Maybe This Time, page 42
“Don’t you want to blister him?”
“Not exactly.” He popped the tab on one of their last two cans of Coke. “I didn’t set the rules, Alyssa. Working with my chief rival wasn’t my idea of a good time, either.”
“I know that.” Sunlight glinted on his signet ring. Alyssa felt the same odd tug on her heartstrings she experienced every time she saw it—which, considering their circumstance, had been darned near every waking moment.
He held out the can. She took it, sipped, then passed it back. “Don’t you ever get annoyed? Frustrated?”
“Sure. I’m human.”
Buchannan, human? Alyssa measured him head to toe. She supposed so. He certainly looked human. The sun had tanned his skin golden to his waist, and the dark springy hair on his chest definitely incited human temptation. What he looked, she amended, was gorgeous. She lowered her gaze to the sand-caked cuffs of his jeans. “I’d be a lot more comfortable with you if you’d throw a fit once in awhile. It’s not natural to take being stranded for three weeks in stride.”
He smiled. She wanted to rip it off his face.
“Being upset isn’t going to start the engine. Only a gas line will do that.”
“Shut up.”
He grinned up at her. “That’s the way to win friends and influence people.”
She glared down at him, her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you miserable?”
“Actually, I’m quite comfortable,” he said, his fingertip circling the top of the Coke can. “The sun feels good, the weather’s warm, and the sounds of the surf are soothing.”
“You’ve baked your brain. The sun is hot. Not warm; hot. The weather is sultry—sultry, Buchannan. Maybe even sweltering. And the surf brings sand to my mind. In my ears, between my teeth, and up my—”
“Enough, Alyssa,” he said firmly. “I won’t let you spoil this for me.”
“Spoil—what?” She swatted at a sand fly that had the poor judgment to light on her calf.
He frowned. “If you weren’t stranded here with me, where would you be?”
“Bombing Paragon Oil—and Duncan Foster.”
His frown deepened and he added a sigh.
“Working,” she confessed.
“Right. So would I. We’d both be stuck in our offices.”
He had a point. She’d needed a vacation for a long time. Weren’t her headaches proof of that? They’d started out as an occasional nuisance and worked their way up to a daily hindrance. But a trip that included a Hilton, a shower—body lotion—was more what she’d had in mind.
She sat down beside Kevan and nudged him with her shoulder. “Share the tree.”
“Why? There’s a whole island of them.”
She grinned at him. “I want this one.”
“You want me to kill any bugs that happen to creep along.”
He didn’t sound condemning, just cocky. “True,” she admitted, patting his thigh. “See, I do think you have value.”
He propped the can of soda in the sand and shifted over. “I could be even more valuable to you.”
The suggestive tone in his voice set her heart to thumping. “Oh?”
“If we agreed to merge.”
“Merge?” She swallowed hard. As propositions went, his was definitely weak. Was he out of practice? She took a sideward glance at him. Not bloody likely. That he’d been on the receiving end of propositions until now was more apt the truth.
“We’d both have more time.”
What was he talking about? “More time?”
“Sure.” He swiped at his chin with his bare shoulder, then looked at her. “And less stress. You might even ditch the headaches.”
Well, sex was supposed to be a stress-reliever, but surely he felt more . . . Lord, the man was gorgeous. His dark lashes, penetrating eyes. And he had great hands. Wonderful hands.
“We’d also merge our talents.” He lifted the can, took a long draw, then swallowed.
Her heart crashed into her stomach. “Our talents?”
“Yeah.”
He looked awfully pleased with himself. “Um, I can only speak for myself in this, but, well, I’m not . . . the thing of it is . . .” The knot in her throat continued to grow till she couldn’t speak.
“Alyssa, can’t you see the benefits of merging our businesses?”
She gave him a sickly smile. “Our businesses.”
He frowned. “You’re beginning to sound like a mimicking parrot. Are you too hot? Been in the sun too long?”
“Yeah,” she muttered. Why did she feel so deflated? “Entirely too long.”
“You’re no slouch, Alyssa. You’ve come a long way in a year.”
“In your shadow,” she said, adjusting to the topic shift. “What’s it like being a genius? Does everything just come to you?”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “No, nothing just comes to me.”
Their shoulders brushed, and she looked from the sun-spangled surf to him. He stared intently at her, and a honeyed warmth stole through her limbs.
Come on, Buchannan, she silently urged him. Do it. Would you just do it?
Kevan looked away. Alyssa swallowed a groan, deciding the blasted man was never going to kiss her.
“I see benefits in a merger, Alyssa.”
The honeyed warmth flowed through her veins. She curled her toes in the sand. “Why?”
He pursed his lips. “It’s cost-effective. Half the overhead, half the staff. One office instead of two.”
“One less rival,” she suggested, blaming the sun for her prickly temper when she knew darned good and well the sun had nothing to do with the heat torturing her. Kevan caused it.
“For you, too,” he countered. “Are you afraid to work with me, one-on-one?”
She guffawed. “Not bloody likely.”
“Well,” he said. “Think about it.”
“All right. I will.” She looked out on the horizon. Water, water, and more water. “Do you think they’re looking for us?”
“Who knows?” He shrugged. “Even if they are, where are they looking?”
“Damned storm.” Alyssa jumped up, began pacing in the sand.
Kevan shot her a lazy warning. “Don’t get yourself worked up. Your head—”
She rounded on him. “Don’t you get it, Buchannan? We don’t know where we are. They don’t know where to search for us. And we don’t know—”
“Who’s getting the Paragon contract,” he finished. “I know. You’ve mentioned it all, okay?”
The niggling headache she’d been fighting all afternoon burst into a full-fledge throb at her left temple. Groaning, she sank down beside him and closed her eyes.
“You’ve done it again, haven’t you?”
She didn’t bother denying it. “Yes.”
“Alyssa, you can’t let things get to you like this,” he said. “Come here.”
He patted his lap and Alyssa lowered her head onto his thigh. His method of massaging had become almost routine. He cupped her head with his hands, his fingers at the base of her skull and his strong thumbs at the center of her forehead, rubbing tiny circles that fanned out until he reached her temples.
Soon, the pressure eased and he began massaging her skull. He rested her head in his palm and worked his way down her neck.
“Better?”
Totally relaxed, Alyssa murmured, “Mmm.”
“I never thanked you for saving my life.” His voice, always soothing, sounded deeper, huskier than usual.
“No, you didn’t.” She wet her lips with her tongue. “Have I thanked you for the massages?”
“No, you haven’t.”
The pain in her head had stopped. God, he was good at this. She looked up at him. “Guess that makes us even.”
He dipped his head closer until the tips of their noses rubbed. “Guess so.”
Her heart thundered. She’d waited weeks for him to kiss her. He slept beside her. They ate the provisions that hadn’t washed overboard from the same fork. He’d even shared his toothbrush. But not once had he tried to kiss her. Oh, he’d watched her. Lord, had he watched her. The heat in his eyes could melt snow, and make her sizzle. The sexual tension was as thick as fog between them. So why in bloody Hell didn’t he kiss her? Maybe she should just kiss him.
She probably looked like a dreg. No brush, no makeup, his shirt that fit her like it was made by Omar the tent maker. “Kevan?”
“Yes?” He reared back.
She looked past his shoulder and saw her clothes draping a spiny bush further down the beach. Were they dry yet?
His fingertips brushed across her lips. “Sand,” he explained. “You look worried.”
“It’s nothing.” She closed her eyes. Saw the spots the sun made on her lids. Was there a name for that? Kevan’s hands worked their magic. His thighs, too, brought snatches of Heaven to her on this God-awful island. Strong and hard under her neck, they had her imagination running rampant. Sweat trickled down between her breasts. Had June always been so sweltering hot? Stupid question, she told herself. It was him. God, he smelled good. She bit back an unsatisfied groan.
His hand cupped her head and lifted. His thigh muscles flexed. Alyssa’s eyes sprang open just as his foot stomped the sand.
“Bug?” Her heart started pounding.
“I got it.”
“Are you sure?”
His look was tender. “I’m sure.”
If she didn’t do something, she would surely attack the man right here. Or worse, ask him to attack her. Batting her lashes, she let out a fluttering breath and mimicked Perilous Pearle just after her rescue from Dastardly Dan and his buzzing saw blade. “My hero.”
He smiled, but his eyes burned with more than mischief. “When a hero performs a chivalrous act, his lady usually rewards him.”
Her heart took off like a rocket “Is that a fact?”
“It is.”
“But I’m not your lady,” she reminded him.
“I think you are, Alyssa.”
She swallowed hard. “So what are you suggesting?”
Crinkling at their corners, his eyes teased. “Whatever.”
“Whatever?” she repeated. He nodded, and her own mischievous streak flared. She’d rattle his cage, or bust. “Okay, Buchannan. I’ll marry you. That’s your reward.” She made herself sound and look disgruntled. “I guess after all this, I owe it to you.”
“Marry me?” He was back to looking thunderstruck. And to looking at her like she’d slipped over the edge.
“Sure.” Somehow she managed to keep her expression bland. Meryl Streep couldn’t have given a better performance.
“You don’t think that’s kind of permanent?”
She shrugged. “You said whatever.”
“I did, but I had something a little less—”
“Restrictive?” she suggested. Lord, he had tensed up. She thought she just might be insulted. She’d make any man a fine wife. Not that she wanted to marry him, she hastily assured herself.
“No.” He rubbed his neck. “Not exactly.”
The man looked pale enough to faint. Keeping her expression bland proved almost impossible. She didn’t know whether to fan him or to knock the stuffing out of him with her fist. “Well?”
“More immediate,” he said, finally. “I had something more immediate in mind.”
He smiled that smile and her heart melted. “Like what?” Oh, he was adorable. A king-size hunk of confusion.
“Like—” Kevan looked down the beach and smiled. “Like, I think you’d better retrieve your clothes.”
Alyssa looked at the spiny bush. Barren? Her gaze darted and she saw her clothes tumble down the beach to the water. “Well, flip.”
She scrambled to her feet and chased her clothes into the surf. Muttering curses, she retrieved her wayward laundry and tromped back ashore. Kevan’s laughter floated to her on the warm breeze. “Blasted man,” she muttered.
“I’m going to the lagoon,” she called out to him, then turned for the path.
He lumbered to his feet and followed her down to the sparkling pool. “Sun’s going down. You’d better let my shirt dry, or you’ll catch cold.”
Bent at the water’s edge, she rinsed her blouse and gritted her teeth. “I don’t have anything else to wear.”
“I know.”
Seething, she frowned at him over her shoulder. “If you were half a gentleman, you’d give me your pants.”
“I would?”
The man had pure devilment in his eyes. “You would. And you’d take yourself off somewhere until my clothes dried, too.”
“I gave you my shirt, woman. I’d say that makes me half a gentleman. I’m spending my days bare-chested for you. I can’t say I’m anxious to spend them bare-assed, as well. Rays can be wicked on delicate anatomy.”
“As thick-skinned as you are? I doubt it.” Alyssa fought a smile lurking just behind her lips. “You should be thanking me for taking your shirt, Buchannan.”
“Why?”
“You’re getting a great tan.”
“Forget it, woman,” he insisted, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re not sweet-talking me out of my pants.”
She shot him a solid frown. “Selfish lout.”
“True,” he agreed, walking toward the path to the beach. “I’m taking myself off, Alyssa,” he called back to her. “But it’s a small island. If you want privacy, stay put. And you’d better get that saltwater off your skin before you shrivel up like a raisin.”
She stood up, her hands at her hips. “Anything else, majesty?”
“Yes.” He stopped and looked back at her, his gaze slowly roving her wet length. A slow grin spread over his face. “In stomping bugs, use the ball of your foot.”
Alyssa wanted to smack him. Instead she gave him a haughty look.
“I’d do it now, if I were you.”
“Do what?” She prayed for patience. The man’s brain was definitely sun-baked, scrambled.
His expression remained bland. “Lift your left foot and stomp.”
Realizing what he was telling her, Alyssa looked down. The biggest spider she’d ever seen crawled over her toes. Seemingly frozen, she let out a blood-curdling scream.
Seconds after Alyssa’s face bleached white, Kevan stomped the spider. She shuddered, but seemed unable to move. He wrapped his arms around her. She stood stiff-spined, trembling. “Alyssa, honey, it’s all right.”
“Damn you.” she bellowed, pounding her fists against his chest. “Damn you. You knew. You knew, and still you—” A deep sob escaped her and she slumped against his chest. “Oh God, Kevan. It crawled on me!”
Why hadn’t he realized? Why hadn’t he known that her fear of spiders was so strong? Why had he assumed she had the usual distaste for them that most women had? “It’s over” he crooned, holding her hard against his chest. He brushed her hair back from her face, lifted her chin to look down into her eyes.
He’d seen terror before. Men being lowered into the rat pit in the desert. Those tortured men had worn the same look then that Alyssa wore now. His heart shattered, his stomach soured. He thought he might be sick.
“Oh God, I’m sorry.” He buried her face in his chest, held her while she cried. His own eyes grew moist, his throat tight. Tenderness welled inside him. He wanted to pull her inside him, wanted to protect her from hurt and fear and pain. He wanted to be loving.
But he couldn’t. Not completely. He had no right. They were competitors, not lovers. Yet, she had proposed . . .
Thirty-two
FOUR WEEKS. Kevan tossed a log on the fire. Could their situation grow more grim?
The barren island provided water, but no food. Soon their dwindling supply would be depleted. He’d augmented their diet with fish from the gulf, but a piece of string and a rusty hook found on the boat, did not a decent fishing rod make.
During their stint on the island, one thing had been proven. He now knew for certain what he’d suspected on the boat dock in Biloxi: he was in love with Alyssa Cameron. But whether he should thank his lucky stars, or curse the devil for it, he didn’t know.
Flames licked at the logs, and sure the fire would burn through the night, he crossed the sandy beach to the palm-rush bed he and Alyssa had made.
Lying there, she smiled up at him. His heart skipped a full beat. Firelight dancing on her silver hair enhanced her features that required no enhancing. His shirt hiked up high on her thigh, revealing a long, healthy length of sun-kissed leg. Beautiful. Gutsy. Desirable.
The physical attraction between them had escalated to fever pitch. Rife with desire, he’d tried not noticing her. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. She was a complex woman. Courageous in saving his life, yet terrified by a spider. He saw everything. And he loved everything he saw. The way she moved, the low and husky sound of her voice, the way she snuggled to him at night, always touching.
His emotional responses to her were unbidden, unprecedented, and unwanted. He hadn’t intended to, but he’d fallen in love with Alyssa Cameron. And somehow he had to teach her to love him back. She desired him. A blind man would know that. And desire was a start. But it wasn’t enough. Turning her desire into love couldn’t be that difficult, could it? Of course, it couldn’t. Not for him. He was a genius. If a way could be figured, by God, he’d figure it. And if one couldn’t be figured, he’d figure it anyway.
He lowered himself at her side and rolled to face her. The rushes crunched under his weight.
“Kevan?” She moved closer, rested her head on his upper arm.
He circled her shoulder and drew her to him. “Yes.”
“Tell me about this merger idea of yours.”
He looked down at her upturned face. God, her eyes were beautiful. Emeralds. Sparkling emeralds that haunted and winked at him at the same time. Mesmerized, he said, “Marriage,” then quickly added, “of our businesses. Equal control and responsibility.”
Trapped between them, her hand flattened against his chest, making his muscles quiver. “Why?” she asked. “I mean, I’m up and coming, but you’re established. What benefit is there for you?”
