Best Laid Plans (30 page)

Had she just
called him sexy three times? No. Of course not. Absolutely not. He was looking
at her a little oddly. But that was a good thing.
Kit's lips formed an encouraging smile.
"The
two of you have nothing in common."

"We both
wear the same boxer-briefs."

Now why did
he have to put that image in her brain?

Her low, throaty
groan, made him grin. "My name? Where did you get my name."

Kit's head snapped up. "That's the rest of this." She picked
up a miniature bottle of liquor. "There was a gift basket in the cabin
with these little bottles of Captain Morgan's Rum. I put that together with the
autograph on the comic books." She pushed apart the colorful covers and
pointed to the inscription.

Rafe squinted at the bold but child-like symbols. "I…what is that? A
heart? The letter U? Raphael?"

"No," she corrected, "I love you, Raphael. Raphael
Martinez, the son of the ship's doctor. He kept me company when his mother was
too busy. He was sweet, read me ninety-seven comic books, and said I looked
like," Kit frowned, "oh, someone from Batman. Pamela –"

"Pamela Isley?" Rafe snickered. "How old was this
kid?"

"Twelve. Why?"

Tilting his head, Rafe's gaze swept slowly over Kit's face and figure.
"I guess you do resemble the red-haired, bosomy temptress."

Her mouth dropped. Kit hitched a breath. "Please, he was twelve and
into super-heroes not villainesses. And certainly not bosomy ones."

"You keep on believing that one, honey." He scanned the comic
books and liquor bottles, then shook his head. "You seriously think I'm going
to believe you just created me –"

"Yes, I
swear,"
she said fervently, clutching his well-mus
cled forearm in an earnest appeal. "I thought I put
your name together
from all this. All I had was the comic books and some of the ship's
informational brochures.
Honest, I really thought I had invented you."

"That's
probably where you did get my name."

"Why would
your name be included with the
ship's
personnel?" She frowned, totally bewildered
by his admission.

Rafe favored her with another one of his captivat
ing dimpled smiles. "Who do
you think owns the
Conquistador?"

"You." It came out as a low moan.

He nodded.

Abruptly, she recalled the odd way Mr. Shippley
had declined to announce the
company's new owner and hesitantly voiced a new fear. "You're taking over
Shippley Electronics, aren't
you?"

He gave her another grin and nodded again. Kit
closed her eyes and groaned
miserably. Rafe's finger
traced the soft line of her flushed cheek down to the
pulsating cord on the side of her
neck, sending a
sensual
message coursing through her body that
hastily sent Kit sliding across the sofa out of
reach.

"I've got to admit you are a very clever wom
an," his deep voice was
heavily laced with
cynical
amusement. "You must have known
Marybeth would contact me and that I would seek
you out." He leaned further
over her, pushing her against the arm of the sofa with his powerful body.
"You've put a new twist on the badger game."

Kit gasped at his blatant innuendo. She spread her
hands flat against his powerful
chest, pushing him
back
toward the other side of the sofa with all her
considerable strength. "Why, you conceited,
self-
centered,
arrogant—" She bit off the sentence angri
ly. "Do you seriously think I'd make up such
a story just to get your attention? I didn't even know you existed!" she
snapped furiously.

"What about you?
You
were the one who said you were my
fiancé.
Why did you go along with this
when you have
Tracy Shippley?" she
demanded and triumphantly
saw the
startled expression on his face.

"Who told you about Tracy?" he countered, his
dark eyes narrowing
suspiciously.

"Marybeth," Kit returned quickly, savoring her sudden
advantage. "She said the two of you had
another one of your little spats and that's why
Tracy
wasn't on the
cruise, sharing your cabin. She also
said you two are practically engaged," she finished
with sardonic glee.

"I seem to have a penchant for acquiring fiancées
lately," came his oblique
response.

"People break engagements all the time. Look at those reality TV stars.
They meet, get engaged, married and divorced in ninety days or less. You can
get rid of me easily enough in the engagement stage," Kit
told him sharply, her brain
sparking with sudden
creativity.

"Oh?"

"Just tell everyone you've changed your mind. Say
the sea air clouded your head,
you were dazzled by moonlight and too many umbrella decorated drinks. After
being back
on dry land you saw the error
of your
ways," she told him with a
self-satisfied smirk, men
tally
congratulating herself on how easily she'd re
solved the entire situation.

"Really." Rafe said the word with slow consideration, letting
his eyes roam over her flushed features and the
tumble of auburn hair. "And then what? You
sue me for breach of promise and
alienation of affec
tion?"

Kit reeled back against the cushions as if she'd
been slapped. "What are you
talking about? We've never been affectionate!" She was getting angrier by
the second.  "Now you listen to me," her hands tightly grasped
the front of his shirt sending two buttons flying as the silk material balled
tightly into her fists. "I did not seek you out. I honestly thought I
invented you. You can't bully me. I have rights. This is the United States.
Home of truth, justice and the American way."

He shook his head. Hard. Trying to get rid of the buzzing that had
again invaded his brain. "Truth, justice and the American way? You have
been reading too many comics. That's Superman. And, honey, this is Texas."

Kit yanked on his shirt front again. "This is Texas?" Her
voice mimicked. "Is that supposed to scare me? Because I don't scare. Not
anymore.

"And…and I'm from New York. New Yorker's don't scare. Terrorists
flying into the Twin Towers didn't scare us. Or…or…" She needed something
else, something bigger. Her eyes shifted from his face to focus on the comic
books, "King Kong on the Empire State Building didn't scare us…and…and
neither did those damn dirty Planet of the Apes knocking over the Statue of
Liberty scare us. So one pushy Texan does not scare me."

Rafe Morgan just continued to stare at her, completely stupefied. When
he opened his mouth, her voice tumbled back into action. "You were in the
military, weren't you?" Kit continued on the offensive.

"Yeah. So?"

"I can tell, you like to give orders. You like to push people
around." She sat up straighter, shoulder's square, blue eyes narrowed into
his brown ones. "Well I don't have to follow your orders. I am not in your
platoon."

"I didn't have a platoon."

"Oh." She pushed a strand of fallen hair back behind her ear.
"Well, I'm not in your company."

"No company."

"Oh." She bit her lower lip. "Well, I'm not in your
unit, so –"

He shook his head, trying to control his laughter.

"No unit?" Her forehead wrinkled.
Hmmm…no platoon. No
company. No unit. What was left?
She smiled. "Troop…I am not part of
your troop."
Damn, the man, he had unzipped that sexy, dimpled grin
again!

"Troop? That's the Boy Scouts, I was a Navy SEAL. A SEAL team and,
honey, we were not Boy Scouts."

Kit rolled her eyes. "Oh, so you were a big bad Navy SEAL?"
Her voice singsonged the words. She fisted his shirt again. "Is
that
supposed to scare me? Because let me tell you something, buster, Sister Cecilia
and her ruler would have your entire SEAL Team on their knees begging for
mercy."

"You are insane. A total nut case." Rafe pulled his shirt
free of her clenched fists and pushed himself off the sofa.

"You are absolutely right. Probably certifiable." Kit exhaled
a sigh of relief. She was one hundred percent sure he'd never darken her door
again. Scrambling off the couch, she ran after him. "And that's the easy
way out of this mess. Like I said before you just tell everyone that I –"
Kit
gave a startled
cry when the narrow
heel
of her shoe caught the edge of the rag rug, throwing her off balance.

Rafe turned and managed to rescue her from what could have been a nasty
fall, his large, capable hands spanned her waist while she attempted to regain
her
balance and
composure. "Are you okay?"

"Yes…thank you," she breathed, "normally I'm barefoot,
I…" Kit stuttered silent when she looked into his face.
Her forehead creased
in confusion at the odd
expression in his brown eyes.
She saw his gaze shift from her to the view of the tiny
apartment beyond.

Mesmerized, she
didn't balk
when he pulled her close. The musky
scent of his
cologne assailed her
senses. She realized that from his height he could see down the front of her
dress.
She shifted her body, an
embarrassed flush again
invading her
face. "I…I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen to you," her
hands came up to smooth out the wrinkles she had put into his dress shirt.
"It sort of spiraled out of control, like…oh, you know…one of those fish
stories, pretty soon the little sunfish you caught turns into a whale that got
away."

"First comic books, now I'm Moby-Dick?"

"Let's not emphasize the last part," she cautioned.

He laughed. "You've got one helluva an imagination, Kit
Forrester."

She exhaled a long sigh. "I know. I really have kept it under
control. Until the cruise." When his hands came up to cup her face, she
found her thoughts and words tumbling in chaos. "What are you going to
do?"

Rafe's eyes focused on her softly parted lips.
"Right now, I'm going to kiss my new fiancée
good
night."

"Oh, well that's okay, I
guess…" suddenly his mouth swallowed her words.
Kit had intended to
push him away. But when his kiss changed from rough to tender, she found
calmness had replaced her initial fear. Her hands stopped pushing against his
chest to stroke their way up his neck and lock around the back of his head. She
felt his calloused palms move from her face to caress her shoulders. 

He tempered his assault,
pressure gentled.
His lips became softer. Nibbling and lifting, his tongue making a quick,
teasing foray into her mouth. Rafe's mouth briefly left hers to nuzzle against
the curve of her jaw and nip under her earlobe. He pressed her body against
his, loving the feel of her full curves.

Kit wanted him to
keep kissing her. She wanted more than just the warmth and strength of his hand
against her skin. She wanted to feel the power of him around her and inside
her. Too many wants. So many needs. Rafe Morgan was the focus of them all. And
Kit Forrester wanted more.
The compelling at
traction of this man seemed to draw a most willing
response. A response that turned
her panties wet and warm. A response that made her womb clench with wanton
desire. A response that made her breasts swell with need. A response that made
her crave so much more.

When Kit finally came out of her erotic stupor and opened her eyes, she
was standing alone
in
the center of the room trying to control her erratic
breathing and pounding heart.

Hadn't she just stated: I want a man? But that had been an imaginary
one. And so much safer. She felt totally drained. And confused.
Damn, telling
the truth was exhausting!
She went in search of all those little bottles of
rum.

Did the Full Moon cause brainy,
Dr. Virginia Farrell's lunacy in
No
Easy Way Out?

Meet Virginia Farrell – Mensa
society, robotics expert, known as 'lab coat and bun' at her job with the
sexual attraction of lumpy oatmeal. But all it took was that damn full moon, a
Playboy bunny costume that barely covered her well-curved body and, okay, a few
too many kamikazes' to unleash her alter-ego Ginger. Ginger – the woman who got
turned on by the navel in an orange and by the sexy hunk dressed costumed as
Zorro for the company's Halloween party.

No Easy Way Out –
romantic classic by Elaine Raco Chase