Don't Tempt Me (4 page)

"But why?"

"Jackie ..."  He stopped beneath a lamppost where pale light enclosed them in a small circle. "This project is important to us. Not just because it'll be good for business ---that's the least of our priorities. It's ... personal."

"How so?" She looked up at him with troubled eyes as moths swirled about them like fairies in the gilded light. He heard music in the distance, just over the sound of waves lapping at the pilings. The moment held a kind of magic that almost made him speak freely.

He quickly checked the impulse.

If he told her that he and his sisters wanted to do this for Jack and Marguerite, to help their spirits find peace, she'd think they were crazy. Hell, maybe they were. He could tell her part of it though.

"Okay, truth." He exhaled. "Marguerite gave Captain Kingsley a necklace. It's a pearl pendant with a colorful history of its own. We think he kept it inside the powder horn."

"A necklace? Oh God, I should have known." She snorted in disgust. "For a while you had me going, but in the end, you're no different than all the other treasure hunters looking for lost gold and precious gems."

"Actually, we don't know if the necklace has any monetary value. That's not why we want it. Jackie, it's part of our family history. Surely you can understand that. We want to see it recovered."

"Enough to give it up to the Historical Commission the minute it's found?"

"What's our alternative?" he demanded. "Plunder the site like a bunch of thieving looters?"

She jerked back as if he'd struck her, then turned and walked off.

Damn it!
He wanted to kick himself as he remembered her father had been a treasure hunter.

"Wait." He went after her. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

She glared at him. "Just drop it. Okay?"

"Okay. Although what I meant to say was that we want the necklace recovered, even if it means losing it. That probably makes no sense to outsiders, but it makes sense to us."

"You don't know what you're asking." She stopped at the end of the gangway to her ship and unlocked the gate. "I'm sorry. I can see this means a great deal to you, and I'd like to help, but I can't. The answer's no. Now, I have a busy day tomorrow, so thank you for dinner and good night."

"At least say you'll think about it. I'll stop by in the morning before I head back and we can talk more."

"No! I don't want to talk more, and I don't want you coming around bringing any of this up in front of my crew."

"Then come by my hotel in the morning, and we'll talk there." He gave her the hotel name and the room number.

"Oh yeah, right." She rolled her eyes. "Like that's gonna happen."

"Then call my room when you get there. I'll meet you in the lobby and take you to lunch."

"I told you, I have a private party on board tomorrow night. I'll be busy all day getting ready."

"Okay, breakfast."

"No, no, no. Feeding me another meal is not going to change my mind."

"Just sleep on it, will ya?" He cupped her head in his hands for emphasis. "Please."

She looked caught between laughter and exasperation. "Do you ever take no for an answer?"

"No." On impulse, he leaned forward to give her cheek a friendly kiss. Her startled jump made his lips land closer to hers than he'd intended and their mouths brushed ---just barely ---as he pulled back. The tantalizing contact caught him off guard, and sent a bolt of arousal through him as he realized her lips were every bit as plush as they looked. Damn. Information like that did not bode well for a good night's sleep. Especially when she stared up at him with wide eyes but made no move to pull away. In fact, she looked like she might welcome a real kiss.

Resisting the urge, he stepped away. "Sweet dreams, Jackie. I'll see you in the morning."

Chapter 3

"Sweet dreams?" Jackie grumbled as she punched her pillow and wished it were Adrian's stomach. That's what she should have done when he kissed her ---punched him. Not gaped at him like a lovesick moron, her whole body suddenly alive from that simple contact. Unfortunately, the man was even more tempting than the business offer he'd made, and that was saying a lot. The offer had been very tempting. Beyond tempting. It could have been the start of a whole new era in her life, one that didn't include acid reflux every time she balanced the books.

Flopping onto her back, she stared at the ceiling of her cabin and remembered all the years of work she and her father had put into the
Pirate's Pleasure
, all the plans they'd shared while working side by side. They'd traveled regularly to the Caribbean ---her father more than her ---but someday they dreamed of sailing the
Pirate's Pleasure
there and living like captains on the high seas.

"And we'll visit my cousins?"
she'd always asked.

"Of course,"
her father would promise.

"And Grandma Merry?"

"Absolutely,"
he'd say.

"And Mother?"
she'd ask more quietly.

"Watch that varnish, nutmeg, it's about to drip."

Yes, someday, they'd sail the
Pirate's Pleasure
to the islands she loved so much, and she wouldn't be the misfit relative. She'd be dashing, like her swashbuckling ancestors. And when her mother saw how beautiful the ship was, she'd want to sail away with them.

That fairy tale may have died with her childhood, but she still dreamed of sailing the ship to the Caribbean at least once in her life. If she took the St. Claires up on their offer, could she earn enough for such an endeavor?

Unfortunately, she couldn't accept their offer without resurrecting the scandal surrounding her father's death. Thinking of it now brought a horrible rush of memories that made her want to pull the covers over her head so she could hide forever. She could still remember the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when people learned her father was a crook and then looked at her with accusation and distrust. She'd left the islands to escape all that. By working her butt off for the past eight years, she'd managed to build a business out of the only good thing he'd left her, a dilapidated ship. A legitimate business. No cons. No forging artifacts. And no illegal salvaging of shipwreck sites.

What was the term Adrian had used? "Thieving looters," that was it. And he'd said it with enough disdain to make her flinch. Well, if she brought attention to herself by making the letter public, a lot of people would call her that.

Or would they?

Eight years had passed since her father died, and all that mess had happened in the British West Indies. Could she possibly make the letter public and not have the past slap her in the face?

She shook the thought off.
Don't go there. You're only asking for trouble. Think about something else.

Turning over, she forced her mind away from Adrian and his offer only to have Jack Kingsley slip into her thoughts. Not a vast improvement, since Adrian looked just like the mental image she'd always carried of Captain Jack: tall, broad-shouldered, and charming to the hilt.

But what had Jack Kingsley really been like?
she
wondered, staring about the dark cabin.

Moonlight slanted through the aft windows, casting mysterious shadows about the room as questions about her namesake played through her mind, along with the new knowledge that Marguerite, the great love of his life, had written about him in her diaries. If she helped the St. Claires, would they let her read the diaries?

She pushed the thought away and flipped onto her other side.
Think about work
.

Unfortunately, that brought on images of a dwindling bank account, a growing stack of bills, and a long list of repairs that needed to be made. Which brought her right back to the St. Claires' offer.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!
She punched the pillow again, this time wishing it were her father.

Okay, think it through logically
.

The media frenzy after her father's death had happened nearly a decade ago, and a long way from Texas. Her father's motto had always been: "Never piss in your own pond" ---which was why he'd never conned anyone close to home. It was also why she'd felt safe returning to Corpus Christi. People here knew a few vague facts, but nowhere near the whole truth. Would involving herself in a ship excavation change that?

She turned the problem over in her mind throughout the night.

By the time the first light of dawn seeped through the windows, she knew she had two choices: go quietly bankrupt and lose the
Pirate's Pleasure
, or risk everything she'd built over the past eight years for the chance to win financial security. She didn't care about great wealth, but she did care passionately about making an honest living.

Now wouldn't her buccaneer ancestors have a great laugh at that? Either that or moan in shame. The question was, had she inherited enough of their courage and daring to take a risk this big?

~ ~ ~

Adrian lounged in the hotel chair, his bare feet propped on the unmade bed, a cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper spread in his lap. The headlines barely registered, though, as he tried to figure out where he'd gone wrong last night. Normally he had a knack for reading women, but Jackie confused him at every turn.

She wasn't after him.

She didn't need rescuing.

She didn't even want to be friends.

In fact, she didn't seem to want anything to do with him. That was a first, and perhaps the reason she intrigued him more than any other woman ever had.

When women wanted him, he knew how to judge how much they expected and if they could part as friends. If the answer was no, he kept his hands to himself. If the answer was yes, he made sure they both had fun and that things stayed light.

When a woman needed him ---for encouragement or outright rescuing ---he knew when to give advice, when to shut up and offer a shoulder to cry on, and when to step in with action. In fact, he knew how to handle nearly every sticky situation a woman could throw at a man, situations that sent most men into states of pure panic.

But he didn't know how to handle Jackie.

The one thing he did know was that he'd blown it last night. And his failure was going to devastate his sisters. They'd all become single-minded about recovering the necklace. When initial attempts to work with Jackie had failed, they'd decided to send Adrian down to Corpus to charm her into helping. He'd arrogantly believed he could do it, no sweat ... but instead he'd blown it.

Was it the flirting? he wondered.

No, Jackie didn't take that any more seriously than he meant it. Not that he wouldn't like to mean it. From the moment he'd met Jackie Taylor, he'd wanted to sleep with her. She'd slammed the door on that idea by making it clear she wasn't the least bit interested in him.

The question was, could he make her want him? Now that might prove a delicious challenge. And if he'd blown the business deal, nothing stood in the way of giving it his best shot. His body warmed eagerly to the idea. He could stay one more day and take her out again, but this time forget the teasing and go for all-out seduction. Then he'd bring her back here, taste those luscious-looking lips, peel away her clothes, and ---

A sharp rap came at the door, jarring him from thoughts of Jackie naked beneath him. He waited for someone to call, "Housekeeping." When it didn't come, he set the paper and coffee cup aside and went to the door. A peek through the spy hole revealed Jackie standing in the hall with her hands thrust into the pockets of a foul-weather jacket.

His first thought was that she'd changed her mind about the business deal, which would thrill his sisters but put a halt to his newly hatched plan. Then he noticed the determined set of her jaw. The bill of a ball cap hid the rest of her face, but her stance said she'd come to do battle, which did not bode well on any front.

Braced for anything, he stepped back and opened the door. "Jackie, what a surprise. I didn't expect you so early."

Jackie's response stuck in her throat when she found herself eye level with Adrian's bare chest: his very nice, smooth-skinned, well-muscled bare chest. She tipped her head back to see his face with his black hair hanging loosely past his broad shoulders.
Ho, mama.
Heat flooded her whole body.

"Come on in and have a seat while I grab a shirt."

No need to get dressed on my account.
"D-did I wake you?"

"No, I'm so used to rising with the roosters I don't even need an alarm anymore."

As he moved away, she noticed he wore a pair of wildly colorful chef's pants. Something that baggy shouldn't have been sexy, but with a body like that, he'd look good in anything. Even better in nothing.

"Can I get you some coffee?" He gestured toward a miniature coffeepot. "There's nearly a full cup left. It's yours if you want it."

"No, I'm fine."

"Okay, then give me a minute and I'll take you to that breakfast I promised." He headed for the main part of the room and the motorcycle saddlebags he'd left sitting on one of the beds. His back muscles flexed as he pulled on a dark blue T-shirt and reached for a pair of jeans.