of interest he leaned across her to peer out the window. The feel of his chest pressing against her side, the heady aroma of clean, healthy male that surrounded her, sent delicious tremors quaking through Joanna, and she found herself wishing that the trip never had to end.

In Fredriksted they spent the first hour wandering through the old fort that overlooked the harbor. Afterward, opting for lunch, they bought sandwiches and soft drinks and carried them down to the pier where several sailboats were tied up.

Tiny waves lapped at the pilings, making slapping, sucking noises. The water level was only about a foot lower than the dock, and so clear Joanna could see the sandy bottom, littered with shells and pieces of coral and an occasional starfish.

The moment they sat down on the wooden dock Sean took off his shoes and rolled up the legs of his jeans. As he dipped his feet into the cool water he leaned back on his hands and sighed with pleasure.

"Ah, this is great. Sun, sea, tropical breezes. I think, with half a chance, I could easily become a beach bum."

"You?" Joanna smiled skeptically and handed him a roast beef sandwich. "Somehow I doubt it." For all Sean's deceptive, laid-back air she knew he was ambitious and hard working.

Sean grinned and took a healthy bite out of his sandwich. He stared thoughtfully at the horizon while he chewed and swished his feet in the water. "Naw, I guess you're right," he conceded. "The work ethic is too deeply ingrained."

He delved into the sack that contained their lunch, pulled out two soft drinks and popped the tops off before handing one to Joanna. Tipping his up, he swilled half the contents in one long swallow, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and flashed her a rueful grin. "Anyway, my old man would never stand for it. He may be seventy, but if one of his offspring so much as thought about dropping out he'd kick their tail from here to Canada."